Ask LOBO: How to Blog Part III

Predator Press

[LOBO]

This installment of How to Blog is dedicated to increasing traffic by utilizing Blogger-Oriented Observations and Bold Statements.

-"BOOBS" for short.

As the primary author of Predator Press, I can’t say enough about BOOBS. Nothing attracts new readers like them, and there shouldn’t be an inch of your blog that isn’t completely devoted to them. BOOBS have forever been the life’s blood of the internet, and without them none of us would be here.

But be warned: you can’t just use any BOOBS. No matter what kind of creative savvy you command, spongy lifeless sulky BOOBS will drag your blog down into depressing obscurity. You want new and upbeat perky BOOBS. Hard BOOBS. Firm, well rounded BOOBS. –BOOBS that when called upon can slam home an exciting and informative lifestyle like a railroad spike.

And don’t get locked into specific BOOBS either: they might make your blog trite and repetitive seeming. The biggest mistake you can make is to climb up onto BOOBS you find perfect and proselytize joyously down upon your readers: while they might be hypnotized briefly by the gigantic mighty weight of your respective views, they will eventually feel alienated.

One must be open to new BOOBS occasionally. There’s nothing worse than focusing too hard on one set of BOOBS, because pow you’re likely to get blindsided by someone else’s BOOBS. You could lose an eye like that! Remember variety is good: Predator Press, for example, often features BOOBS that go in completely different directions; while this might seem self-defeating, the occasional violent collision of BOOBS is a spectacle no avid blog reader would ever want to miss out on.

And that concludes How to Blog Part III. Please put this information to good use, and stay tuned for Part IV: a riveting discourse of the next phase of good blogging, “Topical Information To Surf.”

Now go!

Blog!

Internet Swag

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Limbaugh “Spears” New Republican Direction

Predator Press

[LOBO]

To address flagging confidence in the Republican Party, Rush Limbaugh hopes to reinvigorate the American conservative youth by taking a page out of iconic pop culture.

-Limbaugh cites his only regret in this audacious new strategy “The Brazilian wax. O Holy Christ that hurt.”

Predator Press Announces Ten-Year Middle East Peace Plan

Predator Press

[LOBO]

-See I’m not thinking of it as a Holy war or a charitable contribution to either side.

To the contrary, I’m sick of reading about every last one of ‘em.

But if we get the Israelis out of there for a while, the other lunatics will start killing each other instead: in ten years and nobody'll be left, and then we send the bastards back one happy Hanukkah with explicit instructions:


Stay the fuck out of the news for a few centuries, capiche?-so's we can get back to Britney Spears and Lindsay Lohan.

So picture: around 2:00 am one fateful morning we use a bunch of low-tech cropdusters and sedate the entire population of Gaza and the West Bank or whatever.

In fact we'll get that East Bank too.

-just to show those pricks we can.

Once out cold we round the whole Israeli population up, transport them via military cargo jets, and arrange them carefully over our exact replica of the Gaza Strip currently known as New Mexico.

This “New Gaza” is far too ambitious to be perfect: doubtlessly some Israelis will occasionally grow suspicious. Perhaps even homesick. But here's where the true genius of my plan comes in: we don’t give the Israelis any time to figure anything out.

Everything in “New Gaza” is rigged to detonate at some random point when no people are within a certain radius. Thus, just as they are starting to wonder where their enemies are, boom, an empty bus explodes. Sure you’re your map seems a little off … but just as you’re trying to locate the North Star, a cactus immediately to the left goes kablooey.

And every night as they curl up to sleep, the distant horizon will be a violent and spectacular pyrotechnic symphony.

For ten years, the Israelis'll sleep like babies.

We don't have to do this for free, either: over the years the disoriented Israelis are our "guests" we can put a great big magnet on a semi or a rail car and “steer” them geographically: by carefully changing the magnetic north on their compasses we could convince them their enemies are actually to the south, surreptitiously putting the Israelis on our Mexican border patrol -all without paying them a dime.

Oh come on ... what's one more measley desert to wander? Moses had 'em goin four times that long, and this one has gas stations!

Just think if Moses had scratch-off lottery tickets and microwave burritos: that whole "New Testament" thing might've been real different.

-I'm just sayin'.

Bits of Tid

Predator Press

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"-that I'm sent from above. I'm not that innocent! Oops I did it again ... I played with your heart-"

Nurse Garrison lowers her stethoscope.

"You swallowed your iPod again, didn't you?"

"Maybe," I reply.

Ask LOBO: How to Blog Part II

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Millions and millions of readers are always asking me everyday, "LOBO, how can I learn to blog good?"

Well I’m glad you asked me that.

See, the environment from which you blog can’t be taken seriously enough.

Obviously we can’t all blog like Diesel does -drinkin’ chardonnay and smokin’ cigars with all the leisure time in the world, insulated in the 57th-story penthouse of the Humor-Blogs skyscraper and guarded by an evil Ed Harris and a battery of deadly bikini-clad secretaries.

Nor can we like the much-beloved Doctor Toboggans -from the deep unmapped catacomby bowels of the Delta Medical Center, surrounded by cages of helpful serial killers and upbeat Wall Street executives.

From the surface level of the Earth one must take precautions lest the aliens read your unprotected terrestrial thoughts and suck out your blogging ideas -thus paving the way to the enslavement of Humankind in the blogging labor camps on Alpha Centauri.

And not just anybody can make a regulation foil fedora that blocks your brainwaves from interception: don't fall for rank amateur construction! Without the proper pyramidical dimensions, improper geometrical configurations can actually amplify valuable transmissions to the Evil Alien Omnocracy!

Further, one should probably start with a nice and quiet ergonomic space restricted explicitly for blogging.

And deploy a 3000-watt strobe light immediately.

-It confuses the zombies.

Children of the Spud

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I’m an optimist when it all boils down.

-I mean here I am faced with an economic apocalypse which will doubtlessly spiral America into a feudal and barbaric warlike state over control of ever-dwindling resources: cities will collapse and burn under the fleeting interests of growing dissonance and anarchy.

I think this would, in fact, finally catapult my career into high gear.

Now I’ve never actually been a feudal overlord before, so I may stop just short of that -you know, maybe I’ll spend a few weeks as an underlord so I can ‘learn the ropes.’

But ultimately -once I’ve re-unified all the global superpowers and voluntarily abdicated my throne- you won’t be able to throw a rock without hitting my movie or book deals. My biography will be all the rage, ‘an the poster will be me in some kind of crazy battle armor swinging a high-tech battleaxe with a scantily-clad Terri hangin on my bulging pectorals.

See?

Optimist.

But Northern Idaho stands poised to change all that.

See most people don’t put the words “evil” and “Idaho” together often. It’s true about me too: I just don’t care that much about foreign policy abroad, and tend to stick with domestic issues. Besides, sometimes I really question this whole prejudice against big scary "evil." I mean what has evil ever done to me?

-Nor do I think "Regular Joe" Americans really know Idaho’s rich heritage of blood-soaked serious evildoing. Even today Idaho grows potatoes. Hitler loved potatoes: a large part of Idaho’s economy is subtly intertwined with nourishing the Fuhrer (should he have survived).

It’s Prima Facie: the average Idahoan capacity for evil is underestimated and completely unregulated, and I don’t understand why we don't send our navy to bomb the crap out of that place before Don Lewis returns.

Internet Swag

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Nosebleed

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Possessing the radiant braniosity of 1,000 men (or roughly six women) can be a lonely cross to bear.

See, people don’t always embrace genius. True, genius is often well-received ... but more often than not genius is dressed like Rihanna and in front of Chris Brown’s house, yelling disparaging comments about his penis size.

-But I carry on because I care.

Still, when I found out there was a scientific institute named The National Aeronautics and Space Administration (NASA) that I wasn’t a part of, I was furious.

Not only was I not invited to participate, but they didn’t even change the name -lifting it directly from my own institution: The National Aeronautics and Space Administration of LOBO (NASAL).

And how can you have an “aeronautic space administration” –national or otherwise- without the world’s foremost theoretical astrophysicizer?

Hm?

Spree

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“I fixed your hood ornament,” says the tech.

“Actually you broke it off,” I point out.

“Semantics,” he replies. “It kept poking me while I was under the hood so I got rid of it. You didn’t need it anyways. It’s more aerodynamic this way.”

“That’s not the point, is it?”

“Look,” says the guy. “I put a different one on. It’s just as good, and this one doesn’t poke me anymore. What are you afraid of? Somebody will mistake your stupid car for another stupid car? Frankly I’m sick of you people and your petty imaginary car competitions -all conducted the expense of my physical and emotional well-being!”

I have a headache now.

He pokes me in the shoulder.

"By the way, here's your antenna.”

How I Got Back on the Board of Education

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Being back in the Principle’s office, I believe, makes my edginess warranted.

My fifteen years of adolescent “education” were absolutely riddled with paddlings.

-They don’t do it anymore, but I still make the association.

For a few moments I fall behind the gentleman as we walk to Screechy’s classroom, and I find myself staring at the back of his head and thinking I could take this guy.

“This is the classroom,” he says, swinging the door wide.

What followed was an assault of color and information that reminded me of that mushroom pizza I had in Amsterdam: there wasn’t a square inch of that place that wasn’t both visually stuffed with information and somehow delicious in appearance like candy.

This room could make me insane.

“He’s a good student,” the Principle says. “He just-“

OMG they’ve got 'HOP on Pop‎.'

“-and upon occasion we’ve noticed-“

I LOVE 'HOP on Pop!'

“Sir?” says the Principle.

“I said this room is terrifying,” I repeat.

I think.

“How so?”

“Well,” I begin. “The alphabet pictures over the chalk board. They show pictures of animals. A-Aardvark, B-Brontosaurus, C-Cat, D-Dog…”

“And this is a problem?”

“S is a stethoscope. Until ‘S’, we have all animals.” I shake my head. “You people will be the first to ditch me when my son asks for a pet stethoscope. How could you be so heartless?”

“We’re trying to tell you,” Principle Estevez continues, “that your son is exhibiting narcissistic delusions of grandeur, aggression and slightly paranoid antisocial behaviors.”

“That comes from his mother,” I explain. “Are you guys serving donuts? You guys dragged me in here at 8:30 in the morning and don’t have coffee and donuts? Seriously?”

"Sir, we-"

"I should totally kick your ass."