Predator Press
[LOBO]
Having accidentally snapped the Space-Time continuum, I'm now conducting this blog from two days in the future.
Frankly, it's boring. Some chick named
Colbie Caillat evidently discovered the word "Realize", and wrote a song that contained it 715 times. I sent her a thesaurus that contained numerous references to other words like "comprehend" and "understand" only too late: to her chagrin it's now being broadcast over 92 local radio stations 24/7.
But
THE FUTURE is not a total wash. In news that will excite
Fanton and
Chelle B., we indeed have flying cars:
Unfortunately the human ability to drive has not evolved at all, and some autopilot jerk tooling around in the fast lane at barely 900 mph is a real bitch to pass on the freeway.
The really
big advancements seem to have come for sports: taking a cue from the raging success of
Shark Boxing,
Major League Baseball has ramped up the game in an effort to satisfy the thrill-seeking "modern" viewer that stubbornly insists on being entertained.
After adding acid quicksand cleverly disguised as natural turf [pictured right], they did away with that pansy 4 base crap; baseball now has 56 electronically randomized bases from 15 feet to 6 miles apart, each requiring a vine swing over flaming pits of starving alligators swimming in hydrogen peroxide and gasoline. This dramatically culminates into a spectacular slide through broken glass and ignited napalm, and is celebrated by the award of 9 points, fireworks, and more free booze and meth for the player.
Major League Baseball has also adopted a far stricter drug policy too: now steroid abuse is absolutely
mandatory. And why not have the greatest athletes modern science can provide? Enraged victim-exploiting monster thugs with throbbing forehead veins wielding bats were already highly-valued family entertainment vis-a-vis the Fox Network show
'COPS' ... we just needed them statistically quantified.
Besides locating Atlantis and finding out the Jews really
did control everything, there really isn't anything interesting to speak of. But fear not, 'o loyal reader! I shall not leave you without some useful futuristic wisdom.
LOBOSCOPES
You are the only sane one left. All the other signs of the Zodiac have gone crazy and are out to get you.
It's kill or
be killed, you poor bastard.
If you were never born, world hunger, famine and poverty would have abruptly ceased long ago; peace and harmony would've been the hallmark of all humankind.
Other than that, your outlook is great.
Still waters run deep.
Unfortunately, you are about as 'deep' as the
Spice Girls.
Geminis should avoid careers that involve operating heavy machinery, explosives, basic math, spelling, and speaking out loud.
It
is a tumor.
I don't know how you did it, but you got testicular, prostate, ovarian
and breast. On the bright side, those things incubating on your itchy genitalia won't be succesfully diagnosed until after the autopsy.
There's nothing wrong with your sexual appetites a little "Liquid G" can't handle.
Otherwise, just conduct your sermons as normal.
You are shrewd and ruthless: upon reading these horoscopes, you immediately buy life insurance on every Cancerian you know.
To enjoy your bountiful destiny, it is a Cosmic
imperative you eye your insurance broker strangely ... He's a Taurus. They like that.
It makes them
respect you more.
Your lucky number today is "-1".
You will meet a tall, dark stranger. Carry a can of mace, and you might be able to get away eventually. After prosthetics and several years of rehab, psychiatry, and heavy medication you might even be released to the family on weekends.
... But don't count on it.
You Leo, are the lion of the Zodiac. This means you are as fat, lazy and worthless as the ones in the wild kingdom. While you sleep all day, your concubines run around hunting to feed you during the brief debacle of your slothful consciousness.
Well done!
You are a complete loser, and the only person in the world that doesn't know it. Your own
mother has to refrain from signing it on your birthday cards. Even your pets know it; your dog hides on walks when other dogs are around, and your goldfish are trying to spell it in the aquarium gravel.
Don't feel too bad, however; you
could have been a Cancer ...
You are intelligent, amiable, charming, and good looking.
...
Nobody can stand you.
Your wonderful and generous nature is rewarded rather ironically by Fate when you
'Realize' you were killed by one of Colbie Caillat's tour busses.
You Pisces, are the fish of the Zodiac. Even if you've learned to spell "LOSER" in the aquarium gravel, your only claim to history and fame will be an indirect and unfortunate association with the invention of tartar sauce.
Fish are ultimately animals that swim in their own urine and get hooked, beheaded, flayed, gutted, and deep-fried by the billions everyday. That having been said, do you really
want to know your future?
As if your horoscope will say "You will wake up tomorrow a Scorpio" ... ?
Duh!!
I can see typing in a plain movie name and getting T-shirts 'an crap. But when I specifically search "Kung Fu Hustle DVD" I do not want a Kung Fu Hustle toaster. Nor do I want Kung Fu Hustle hair gel.
Nonetheless, for betraying the prosperous commerce LOBOnia and America have peacefully shared for years -and dammit crimes against Humanity- I see no recourse other than to deal out harsh penalties for your treasonous acts: I hereby bestow upon you the official Predator Press Stone of Shame, and have had it permanently installed just outside of your main entrance.
