Predator Press Interviews: Mark A. Rayner

Predator Press

[LOBO]

My devious plot to kill all the good authors so I can get a book deal has suffered a temporary setback: Mark A. Rayner, author of Marvellous Hairy, has been anything but forthright in regards to his actual location.

-Mislead by some rather sophisticated and formidable call-tracing countermeasures, I'm forced to conduct this interview from a payphone in Wyoming.

And let me tell you pal, getting into a phone booth in a ghillie suit made of almond tree branches is no picnic.



LOBO: Mark, you've obviously chosen to try and make monkeys, you know, cool again -like back when "BJ and the Bear" inspired millions and millions of truckers to take them cross-country. But iguanas are cool, and kinda scary too. A book about superintelligent iguanas would be groundbreaking, and a rare victory for cold-blooded animals. Why monkeys? An iguana is an infinitely more practical pet for truckers if you think about it.

MAR: Actually, Marvellous Hairy is about a surrealistic novelist being turned into a monkey-like creature; they regress just some of his DNA back along the evolutionary tree to the point before we split from the chimps; but if you must know the truth, it's because I think we don't keep in touch with our monkey playfulness enough. (Present company excluded. I mean, obviously, with the ghillie suit and all. You know you can get those in Gor-Tex now, with collapsible almond branches?)

LOBO: Don't correct me on my own blog, Mark. What was that fancy thing you just did there?

MAR: What?

LOBO: That thing where you are using the "(" and the ")".

MAR: They are called parentheses. You -of all people- should probably learn how to use them.

LOBO: You think I don't know about parentheses? I once killed a man using parentheses.

MAR: Really?

LOBO: Absolutely. I hated that guy. Watch. "I want the garbage taken out (and everybody dead in five minutes)."

MAR: In five minutes? What did they do?

LOBO: They didn't know about your book!

MAR: Oh, well that's okay then.

LOBO: Is it that you're an atheist Mark? Hm? I mean you could have changed the guy into a praying mantis instead of a monkey. Is it a problem that the mantis thing is always praying? A praying mantis won't rip off your genitalia and throw it at you. I mean you just don't GET more pious than a praying mantis.

MAR: What about Capuchin Monkeys? Eh? They're named after monks. Or the sanctimonious Kneeling Baboons of Rogistan? (Not that I like them very much. Did you know I was once bitten by a radioactive baboon? It's how I got my super-powers.)

LOBO: See, there you go with the parent-things again.

MAR: Parentheses?

LOBO: Forget it. Was the Shute character in Marvellous Hairy based on David Letterman?

MAR: Largely, though I wouldn't want anyone to think that Denny the Lickspittle is based on Paul Shaeffer. No way. I would never disrespect the coolest man on TV. Paul is Canadian, did you know that? Oh, that's right, you don't believe in Canada.

Marvellous Hairy Excerpts
LOBO: Don't get me started on those old hokey legends of Canada. Do you think Canada exists?

MAR: Yes.

LOBO: But you're a teacher! Isn't that, well, kinda irresponsible?

MAR: Let' get back to the books.

LOBO: [exasperated sigh] One of my favorite elements of your writing is the meat of the stories hangs on a skeleton of philosophical poignence. Not to oversimplify, The Amadeus Net had the omnipotent and omniscient computer managing an idyllic utopia, and Marvellous Hairy had the specter of corporate power and greed gone to extreme. A common thread -humans struggling to morally catch up to their own rampant technological achievements- can often be spotted in your shorter works as published on The Skwib as well. Is this formulaic, or a happy byproduct of your writing style?

MAR: I wish I had a formula -- it would be so much easier. But to think that I struggle with each story, agonize over every character, groin myself every day to get the themes to flow with the plot and have it appear as formulaic . . . well, that just makes me want to slit my wrists. So, let's go with 'happy' byproduct.

LOBO: Having read both The Amadeus Net and Marvellous Hairy, they both have a vastly different "feel" from one another: The Amadeus Net seemed darkly serious while Marvellous Hairy seemed more playful. The fun you were having writing Marvellous Hairy was palpable. Would that be an accurate characterization? And if so, were there events between 2005 and 2008 that contributed to this shift?

MAR: Yes. That's quite accurate. Interestingly, you have to push the clock back about nine years for The Amadeus Net and seven years for Marvellous Hairy. I was primarily writing The Amadeus Net when I was an underemployed corporate drone in 1997, living in a small, yet charmingly feculent apartment, and working from notes that I had painted with a child's watercolour set the year I was being a Bohemian Gen-xer in Prague (1993). The first draft of Marvellous Hairy was written in three days in 2001, and was fueled almost entirely by scotch and raw existential anguish, and so, is hilarious.

Marvellous Hairy Podcasts
LOBO: The Amadeus Net juxtaposes a sexually-taut cast of characters in a clinical, computerized world. Cripes ... everybody is sleeping with everybody! Can you just leave out the computers next time? The computers create too much space between the sex scenes.

MAR: In my next book, the computers get in on it too.

LOBO: Have you repented to your clergy for all the sex in The Amadeus Net yet? I tried to get my penance reduced by ratting you out about it, but the church was skeptical: rather than take my word for it, they ordered a case of the books to be distributed among the congregation for review. Now they are all blind, and their palms smell like Gillette. All of this could have been avoided with the simple use of a praying mantis. Are you an atheist Mark?

MAR: If you mean, do I believe in a "Magic Sky Father", then yes. If you mean, do you believe in a "Cosmic Unconscious Fun Monkey," then the answer is: maybe.

LOBO: Yeah, well, I'll try to put in a good word for you with Jesus. But I've got a feelin I know where He stands on the whole "Cosmic Unconscious Fun Monkey" thing.

MAR: Thanks.

LOBO: Why do my favorite characters always get killed in your stories? Are you doing that on purpose? And how do you know who my favorite characters are in the first place? Are you clairvoyant?

MAR: Yes. And by the way, don't get to attached to Suzie in my next book. Really, just save yourself the heartache. Oh, and you might want to get that mole checked.

LOBO: Thag is among my favorite of your characters. Was Thag based on someone or something in particular? And because I like him, how soon will you be killing him if you haven't already?

MAR: Thag is loosely based on the Gary Larson cartoon. Since then, he has become the proto-typical everyman. But he will not be taking the Big Dirt Nap anytime soon. Or will he? We will see how sales of Marvellous Hairy spike after this interview goes live to decide . . .

LOBO: While far from a professional author, I'll get something under my skin and scrawl it on the grocery receipt on my way home -more or less helpless against the urge. This annoys the other drivers, and their excessive use of the horn and graphic profanity makes it hard to concentrate. How does a Mark A. Rayner pour stories? Do you have a formal method -for example, a set time and space for writing?

MAR: I have a word count that I aim for every day. I usually miss it. This makes me feel bad. However, even if I am tortured by my under-achieving slacker Gen-X attitude towards work, the words eventually add up to something and then there is a manuscript that can be edited. This is how I have produced two novels in roughly seventeen years.

LOBO: There seem to be two methods of getting published. The first, self-publishing, requires around $30,000 and necessitates doing all your own promotion. The second is the 'traditional' method -the one where you essentially "get discovered" by a publisher. Because I'm short about $29,995 for the self-publication route, I endlessly submit manuscripts to publishers that are returned weeks later scribbled with profanity and smelling suspiciously of urine. Do you know of any particularly stupid publishers I should try? Like maybe one that buys a lot of scratch-off lottery tickets and extended warrantees?

MAR: I think you've described the entire publishing industry quite accurately. Enjoy.

LOBO: You claim to be a teacher in Canada. This has put me in the uncomfortable position of acknowledging that Canada possibly does exist, despite my numerous assertions to the contrary. Why would you jeopardize my credibility -right smack on my own blog- when you could have simply claimed to live in North Montana? Extremely North Dakota would also have been acceptable.

MAR: I always thought that Minnesota was pretty much like Canada. How about if I'm from Minnesota?

Marvellous Hairy Reviews
LOBO: How did you get out of playing hockey? Did they give you an academic waiver? I would have thought knocking out one of Mario Lemieux's teeth to be a Canadian rite of passage. Do other Canadians pick on you as a result?

MAR: I got out of it the old-fashioned way -- I broke my arm the first time I played. Crying like a little girl helped too. BTW, Mario Lemieux has almost all of his teeth. Nowadays the goal in hockey (ice hockey for all your British readers) is not to knock out a player's teeth, but to cause the rapid brain movement of a player's brain inside his (or her) skull. Much more civilized. (Especially now that women's hockey is so big.)

LOBO: There you go with those parentheses again. I'm starting to think I should consider them a form of attack.

MAR: (You would be a fool to think so.)

LOBO: In Marvellous Hairy, there was a thinly-veiled streak of dislike toward the college where the story is set. Was this a reflection of personal frustration with your own institution, or more an articulation of how people justifiably hate school in general?

MAR: It was more a reflection of how people can dislike something in general. And you'll note that all of the friends are quite fond of their undergraduate school (The Good University).

LOBO: Once again I'll remind you not to correct me on my own blog, Mark. So at what point did you realize you hated kids enough to be a teacher? And would you call it a vacuous rage against today's youth, or is it simple sadism?

MAR: Um, I teach at a university, so I only deal with adults.

Marvellous Hairy Freaky Adult Sex Stories
LOBO: C'mon Mark ... don't mince about. Those punks deserve nothing less than every ounce of your venom. And once all six of the people in Canada get their degrees from you, you'll be of no further use to the university either: they will force you to hastily pack your abacus, chalk, and all those Twisted Sister pins you confiscated. Then what? POW ... it's straight back to hockey. And how do you think Mario Lemieux is going to react when you come wandering in to practice after all these decades? Not too favorably I would guess. No sir ... not too favorably at all. Unless you think you've still got a Stanley Cup in you.

MAR: I don't have one in me. But I've been IN it, if you catch my drift.

LOBO: I would imagine there aren't a lot of monkeys in Canada. Wouldn't your life be simpler if you wrote about companies changing people into cocker spaniels?

MAR: Well, I'll tell you now the radioactive baboon that bit me was a resident of Elgin County, Province of Ontario, Dominion of Canada. (I know 'cause the cop showed me the Incident Report afterwards.) In fact, most of Southwestern Ontario is plagued by roaming bands of baboons -- and not just the red-assed, blue-nosed, Perfidia variety you're used to, no. There is the Souwesto Skint Baboon, always asking for spare change at the corner of major intersections, the White-Throated Hypocraboon, commonly found in churches and you really don't want to leave your children unattended with them. And don't get me started on the Ice Baboons.

LOBO: You know I've read the Travels of Marco Polo, and you know how many times Marco mentions Canada in it? Zero. Zilch. You know, I don't think I'm buying this Canada thing anymore. Fess up, Mark.

MAR: I don't think he mentions the United States of America either. Just sayin'.

LOBO: We probably just didn't want Polo takin the spotlight off of the Godless Yellow Hoard. In fact, we might have asked Polo not to talk about us, you know, until we could at least get some cool fast food and electronics. What can we be expecting next? I know it isn't going to the swimming pool -not the way you trash-talk Marco Polo. Are you working on another book? Tease us with some details. I'm warning you however: if it's a story about a busload of nymphomaniac cheerleaders exacting revenge on an evil corporation for turning a praying mantis into a cocker spaniel, we will all know you stole it from me.

MAR: I'm working on two projects: One is the heartwarming story about how a cocker spaniel saves a busload of nymphomaniac cheerleaders from the predations of gigantic evil praying mantis, who happens to be the CEO of a major bio-tech corporation. The other is mostly about a busload of robots having sex with cheerleaders pretending to be cocker spaniels (The Furries, they're called in the book), though there is something in there about bloggers being executed for the capital crime of plagiarism.

Caligula

Predator Press

[LOBO]

s a few of you might have realized, my computer recently went kablooey … I’m woefully behind on comments, and have even re-issued a handful of posts. I’ve kajiggered a system of using my email to get that done, but it’s time consuming.

The upside is there is stuff I‘ve been working on that‘ll be pretty interesting. For instance, I have an interview with one of my favorite blogger-slash-authors Chris Wood on the table; sure he‘s from the UK and insists on butchering our fine American language and is probably indirectly responsible for soccer ... Nonetheless he’s brilliant, hilarious and talented [Chris, stop reading here] and deeply psychotic -to the point where my finder's fee commission from Doctor Toboggans should be astronomical [Chris, okay to continue reading from here].

And I was initially thinking my book -"This Book Kicks the Crap Out of All Those Other Books"- would be a cookbook, but it turns out a chalk outkine of a lobster at the bottom of the pot ruins virtually any bisque, no matter how much garlic you add.

Instead, I rewrote it by replacing the word 'deep fry' with 'death ray' and 'lobster' with 'alien,' thusly creating an adventure-fiction saga: it's sort of an experiment to see if can hold interest over longer stories ... in effect, sampling myself for the possibility of writing my own book.

It'll be crap, I assure you. But it'll be my crap, so buy it! People pay lots of money for crap nowadays, so it's kinda fashionable if you think about it: there's this media whore named 'Shakespeare' who is totally unreadable -and he‘s got, like, four books published!

But this post isn’t about how all Predator Press readers agree Shakespeare is a limelight-mooching talentless hack: this post is about a very kind and unsolicited write-up I got from FamousWhy Terri found.

Take that, Shakespeare.

-Asshole.

Predator Press Interviews: Mark A. Rayner

Predator Press

[LOBO]

My devious plot to kill all the good authors so I can get a book deal has suffered a temporary setback: Mark A. Rayner, author of Marvellous Hairy, has been anything but forthright in regards to his actual location.

-Mislead by some rather sophisticated and formidable call-tracing countermeasures, I'm forced to conduct this interview from a payphone in Wyoming.

And let me tell you pal, getting into a phone booth in a ghillie suit made of almond tree branches is no picnic.



LOBO: Mark, you've obviously chosen to try and make monkeys, you know, cool again -like back when "BJ and the Bear" inspired millions and millions of truckers to take them cross-country. But iguanas are cool, and kinda scary too. A book about superintelligent iguanas would be groundbreaking, and a rare victory for cold-blooded animals. Why monkeys? An iguana is an infinitely more practical pet for truckers if you think about it.

MAR: Actually, Marvellous Hairy is about a surrealistic novelist being turned into a monkey-like creature; they regress just some of his DNA back along the evolutionary tree to the point before we split from the chimps; but if you must know the truth, it's because I think we don't keep in touch with our monkey playfulness enough. (Present company excluded. I mean, obviously, with the ghillie suit and all. You know you can get those in Gor-Tex now, with collapsible almond branches?)

LOBO: Don't correct me on my own blog, Mark. What was that fancy thing you just did there?

MAR: What?

LOBO: That thing where you are using the "(" and the ")".

MAR: They are called parentheses. You -of all people- should probably learn how to use them.

LOBO: You think I don't know about parentheses? I once killed a man using parentheses.

MAR: Really?

LOBO: Absolutely. I hated that guy. Watch. "I want the garbage taken out (and everybody dead in five minutes)."

MAR: In five minutes? What did they do?

LOBO: They didn't know about your book!

MAR: Oh, well that's okay then.

LOBO: Is it that you're an atheist Mark? Hm? I mean you could have changed the guy into a praying mantis instead of a monkey. Is it a problem that the mantis thing is always praying? A praying mantis won't rip off your genitalia and throw it at you. I mean you just don't GET more pious than a praying mantis.

MAR: What about Capuchin Monkeys? Eh? They're named after monks. Or the sanctimonious Kneeling Baboons of Rogistan? (Not that I like them very much. Did you know I was once bitten by a radioactive baboon? It's how I got my super-powers.)

LOBO: See, there you go with the parent-things again.

MAR: Parentheses?

LOBO: Forget it. Was the Shute character in Marvellous Hairy based on David Letterman?

MAR: Largely, though I wouldn't want anyone to think that Denny the Lickspittle is based on Paul Shaeffer. No way. I would never disrespect the coolest man on TV. Paul is Canadian, did you know that? Oh, that's right, you don't believe in Canada.

Marvellous Hairy Excerpts
LOBO: Don't get me started on those old hokey legends of Canada. Do you think Canada exists?

MAR: Yes.

LOBO: But you're a teacher! Isn't that, well, kinda irresponsible?

MAR: Let' get back to the books.

LOBO: [exasperated sigh] One of my favorite elements of your writing is the meat of the stories hangs on a skeleton of philosophical poignence. Not to oversimplify, The Amadeus Net had the omnipotent and omniscient computer managing an idyllic utopia, and Marvellous Hairy had the specter of corporate power and greed gone to extreme. A common thread -humans struggling to morally catch up to their own rampant technological achievements- can often be spotted in your shorter works as published on The Skwib as well. Is this formulaic, or a happy byproduct of your writing style?

MAR: I wish I had a formula -- it would be so much easier. But to think that I struggle with each story, agonize over every character, groin myself every day to get the themes to flow with the plot and have it appear as formulaic . . . well, that just makes me want to slit my wrists. So, let's go with 'happy' byproduct.

LOBO: Having read both The Amadeus Net and Marvellous Hairy, they both have a vastly different "feel" from one another: The Amadeus Net seemed darkly serious while Marvellous Hairy seemed more playful. The fun you were having writing Marvellous Hairy was palpable. Would that be an accurate characterization? And if so, were there events between 2005 and 2008 that contributed to this shift?

MAR: Yes. That's quite accurate. Interestingly, you have to push the clock back about nine years for The Amadeus Net and seven years for Marvellous Hairy. I was primarily writing The Amadeus Net when I was an underemployed corporate drone in 1997, living in a small, yet charmingly feculent apartment, and working from notes that I had painted with a child's watercolour set the year I was being a Bohemian Gen-xer in Prague (1993). The first draft of Marvellous Hairy was written in three days in 2001, and was fueled almost entirely by scotch and raw existential anguish, and so, is hilarious.

Marvellous Hairy Podcasts
LOBO: The Amadeus Net juxtaposes a sexually-taut cast of characters in a clinical, computerized world. Cripes ... everybody is sleeping with everybody! Can you just leave out the computers next time? The computers create too much space between the sex scenes.

MAR: In my next book, the computers get in on it too.

LOBO: Have you repented to your clergy for all the sex in The Amadeus Net yet? I tried to get my penance reduced by ratting you out about it, but the church was skeptical: rather than take my word for it, they ordered a case of the books to be distributed among the congregation for review. Now they are all blind, and their palms smell like Gillette. All of this could have been avoided with the simple use of a praying mantis. Are you an atheist Mark?

MAR: If you mean, do I believe in a "Magic Sky Father", then yes. If you mean, do you believe in a "Cosmic Unconscious Fun Monkey," then the answer is: maybe.

LOBO: Yeah, well, I'll try to put in a good word for you with Jesus. But I've got a feelin I know where He stands on the whole "Cosmic Unconscious Fun Monkey" thing.

MAR: Thanks.

LOBO: Why do my favorite characters always get killed in your stories? Are you doing that on purpose? And how do you know who my favorite characters are in the first place? Are you a clairvoyant?

MAR: Yes. And by the way, don't get to attached to Suzie in my next book. Really, just save yourself the heartache. Oh, and you might want to get that mole checked.

LOBO: Thag is among my favorite of your characters. Was Thag based on someone or something in particular? And because I like him, how soon will you be killing him if you haven't already?

MAR: Thag is loosely based on the Gary Larson cartoon. Since then, he has become the proto-typical everyman. But he will not be taking the Big Dirt Nap anytime soon. Or will he? We will see how sales of Marvellous Hairy spike after this interview goes live to decide . . .

LOBO: While far from a professional author, I'll get something under my skin and scrawl it on the grocery receipt on my way home -more or less helpless against the urge. This annoys the other drivers, and their excessive use of the horn and graphic profanity makes it hard to concentrate. How does a Mark A. Rayner pour stories? Do you have a formal method -for example, a set time and space for writing?

MAR: I have a word count that I aim for every day. I usually miss it. This makes me feel bad. However, even if I am tortured by my under-achieving slacker Gen-X attitude towards work, the words eventually add up to something and then there is a manuscript that can be edited. This is how I have produced two novels in roughly seventeen years.

LOBO: There seem to be two methods of getting published. The first, self-publishing, requires around $30,000 and necessitates doing all your own promotion. The second is the 'traditional' method -the one where you essentially "get discovered" by a publisher. Because I'm short about $29,995 for the self-publication route, I endlessly submit manuscripts to publishers that are returned weeks later scribbled with profanity and smelling suspiciously of urine. Do you know of any particularly stupid publishers I should try? Like maybe one that buys a lot of scratch-off lottery tickets and extended warrantees?

MAR: I think you've described the entire publishing industry quite accurately. Enjoy.

LOBO: You claim to be a teacher in Canada. This has put me in the uncomfortable position of acknowledging that Canada possibly does exist, despite my numerous assertions to the contrary. Why would you jeopardize my credibility -right smack on my own blog- when you could have simply claimed to live in North Montana? Extremely North Dakota would also have been acceptable.

MAR: I always thought that Minnesota was pretty much like Canada. How about if I'm from Minnesota?

Marvellous Hairy Reviews
LOBO: How did you get out of playing hockey? Did they give you an academic waiver? I would have thought knocking out one of Mario Lemieux's teeth to be a Canadian rite of passage. Do other Canadians pick on you as a result?

MAR: I got out of it the old-fashioned way -- I broke my arm the first time I played. Crying like a little girl helped too. BTW, Mario Lemieux has almost all of his teeth. Nowadays the goal in hockey (ice hockey for all your British readers) is not to knock out a player's teeth, but to cause the rapid brain movement of a player's brain inside his (or her) skull. Much more civilized. (Especially now that women's hockey is so big.)

LOBO: There you go with those parentheses again. I'm starting to think I should consider them a form of attack.

MAR: (You would be a fool to think so.)

LOBO: In Marvellous Hairy, there was a thinly-veiled streak of dislike toward the college where the story is set. Was this a reflection of personal frustration with your own institution, or more an articulation of how people justifiably hate school in general?

MAR: It was more a reflection of how people can dislike something in general. And you'll note that all of the friends are quite fond of their undergraduate school (The Good University).

LOBO: Once again I'll remind you not to correct me on my own blog, Mark. So at what point did you realize you hated kids enough to be a teacher? And would you call it a vacuous rage against today's youth, or is it simple sadism?

MAR: Um, I teach at a university, so I only deal with adults.

Marvellous Hairy Freaky Adult Sex Stories
LOBO: C'mon Mark ... don't mince about. Those punks deserve nothing less than every ounce of your venom. And once all six of the people in Canada get their degrees from you, you'll be of no further use to the university either: they will force you to hastily pack your abacus, chalk, and all those Twisted Sister pins you confiscated. Then what? POW ... it's straight back to hockey. And how do you think Mario Lemieux is going to react when you come wandering in to practice after all these decades? Not too favorably I would guess. No sir ... not too favorably at all. Unless you think you've still got a Stanley Cup in you.

MAR: I don't have one in me. But I've been IN it, if you catch my drift.

LOBO: I would imagine there aren't a lot of monkeys in Canada. Wouldn't your life be simpler if you wrote about companies changing people into cocker spaniels?

MAR: Well, I'll tell you now the radioactive baboon that bit me was a resident of Elgin County, Province of Ontario, Dominion of Canada. (I know 'cause the cop showed me the Incident Report afterwards.) In fact, most of Southwestern Ontario is plagued by roaming bands of baboons -- and not just the red-assed, blue-nosed, Perfidia variety you're used to, no. There is the Souwesto Skint Baboon, always asking for spare change at the corner of major intersections, the White-Throated Hypocraboon, commonly found in churches and you really don't want to leave your children unattended with them. And don't get me started on the Ice Baboons.

LOBO: You know I've read the Travels of Marco Polo, and you know how many times Marco mentions Canada in it? Zero. Zilch. You know, I don't think I'm buying this Canada thing anymore. Fess up, Mark.

MAR: I don't think he mentions the United States of America either. Just sayin'.

LOBO: We probably just didn't want Polo takin the spotlight off of the Godless Yellow Hoard. In fact, we might have asked Polo not to talk about us, you know, until we could at least get some cool fast food and electronics. What can we be expecting next? I know it isn't going to the swimming pool -not the way you trash-talk Marco Polo. Are you working on another book? Tease us with some details. I'm warning you however: if it's a story about a busload of nymphomaniac cheerleaders exacting revenge on an evil corporation for turning a praying mantis into a cocker spaniel, we will all know you stole it from me.

MAR: I'm working on two projects: One is the heartwarming story about how a cocker spaniel saves a busload of nymphomaniac cheerleaders from the predations of gigantic evil praying mantis, who happens to be the CEO of a major bio-tech corporation. The other is mostly about a busload of robots having sex with cheerleaders pretending to be cocker spaniels (The Furries, they're called in the book), though there is something in there about bloggers being executed for the capital crime of plagiarism.

Predator Press Interviews: Doctor Harold Toboggans

Predator Press

When my Fantasy Football Team failed to reign in an unexpectedly winnable matchup Sunday, I was miffed. And when my tire went flat yesterday, I resisted. But when I found out the Jon and Kate Gosselin were getting a divorce, that was the last straw.

-It was time to eliminate the source of all my misfortunes, none other than Brent Diggs.

The connection to football, automotive failure, ‘Jon and Kate Plus 8,’ and Brent Diggs I don't exactly understand. But I don’t understand how fusion works either, and it does. It’s called science. You should try it sometime.

In a ghillie suit made of almond tree branches I made, I followed Brent completely undetected. And in a brazen act of stealth and guile, I slipped silently behind him as he let himself in his front door. He tried to make me into think he did see me by saying “Hello LOBO” -but because I was in camouflage, I knew he was bluffing.

Conveniently, Brent left the room and I began to plot how and where his murder would take place. I decided that because it was almost Christmas, I would hide in his fireplace chimney ... and then, when he opened the flue for Santa Claus on Christmas Eve, POW.

The problem with this plan is that a ghillie suit made of almond tree branches is too flammable to wear hiding in a chimney, and I would need a trash can of adequate size to dispose of them properly so I not annoy Mrs Brent. I am a guest. This may be Brent’s murder, but that’s no excuse not to be tidy.

Never, in a million years, would I have expected Doctor Harold Toboggans to enter the room!

-Doctor Phil, maybe. But not Doctor T.

“Psst!” I whisper from the center of the room, waving subtly. “Doc! It's me, LOBO. I’m over here in camouflage!”

"I was wondering why the Christmas tree reeked of Old Spice."

“Are you here to murder Brent Diggs too?”

"No, he is still useful to me as my web-lackey, working off his therapy bill and publishing my exploits. But I used up all my compassion today at the office, so if you simply must "bump him off" I won't stand in the way. In fact, unless your aim has improved, I won't even stand in the room."

“Probably a good idea," I agree. "Seein' as this is a murder, things could get ugly. Brent is an ex Marine, and Marines are extremely difficult to kill. Luckily I’m an ex-Marine too.”

"Reaaaaaaally?"

“No. I made that up. Besides I’m far too deadly for the Marines. They said so. It wouldn’t be fair to the other countries.”

"Well you definitely put the special back in Special Forces..."

"When did you start growing your mustache upside down?"

"Is it upside-down again?!!! I mean...well LOBO, sometimes when I put my entire focus on a single problem, like acquiring your debit card number, my follicles actually invert. It's quite a rare phenomenon, in fact now that Einstein is gone I think I'm the only one that still does it."

“Doc," I says, laying out on the couch. "I’ve probably got some time to kill before Brent gets back, and then something else to kill, and then more time. Mind doing an impromptu interview? On the last step of ‘800 Steps To Adequacy,’ and only $2,000 away from graduating to the 'Ladder of Adequate Empowerment,' I'm a huge fan of your work.”

"No session today, I'm fresh out of pepper spray. But be sure to purchase my latest self-help masterpiece, 'Learning to Live With Self-Loathing.' It's perfect for challenging cases like yourself."

"Wow!" I whistle, impressed. "That's the biggest book I've ever seen. It must be brilliant. And it just so happens I'm in dire need of a large, heavy and brilliant blunt object. How much is it?

"How much do you have?"



***

LOBO: Your new series, Mind Over Memphis, is a towering triumph of both science and cinematographical achievement. It’s like a burrito with a mountain of information for beef and intriguing guests for cheese ... all wrapped in a delightfully soft, still-steaming entertainment tortilla. Do you know if Brent has any food here?

DT: Yes, my videos are quite amazing. It's the sort of work Spielberg would do if he were ready to move to the next level. And yes, I think there is some jello in the back of the fridge that isn't too badly molded.

LOBO: What will become of your Mind Over Memphis show if you find the fabled ‘Memphis’? And how did you get your mind over it without knowing where it is? And where was the rest of you at the time?

DT: Actually the title refers to the way my intellect towers over this town like a benevolent thundercloud of wisdom. Unfortunately, the city does stray form under my impressive shadow from time to time and I have to track it down. Such is the price of greatness.

LOBO: In your lecture series “Approaching the Outer Edge of Adequacy,” DVD 192 -roughly 80 minutes in- you said “over-adequacy can be just as dangerous as a lack of adequacy.” Can you elaborate on that theory?

DT: The pool of over-adequate individuals on this planet is fairly small, basically just me. And if there is one thing I don't tolerate, it is competition. It can be quite dangerous, if you know what I mean.

LOBO: In DVDs 404, 405 and 406, were you aware you had linguine in your mustache? I have always thought it was symbolic of something.

DT: LOBO, my entire life is a symbol of hope to lesser intellects...And to money launderers everywhere.

LOBO: I haven’t found any references to “Cryohydrotachophobia Purging” in your work. Yet during your “Crouching to Competence Wilderness Retreat,” you had me wear a sack over my head while the rest of the campers punched me -insisting it was the only cure for the morbid fear of rogue icebergs. Is that an experimental treatment? And why was everyone laughing?

DT: You just have to trust me, I'm the doctor.




LOBO: There has been some speculation –and numerous lawsuits- surrounding the fact that your anti-zombie patch Cerebitol causes sterility in a significant number of it’s users. Why people would people want to have babies in the face of the Zombie Menace is completely beyond me. Have you any thoughts you wish to share on this clearly-frivolous pending litigation?

DT: Really? That's excellent. It means I can market it as a contraceptive too. Your words ring with the sound of money.

LOBO: And you heard they can cause blindness, right?

DT: That was you. You aren't supposed to put the patches on your eyes.

LOBO: Pirates have zombie troubles too -and given the growth potential of that market, don't you think it's a mistake to alienate them? You could be a hero in their circles. Just imagine ... every time you vacationed in Somalia, they would buy you drinks and stuff. [wistful sigh] Say, you know what Doc? The mere calming effect of your presence has inexplicably diminished my desire to kill Brent. Is there a cure for that? Or am I just being lazy?

DT: Actually, you've been field testing my latest innovation, Slumberoos. Imagine a custom blend of ritalin and tranquilizers all together in a giant patch. Now take that patch and weave a snug undergarment out of it. Then sneak it into someones wardrobe and watch the therapy begin.

LOBO: Well, being unable to feel my legs while wearing them is difficult to get used to -but you can't beat this absorbency. By the way, this gum is terrible. I didn’t know gum spoiled. I probably shoulda known ‘cuz there was hairs in it.

DT: That's spirit gum. Don't worry about the lint, it's a great source of fiber.

LOBO: [slurring] Is that spearmint?

DT: No, that's Aqua Velva.

LOBO: Doctor T, you’re amazing. I’ll bet you could cure anyone. Any thing! I’ll bet you could take, like, sick polar bears that think they are deep sea bass and get them to think they are polar bears again. Or at least some kind of mammal ....

DT: Ah LOBO, so many issues, so little time. I guess Brent lives another day.

LOBO: zzzzzzzzzz

Frozen Ted Williams Head Sparks Controversy

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Alcor, the company facilitating storage of baseball great Ted Williams' frozen remains, is reeling under media siege due to scandalous allegations of post-mortem abuse to the decedent put forward by former employee Larry Johnson.

Cryonics is a process where remains are frozen and preserved in hopes that one day medical science –once sufficiently advanced- may be able to revive and cure the deceased.

“I wasn’t the slightest bit suspicious until the company picnic,” claims Johnson. “But finding that Red Sox cap in my daiquiri really got me to thinking.”

While Alcor has thus far refused to talk directly with mainstream media, Predator Press got an exclusive interview with Chairman Charles Platt.

“We are flatly denying these shocking and baseless accusations, accusations made by a clearly disgruntled former employee,” says Platt. “We have begun an internal investigation regarding numerous recent record-setting three legged race results. But that is purely a coincidence, and you would be a fool to think otherwise. Crap. I said that out loud, didn’t I? Oh, look behind you! Britney Spears!”

Kanye West has yet to comment on the unfolding drama, but I might have missed it when I was looking for Britney Spears. Still, I feel confident West would have concurred with my gut instinct that a baseball player that wants to make out with space chicks wasn't a very good story, and that Predator Press readers would prefer some good, juicy dirt on Kevin Federline. Heck, what was Britney Spears doing here anyway? Was she going to freeze her head too?

Unfortunately, it appears Britney Spears is very elusive when it comes to interviews and I never found her.

Ah screw it.

Never mind.

Predator Press Interviews: Captain Chesley "Sully" Sullenberger

Predator Press

[LOBO]

LOBO: Who are you again?

Captain Sullenberger: I’m the guy that safely landed the plane in the Hudson River, saving 155 passengers.

LOBO: ‘Safely landed?’

Captain Sullenberger: Yes. It was in all the papers.

LOBO: But isn’t ‘landed in a river’ pilotspeak for crash?

Captain Sullenberger: Well-

LOBO: Well I don’t know why you are so famous. I’ll bet there are billions of hilarious pilots that haven’t crashed anything.

Captain Sullenberger: Hilarious?

LOBO: Well, anytime someone brings twelve inches of documents to an interview, I assume it'll be boring. I was being sarcastic.

Captain Sullenberger: Both engines failed due to bird strikes.

LOBO: You had two engines and still crashed? I crashed a van into a lake once. That only had one engine. If I woulda had two, I’ll bet I coulda pulled her out.

Captain Sullenberger: I suppose.

LOBO: And what kind of name is ‘Sullenberger.’ Is that French?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: Are you on any reality shows like Survivor?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: Dancing With the Stars maybe?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: I’m having a really, really hard time making you seem interesting.

Captain Sullenberger: I’m an international speaker on airline safety.

LOBO: Well given the circumstances that’s just ironic, don’t you think?

Captain Sullenberger: I thought you said you were with Time Magazine.

LOBO: I probably did at some point. Hey what’s with the weird mustache? It makes you look suspicious.

Captain Sullenberger: I like it.

LOBO: You should lose it. Plus maybe try a combover. They got stuff you can brush in that would make you look, like, fifty years younger.

Captain Sullenberger: I fail to see-

LOBO: Like you failed to see the Hudson River?

Captain Sullenberger: You’re putting words in my mouth.

LOBO: Words like when you failed the US Airways eye exam, it was covered up? And you thought the Hudson River was a McDonalds drive thru?

Captain Sullenberger: You can’t fit an A320 in a McDonalds drive thru.

LOBO: Not with those peepers baby.

Captain Sullenberger: Stop waving your hand in front of my face. I can see perfectly.

LOBO: Then explain the mustache. It looks like you’re smuggling albino caterpillars.

Captain Sullenberger: It does not.

LOBO: Can you explain your rather lackluster career prior to the Hudson River event?

Captain Sullenberger: Excuse me?

LOBO: It says in your bio you’ve been flying since the seventies. Shouldn’t you be, like, an admiral or something by now?

Captain Sullenberger: I’m a commercial pilot.

LOBO: Do captains outrank skippers? For instance if you were on the SS Minnow, could you have bossed around Alan Hale?

Captain Sullenberger: Who?

LOBO: Ah. Admirals would probably have to study a lot of history.

Captain Sullenberger: I’ve got two masters degrees, and been a member of Mensa since I was twelve.

LOBO: [singsong] Now sit right back and you’ll hear a tale, a tale of a fateful trip …

Captain Sullenberger: That’s Gilligan’s Island.

LOBO: Gilligan was the biggest boob on that island. Why did they name it after him?

Captain Sullenberger: I don’t know.

LOBO: Can you make a radio out of coconuts?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: A generator out of a stationary bicycle?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: A car out of palm fronds?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: Sweet Jesus help me out here! If I publish an interview this boring on Predator Press, the readers will have me flayed!

Captain Sullenberger: I’m sorry. I’m trying.

LOBO: Ever bomb the crap out of Charlie?

Captain Sullenberger: I was eight years old during the Vietnam War.

LOBO: Japs?

Captain Sullenberger: That was even earlier. I would have been negative twelve or so.

LOBO: C’mon buddy. This is a Predator Press interview. Can’t you just make something up?

Captain Sullenberger: Like what? I went back in time?

LOBO: Did you kill Hitler?

Captain Sullenberger: No.

LOBO: Well, the whole ‘back in time’ thing would be pretty flaccid then.

Captain Sullenberger: Can I go now?

LOBO: This is your office.

Captain Sullenberger: I don’t care.

LOBO: Are you going to McDonalds? I love McDonalds!

Destroyer

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Of the past two weeks, I could regale you with tales of how I vanquished Ragnarok the Colossus –or perhaps even discuss how, vastly outnumbered, I crushed and humiliated Thrang the Human Rototiller, leaving two hundred thousand of his highest-ranking minions decimated, smoldering husks on the beachhead of Des Moines^[1]. But I’m sure you’re already inundated by these stories on CNN and Fox; I won’t bore you with more details.

What I will bore you with is the ongoing fiscal crisis. As a decorated war hero of World Wars VI, X and Pi, you would think simply finding a job would be a snap. But I have made powerful enemies, and nothing gives a Human Resources department pause like the possibility –however remote- of Martha Stewart’s armada returning from banishment in the eighth dimension and looking for swift and lethal payback^[2].

Sure I could just remove that element from my résumé and thusly avoid the issue entirely, but I consider it a test of the respective corporation’s courage and patriotic fortitude; while a particularly formidable foe, I don’t want to work for a bunch of pansies afraid of Martha Stewart –not with the empires of Mahmoud Ahmadinejad and Oprah Winfrey always sniffin’ around for signs of opportunity and weakness. This would only encourage our would-be oppressors.

“In these precarious and tumultuous times, cowardice amounts to treason!” I says, slamming my briefcase and storming out. “This interview is over. Good day sir.”

-Assholes.

Still, the Predator Press Trust Fund -the one established from the lawsuit when Britney Spears was clipping her toenails and the shrapnel slashed deeply into my shoulder and nearly cost me an eye- ever dwindles. Unless I magic me up some solutions pronto, concessions must be made.

Luckily Kung Fu Master David Carradine’s private phone number is listed in the phone book. Surely he -a wise, world renown forward-thinking philosophical intellect- can advise me on these matters.

I left him a few dozen messages yesterday.

He’ll know what to do.


^[1] Remember Thrang, we're not laughing at you -we're laughing in your general direction about the dumbass crap you always try and pull plus the fact that you're an idiot.

^[2] Martha’s Stewart’s culpability should not be ignored here either: she tried to seduce me wearing nothing but a thong, Latex pasties and a gimp mask in an effort to acquire my recipe for Christmas cookies shaped like the ‘Peanuts’ characters in pornographic positions.

-When my wife Terri found out, intergalactic bloodshed was, well, inevitable.

When All Else Fails

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“I told you to stop applying for psychiatrist jobs!” says Terri, scowling into my CareerBuilder account.

“It’s not just any psychiatrist job.” I explain. “It’s Director of Psychiatry. I would run, like, a fleet of psychiatrists. Those cats make like $250,000 a year.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“How hard could it be?” I shrug. “I carry around a clipboard, and make all the patients in my asylum smoke cannabis while listening to old Beatles records. Hell people will be trying to break in.”

“You’re not qualified!”

“I get my second interview tomorrow.”

“Really?”

Retox

Predator Press

[LOBO]

The kid –who looks a little like a pint-sized Butterbean- just kind of slips into the kitchen as I’m pouring milk into my bowl. The food, inspected under a black light only moments before, is presumed safe for my consumption.

But I’m still pretty groggy and not 100% I’m not dreaming the kid up: I decide to say nothing and try and ignore him in case.

-The possible illusion is shattered moments later as he loudly slides into a chair at the table.

“Hi,” he says shyly, averting my gaze.

“Hi,” I reply, chewing.

A few uncomfortable moments of silence follow.

“Is that cereal?”

“No,” says me, eyeing him warily. “It’s Peanut M&Ms.”

“Huh,” he says. "Do you always wear welding goggles at breakfast?"

"Son, you ever get hard candy shell in your eye?"

"No."

"Well then don't knock good protective gear. This isn’t some bullshit caramel nugat: this stuff is engineered to melt in your mouth. Not in your eye."

More silence. He starts uncomfortably looking around the kitchen. “Miss Terri said I could come in and talk to you.”

“Are you done?”

“No. See I have this school project where I have to interview people of different occupations.” He flips open a notepad. “I have you here as an ‘Author.’ Is that correct?”

I examine his beady little eyes for signs of sarcasm.

“You want to interview me?” I ask.

“Well my dad thought it was a good idea. Since you don’t actually have a job, he figured he wouldn’t have to drive me anyplace.”

I drop my spoon into the bowl -now empty except for discolored milk- and lean back in my chair. “Who is your dad again?”

“We live next door.”

I scowl without recognition.

“You killed my gramma with a Lawn Jart last summer,” he adds helpfully.

My eyebrows furrow. I gesture for him to stand and turn around. And sure enough, there’s that distinctive blocky skull shape.

“Oh yeah,” I says. “Man, your mom was pissed."

Mister Blister

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Well, Obama has been in office a full day and I’m still unemployed.

-I’m starting to have my doubts about this administration.

But the employers aren’t really helping themselves in this regard either. There’s nothing I like better than uploading a spiff resumé to Careerbuilders or Monster only to have to spend an hour doing it all over again: you hit “Apply Now,” and then have to engage in the redundant cutting and pasting of essentially the same information.

-And oh God help you if you get called in for an interview: then you get to fill out the same information once more by hand.

By the third permutation of the same info, if I don’t get the job I should be able to murder your Human Resources person with cinderblocks and pointy sticks.

It's at the handwritten application stage where they will sneak in a question like Where do you see yourself in five years? The correct answer for this is generally some variation on “blowing my boss,” but I don’t think they get that one very often frankly: I usually put “chewing on an adrenal gland of an endangered Mojave desert box tortoise, and crashing my nuclear hovercar into the competition’s cafeteria. This often causes survivors third degree burns, and fuses rayon and polyester to flesh.”

If you want to know the truth, the third version of my resumé always generates a high degree of internal doubt your company is really worth a crap in the first place. Seriously. Have I committed a felony since you called me to come in thirty minutes ago? No. To be brutally honest, the only thing that’s changed is now I know you don’t bother actually reading anything.

And as a result, now I don’t think I want to work for you: I picture my tenure with your company as furiously composing unnecessary faxes with irrational demands –demands that are forwarded to another fax machine on the other side of the building occupied by an effective battalion of hot secretaries who promptly stamp it “For Corporate Consideration,” copy it, scan it, email it, print it, copy the email, and file them away for future shredding –all the while complimenting my industriousness and brazen ambition.

“He’s going to go far in this company,” one will remark, shredding my proposal.

This is of course a highly abbreviated remark: over the years I will have fought hard against them gossiping about how attractive and sexy I am.

At some level that’s just not professional -and besides I am happily married.

I would have to write a memo like: “Ladies, this is a workplace. Despite my distracting good looks and overpowering 'machismo,' you must keep your base visceral instincts and urges under control. Put your blouses back on. This is harassment!” where it will be promptly stamped “For Corporate Consideration,” copied, scanned, emailed, printed, and filed away for future shredding.

The future is bleak.

Sexy, but bleak.

LOBOnian Marines, Air Force Flex Military Muscle

Predator Press

[Associated Press]

In order to prevent what was labeled as a 'false sense of security' due to LOBO’s departure, LOBOnian officials have released footage of secret military exercises designed to scare Pianosa I into "keeping their shit together or else."

“Under LOBOnian leadership, Pianosa I is now recognized as The Mecca of Wisdom and Progress," replied the LOBOnian Chancellor in a telephoned interview. "We decided that demonstrating our military capacity to strike from the skies or unseen from the forests would serve as a warning not to start farming soybeans and corn -or something equally lame."

"It’s for their own good,” he continued. "Now if you will excuse me, I have to chainsaw down this tree so's I can get our bomber back."

Predator Press Interviews: Barack Obama

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Uncharacteristically prepared for this 07/02/08 interview, I am a little stunned at Obama’s well-groomed and relaxed demeanor. However, a seasoned journalist, I’ve learned to face these surprises with an icy cool that only comes with experience.

We professionally shake hands, and the interview begins.

-But armed with tedious 'facts' and stuff, I come out swinging.

LOBO: So why’d you do it?

Obama: Excuse me?

LOBO: You know what you did.

[Obama shrugs, bewildered]

LOBO: You know, that whole "September 11th" thing.

Obama: I think you are thinking of Osama.

LOBO: Who?

Obama: Osama Bin Laden.

LOBO: Who are you?

Obama: I’m Barack Obama.

LOBO: No relation?

Obama: No.

LOBO: Ever think about attacking America with airplanes?

Obama: No.

LOBO: Ever been on an airplane?

Obama: Yes.

LOBO: But never thought of attacking America with it?

Obama: No. I did, however, remove my seat belt before the light instructed me to.

LOBO: Now you’re being a smart ass.

Obama: No. I’m completely serious. I lost myself in a moment of reckless abandon.

LOBO: See? You’re mocking me.

Obama: I also stole four bags of peanuts when the flight attendant wasn’t looking.

LOBO: Really?

Obama: No. Then I was mocking you.

LOBO: So why are you here?

Obama: For the interview.

LOBO: Are you supposed to be interesting for some reason?

Obama: Well, I’m running for President.

LOBO: Well, so am I. Lah-dee-dah!

Obama: Good luck to you.

LOBO: What’s your platform?

Obama: Making America a better place.

LOBO: Oh god that is SO boring. We could’ve got Hillary to say that.

Obama: Boring? What’s your platform?

LOBO: I dunno. I haven’t really thought about it yet. Maybe making a gigantic space robot that’ll squish Al Queda with big-assed feet.

Obama: Sounds expensive.

LOBO: I’ll slash the budget, then.

Obama: Where?

LOBO: Anyplace that doesn’t contribute directly to the space robot, or the Brazilian Bikini-Wax Act.

Obama: What about Welfare?

LOBO: We’ll get plenty of welfare once we’ve got a bad-assed space robot in our corner. C’mon Obama, use your imagination here. It’ll build, like, entire schools in a matter of minutes. And it will fight crime.

Obama: It will fight crime too?

LOBO: I’m sensing some skepticism here.

Obama: Will it deliver the mail?

LOBO: Now you’re being silly.

The Number You Haven't Dialed ...

Predator Press

[LOBO]

"He's not calling," says Terri.

"Of course he's calling," I insist. "You remember the now-historic interview I had with Barack. We had a real moment there.”

“You don’t think he would have called you by now?”

“I'm sure he's very busy. Who else would Barack pick as VP? Do you think he wants Don Lewis to win?"

“What about John McCain?”

“Oh come on. Nobody is seriously voting a fast food clown in for president.”

“That’s Ronald McDonald. John McCain is a decorated war vet, and-“

“Which war?”

“Vietnam.”

“Did he win?”

“Well-"

“He must have won,” I reflect. “He also survived the subsequent World Wars One and Two. That’s impressive.”

“What?”

“They name wars alphabetically so history students don’t have a hard time.”

“Really.”

“Yes. That’s why we’re never moving to Yugoslavia.”

“Because we’re going to have a war there?”

“They will probably retool all those Yugo factories to build tanks, but we can wipe them out with cleverly placed potholes and speed bumps. In fact, my first act as VP will be to surround that country entirely with potholes and speed bumps. It'll be like trying to invade Chicago!"

"And that's your strategy against Yugoslavia?"

"If you want to pick a winner in that war, I would go with whatever country produces the most potholes and speed bumps per capita.”

“Preemptively wiping out another country’s military seems more like a conservative plan. Don’t you think you would be a better VP for a republican like McCain?”

“Who?”

Predator Press Interviews: Clay Aiken

Predator Press

LOBO: It's an honor to meet you sir!

Clay: Well thanks! It's nice to be here.

LOBO: You're a lot smaller than I expected.

Clay: What?

LOBO: I guess it's true the camera puts on like 100 pounds. What're you, a buck-twenty soaking wet?

Clay: What the are you talking about?

LOBO: You must have been fast as hell. If them other football players woulda caught you, they'da squished you.

Clay: What football players?

LOBO: That's the spirit. A scrawny guy like you out there on the field's probably gotta have a scrappy attitude. 'Specially having been inducted into the Pro-Football Hall of Fame.

Clay: Don't call me scrawny.

LOBO: I wanted to draft you for my Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football team. Did you retire from the Dallas Cowboys and stop working out completely? Oh wow. Was it 'roids? Is this, like, the husk of an athlete after you burned out on anabolics and Gatorade 'an stuff?

Clay: No, it wasn't 'roids'. I think you have me confused with Troy Aikman.

LOBO: Who?

Clay: Troy Aikman. The football player. The Cowboys' first-round draft pick in 1989. Led the team to three Super Bowl wins. Winningest starting quarterback of any decade with 90 of 94 career wins occurring in 1990s. Held or tied 47 Dallas passing records, and posted 13 regular season and four playoff 300-yard passing games. Named to six Pro Bowls, All-Pro 1993, All-NFC Second Team 1994, 1995. Born November 21, 1966, in West Covina, California.

LOBO: That makes sense. I was wondering why when Troy got into that fight with that chick on the airplane a few years ago, he didn't just kick her ass right through the fuselage.

Clay: That was me that got into the fight.

LOBO: So who won?

Clay: It wasn't that kind of fight.

LOBO: What kind of fight was it?

Clay: It was an argument.

LOBO: Oh, c'mon. It was on the news and everything!

Clay: I don't really want to discuss it.

LOBO: Why? Did you get you're your ass kicked or something?

Clay: I said I don't want to talk about it.

LOBO: Well what do you want to talk about?

Clay: You're conducting the interview.

LOBO: Well, uh, have you ever done anything interesting?

Clay: I was on American Idol. I did very well. It was in all the papers.

LOBO: Did you ever meet Sanjaya?

Clay: Well, yeah.

LOBO: That Sanjaya kicks ass. I'll bet after winning that year, they hadda bring him back next season just to try and do the impossible and have him defeated. Impossible!

Clay: Actually I think Sanjaya got voted off that year.

LOBO: Really?

Clay: Yeah.

LOBO: Do you know him? I would really like to interview him.

Clay: I really don't think I would put him through this.

LOBO: Say are you hungry?

Clay: Well maybe a little.

LOBO: We're ordering sandwiches from the deli. Want one?

Clay: Do you have a menu?

LOBO: Menu? You don't want a menu. Most of their food is terrible. But they've got fantastic Reuben. Man, I highly recommend eating a big, fat Reuben sandwich from this place.

Clay: Are you screwing with me? We can do this thing in the parking lot if you want.

LOBO: The parking lot? We can't do an interview from the parking lot. And we're ordering from the deli. They won't deliver our food there.

Clay: I know women that could kick your ass.

LOBO: I'll bet! Man, you must've scored a sh**-ton of chicks after that American Idol thing.

Clay: What? Was that some kind of sarcastic crack? I just became a dad. I'm not gay.

LOBO: I'll say. You should try and get more sleep. You're about the crankiest person I've ever interviewed.


Contact Angry Seafood to join the
Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League!

Predator Press and the Quest for the Empty Skull

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Having seen all four “Raiders” movies now, I feel more than qualified to follow in the footsteps of the great Doctor Jones and enter the fast-paced and lucrative sexy field of Archeology.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t seem to circumvent the lack of academic accolades with prospective employers. I think they had their doubts I could kick the crap out of six guys while hopping back and forth between vehicles speeding through a dense jungle -even after seeing the Honorary White Belt Grand Master Futon gave me.

Despite the lofty credentials, much-lauded Harvard University immediately balked at the opportunity to even tenure me: being tenured at Harvard University, it turns out, is a potential subsequent function of me actually teaching at Harvard University.

Blah, blah.

“I’ll have no part of dealing with screaming brats,” I inform the interviewer. “Dammit, I’m a scientist."

“How about an online class?” says the guy looking down his nose into a thick book. “We're starting a course in Private Investigation this August.”

“Great,” I says. “I’ll take it. How long until my tenure starts?”

“Sir, I have serious doubts you have any knowledge of this field whatsoever.”

“Sure I do,” I insist.

“You are prepared to instruct people to conduct criminal investigations via intercooperation between various law enforcement agencies?”

“The world should be wiped clean of criminal scourge.”

“-while occasionally working underground with criminals to collect information?”

“I totally hate cops.”

He leans back in his chair. “So what exactly do you know about private investigation?”

“Licensed private investigators get to carry guns. And that’s always cool. You can use guns to shoot people.”

“And you want to shoot people?”

“Oh God no,” I says. “I just want to fit in when I go to Denny’s.”

“I seriously doubt you possess the guile to work in undercover operations.”

“Well, I fooled you with that resume,” I point out. “Hell that thing is chocked full of lies.”

“Like what?”

“Like what isn’t?”

“So your name isn’t Indiana Einstein?”

“Not even close,” I says smuggly.

“Well what is it then? We would need to put something on the checks.”

Now I had a plan for if the interview was going poorly: I was going to say my name was Don Lewis. But my intuition told me I had this hoity-toity Harvard University geek wrapped around my finger.

Attempting to avoid the obvious trap, I start looking around the spacious office for ideas. I see a framed Michelangelo Fresco, a Thomas Wolfe book … absolutely nothing useful.

Finally my eyes fell on his coffee cup.

“Joe,” I blurt. “Joe, eh, Joseph.”

The interviewer’s eyebrows furrow. “Huh,” he says. “We have an opening in Mayan Hieroglyphic Writing. That would be a little closer to your desired field than private investigation. You can read Mayan hieroglyphics, correct?”

"Pre or Postclassic?"

"Late Preclassic."

“I love Preclassic Mayan hieroglyphics. Some nights I can’t put ‘em down at all ... see these dark circles under my eyes? I just finished a version of War and Peace written in Preclassic Mayan hieroglyphics.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I thought it was a bit wordy and pedantic. But the part where the giant turtle bites the heads off of those snowmen makes me cry every time.”