[LOBO]
“Look,” says Terri. “I think it’s time we had a talk about your drinking.”
“What about it?”
“You wrote the bartender at the wedding a letter of recommendation.”
“Well he clearly deserved it,” I counter, scratching my chin. “Who got married?”
Friday
Chemically "Enhanced"
[LOBO]
“Look,” says Terri. “I think it’s time we had a talk about your drinking.”
“What about it?”
“You wrote the bartender at the wedding a letter of recommendation.”
“Well he clearly deserved it,” I counter, scratching my chin. “Who got married?”
Wednesday
Thursday
Exclusive: New Obama 2012 Cabinet Nominations Raise Eyebrows, Concerns
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Any of you guys remember when I interviewed that guy “Barrack Obama?”
-Holy shit, it turns out that guy became President! And not only that, but he's running for office again. He wanted to make that announcement here on Predator Press first, but -as you remember- I was locked in Ted Williams' Mercedes at the time.
Because Obama wasn't answering my follow-up calls, I figured it was my duty to you -O' Loyal reader- to hack his email and steal his Cabinet 'Picks to Click' for 2012. And who would have thought the most powerful man in the world's Hotmail account password would be "PASSWORD?"
Anton 'Cream-G' Wellingsdale the Second will be the "brains" of the operation as Secretary of State. Cream-G is most well-known for his controversial book I Hate Whitey and the sequel Whitey Kiss My Ass -both of which are currently runaway bestsellers, and the first books ever to go double platinum.
Kimbo Slice will be filling the slot of Attorney General. I don’t know what the Attorney General actually does, but whatever it is this former MMA fighter will be doin a lot of it: simulations testing Kimbo's diplomatic aptitude universally concluded with him wrapping the cord around Khadaffi, Gadaffi, Gandolf -whoever's- neck, and beating him upside the head with the red phone.
Secretary of War Rendell 'Icepick Icepick Icepick' Warren is a Harvard Graduate and a former Black Panther. You may best remember him from the 'Electric Slide Made Me Do It' Defense put forth by his lawyers, culminating into the slaying of forty drunken white people while armed only with the jawbone of Jon Bon Jovi.In Icepick Icepick Icepick's downtime, he enjoys working with his Saddam Hussein tribute band, drinking "40s," theoretical astrophysics, classical art from the 1800s and baking.
There’s more information on some of these guys than others: the data on our new Secretary of the Treasury is sketchy at best –all I got was this jpeg and "You Gonna Get Raped" letterhead.-It's in 'bold,' and underlined twice.
Wednesday
The End is Near
Predator Press
[LOBO]
“Egypt has a Revolution, Japan has Earthquakes, nuclear meltdowns are imminent, we’re bombing Libya -” I throw my hands in the air in crisis fatigue. “And now this?“
“Honey,” Terri soothes. “It’s toilet paper.”
“It’s 1-ply!”
“Egypt has a Revolution, Japan has Earthquakes, nuclear meltdowns are imminent, we’re bombing Libya -” I throw my hands in the air in crisis fatigue. “And now this?“
“Honey,” Terri soothes. “It’s toilet paper.”
“It’s 1-ply!”
Sunday
Driving Miss Crazy
Predator Press
[LOBO]
“You need to slow down,” scolds an already irritated Terri. “You know why they put those ‘Children Crossing’ signs up, right?”
“Sure I know” I says. Decelerating, I sigh and roll my eyes. “They have to. Because children are stupid.”
“Children are not stupid.”
“Oh reeealllly,” my eyebrows arch in a mix of fury and snark. Spotting a little girl at the stop sign, I press the button to roll down my window. “You!” I points to the little girl. “Who won the 1994 World series?”
To this, the little girl stared confused -and after a moment decided to smile and wave.
“Ptthbtt,” I says, rolling my window back up. Proceeding into the clear intersection, I underline “See that? Dumb as a fuckin' post.”
Terri scowled. “There was no World Series in 1994. The players went on strike that year.”
“Really?”
“You need to slow down,” scolds an already irritated Terri. “You know why they put those ‘Children Crossing’ signs up, right?”
“Sure I know” I says. Decelerating, I sigh and roll my eyes. “They have to. Because children are stupid.”
“Children are not stupid.”
“Oh reeealllly,” my eyebrows arch in a mix of fury and snark. Spotting a little girl at the stop sign, I press the button to roll down my window. “You!” I points to the little girl. “Who won the 1994 World series?”
“Ptthbtt,” I says, rolling my window back up. Proceeding into the clear intersection, I underline “See that? Dumb as a fuckin' post.”
Terri scowled. “There was no World Series in 1994. The players went on strike that year.”
“Really?”
Monday
Predator Press Reviews: The Ingredients of a Good Thriller
[LOBO]
But -despite my diminished hopes and the inversely growing sense of foreboding- I wanted to make good on reviewing it fairly.
-Predator Press readers would demand nothing less, right?
“What’s that sound?” I says, flicking on my lighter.
“It sounds like we are leaving,” says Flandsa.
I pull out a cigarette.
“Can I have one of those?” asks Flandsa.
“I suppose,” Flandsa sulks. “What do you think Ted Williams is going to do to us?”
“Well Ted Williams is formerly homeless, right?”
“Yes.”
“I’m assume he’s going to have you beaten to death with a shovel somewhere out in the dessert. But maybe he’ll have me dropped off on the way.”
“By Chris Wood?”
“No shit. You’ve read it?”
“Read it?” says Flandsa. “I memorized it. It was a brilliant and well-written ‘how to,’ essential to not just thriller writers, but to general thriller fans. Would you like me to recite it to you?”
I kick on the lighter again to examine the trunk contents, and calmly evaluate the crisis at hand. “No ashtrays back here. Jesus. Spare tire, jack ... This is a Mercedes, right? The condiment dispenser only has domestic mustard, and where the fuck is the beer? You might think those Brits would take that into consideration when engineering these things."
“Shh!” I says. “We’ve stopped. What has it been? Four hours maybe?”
“It’s been around eleven minutes.”
“We’ll split the difference. Four hours divided by eleven minutes, times sixty miles and hour …" I rub my temples. "Shit, we must have gone out to the dessert first.”
The barely-audibly engine is turned off, and we hear the four car doors all open and close individually.
“Well it was nice seeing you again Flandsa,” I says, as inches from my head a set of keys work the trunk lock. “Can I have my laptop back now? Did you save your work?”
I suddenly realize I am surrounded by dozens of Flandsa Ha’asasanba’s.
And they are all carrying shovels.
-I think I screamed.
Thursday
Canadian Breakin'
Predator Press [LOBO]
“How come you never mentioned you had an uncle in the National Hockey League?" Terri asks, pointing at the scrapbook picture.
“Well he wasn’t a very nice guy,” I says. “He was stubborn, over-achieving, and fiercely anti-symmetric.”
“But we aren’t Jewish.”
 |
| My Uncle had more hits than Wikipedia. |
“Huh," says Terri. "But I thought hockey rink ice was only a few inches thick?”
“Hence the ‘stubborn’ and ‘over-achieving’ part,” I shrug.
Wednesday
To Clarify
Predator Press
[LOBO]
[LOBO]
US Katrina Death Toll: 2,000
US 9-11 Death Toll: 3,000
Japanese Death Toll: 10,000
(currently)
Japan is roughy the size of California in square miles.
California has 36,961,665 souls
-Japan has 127,176,667
Tuesday
HEAT
[LOBO]
I may have written about my “Bucket List” -a bunch of crap I want to do before I die- already.
-But all you die-hard Predator Press readers immolating yourselves should know this is a brand new post -so no matter how bad those gasoline fumes are, read this, shut the fuck up, and think about what you’ve done.
-Assholes.
But -as was saying before I was rudely interrupted- for the most part my "Bucket List" is sophomoric criminal bullshit:
1) steal a cop car and lead the cops on a high speed chase, or
2) steal an armored car and lead the cops on a medium-speed chase until I can
3) steal the helicopter cops use for high speed chases (eh? Eh?), and
4) screech to a halt just past a sign on a bridge that reads "County Line," and park to wave back happily at the fleet of furious cops that can no longer arrest me because I'm 6 linear feet outside their jurisdiction.
Theory A) I think if you’re pulled over for a DUI and the cop asks you to take a sobriety test, you’re already fucked. Right? He’s just making you do tricks so he can laugh watching them on his VHS later that day:
T F
Theory B) You know how you can live on a rural street -middle of nowhere- and maybe six cars go by all day, but when you get in your car and start the ignition it’s like Chicago I-94 all of the sudden? Or how it seems every light is red? Well, I think there is a well-organized squad of old people with walkie-talkies fucking with us. War vets -? They radio when we leave the house, where we're going, what and what bank teller lane we're getting into, et cetera.
But why 'old people,' o Brilliant One?” you are probably asking.
See, that logic took me a while. The Opportunity was never in question ... trust me: when I can‘t sleep and my dick doesn‘t work anymore, I‘ll be hassling you. But what is the Motive? What the fuck do these geezers have against us? I don’t want to put deer stalker hat factories out of business or anything …. I’m just sayin this blue haired buzzard bait has some crazy reason for doin’ this shit, right?
Eventually I crunched the numbers on Excel. I found that elderly people have a slower reaction time -sometimes half that of a person in his twenties. Then you factor in how they drive about two-thirds of the speed limit. And when these behaviors are coupled with frequent, sudden naps and crashing into 7-11s, it doesn‘t leave much actual “driving” -in 2.5 hours, your garden variety Senior Citizen will be closer to home than his or her original desired destination. And over a long enough timeline, they will actually owe some driving …
T F
Anyone else need a cigarette?
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