Predator Press
[LOBO]
Alas, fair Fort Wayne, Indiana; there is treachery afoot!
Even as you sleep, Sansduky, Ohio is spreading disinformation about you and beloved LOBOnia in a vain effort to divide our peoples by eroding our long-standing diplomatic ties for an inevitable attack.
I trust, by your name, that you indeed have a "fort", and hopefully it is of the good sturdy treehouse variety; we have intercepted 'chatter' sent to us that contains invasion plans, as well as a string of malicious obscenities about your mommas so vile I dare not print them here.
As you ready your war machines to avenge this slander, you may take solace in that all peace efforts have already been exhausted without heed: the Sanduskians, a warlike and expansionist community just seething with cooties, would have no part in any of the numerous LOBOnian efforts to achieve a diplomatic resolution.
The hearts, minds and prayers of the LOBOnain people go with you into the doubtlessly bloody carnage that they have wrought upon us all.
Woe to thee, o Sandusky! Why have you demanded the righteous, indignant wrath of two staunchly unified and powerful allies upon yourselves?
(God, this is fun. I feel just like Ronald Reagan!)
Saturday
Armada
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Oh, noble Sandusky, Ohio, I too was shocked at the news that you had been maligned, and maligned under the guise of LOBOnian Diplomacy!
But as you can see via satellite photos, we have not even air support; our entire Naval Armada lies dry and askew scattered across my bathtub! Surely we could not have wanted to provoke a conflict with a power as great, merciful, and as capable of enjoying some good-natured ribbing such as yours.
Our Intel suggests the true source of those slanderous allegations to be Fort Wayne, Indiana. Those jerks have been talking shit about you for years, and their Japanese cohorts are making fun of your penis size!
Once I fill the bathtub with that "Safety Fluid", the LOBOnian Navy will be reactivated and fully operational again, ready to deliver swift and lethal payback to Fort Wayne, Indiana --thusly thwarting the evil Japanese plot for autocracy. I'll even throw in six 'GI Joes', a shark, and a giant rubber duck!
Don't laugh at the duck, dude. He may have a cute smile, but he's got 4 settings:
1) LOW,
2) MEDIUM,
3) NAPALM, FILLET, AND DESTROY WITH NUCLEAR AND BIOLOGICAL PREJUDICE WHEN NECESSARY, and
4) HIGH.
Nodody fucks with The Duck, pal.
[LOBO]
Oh, noble Sandusky, Ohio, I too was shocked at the news that you had been maligned, and maligned under the guise of LOBOnian Diplomacy!
But as you can see via satellite photos, we have not even air support; our entire Naval Armada lies dry and askew scattered across my bathtub! Surely we could not have wanted to provoke a conflict with a power as great, merciful, and as capable of enjoying some good-natured ribbing such as yours.
Our Intel suggests the true source of those slanderous allegations to be Fort Wayne, Indiana. Those jerks have been talking shit about you for years, and their Japanese cohorts are making fun of your penis size!
Once I fill the bathtub with that "Safety Fluid", the LOBOnian Navy will be reactivated and fully operational again, ready to deliver swift and lethal payback to Fort Wayne, Indiana --thusly thwarting the evil Japanese plot for autocracy. I'll even throw in six 'GI Joes', a shark, and a giant rubber duck!
Don't laugh at the duck, dude. He may have a cute smile, but he's got 4 settings:
1) LOW,
2) MEDIUM,
3) NAPALM, FILLET, AND DESTROY WITH NUCLEAR AND BIOLOGICAL PREJUDICE WHEN NECESSARY, and
4) HIGH.
Nodody fucks with The Duck, pal.
WWID
Predator Press
[LOBO]
While torching this hideous PC seemed rather innocuous and necessary at first, I failed to recognize the intrinsic flammable properties that an office full of paper airplanes might indeed possess; in the moments before the sprinkler kicked on, I witnessed the horror of the entire LOBOnian Air Force rendered to ineffective ash.
It was like Pearl Harbor all over again ... 'cept worse, because this happened to me.
Lousy Slants!
Of the entire elite cadre of my finest and deadliest engineering marvels, the only craft that survived was the badly charred T-14 Super-Sonic Stealth Death Bomber Plus II. And during the preliminary test flight to assess the damage, she arched straight to the ground with a soggy and ungraceful splat; her ruptured frame failed to keep the munitions from detonating, and she too joined the ranks of the staggering, catastrophic loss.
On this historic day, March 24, 2007 --even as Sandusky, Ohio is receiving a noterized LOBOnian Declaration of War that states flatly that their entire city has cooties, and lays out in detail my brazen demand for it's unconditional surrender-- the LOBOnian air defenses have been wholly and utterly wiped out.
Military might decimated, we are forced to recruit.
We're looking for a few good men.
... and a lot of really bad girls.
[LOBO]
While torching this hideous PC seemed rather innocuous and necessary at first, I failed to recognize the intrinsic flammable properties that an office full of paper airplanes might indeed possess; in the moments before the sprinkler kicked on, I witnessed the horror of the entire LOBOnian Air Force rendered to ineffective ash.
It was like Pearl Harbor all over again ... 'cept worse, because this happened to me.
Lousy Slants!
Of the entire elite cadre of my finest and deadliest engineering marvels, the only craft that survived was the badly charred T-14 Super-Sonic Stealth Death Bomber Plus II. And during the preliminary test flight to assess the damage, she arched straight to the ground with a soggy and ungraceful splat; her ruptured frame failed to keep the munitions from detonating, and she too joined the ranks of the staggering, catastrophic loss.
On this historic day, March 24, 2007 --even as Sandusky, Ohio is receiving a noterized LOBOnian Declaration of War that states flatly that their entire city has cooties, and lays out in detail my brazen demand for it's unconditional surrender-- the LOBOnian air defenses have been wholly and utterly wiped out.
Military might decimated, we are forced to recruit.
We're looking for a few good men.
... and a lot of really bad girls.
Friday
Errata
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Ethan,
I'm due for a computer upgrade.
I hate this "off-white" CPU color ... it clashes badly with the interior of my office. Don't they make 'Dells' with maybe an imported walnut finish? Corinthian leather keyboards? Cup holders?
You don't want important corporate visitors thinking we're unsophisticated barbarians back here, do you?
Cripes, now this thing reeks of gasoline too!
In any case, we should take this one back to Microsoft and demand a full refund, as well as a personal apology from Bill Gates.
And a car.
[LOBO]
Ethan,
I'm due for a computer upgrade.
I hate this "off-white" CPU color ... it clashes badly with the interior of my office. Don't they make 'Dells' with maybe an imported walnut finish? Corinthian leather keyboards? Cup holders?
You don't want important corporate visitors thinking we're unsophisticated barbarians back here, do you?
Cripes, now this thing reeks of gasoline too!
In any case, we should take this one back to Microsoft and demand a full refund, as well as a personal apology from Bill Gates.
And a car.
Thursday
A Body Apolitique
Predator Press
[LOBO]
In a world of politically polarized blogs, my lack of "affiliation" drives Ethan totally bats.
The truth is, I've known some pretty fine people -and some rather spectacular train wrecks-- from both ends of the spectrum; my personal experience has taught me that a person's political and religious beliefs are rarely a reliable moral barometer. In fact, I find extreme levels of involvement bear out to the contrary; it often seems the more a person talks about what they believe, the less they behave in the manner of their chosen endorsement.
I've tried "staying on top" via various media, but the political charge always seems to bring out the worst in people; everybody is so busy distilling the information and calling everyone else liars, provocateurs and thieves, I couldn't tell you a good, reliable and objective news source were there a gun pointed at my head.
–besides Predator Press, of course.
Look, it's not complicated; either you want to defend, elevate and improve your own circumstances, or you want to improve, elevate or defend the environment of the circumstances and the collective whole, uh, thereby indirectly improving your own circumstances.
Hm.
Well, far be it from me to get in your ardent and virtuous way; hell, you screwballs are already so choked of fantastic conspiracy theories, finger-pointing and wild accusations, there isn't enough room for Predator Press to contribute!
Ultimately, this results in more leisure time for me; I'll step aside and let you make the comedy. Give kids 9mms in schools in an effort to understand the Metric System, and then automatic weapons while guarding the home in case of massive and well-coordinated quail or deer uprisings. Change the word "Prison" in the dictionary to "Low-Income Housing", "Starving" to "Sheik and Slender", and "Homeless" to "Independent Dwelling". Wreck the planet --and pay an oil man $3 a gallon of gas to do it! Bomb people frequently, and then pay "think tanks" to try and figure out why those people are are so irrationaly pissed off. Follow divisive religious tenants, and by all means kill people in Righteous Indignation. "Liberate" faraway communities of people of people you've never even heard of by either employing them or exterminating them --better yet, letting them exterminate each other once there services are no longer required! Fail not to look with adoring eyes and wallets (and various other body parts) upon the staggering contributions to humanity by such towering intellects as Anna-Nicole, Dick Cheney and Paris Hilton.
Promise me eons of Enrons, ages of atrocity, and volumes of vanity!
Because that's funny.
[LOBO]
In a world of politically polarized blogs, my lack of "affiliation" drives Ethan totally bats.
The truth is, I've known some pretty fine people -and some rather spectacular train wrecks-- from both ends of the spectrum; my personal experience has taught me that a person's political and religious beliefs are rarely a reliable moral barometer. In fact, I find extreme levels of involvement bear out to the contrary; it often seems the more a person talks about what they believe, the less they behave in the manner of their chosen endorsement.
I've tried "staying on top" via various media, but the political charge always seems to bring out the worst in people; everybody is so busy distilling the information and calling everyone else liars, provocateurs and thieves, I couldn't tell you a good, reliable and objective news source were there a gun pointed at my head.
–besides Predator Press, of course.
Look, it's not complicated; either you want to defend, elevate and improve your own circumstances, or you want to improve, elevate or defend the environment of the circumstances and the collective whole, uh, thereby indirectly improving your own circumstances.
Hm.
Well, far be it from me to get in your ardent and virtuous way; hell, you screwballs are already so choked of fantastic conspiracy theories, finger-pointing and wild accusations, there isn't enough room for Predator Press to contribute!
Ultimately, this results in more leisure time for me; I'll step aside and let you make the comedy. Give kids 9mms in schools in an effort to understand the Metric System, and then automatic weapons while guarding the home in case of massive and well-coordinated quail or deer uprisings. Change the word "Prison" in the dictionary to "Low-Income Housing", "Starving" to "Sheik and Slender", and "Homeless" to "Independent Dwelling". Wreck the planet --and pay an oil man $3 a gallon of gas to do it! Bomb people frequently, and then pay "think tanks" to try and figure out why those people are are so irrationaly pissed off. Follow divisive religious tenants, and by all means kill people in Righteous Indignation. "Liberate" faraway communities of people of people you've never even heard of by either employing them or exterminating them --better yet, letting them exterminate each other once there services are no longer required! Fail not to look with adoring eyes and wallets (and various other body parts) upon the staggering contributions to humanity by such towering intellects as Anna-Nicole, Dick Cheney and Paris Hilton.
Promise me eons of Enrons, ages of atrocity, and volumes of vanity!
Because that's funny.
Tuesday
Samsara
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Didja ever notice how rare it is when everything seems to be "in tune"?
Like maybe your job is great, the bills are paid, and you're surrounded by friends and loved ones ... but then your best friend and your old lady accidentally knock a scented candle over while having sex, and burn the house and all your worldly possessions to the ground? Or you win the lottery, and while jumping around in jubilant celebration you snag a testicle on a protruding rusty nail? Remember the first time when --beguiled by the rather grandiose name-- you found out a urinal cake was not the fluffy confection you were led to believe it was?
Well, that's how life works. It's a box of chocolates where you often find nothing but coconut creams.
After weeks, I got the blog "spider friendly" again and we're already back up to number 2 --I anticipate overtaking those wildlife jerks in the number 1 spot again anytime now. But I've got a nasty cold again and I'm so stuffy I can't think of anything 'spiff' to write; while usually slowed down scrawling notes on Post Its against my steering wheel at 94 MPH, I'm way early for work today. Staggering around in a Nyquil-induced fog, drinking coffee that tastes like a roast boot, I'm spinning the unappetizing food in the vending machine in an apparent effort to make spraypainted soybean products dizzy.
This colorless and blasé "Wheel of Suffering" has nothing new to hold my interest today. It cares not for the lost souls it sustains, nor how it tastes to the wreched fools who dare the inevitably fatal rectal trauma; joylessly shorting you 85 cents change, it shares its bountiful array of microwavable cheeseburgers that were never cheese or beef, chicken fajitas that are tortillas stuffed with lettuce and green peppers idly mulling rumors that chicken was involved in the process somewhere ...
And, staring absently into that smudgy glass, I don't particularly care.
We're number 2?
To Environmentalists?
I find this highly offensive.
For those of you that have known me awhile, you may remember that I'm twice the survivor of pneumonia. And I don't use the word 'survivor' loosely, either; the last time I was in the ICU for three weeks. The doctor told me a third 'bout' would likely be the last. So we have to take 2nd place to a bunch of jerks trying to protect an environment that's unabashedly been trying to kill me for years? Hell, if anything, the 'environment' should get it's ass kicked; for years now, it's presented me with nothing more than a constant assault of inclement weather and deadly microscopic flesh-eating bacteria, in a world infested by clever and fast-moving hungry carnivores and axe-wielding Heisman Trophy winners.
The fact is that 'The Environment' kills dozens of people every day, and there are various scientists that can prove it: "Mother Nature" would like nothing more than to dance in the splendor of my tasty and nutritious slippery entrails!
I've had just about enough of this 'environment' crap, thank you. I say we all take this moment in history to show this bitch "Mother Nature" exactly who's in charge around here ...
[LOBO]
Didja ever notice how rare it is when everything seems to be "in tune"?
Like maybe your job is great, the bills are paid, and you're surrounded by friends and loved ones ... but then your best friend and your old lady accidentally knock a scented candle over while having sex, and burn the house and all your worldly possessions to the ground? Or you win the lottery, and while jumping around in jubilant celebration you snag a testicle on a protruding rusty nail? Remember the first time when --beguiled by the rather grandiose name-- you found out a urinal cake was not the fluffy confection you were led to believe it was?
Well, that's how life works. It's a box of chocolates where you often find nothing but coconut creams.
After weeks, I got the blog "spider friendly" again and we're already back up to number 2 --I anticipate overtaking those wildlife jerks in the number 1 spot again anytime now. But I've got a nasty cold again and I'm so stuffy I can't think of anything 'spiff' to write; while usually slowed down scrawling notes on Post Its against my steering wheel at 94 MPH, I'm way early for work today. Staggering around in a Nyquil-induced fog, drinking coffee that tastes like a roast boot, I'm spinning the unappetizing food in the vending machine in an apparent effort to make spraypainted soybean products dizzy.
This colorless and blasé "Wheel of Suffering" has nothing new to hold my interest today. It cares not for the lost souls it sustains, nor how it tastes to the wreched fools who dare the inevitably fatal rectal trauma; joylessly shorting you 85 cents change, it shares its bountiful array of microwavable cheeseburgers that were never cheese or beef, chicken fajitas that are tortillas stuffed with lettuce and green peppers idly mulling rumors that chicken was involved in the process somewhere ...
And, staring absently into that smudgy glass, I don't particularly care.
We're number 2?
To Environmentalists?
I find this highly offensive.
For those of you that have known me awhile, you may remember that I'm twice the survivor of pneumonia. And I don't use the word 'survivor' loosely, either; the last time I was in the ICU for three weeks. The doctor told me a third 'bout' would likely be the last. So we have to take 2nd place to a bunch of jerks trying to protect an environment that's unabashedly been trying to kill me for years? Hell, if anything, the 'environment' should get it's ass kicked; for years now, it's presented me with nothing more than a constant assault of inclement weather and deadly microscopic flesh-eating bacteria, in a world infested by clever and fast-moving hungry carnivores and axe-wielding Heisman Trophy winners.
The fact is that 'The Environment' kills dozens of people every day, and there are various scientists that can prove it: "Mother Nature" would like nothing more than to dance in the splendor of my tasty and nutritious slippery entrails!
I've had just about enough of this 'environment' crap, thank you. I say we all take this moment in history to show this bitch "Mother Nature" exactly who's in charge around here ...
Sunday
Hawk
Predator Press
[LOBO]
“So you’re a Republican now?” says Ethan.
“Yes I am,” says me. “Someone has to look out for the AARP.”
“So you’re going to help the elderly get decent medical and drug coverage?”
“No,” I says. “I’m going to 'level the playing field', and make everyone under 30 drive blindfolded and on Valiums.”
[LOBO]
“So you’re a Republican now?” says Ethan.
“Yes I am,” says me. “Someone has to look out for the AARP.”
“So you’re going to help the elderly get decent medical and drug coverage?”
“No,” I says. “I’m going to 'level the playing field', and make everyone under 30 drive blindfolded and on Valiums.”
Predator Press Interviews: Barney
Predator Press
LOBO: “So you’re Barney? Can I call you Barney?”
[‘Barney’ pulls off his massive head, and extends his 'paw']
BARNEY: “I’m Doug. Doug Anderson. A guy that wears the ‘Barney’ suit”
LOBO: “So, ‘Doug Anderson’ –if indeed that is your real name-- you are, in fact, Barney?"
BARNEY: “Uh, no.”
LOBO: "--Or a paid representative of the omnipresent Barney Empire?”
BARNEY: “I guess. I do kid shows for $18 an hour or so. Hadda take a class, and make sure I could sing the songs—“
LOBO: ”Yes yes, I’m familiar with your musical contributions. But tell me, are you aware of how much drugging it takes for an average adult to exploit your momentary distraction of the kids? Ever try to 'torpedo Das Booty' while Wheels on the Bus is seeping through the walls?”
BARNEY: “Excuse me?”
LOBO: “Oh come on. I mean, I don't doubt you're an invaluable resource to juvenile delinquency and neglect and worth every penny. But the tunes need work. Think about it: have you ever ONCE been blown by a rabid, crying groupie off of ‘Sharing is Caring’?”
BARNEY: ”I think you would be amazed.”
LOBO: “Really?”
BARNEY: “Lonely single moms, a big puple tail. You do the math.”
LOBO: “Wow. Well, I still think you should consider updating your image a little. Have you ever considered doing, maybe, Tool? And then a finale getting slain by a large-breasted chick in a Viking helmet?”
BARNEY: "I’m sure that would have to come down from Corporate.”
LOBO: “So you’re Barney? Can I call you Barney?”
[‘Barney’ pulls off his massive head, and extends his 'paw']
BARNEY: “I’m Doug. Doug Anderson. A guy that wears the ‘Barney’ suit”
LOBO: “So, ‘Doug Anderson’ –if indeed that is your real name-- you are, in fact, Barney?"
BARNEY: “Uh, no.”
LOBO: "--Or a paid representative of the omnipresent Barney Empire?”
BARNEY: “I guess. I do kid shows for $18 an hour or so. Hadda take a class, and make sure I could sing the songs—“
LOBO: ”Yes yes, I’m familiar with your musical contributions. But tell me, are you aware of how much drugging it takes for an average adult to exploit your momentary distraction of the kids? Ever try to 'torpedo Das Booty' while Wheels on the Bus is seeping through the walls?”
BARNEY: “Excuse me?”
LOBO: “Oh come on. I mean, I don't doubt you're an invaluable resource to juvenile delinquency and neglect and worth every penny. But the tunes need work. Think about it: have you ever ONCE been blown by a rabid, crying groupie off of ‘Sharing is Caring’?”
BARNEY: ”I think you would be amazed.”
LOBO: “Really?”
BARNEY: “Lonely single moms, a big puple tail. You do the math.”
LOBO: “Wow. Well, I still think you should consider updating your image a little. Have you ever considered doing, maybe, Tool? And then a finale getting slain by a large-breasted chick in a Viking helmet?”
BARNEY: "I’m sure that would have to come down from Corporate.”
Saturday
Blame it on San Andreas
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Well, I have harshly criticized Blogger “The Butcher” Beta, so’s I guess I should mention a rather cool feature I’ve found. No one was more surprised than I; usually when I activate one of these mysterious unknown features, vipers pour out of my cd-rom drive, or huge spinning drills fly out of my monitor and drive themselves past my retinas and deeply into my brain.
You may have noticed lately that I have been “labeling”; these are those little eyesore tags under every post that I can’t seem to hide. But these little tags have enabled me to begin an alphabetize a navigation tool in the Site Guide of past historic and brilliant Predator Press posts related to the subject in question.
It's going slow, and I'm working backwards; with hundreds of posts, it will likely take months. But this will be an amazing aid to people new to the blog --as well as an academic researching organizer in the future, when scientists and archeologists are studying my heroic efforts to keep you people from freaking out and becoming mindslaves to such evils as Rush Limbaugh, Fran Tarkenton, and Ashley Olsen.
Mary-Kate is cool, but Ashley?
Pure Evil.
[LOBO]
Well, I have harshly criticized Blogger “The Butcher” Beta, so’s I guess I should mention a rather cool feature I’ve found. No one was more surprised than I; usually when I activate one of these mysterious unknown features, vipers pour out of my cd-rom drive, or huge spinning drills fly out of my monitor and drive themselves past my retinas and deeply into my brain.
You may have noticed lately that I have been “labeling”; these are those little eyesore tags under every post that I can’t seem to hide. But these little tags have enabled me to begin an alphabetize a navigation tool in the Site Guide of past historic and brilliant Predator Press posts related to the subject in question.
It's going slow, and I'm working backwards; with hundreds of posts, it will likely take months. But this will be an amazing aid to people new to the blog --as well as an academic researching organizer in the future, when scientists and archeologists are studying my heroic efforts to keep you people from freaking out and becoming mindslaves to such evils as Rush Limbaugh, Fran Tarkenton, and Ashley Olsen.
Mary-Kate is cool, but Ashley?
Pure Evil.
Thursday
A Patriot Act
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"I really appreciate you coming out Mister President," I says, climbing into the limousine.
"What?" calls Bush in the distance. "I can't hear you."
"Where are you sir?" I call into the palatial interior.
"By the pinball machines!"
Homing in on his voice, I find him excitedly contorting over a game of Super Faulken Ball.
"One more Island, and I'll control Argentina and Czechoslovakia -the gateway country to Australia!"
"Wow," I says. "That's really cool. And educational."
Just then, the game let out a low falling tone and all the lights went out --except for a bright flashing 'PAPAL SANCTIONS' marquee.
"Damn!" Bush growls. "I 'tilted' it."
"When did you put in the pool?"
Bush brightens. "There's a pool?"
"Yeah. Right next to the pizza oven."
"Wow. That's really cool."
"This thing must be hell on gas."
Bush winks, and puts a finger to his lips. "Hydrogen. Had it since 1989. Want a gelato?"
"No thanks."
Bush sighs and steps back to size me up. "You look terrible."
"So when you wrap up this whole 'Presidential' thing, I take it you'll be giving self-esteem seminars?"
"Sorry buddy," he guffaws. "When I was told you were feeling a little down, I flew directly in. Those meetings with Krin Kan Chung or whoever are all redunderances anyway." He presses a button on the wall. "Kristanna?"
"Yes sir?" says a sultry voice.
"Could you bring me a gelato?"
I nudge him sheepishly, holding up two fingers.
He grins. "Make that two gelati."
"Thank God for you selfless and caring Republicans," I sigh. "This whole world would go straight to hell without the deeply-seeded compassionate nature of your party as a whole."
"Anytime. So what's bothering you?"
"Did you know that other people are blogging now?"
"I have seen some Intel that suggests that. You want 'em killed or something?"
I think for a moment. "Nah." Eyebrows furrowed, I scratch my chin for a second. "Well--," I start ... but then I shake my head. "Nah," I repeat emphatically. "It's mostly people that drive SUVs bitching about gas prices, American Idol prattle, and stuff about Iraq."
"God. People are still talking about that?" Bush rolls his eyes. "Let it go already."
"I found like five or six web sites that made virtually no mention of me whatsoever."
"Really?" says Bush. "I wish I had your problems."
"No you don't," I says. "The entire concept of the blog has been tainted with the idea that people are to foist their own self-indulgent crap upon the world ... the very essence of blogging is at stake here!"
"I'm sure you are exaggerating. Five or six already? How many web pages are there altogether?"
"Lots," I says. "Three, four hundred. Maybe more. In fact, it turns out that new web pages not about me could be getting made every day."
"It's a goddamn bastardization," says Bush.
"Tell me about it," I cry. "Now, good media is getting drowned out by MSN, CNN, or any other weirdo nut job with a PC!"
"You could become a Republican and fix that problem," says Bush flatly.
"Really?" I says, brushing away a tear. "I'm really sick of being treated like a crackpot by mainstream media while I'm trying to warn them of the activities of the Zombie Aliens. I want to stand back while the Zombie Aliens eat the brains of people reading the Wall Street Journal so I can point and laugh at them for a change," I says. "Just like Moses did. Then those jerks would be sorry."
"How would you like Predator Press to be the only web page on the internets?"
"Imagine the porn!" I says.
"No. See, the Religious Right would take issue with that."
"Screw them," I says.
"The Religious Right are Republicans."
"So get rid of them. If you get rid of them, I'm in."
"Republicans and Democrats are composed of groups of individuals affiliated for greater voting power, dumbass." He pauses for effect. "This is a Democracy."
Suddenly, we're rolling on the ground, laughing.
"Oh man," I says, trying to stop. "I'm so glad you came along to cheer me up."
"It's the very least I can do," says Bush. "The very fate of the nation hangs on the state of your emotional well-being."
"Yeah, I know," I says apologetically.
"Look," says Bush. "Just stay the course. Always tell people the truth, no matter how much you have to endure. And I'll bet for a while they will hate you for it. But they will come back to you in the end."
"Your gelatos gentlemen," says a stunningly hot, naked woman with a serving tray.
"Is that Kristanna Loken?" I says astonished.
"Heh, oh heck no," laughs Bush. "The real Kristanna Loken is a sweet girl, but she can't make a gelato for shit."
[LOBO]
"I really appreciate you coming out Mister President," I says, climbing into the limousine.
"What?" calls Bush in the distance. "I can't hear you."
"Where are you sir?" I call into the palatial interior.
"By the pinball machines!"
Homing in on his voice, I find him excitedly contorting over a game of Super Faulken Ball.
"One more Island, and I'll control Argentina and Czechoslovakia -the gateway country to Australia!"
"Wow," I says. "That's really cool. And educational."
Just then, the game let out a low falling tone and all the lights went out --except for a bright flashing 'PAPAL SANCTIONS' marquee.
"Damn!" Bush growls. "I 'tilted' it."
"When did you put in the pool?"
Bush brightens. "There's a pool?"
"Yeah. Right next to the pizza oven."
"Wow. That's really cool."
"This thing must be hell on gas."
Bush winks, and puts a finger to his lips. "Hydrogen. Had it since 1989. Want a gelato?"
"No thanks."
Bush sighs and steps back to size me up. "You look terrible."
"So when you wrap up this whole 'Presidential' thing, I take it you'll be giving self-esteem seminars?"
"Sorry buddy," he guffaws. "When I was told you were feeling a little down, I flew directly in. Those meetings with Krin Kan Chung or whoever are all redunderances anyway." He presses a button on the wall. "Kristanna?"
"Yes sir?" says a sultry voice.
"Could you bring me a gelato?"
I nudge him sheepishly, holding up two fingers.
He grins. "Make that two gelati."
"Thank God for you selfless and caring Republicans," I sigh. "This whole world would go straight to hell without the deeply-seeded compassionate nature of your party as a whole."
"Anytime. So what's bothering you?"
"Did you know that other people are blogging now?"
"I have seen some Intel that suggests that. You want 'em killed or something?"
I think for a moment. "Nah." Eyebrows furrowed, I scratch my chin for a second. "Well--," I start ... but then I shake my head. "Nah," I repeat emphatically. "It's mostly people that drive SUVs bitching about gas prices, American Idol prattle, and stuff about Iraq."
"God. People are still talking about that?" Bush rolls his eyes. "Let it go already."
"I found like five or six web sites that made virtually no mention of me whatsoever."
"Really?" says Bush. "I wish I had your problems."
"No you don't," I says. "The entire concept of the blog has been tainted with the idea that people are to foist their own self-indulgent crap upon the world ... the very essence of blogging is at stake here!"
"I'm sure you are exaggerating. Five or six already? How many web pages are there altogether?"
"Lots," I says. "Three, four hundred. Maybe more. In fact, it turns out that new web pages not about me could be getting made every day."
"It's a goddamn bastardization," says Bush.
"Tell me about it," I cry. "Now, good media is getting drowned out by MSN, CNN, or any other weirdo nut job with a PC!"
"You could become a Republican and fix that problem," says Bush flatly.
"Really?" I says, brushing away a tear. "I'm really sick of being treated like a crackpot by mainstream media while I'm trying to warn them of the activities of the Zombie Aliens. I want to stand back while the Zombie Aliens eat the brains of people reading the Wall Street Journal so I can point and laugh at them for a change," I says. "Just like Moses did. Then those jerks would be sorry."
"How would you like Predator Press to be the only web page on the internets?"
"Imagine the porn!" I says.
"No. See, the Religious Right would take issue with that."
"Screw them," I says.
"The Religious Right are Republicans."
"So get rid of them. If you get rid of them, I'm in."
"Republicans and Democrats are composed of groups of individuals affiliated for greater voting power, dumbass." He pauses for effect. "This is a Democracy."
Suddenly, we're rolling on the ground, laughing.
"Oh man," I says, trying to stop. "I'm so glad you came along to cheer me up."
"It's the very least I can do," says Bush. "The very fate of the nation hangs on the state of your emotional well-being."
"Yeah, I know," I says apologetically.
"Look," says Bush. "Just stay the course. Always tell people the truth, no matter how much you have to endure. And I'll bet for a while they will hate you for it. But they will come back to you in the end."
"Your gelatos gentlemen," says a stunningly hot, naked woman with a serving tray.
"Is that Kristanna Loken?" I says astonished.
"Heh, oh heck no," laughs Bush. "The real Kristanna Loken is a sweet girl, but she can't make a gelato for shit."
Van Roth
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Honestly?
I think they all suck now except Michael Anthony and Sammy Hagar.
You couldn't get together once for your fans?
Or even history?
I'll let my wallet do my talking. ("What's that little Wallety? Van Roth should fuck off you say?")
[LOBO]
Honestly?
I think they all suck now except Michael Anthony and Sammy Hagar.
You couldn't get together once for your fans?
Or even history?
I'll let my wallet do my talking. ("What's that little Wallety? Van Roth should fuck off you say?")
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LOBO - Predator Press "I can't believe the woman giving the MRI was flirting with you right in front of me ," Wendy growled.... -
LOBO - Predator Press I know you're frustrated an pissed. I was there last year. Yellin at my students, takin pictures of graveyards,...
