There's An A$$hole in the Bucket List Dear Liza, Dear Liza

Predator Press

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I've never seen "The Bucket List," but I've seen a jillion posts about it. And I was cool with steering clear of the topic despite it's intriguing nature.

So I'm dead last with my 'Bucket List' post.

-Mine is to have my life made into a major motion picture, and being subsequently driven from the movie's premier by the resulting angry, bloodthirsty rioting mob.

I swear on a stack of Bibles that's mine.

So now that I've ripped off 1,116 other bloggers of a post premise, I might as well go the distance and rip off Diesel too, right?

I am proud to present Predator Press' very first Semi-Annual Caption Contest!

"But LOBO," I can hear you saying. "How can you possibly have time for Caption Contests while trying to defend the Earth from the unrelenting tide of the Great Zombie Omnacracy?"

Easy!

Getting rid of zombies isn't like, say, getting rid of Jews or anything: zombies are dumb. So I've decided that I will make the caption, and you -the loyal reader- will do all the Photoshopping. Seriously. And have you seen my Photoshopping? Ughh.

-You couldn't possibly do any worse.

Besides ... by doing this, I've reminded you to vote for Diesel in a sneaky, subliminal hypnofied way: it's like jamming broken and salted vote for Diesel glass into your Frontal lobe. If you don't vote for Diesel, you will doubtlessly wake up out of breath, heart racing, dripping sweat with a nosebleed and the subject of a new Stephen King -no, a Dean Koontz novel.

-And all the while wondering why you didn't just simply vote for Diesel.

So here it is:




Good luck to all!

The Ingredients of a Good Thriller

Predator Press

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The sales of Chris Wood's new book The Ingredients of a Good Thriller appear to be outpacing the free Predator Press Temporary Advance copies of This Book Kicks the Crap Out of All Those Other Books by an extraordinary margin.

-I mean I don't even think this is a real number.

My advisors tell me this is largely attributable to me never actually having written "This Book Kicks the Crap Out of All Those Other Books."

And as far as my Astrologers? This was the first they had heard of the thing.

I would fire everyone, but I don’t think I’ve paid them for six months or so already anyway.

-And hey, the Astrologers shoulda seen it comin’.

It's the Thought that Pounced

Predator Press

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“Why don’t you try making some money with Predator Press this year?” suggests Terri. “You know, like maybe a book deal or something?”

“I think people have come to regard Predator Press as sort of a public service,” I shrug. “You don’t get people hooked on heroin or cocaine and then start charging them for it. It’s just not done.”

“How about taking on a charity?”

“Like when you encouraged me to push little old ladies across the street?”

“I said help little old ladies across the street.”

“You really don’t read the police reports very closely, do you?” I observe.

Ask LOBO: Women and How to Understand Them

Predator Press

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People are always asking me, ”LOBO, you are so smooth and cool when it comes to women. What is the secret?”

Well I’m glad you asked me that.

-It just so happens I live with two women as well: my lovely wife Terri and teenage daughter, eh, Complainy.

So who better to lecture comprehensively on this subject?

Hm?

If you think about it, I’m what you might call an expert.

Yeah.

As a species I wouldn’t trade with women in a million years. For starters there’s that whole “Childbirth” thing. For those of you not familiar with the concept of “Childbirth,” “Childbirth” is where you essentially try and crap a chair. And not just any chair either: it’s like crapping one of those folding steel chairs you see on the WWE.

The weird thing is women keep doing it: even as you read this, somewhere a woman is going through “Childbirth” –and all in the full knowledge of what she’s in for.

It’s pretty crazy if you think about it. If I had fifteen minutes of advance knowledge I was going to stub my toe, I would have the evil building and everything within four square blocks demolished by professionals, burn down the rubble, and after a proper Catholic ceremony have the ashes launched into the sun.

-These people have like six months of advanced knowledge.

Weird!

In an effort to explore this inexplicable trait, I have gone through Terri and Complainy’s bathroom cosmetics. I found mostly unpleasant-seeming things such as “Apricot Scrub.” Yuck. There’s a tube labeled “Morning Burst” that makes me wince just thinking about it: can you imagine stumbling groggily into your shower, and BANG!, getting a burst of any kind? Unless it’s the shrapnel of coffee in paste form, I don't want it.

“Cranberry Tart Body Butter” got my attention. Firstly, on the label “Cranberry Tart” is written in an elaborate flowing calligraphy and looks like “Cranberry Fart” until you look at it closely (I'll take a picture of it when I get my camera back).

But what the heck is “body butter?"

-And wouldn’t something that made your farts smell like cranberries been infinitely more practical?

Well, that’s all the time I have today to lecture on women and how to understand them. I thought it would only take about 20 minutes, but women are a little more complex than I initially thought: I’ll obviously have to do the other half some other time.

In the meantime, the kids are away tonight and Terri is going to be home in a half an hour. I’m going to answer the door absolutely slathered in body butter, and in nothing else but a loincloth made from toast.

I hope she’s hungry.

:)~

The Dead See

Predator Press

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Another seismic roar, and blood arcs across the window behind them; illuminated by dehumanizing fluorescents, a pale, pink mist fills the air. Dismembered chunks of flesh and bone slide and fall wet into a growing pool of human viscera.

Screams. Pleas. Panic surges through the room. They try to flee. Curled into a tiny, terrified ball, one hiding employee can see the gunman's heavy boots under the seats and through the thick smoke, calmly and systematically advancing through the room, crunching over broken plastic shards and glass. More shots, and the drywall resonates the obscure marching rhythmic beats of each explosion as life ceases one by one by one…

“Next,” calls the woman with disinterest.

“Hi!” I says cheerily. “I need to renew my driver’s license.”

Kenny Loggins and Huey Lewis Concert “A Bloodbath,” Thousands Dead

Predator Press

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When Kenny Loggins and Huey Lewis agreed to unite and promote the nominations of Humor-Blogs’ own i am bossy and Matress Police in the 2008 Weblog Awards, no one considered that their fans might have some hatchet-burying in mind themselves.

42 year old Priscilla Frisk, President of the Huey Lewis Fan Club, encouraged all her constituents to “Do some real clubbing,” and supplied nightsticks, mace and facemasks at the door.

In response, Loggins supporters Bloggins for Loggins launched a more technically-savvy attack and ruined the credit of all HLFC chartered members by quadrupling their mortgages.

As the death toll continues to grow, authorities seem helpless.

“It’s a horrible circumstance,” admits Commissioner Rudolph Banks. “The only thing those two groups want to do is kill each other. I’ve sent in virtually my entire police force to break it up, and they’ve all been tossed out bloodied and bankrupt.”

I Take Issue With Number Two

Predator Press

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Let’s not call it unpatriotic.

That’s extreme.

-Let’s call it an “Unrequested Temporary Deficit of Patriotic Sensibilities.”

I can’t be mad at the country for a bad job market, right?

In regards to financial security, America has taught me two methods:

Number One: Leverage an Asset or Talent Uniquely Yours, and Get Paid To Do It

This is the preferred method. But I can’t even make those fart noises with my armpit. Thus, I default to:

Number Two: Grab Onto the Biggest, Most Boyant Turd Within Reach

-This is the best chance you have for another round once the water starts spinning counterclockwise.

But I take issue with "Number 2."

I don’t know a lot about economics, but weren’t there a handful of CEOs being paid salaries in the millions to make sure our big mysterious invisible stocks and bonds and 401ks and whatever remained viable?

And just look at how many people were clinging to those Big Turds!

Don’t we build skyscrapers as gigantic effigies to Big Turds every day? Or do I have it backwards ... are they like colonies of semi-smart organized barnacle "Number 2s" at the bottom, hoping to spear the counterclockwise-descending Big Turd (actually, I guess it would be clockwise if you're underneath it), and -thusly attached- ascend straight up to the glorious Upper Rim?

That’s where all the Big Turds are after all.

It must be awesome.

VOTE OR DIE!!!

Predator Press

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Eyebrows furrowed, I watch the little hourglass in my laptop screen intently.

“So you're a nominated finalist for Best Humor Blog in the 2008 Weblog Awards, and if people vote for you every day starting tomorrow you’ll be, like, king or something?”

“Hey,” says Diesel. “It’s an honor just to be nominated. But why not?”

“How did Predator Press do?"

“Predator Press was, ah, disqualified,” replies Diesel thinking quickly. “Predator Press was too good."

I peer over the edge of the laptop suspiciously. “Stop here,” I says. “The signal is awesome.”

“We’re in the middle of a seventy mile an hour freeway.”

“This is California, D. People do it all the time.”

After a few uncomfortable moments, it’s clear Diesel has no intention of even slowing. “Well,” I says sulkily. “I am honored that you’ve ask me to handle your public relations for the duration of the contest.”

“I didn’t ask you to handle my public relations,” he says. “You were sleeping in my car."

"That's because I understand the urgency of the situation, D."

"What’s the duct tape for?”

“I always carry duct tape around. You know, in case I get writer’s block.”

“What?”

“There are subtle nuances when it comes to motivating people to vote for you, and this should only be handled by the utmost of discrete professionals."

The modem shriek stops, and almost on autopilot I plug in my logon info. "You really should treat this like any other textbook election, and elections are touchy, sensitive events. Barack Obama is a good example ... with all that hard work combined with proper handling, that dude'll probably end up being a bigwig mayor or something.”

I could just jump the median, thinks Diesel. Straight into oncoming traffic.

“I think you should give people prizes if they vote for you,” I decide. “You know, like a swimming pool or something.”

-I’d be a fucking hero.

“That’s dishonest,” he sighs. "Hey. Wanna listen to the radio-?"

“But then what if we didn’t give them the swimming pools afterward? Wouldn't that cancel out all the Karmic hoodoo?”

“I want to win on the merits of my blog.”

“Hey man, don't get me wrong. Mattress Police is one of the best blogs on the planet. I'm just sayin' I can get a great deal on electric melonballers.” I raise my fingers in the air to make quote marks. “They’re Martha Stuart.”

My laptop chimes, and a cheery voice says “You’ve got mail!”

“Oooo goodie!” I says.

“Look,” says Diesel. “I really appreciate your enthusiasm. Just vote for me here and there, okay?”

“Dude listen to this. ’POZ you are so funny. LOL, Terri.’,” I scowl. “She’s calling the Prince of Zanzibar ‘POZ’ now.”

“So?”

“It’s a pet name!” I says. “It’s one step away from ‘snuggly-buggly’ or ‘honey-bunny!’

“Look. Just promise me you’ll vote. Don’t do anything else. And for God’s sake please don’t post about it.”

“Okay,” I says glumly.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

"I think I missed my exit,” he says exasperated. “Break out that map in the glove compartment."

I lean past the laptop screen and pop open the glove box. Inside there’s a California map, a car registration, and eight side-by-side rolls of duct tape -each varying in thickness, and meticulously arranged in ascending size.

Uh-oh

Guy Lombardo and the Vile Prince of Zanzibar

Predator Press

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My wife is having an affair with the Prince of Zanzibar.

I know this, because I am the Prince-of-Zanzibar101@aol.com.

I don’t blame her. She thinks I am a wealthy guy with long flowin’ Fabio hair ridin in his 3,000 foot yacht.

And how can I blame her? I never would have thought AOL would let me have the official logon “Prince-of-Zanzibar101@aol.com" unless I presented proper credentials verifying my royal lineage: through what was doubtlessly an oversight, perhaps a 'comedy of cascading errors' on AOL’s part, the name slipped through their corporate security –and that’s how I seduced my wife.

-Well, that’s how I got her to add me to her ‘Buddy’ list. But that’s where it all starts, right?

If you doubt any this tragic story, Guy-Lombardo101@aol.com can verify it.

I know this, because I am also Guy-Lombardo101@aol.com. And “Guy” will be the first person to tell you that the vile Prince of Zanzibar is up to no good. The vile Prince of Zanzibar will woo her with all his money and good looks, and then just toss her aside like a prom dress made of wicker!

Still, it would be cool to ride in a 3,000 foot yacht.

The 2008 Absolute Bestest Incomprehensive Awards Ceremony Ever Held By Predator Press in the History of Humanity!

Predator Press

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Yes it's true: it's here! It's The 2008 Absolute Bestest Incomprehensive Awards Ceremony Ever Held By Predator Press in the History of Humanity! We know you have been wanting this. We know you have been needing this! We know you have been yearning for this.

And here it is.

Yippie!

-Stop touching yourself! We are only getting started.

I committed to actually following through with this much-anticipated event immediately after thinking of it a few minutes ago. But the first problem was Who should host it?

We needed somebody special. Somebody with the radiant braniosity of, like, a million men. Or seven women. Or like three women and five hundred seventy one thousand four hundred and twenty eight point five men.

Luckily I was standing right there.

-It was Fate.

So without further adieu, I bring you The 2008 Absolute Bestest Incomprehensive Awards Ceremony Ever Held By Predator Press in the History of Humanity!


Category 1: Best '80s Cheerleader Bait

Yes, while most of us were getting our faces rated for PSI durability by virtue of high-velocity underinflated muddy red rubber, these two guys were leaving a string of broken hearts and condoms all across our great nation.

And we all remember those shorts: they were fantastic for Sharon Stone-ing your way from a "C" to an "A" in a particularly tough chemistry class.

Many government agencies regard the subsequent long and twisting track of unwanted children and unpaid child support as “The Trail of Tears,” and terms of their probation have prevented me from releasing their names.


Category 2: Most Bloggable Hair

To the left we have the indomitable William McCamment of Dead Rooster. He claims to only use Paul Mitchell products, and describes his technique as "Jumping out the window, and hair spraying it real fast."

To the right we have Jeff of View From The Cloud. Clearly being groomed for his long career ahead as the Regional Sales Manager for Pfizer, this is the hair of a guy that can get shit done.

-Jeff is the only blogger in history to be nominated twice in The 2008 Absolute Bestest Incomprehensive Awards Ceremony Ever Held By Predator Press in the History of Humanity! ... he's also in the previous Best '80s Cheerleader Bait category with the Unfinished Rambler.


Category 3: Best Faked Death

No, we’re not talking about the much-beloved Doctor Toboggans –we here at Predator Press have known all along that Doctor Toboggans is perfectly safe ‘n sound in the trunk of that car I left in Mexico a few months ago.

But the elaborate and meticulous planning it took for Brent Diggs to survive the six best hitmen I could find, having his body burned in the desert, having the ashes tossed into a zinc smelter and then having that zinc smelter launched into the Sun really, really impressed me.

Well done sir!

Bravo.


Category 4: Best Movie Pitch



Hey! How’d that get in here?

:)


Category 5: Best Posts

It was tough picking out my fave three posts of the year. But I’ve narrowed the list to:

Angry Seafood - "Polygamist Cult Not Attractive Enough to Join"

This riveting exposé dives deep into the seedy underbelly of polygamy and splays it’s steaming entrails all over the linoleum.

Included topics are the downside of inbreeding and it’s inherent adverse effects -such as significantly inhibited recruitment.


neOnbubble - "Make Money Online With Blackmail"

Hats off to a deviously brilliant concept: an anonymous blackmail exchange program. I don’t want to ruin it by going into too much detail, so you’ll have to check this one out yourself.

... and then let the paranoia set in.


Speedcat Hollydale - "Old Towne Speedcat Goin Down the River"

When Speedcat Hollydale announced he was going to release his single “Old Towne Speedcat Goin Down the River,” legend has it Scott Stapp got over himself and David Lee Roth and Eddie Van Halen started making out with each other.

But Speedcat would have none of that: instead of muscling his Les Paul and Marshall stacks into the studio, Speedcat does is solo and acapella from his very own kitchen.

Personally, I think this has way more influence on modern music than Kurt Cobain ever did.


Category 6: Predator Press 2008 MAN OF THE YEAR

Look I know all that happened in 2007. But Predator Press didn’t have these awards in 2007! And trust me, I combed over 2008 -nothing this year nudged him out.

I consider Larry Craig undefeated.

You may remember Larry Craig as being in, oh, say the House of Representatives … but it’s infinitely more likely you remember him from what he called a “highly heterosexual miscommunication brought on by some bathroom discomfort.”

Larry -who inadvertently put the 'key' in 'keyster'- spawned a cottage industry of “I Have A Wide Stance” t-shirts that still make me laugh hysterically every time I see one.


Anywho there you have them: LOBO’s picks for 2008. But I didn't want to leave anyone out: we're all winners here:


<a href="http://predatorpress.blogspot.com/2008/12/2008-absolute-bestest-incomprehensive.html"><img border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168923798517701042" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" alt="The 2008 Absolute Bestest Incomprehensive Awards Ceremony Ever Held By Predator Press in the History of Humanity!" src=" https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh_Igg5R25-JLbLiqKAx_nrEp0o0LxQoa46mdhQTJbtYCqLB7kZZMN27VUFE8sQyFosEBQo59re95r5rK5_I6Soht4W7qIgtcGosOohDcejLJVqoW1WXsJ3p-W5sQ0f89xY2XFdMg/s400/Award+Badge.jpg" img/></a>

Thank You

Predator Press

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The Fourth of July and New Years are ranked very high on my ‘Favorite Holiday’ list: you gotta love the idea of giving people a bunch of booze and high explosives and saying, “Okay. Now don’t do anything stupid.”

This won't be my annual ‘wrap up’ ... these are just a couple of things I wanted to squeeze in before the end of the year.

On the 22nd, POPSENSE listed Predator Press as one of their definitive “Best Blogs of 2008.” I promised myself I would look up what ‘definitive’ means before I posted this news to ensure they weren’t actually being sarcastic -but what am I gonna do now? It’s too late. Besides, I made that promise to myself in the full knowledge that I had an impulse control problem.

I have forgiven myself entirely.

And I feel better now!

Don’t you?

Also a buddy from the new and improved soon-to-be-unleashed Cult of Qelqoth asked me to make a banner for his site so’s he could feature me for a day or two. He had to change his URL recently due to a court settlement: it’s my understanding that he should sail through probation just fine as long as he verifies a chick's age against her driver’s license from here on out.

Now I’ve made a few buttons and banners in the past -most are in the sidebar and the rest are featured here- so I figured I would offer some advice to banner creation “newbies.”

There's only one thing you need to know here and it should be obvious: Do not buy your computer at Menards. When I heard I could get a PC with a walnut finish, track lighting and a barbeque pit for $16.99 I was all over it -but alas these things are woefully inadequate on RAM, and the thing switches off whenever anyone flushes the toilet. Seriously. Get a box of Kleenex and a bottle of Visine because it’s going to be Junior High School all over again.

Another problem you might face is weird dimensions. It was bad enough that it needed to be 350 pixels by 130 pixels … but this particular Cult of Qelqoth [TCOQ] author gives all his instructions in units he describes as “cubits.”

The pixel-to-cubit ratio comes out something like this:




Fortunately the Menards computer is spectacular at the pixel-to-cubit ratio, but this triggers lots of pop-up ads hawking bulk lumber sales, animal cages and water sealing products.

Ultimately -in answering the call from TCOQ- I magicked me up this:


<a href="http://www.predatorpress.blogspot.com/"><img border="0" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168923798517701042" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" alt="This site doesn’t have porn, but it’s still good." src=" https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjK2taZTShmy_7spF77FZKnqfiJ9VmdIxgewvBmZDyl7fuWIyFIfLa6F8KZriCL2KY9T33xTzdw_68wN36YntO4coenk0AqkHIMy73Y9rF3jL0ZHvdAi5qwuOcELTbSKkEPQBCu-g/s400/template+exp2.jpg" img/></a>



Were you so inclined to use it please feel free … I do kinda like it, but I can’t even fit it in my sidebar: it’s going to spiral down forever into the murky unread archives.

I really should read those things one day.

-It could only help with the continuity.