Exclusive: Wikipedia Search Casts Doubt on Bin Laden Assassination

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Q 1: How could a seal possibly have pulled the trigger?

Fact: Seals don’t have opposable thumbs. And perhaps more importantly, they don’t have shoulders. Am I supposed to believe a “navy” seal swam to Pakistan carrying an AK-47 in its flippers the whole way?

Those guns have straps for a reason.

Q 2: What the hell is a "navy" seal doing in the dessert anyway?

Fact: Osama bin Laden [ObL] wasn’t holed out on some parfait floating in the ocean. That’s a dessert. A desert, it turns out, is a place like the beach except there is explicitly no ocean by definition. So where did the “navy” park all their boats an crap without somebody seeing them do it?

Remember this isn’t attacking a dessert -you can’t just throw sprinkles on your aircraft carrier and hope for the best ... Pakistan would have hit you broadside with a strawberry in a second.

Q 3: Why does President Obama’s Birth Certificate make no mention of the effort?

Fact: Obama’s Birth Certificate was created by ancients like fifteen or twenty years ago, and it could not have known about the events that transpired on 9/11.

-Or could it? Obama's Birth Certificate contains a wealth of knowledge about Obama such as where and when he was born, his parents' names, and the fact that he was once black.

The Birth Certificate, therefore, has demonstrated repeated culpability and motive in the entire presidency from infancy -maybe even from inception.

So how can we ever know that the afore-mentioned Birth Certificate itself didn’t hide Mother Obama’s birth control on that fateful, romantic night in Syria or Iran?

-Or that the fate of America‘s 2008 president wasn't SEALED [eh?] that night on a blue EPT stick by Hitler himself?

Hm?

Seven Years Bad Luck

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Like any other red-blooded American, I cook my sushi. And I put cheese on it. And I make it out of beef.

So just like you, I’ve been waiting with bated breath on Jesse Ventura’s ‘take’ on the assassination of Osama bin Laden.

See, in the past Jesse has been critical of America’s forthrightness regarding a possible 9/11 conspiracy. But Osama has supposedly been assassinated by the Navy Seals.  And Jesse is a bona-fide former Navy Seal himself.

Don’t misunderstand me here: I love Jesse, and he is one of my favorite people: wearing a pink boa he became a world champion wrestler, and was eventually elected state governor.   Ha! -As far as I’m concerned Jesse is King of the Earth: the only way that could be topped is to have done all that simultaneously.

But you’ve seen Jesse on television, right?

I picture Jesse practicing the ‘Disappearing Quarter’ slight-of-hand trick in a mirror, and walking away confused, angry, and short $5.75.

Save Yourselves

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One need only to glance at my bank balance to conclude that I have not given you people enough excuses to give me money.

So in the spiritual vacuum created by the death of Osama bin Laden, I have decided to pursue the time-tested lucrative field of religion. Frankly, most modern religions are about as good at making us decent human beings as Dane Cook is good at comedy anyway.

1) Do unto others as you would have them do unto yourself. Especially if you are hot.

2) This isn’t the easy road like those Catholic pussies got, and these aren’t mere lame-assed “Commandments” -these are Demandments! But virgins? Pthbbbt … my afterlife SuperBonus offers 72 filthy whores.

3) No fat chicks.

4) Don’t be a dick, asshole, slut, bitch or cunt (or respective sub-derivatives such as disshole, clitch or slunt).

5) Clip your toenails outside, a safe distance from others so as not to poke out someone’s eye with airborne shrapnel.

6) Don’t be rude: leave that damn toilet seat up, or stop complaining when I pee on it.

7) Mmmmmm …. pork chops. That’s not really a ‘Commandment’ I suppose, but …

8) When observing Lent, you must give up not deep-frying everything and not drinking beer.

9) We are not descendents of monkeys. We are descendents of rabbits -thus, Easter makes total sense. Besides, rabbits do not fling poo at you.  Only chocolate.

10) I think maybe we should address this whole “Killing” thing. I mean I know killing is “bad,” but on the other hand some people should just flat-out be dead, right?

In LOBOism, one can only kill another in bed. Yes, that’s right: if you hate someone so much they must die, you have to **** them to death.

And if you can’t produce the DNA-matched crushed pelvis to the proper authorities (trophy over fireplace with documentation is acceptable), you will be promptly thrown is a dungeon where you will doubtlessly be ****ed to death by a minotaur or something.

-This list is subject to updates as desired or necessary.

Being President Seems Like a Pretty Cool Job. Is there an Application Process or Something?

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After almost ten years of not-so-patiently awaiting news of Osama bin Laden's [ObL's] death, I am puzzled at the lack of joyous fulfillment I imagined this moment to be. Justice? Revenge? I find it hard to be happy for anything other than the end of ObL’s murder spree.

So now what?  Having long forgotten a world without him already, I am perhaps even a little disconcerted with the idea he is gone. Will there be post-Osama support groups?  Against what shall we guage if we are mistreating ourselves at airports enough? 

Should we simply be looking for a new boogieman already?  Finding another one can’t be difficult after all; as Americans we are a culture of subtle nuance.  For instance nudity is considered art or science until somebody desires to see it.  If someone actually wants to see it, we call it pornography.  See?  Subtle nuance.

Admittedly, a sliver of amusement comes in here and there -like having embarrassed Pakistan. I never trusted those fuckers in the first place, and we've been giving $2 billion [with a "b"] a year to Pakistan even after Asif Ali Zadari sold me that crappy timeshare.  Yeah, it was 'technically' on the beach ... but the beach smelled like dead jellyfish and pelican farts the whole season I had it.

But with ObL slain I thought Surely this will resolve some concerns about our president.  Obama got Osama!  O Holy Christ thank GOD I am so freaking sick of hearing about that damn birth certificate-"

And then I found out Obama made the military secretly dump ObL’s body in the ocean.

!!!

I have decided that we are being fucked with. Hard.  Not that I don’t believe ObL is dead, not that we didn’t land on the Moon, not that Lincoln, Kennedy, King, ad nauseam, were assassinated by the implied parties … but I’m thinking there is a wing of the White House just dreaming up stuff to make us doubt everything we know -perhaps in effort to promote an omniscient, omnipotent secret US agenda.

And I get why.  Because if I were sworn in as president, the FIRST thing I would do is recede from the public eye entirely. Having assembled a think tank of the greatest opposing minds in the world as my cabinet, I would periodically be consulted by them vis-à-vis Charlie from Charlie’s Angels -via voice box from a secret location such as Maui, Key West, or New Orleans. (In fact, I think I would be annoyed if I had to talk to them at all; nothing ruins a good buzz like the greatest opposing minds in the world.)

And I said "recede" and not "vanish" for a reason: every once in a while you would see a Photoshop of me in the New York Times getting a ‘All-Seeing Eye’ Masonic tattoo. Or in the Chicago Tribune, me and Marilyn Monroe hauling the Ark of the Covenant out of a forgotten Nazi warehouse.  The LA Times will show me tearing off a Skynet t-shirt, almost revealing the superfluous nipple I glue to random spots on my torso.

And as President, I promise to get absolutely nothing done personally ... but man will those crazies be busy.

-Just imagine what you could accomplish with them preoccupied.

Pakistani Mrs Kravitz Criticized, Ridiculed for Embarrassing Bin Laden Oversight

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Excuses, Excuses

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“Has it ever occurred to you,” she says, clacking her pen open, “that selfless acts -acts of charity and serving Humanity- are among the best ways to overcome many of your phobias and neurosi?”

Clack

“Even my Cryohydrotachophobia?” I am somewhat enthused. "And by the way, it is neuroses."

"What?"

"Neuroses is plural for Neurosis."

"It's not neurosi?"

“No."

"But this illustrates another issue,” she counters.  I hear a notebook gently flap against the floor, and the crackling, new lamination optimistically removed from another. “You have a tendency to hide behind some of your phobias at the expense of treatment.”

Clack

Sulkily, I try and relax into the couch some more. “I fail to see what any of this is worth if you cannot even cure me of Chryohydrotachophobia.”

During an awkward pause, I can hear the psychiatrist taking a deep breath.

“You are the only diagnosed case of Cryohydrotachophobia,” she explains.  “And I can’t imagine the ‘Paralyzing Fear of Rogue Icebergs’ is very inhibiting this close to the Equator.”

“Yeah well says you,” I snort.  “If it was up to you people, there would be icebergs rollin up everywhere. Probably crawlin’ with polar bears too. Hungry polar bears!”

Clack

“So you think an iceberg -infested with polar bears- could come crashing in any moment now? Meaning, right through the office walls? Even as we speak?  In Los Angeles?”

“No,” I reply, absently picking at a fingernail. “Your thermostat is set at what, seventy six?"

“Exactly seventy-six. That was very good. How did you know?”

“I have very sensitive nipples.”

Internet Swag

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It's a little slow to download, but ...

Punch-Drunk Drunk

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ADAM Sandler will doubtlessly be suing me after this post.

No, I’m serious. I spent all of Saturday and Sunday poring over dizzyingly-long subpoenas, and it turns out he is among the proud and few not suing me yet. And I can't counter-sue until Adam Sandler sues me first.

What does this all mean? This means Adam Sandler has completely lazy and worthless lawyers: they are overpaid and pasty gelatinous SLOBS swishin’ around in lil skirts.  Soon we will hear grizzly shrapnel as half-full Chinese take-out boxes, chicken bones, and small unfortunate animals tumble through air pockets trapped in mountainous, groaning layers of Adam Sandler lawyer flab in effort to roll over one last cheerleader before the fire department hoists their STD-riddled, flea-infested fat asses out of pricey condominiums via numerous helicopters and cranes as rotting dead hookers flop lifeless out from under ample bedsore-covered acres of greasy cellulite and acne once-rumored to be human Adam Sandler lawyer flesh.

The universe has no place for idle, dawdling Adam Sandler Lawyers, and I'll bet Adam Sandler himself would agree!

See, I am losing huge in all my countersuits on average too … and I figure Adam Sandler is easily worth $1,000,000 in fat countersuit greenbacks: that is exactly what it will cost to burn the memory of Eight Crazy Nights out of my brain.

But what do Sylvester Stallone, Hillary Swank, Mark Wahlburg, and Adam Carolla have on the mighty Adam Sandler?

Hm?

Boxing movies.

I want Mister Sandler -Adam, if I may be so bold- to read my script Punch-Drunk Drunk. It’s a sequel to Punch-Drunk Love -a stoic follow-up that finds Barry Egan succumbing to his seven evil sisters, thus being forced to eek out a meager existence boxing grizzly bears.

But boxing grizzly bears is a terrible way to eek out a meager existence, especially when you just got promoted to astronaut!  In the final match, the Emperor Grizzly Bear cheats and punctures Barry's pressure suit in the third round and is disqualitied.  (I think Rob Schneider is a shoe-in for ‘Best Supporting Actor,’ particularly because he doesn’t appear in this movie.)

So Barry is now Boxing Champion of the World and Emperor of the Grizzly Bears.  But the controversy surrounding the victory yields only mockery and taunting from sports fans of virtually every species. Tormented, Barry gets hooked on 5-Hour Energy Drinks. He doesn't know what he needs energy for -let alone 5 hours worth- but suddenly he’s a quarterback in the NFL too. Eventually Sarah Palin shoots the evil Former Bear Emperor, and -thusly befriended- the grizzly bears team up with Barry, and together they go and defeat the vampires.

(I still have to write Acts II and III.)

Chemically "Enhanced"

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“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?”

Internet Swag

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Exclusive: New Obama 2012 Cabinet Nominations Raise Eyebrows, Concerns

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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.