How To Prepare For The End

Predator Press

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The first problem with the Swine Flu is the name itself. Blech! Who names these things anyway? Would it have been so bad to name it something more palatable like the "Fuzzy-Bunny" flu?

To test this theory, I called my mom and told her I had a bad case of Fuzzy Bunnies. She thought it was wonderful, and requested I save her one.

But because this disease can kill you, the cutesy name theorem is imperfect: "Fuzzy Bunny" entered on your Death Certificate as 'Cause of Death' can have an extremely negative effect on your street cred; once the illness turns lethal, we're going to want to call it something more dangerous sounding.

Currently I’m leaning toward "Thor’s Bitchslap."

-Now that sounds like a pretty cool way to die.

That being said, I have good news and bad news. The bad news is according to numerous highly-scientific simulations I’ve conducted on the Flash game Pandemic II, I figure you all have maybe eight days left before the virulent "wonderful" outbreak of Fuzzy-Bunny devolves fully into the subsequent -and inevitably fatal- onset of Thor’s Bitchslap.

But the good news is with proper precautions there’s still hope for all of you not transmitting this disease to me. The Predator Press Center For Disease Control has issued the following recommendations:

1) Boil yourself at a minimum temperature of 165 degrees Fahrenheit prior to contact in a one half bleach, one half Lysol and one half holy water solution.

2) Burn all your germ infested property (unless you think I might want it). Use careful discretion here ... I don’t want pictures of your kids and whatever. Please limit this salvage to luxury cars, high-end electronics and precious metals.

3) Be tidy. Without remaining hosts to be transmitted to, most pandemics will burn themselves out in a few months: the only thing worse than me wandering around mid-July roasting in a hazmat suit would be doing so knee-deep in a bunch of stinky skeletons. Please have some consideration. Cremation also 100% eliminates the possibility of you returning as zombies.

In conclusion, you all being dead will be a terrible thing for me to endure: I thank you in advance for easing my painful experience through your efforts.

Arlen Specter Defects to Left!

Predator Press

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Having recently become hotly critical if the Republican Party myself, I’m not particularly shocked that after a lifetime of right-wing policies Arlen Spector has abandoned that bunch of assholes once Predator Press demanded it.

-But didn’t this bastard kill Barbarella?

I don’t know. While impressive, killing the herione credited with rescuing Doctor Durand Durand from the planet SoGo seems to me to be an indellible black mark on your record no matter which side of the political fence you’re on.

But you gotta give it up for that hair.

Seriously.

Tomb of Cleopatra Discovered!

Predator Press

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I'm laughing at this idea too hard to actually write it.

-The best suitable story for this entered in "comments" will be republished with full credit to the guest writer.

:)

Richard Marks

Predator Press

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Mister Cheney, after 33 waterboardings I doubt Zubaydah is going to tell us anything at all. I recommend halting this procedure due to it's ineffectiveness.

-Also, Starbucks discontinued "Blended Lemonade" earlier this year.

Would you like to order something else?

Finally!

Predator Press

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I’m so jazzed. According to CNN, my all-time favorite filmaker Spike Lee is introducing two new films at the 2009 Tribeca Film Festival!

I wonder what they will be about.

I've Already Repented, So God And I Are Cool On This

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I’m a news junkie I guess. While surfing, I’ll have my television running CNN or MSNBC or whatever in the background, and news ticker widgets a go-go feeding me “headlines.”

And I would like to think the only reason I even heard Miss California Carrie Prejean’s remarks on same-sex marriage is because it’s kind of a “local story.”

But here I am.

In short, during the course of the Miss USA pageant she was asked her opinion and –oops- she gave it.

While I didn’t agree with her, it wasn’t some frothing hostile rant. Frankly, considering the -ahem- "forum," it was well-articulated. It was the kind of thing you might hear and shrug, “Well, I don’t think anyone is going to be changing her mind on it soon,” and that would be that.

Also worth mentioning perhaps is that I don’t have any particular stake in her opinions, and maybe that makes me a little less sensitive than I should be: my evolving a profound social view based on a teenage beauty queen’s insights is about as unlikely as me becoming gay myself (and based on this logic, were I ever to attempt watching a Miss USA Pageant I doubt I would even have the volume up).

But while disagreeing with what she said, I think -eh- editorials like Perez Hilton's aren't warranted. (-And wow has Hilton let herself go since "The Simple Life." Woof!) Still, the subsequent national freak out does intrigue me: it would appear this issue won't be back-burnered for much longer.

People are getting pissed.

So why do people oppose same sex marriage? Is it homophobia? What exactly are these so-called “straight” people so afraid of? Do they think well-catered Oscars parties will just spontaneously explode in their newly redecorated living rooms?

You have to look at the religious aspect with some skepticism too. Look if blowing up busloads of people because your mystical boogeyman doesn’t like their mystical boogeyman sounds rational, maybe that's your bag. Go crazy. Knock yourself out. If you can't find a dead chicken to wave over your television, I'm sure a can of Campbell's Chunky Chicken Noodle will do.

But why should the Government care what sex you are? -Especially one so deeply ensconced in nifty buzzwords like “Freedom”?

I wouldn't be so blunt, but the Religious Right treats these people like livestock: we should take the gender questions off of marriage licenses so the churches can go fight their own battles. Let's give the issue back to the people maintaining “Liberty” from of one side of their mouths and supporting persecution from the other.

-This isn't my problem, Miss Prejean.

It's yours.

Ghost of a Chance

Predator Press

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Okay. Maybe calling in The Atlantic Paranormal Society (TAPS) on my first day as Director of Psychiatry wasn’t such a good idea. But how often am I going to have full access to an asylum? You’ll never get anywhere in life if you don’t take some chances every now and then.

-Besides if the place is haunted, those poor crazy people have a right to know.

When All Else Fails

Predator Press

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“I told you to stop applying for psychiatrist jobs!” says Terri, scowling into my CareerBuilder account.

“It’s not just any psychiatrist job.” I explain. “It’s Director of Psychiatry. I would run, like, a fleet of psychiatrists. Those cats make like $250,000 a year.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“How hard could it be?” I shrug. “I carry around a clipboard, and make all the patients in my asylum smoke cannabis while listening to old Beatles records. Hell people will be trying to break in.”

“You’re not qualified!”

“I get my second interview tomorrow.”

“Really?”

Snarquis de Sade

Predator Press

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I know you all have seen this image in the past, but I wanted to update my screenshot on various services: this is my all-time favorite Photoshop –a pic originally spawned by my buddy Speedcat Hollydale. (You can see his original version by clicking the pic.)

For me, today is general blog maintenance: I’ve added a “Top Commenter” widget (see ”Pack Mentality,” right), and Twitter –although I’m not 100% on Twitter yet. While currently unfamiliar and purely experimental, please feel free to add me as a Twitter follower [@SnarquisDeSade] and I’ll return the favor.

-I don’t really foresee being able to devote a lot of time to Twitter, but at the very least I regard it as a handy little shorthand tool for keeping track of some of my favorite people.

What if our Alien Visitors are Delicious?

Predator Press

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Oh, come on ... you're all thinking it, you're just too chicken to ask.

And I can already hear you bleeding heart liberals complaining, 'But LOBO, aliens capable of interstellar travel would be super-intelligent!' blah blah.

Oh please ... ridden a bus lately? What if these are celestial losers tryin to get a picture of themselves next to the intergalactic equivalent of the 'World's Biggest Ball of Yarn?"

Pthbttt!

The capability of travel doesn't impress me. In fact non-intelligent beings travel every day (see photo, right).

And frankly, these rude and unannounced tourists being 'intelligent' only makes the idea more attractive: what could be better than a meal that preheats the oven, sets the timer, lathers itself in a fine Mornay sauce and is fully cooked to a succulent golden-brown before you even get home?

As far as I'm concerned, the only question is whether to serve them with a white wine or a red.

Playing With Matches

Predator Press

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Whenever the Mighty Mighty Diesel takes a breather, I like to seize upon his absence as an opportunity to lecture about him –and thusly the entire blogosphere- extensively.

See, nowadays new blogs are poppin up everywhere and all the time. I’m willing to bet at this point there are like fifteen or twenty of them -all industriously ripping off my idea to have an online diary, and paying me, um, zero in royalties.

And I'm fine with that really. There is no real need to thank me ... from the very conception of the concept of “blogging,” I knew it was too great a gift not to share with the rest of Humankind.

-But I cannot, in good conscience, let said Humankind forget the history behind it.

As an example, I invite you to take the following quiz:


HINTS
v

One of these two will transport you to hellish wastelands, and subject you to unimaginable atrocities.

The other will only write about it.


One of these two would wipe out the entire salad bar, and then make out with Princess Leia.

The other is made of Latex and rubber.



One of these two is a visionary of internet comedy.

The other is in a DVD my kid made me buy.


One of these two was in a TV series.

The other runs a weapons factory for irate golfers.



One of these two made an outrageously funny DVD.

The other is somehow cashing in despite "Pet Detective", and Lemony Snicket's "A Series of Unfortunate Budget Surpluses."



One of these two is a highly-pressurized windbag with a reflective surface, containing a gas that makes you talk funny when ingested.

(In this case, both answers are correct. I can't tell the difference either.)



***

Now for any of you that took this quiz and didn’t score like four million points, I think you really need to do some homework. You know, like, “study” or something. Don’t write a blog without knowing the cold hard facts surrounding the glorious history of blogging: it would just embarrass us both.

So where was I?

Oh yeah.

Diesel.


***

See I warned Diesel implicitly about Antisocial Commentary from the Secret Files of the Mattress Police.

“D,” I says. “You have to scale back the awesomeness of this book. If you’re not careful, they’re gonna make you write another one.”

But Diesel can be pretty stubborn when it comes to advice.

“They wouldn’t dare,” he says smugly.

“D, I’m serious,” I insist. “They made this guy Hemingway write like three books.”

“That's impossible,” says D. “No human mortal could endure even reading three books, let alone writing three.”

“I’m totally serious.”

“Have they made you write any books?”

“Hell no,” I smirk. “I’m on to those pricks.”

“What’s your secret?” he asks.

“Bad punctuation, grammar … the occasional smattering of misspellings. All buried deeply in unreadable pedantic and wordy nonsense."

I pause.

“I think it’s more of a gift, really.”