Tuesday

"300" BLOCKBUSTER ENRAGES IRAN

Predator Press

My God ... have those people seen "Steel Magnolias"?


Show Me Where it Hurts

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Going to work today was rather surreal; rather than facing biting cold and gunmetal gray skies, I was awash in a light 70-degree breeze and sunshine.

Sunshine.

Now, I’ve gone three months without “Cabin Fever” or “Seasonal Effective Disorder” or whatever –and for a guy riddled with weird phobias and neuroses, that’s pretty damn good—but today I was a little overwhelmed by it all.

I was suddenly made aware of how sick I am of winter.

The fact that I did not put the words ’this year’ anywhere in that sentence is not an accident.

A great deal of the day was spent sort of playfully daydreaming about the logistics of just 'packing it in' and going West. In fact, my helplessness against this strange preoccupation only further distressed me; this isn’t really about the weather at all, is it? I’ve been here for seven of winters in a row, and this one was certainly among the milder.

What is impelling me to consider leaving someplace I’ve been pretty damn happy for so long? What soured this earth? Is it something innate telling me it’s merely time once again for a change in landscape? A ‘sense of adventure’? I love this place, this job, the people; these have been the best years I've ever had.

But everything just seemed so colorless, barren and flat in that sunny, warm luster ...

Sunday

POPPER SEIZES ORANGE COUNTY



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RAMPANT WILDFIRES PROMPT JOHN POPPER TO MAKE HIS MOVE ON METROPOLITAN LOS ANGELES

Paulie, Mikey and Vinnie reported safe

Friday

When Dreams Come Through

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[LOBO]

The title of this post was originally supposed to be “LOBO FOUND DEAD, PELVIS CRUSHED BY ROGUE SQUAD OF HORNY VICTORIA'S SECRET MODELS; WEDDING TO BABS POSTPONED” –but it wouldn’t fit.

Plus, I don't think she would fall for it.

Look, Babs is hot and all, and I’ll bet she’s probably got a redeeming personality too. But the fact of the matter is that Babs has slept with everyone I know, and probably a few people I don’t know as well … maybe even French Canadians!

If you stand close to her, you can virtually hear the virulent space herpes crawling around that thong.

While getting violently “consummated” on over and over might sound like fun, I would inevitably contract The Virus which would cause my Hippocampus to ignite, thusly making me a mindless sex slave to the Space Herpe Queen.

--Which probably implies I gotta do stuff, right? I mean right in the middle of smashing a galaxy into a fiery hell-storm of molten slag, the bitch wants to “talk about our relationship”, or redecorate the kitchen. And I’ll bet the Space Herpe Queen has some fucked up relatives ...

… God I’m getting tired just thinking about this!

No One Ever Thanked Porn :(

Predator Press

[LOBO]

When I got stranded here 8 years ago, I dropped almost all the cash I had --about $2,500- within the first few days of being aware there was “a crisis”.

--Not on food or rent or a car, but on a CPU tower with a modem, and a dedicated telephone line.

The people here thought I was out of my mind, and that this whole "internet" thing was at best a fad. Why in the world would we want to have a high-priced calculator that can eerily commune instantly with people from faraway places like Indiana?

Now here it is, 8 years later, and both of my neighbors have wireless connections that screw mine up.

It’s amazing. What other creature on Earth can communicate, virtually instantaneously across the world, sophisticated information? In a strictly biological sense, I would argue that this rivals telepathy as an “Evolutionary Step” for a species.

I, eight years ago, needed the Internet; I had come from Honolulu where they had “Internet Cafés” on every corner, and moved to a place where the nearest store sold tools to neuter a horse (and I swear to God that’s the truth). I had friends all over the world, and we didn’t have "digital phone" back then; were it not for Al Gore, my long distance bills would still be $500 or more a month.

Plus I needed porn.

This all begs some questions. Like, "How did we all get the Internet virtually overnight, when it took decades to get other technological innovations such as railroads and electricity?", and "What explains this rapid and expensive saturation?"

Is this whole town now suddenly riddled with people using 'Quicken', and needing immediate downloads and uploads in fear of a mass IRS audit? Are they all physicists tweaking an equation that provides cold fusion? Is 'The Government' desperately trying to cure cancer before 5 more people die untaxed?

No. The answer, my friends, is blowin’ in the simms.

If there were naked chicks on Mars, we would’ve been there in 1984.

Thursday

PREDATOR PRESS BREAKS NEWS AGAIN

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I was stunned too. But I kept thinking How did Popper know we were onto him?

Well, it turns out it had nothing to do with us whatsoever, and that's exactly what we want George Lindsey to think right now.

You see, if you play "Run-Around" backwards, you can here Popper clearly discussing his intentions:

VOICE: “[inaudible] … your bottled water sir. The truck … and the canned goods [inaudible] all gone … “

Popper: “I’ve had it with those D-O-T cocksuckers fucking up my ‘Master Plan’!"

VOICE: “Your instructions, Lord Popper?”

Popper: ”There is nothing we can do, unless there’s a tidal wave or an earthquake. Or maybe an eclipse.”

VOICE: "Y-yes, sir."

Popper: "I'm very disappointed, Number Two."

VOICE: "I know sir."

Popper: "This failure is unacceptable. What if there was a tsunami or a forest fire today? We would be completely unprepared."

VOICE: "Yes my Lord."

Popper: "Number Three, are you there?"

NEW VOICE: "Yes, Lord Popper."

Popper: "You are my new Number Two. Now show that maggot how Lord Popper deals with failures."

[gunshot, then chorus]

Press Release:


Predator Press

The plan to go beat up John Popper and steal all his stuff in the event of a Natural Disaster has been officially scrubbed until further notice due to developing information.

We’re thinking maybe George "Goober" Lindsey from The Andy Griffith Show now.

Internet Swag

Predator Press





Wednesday

Define the Value of XXX

Predator Press



From Hell's Heart

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Since I’ve finally given up endlessly fiddle-f*cking with “Beta” Blogger’s busted crap and completely abandoned all hope of ever getting my site back on Google and Yahoo, I have concentrated efforts on squeaking out posts ever so often while simultaneously researching out potential new hosts.

With my job going well, my love-life "in tune", and my creative efforts, well, eh, 'adequate', somehow it all just highlights the only thing wrong even more; all those years of work to build traffic to a site --once 100 unique hits a day— were pissed away by a bunch of greedy, short-sighted incompetent hacks in a lab.

And it turns out this stuff doesn’t work right before you do anything to it … I mean come on; what kind of a blog site corrupts photo uploads that provide fatal errors and make your site uncrawlable? Or doesn’t let you put external links in the main fields? Or train wrecks if two different users use have logged in from the same computer?

This site, broken, will stay broken. And from the wreckage, I will rebuild it with and despite these inept tools, if only to create the most well-read and embarrassing eyesore to Blogger’s potential advertisers, clients, and members. I will somehow drive readers here again and again, and insidiously underline the dissatisfaction through the fractured lens of Blogger’s programming “triumph”.

From here on out, Predator Press, on Blogger or not, shall be a veritable showcase of Beta Blogger’s technological boobery.

But why stop at Blogger?