Predator Press
[LOBO]
Despite the unjust, immoral, lopsided, asymmetrical offensives the US wreaked permanently upon our local economy, tourism and industrial might by shutting off our cable, we bravely carry on under our new oppressors.
But Phil is sick.
I knew something was wrong; he cranks out kittens like four times a year! But the vet just called with his test results, and he has “elevated kidney levels” and requires more tests.
I think it’s a little ironic that of everyone in this house --and their respective diets and lifestyles-- the cat is cracking up.
Tuesday
Monday
LOBONIA SURRENDERS; SUES FOR PEACE
Predator Press
Shortest Insurrection in US History
”The sooner we get our Reparations, the sooner we can rebuild,” says Lobonain Chancellor. "Now will you please turn my cable back on?"
Shortest Insurrection in US History
”The sooner we get our Reparations, the sooner we can rebuild,” says Lobonain Chancellor. "Now will you please turn my cable back on?"
Predator Press Reviews: Canadian Bacon
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Well, the author of such books as Bowling For Columbine and Fahrenheit 911 has gone and scared the shit out of me again with his latest documentary Canadian Bacon, starring critically acclaimed Rip Torn and a lot of other really talented actors.
In this movie, Roger Moore unveils footage of Americans concocting a phony threat from another country in order to secure political stability and fulfill the agenda of a greedy profiteer that personally benefits from America’s participation in a war.
--God, if I would’ve written it as a science fiction story you wouldn’t have believed it.
Well, needless to say, I panicked and seceded from the United States.
No, I’m serious. I have proudly hoisted the new flag of glorious Sovereign LOBONIA.
It's a little too 'friendly' as far as I'm concerned, but I want to encourage the local "surf and sand" lifestyle, as well as robust trade, supermodel tourism, and hearty taxation.
Rather 'geographically inconvenient' for the Capitalist pig-dogs, LOBONIA is smack in the middle of Illinois, and surrounded on all borders by entire suburbs of lousy hostiles and bewildered, asshole neighbors that have absolutely zero tolerance for the seemingly-alien culture and strange mores of my proud people.
Because of this, I've “liberated” some traffic barricades, and have placed them right where you would turn onto my street: none of you crazy foreigners and illegal aliens and immigrants are allowed beyond my new International Passport Checkpoint of Doom without being pelted by a massive arsenal of state-of-the-art, “fire and forget” UN approved non-allergenic water balloons.
... Except the mailman. I didn’t get the water bill last month, and I’m worried that it's going to get shut off.
The mailman is crucial to my Defense Program.
[LOBO]
Well, the author of such books as Bowling For Columbine and Fahrenheit 911 has gone and scared the shit out of me again with his latest documentary Canadian Bacon, starring critically acclaimed Rip Torn and a lot of other really talented actors.In this movie, Roger Moore unveils footage of Americans concocting a phony threat from another country in order to secure political stability and fulfill the agenda of a greedy profiteer that personally benefits from America’s participation in a war.
--God, if I would’ve written it as a science fiction story you wouldn’t have believed it.
Well, needless to say, I panicked and seceded from the United States.
No, I’m serious. I have proudly hoisted the new flag of glorious Sovereign LOBONIA.It's a little too 'friendly' as far as I'm concerned, but I want to encourage the local "surf and sand" lifestyle, as well as robust trade, supermodel tourism, and hearty taxation.
Rather 'geographically inconvenient' for the Capitalist pig-dogs, LOBONIA is smack in the middle of Illinois, and surrounded on all borders by entire suburbs of lousy hostiles and bewildered, asshole neighbors that have absolutely zero tolerance for the seemingly-alien culture and strange mores of my proud people.
Because of this, I've “liberated” some traffic barricades, and have placed them right where you would turn onto my street: none of you crazy foreigners and illegal aliens and immigrants are allowed beyond my new International Passport Checkpoint of Doom without being pelted by a massive arsenal of state-of-the-art, “fire and forget” UN approved non-allergenic water balloons.
... Except the mailman. I didn’t get the water bill last month, and I’m worried that it's going to get shut off.
The mailman is crucial to my Defense Program.
Sunday
Oh Yes I Did
Predator Press
[LOBO]
You know how I was wearing fake weights so I could hit on sensitive and vulnerable chicks with low self-esteem at Weight Watchers meetings?
Well, then I did something kinda reprehensible: I claimed to have invented the Fat-Burning Twinkie, and started to sell them at $4 a pop there.
Now, a $2 box of Twinkies has, well, a lot of goddamn Twinkies in it. I figure I can make maybe 5-6% on this deal, right?
At first, Weight Watchers Corporate didn’t notice anything. I --having dropped the weights-- had lost about 55 pounds while everyone else gained two or three. The net result was pretty much zero.
Ultimately, it was an IRS guy that busted me out. He had a shoebox full of checks from Weight Watchers “known associates” --currently embroiled in a lawsuit against Weight Watchers-- totaling $26,420, all made out to “cash”, and all signed by me.
Weight Watchers Corporate is just plain jealous.
[LOBO]
You know how I was wearing fake weights so I could hit on sensitive and vulnerable chicks with low self-esteem at Weight Watchers meetings?
Well, then I did something kinda reprehensible: I claimed to have invented the Fat-Burning Twinkie, and started to sell them at $4 a pop there.
Now, a $2 box of Twinkies has, well, a lot of goddamn Twinkies in it. I figure I can make maybe 5-6% on this deal, right?
At first, Weight Watchers Corporate didn’t notice anything. I --having dropped the weights-- had lost about 55 pounds while everyone else gained two or three. The net result was pretty much zero.
Ultimately, it was an IRS guy that busted me out. He had a shoebox full of checks from Weight Watchers “known associates” --currently embroiled in a lawsuit against Weight Watchers-- totaling $26,420, all made out to “cash”, and all signed by me.
Weight Watchers Corporate is just plain jealous.
Saturday
Tom Sawyer
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I’ve been going to Weight Watchers meetings for six weeks now, wearing 20 pounds of leg and wrist weights and a 35 pound plate tucked under my jacket.
Tonight, for the “Weigh In”, I’m leaving it all at home.
I am soooooo getting laid ……
[LOBO]
I’ve been going to Weight Watchers meetings for six weeks now, wearing 20 pounds of leg and wrist weights and a 35 pound plate tucked under my jacket.
Tonight, for the “Weigh In”, I’m leaving it all at home.
I am soooooo getting laid ……
Predator Press Reviews: Ghost Rider
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I don’t know why he does it, but once or twice a year Ethan makes me go and do a movie review.
And like clockwork, I come back yawning from the new Hollywood catalog of eye-popping special effects and budget surpluses, loosely wrapped around a $2 script.
But this year I was pleasantly surprised; this movie was a lot of fun.
The first thing that stands out about Ghost Rider is the all-star cast: it features a flaming skull, a tall skinny guy and a chick with fantastic cleavage, and a stellar myriad of various other supporting actors. For a documentary about a tall skinny guy selling his soul to the devil for a chick with fantastic cleavage and then becoming “Flaming Skull Guy”, I think there’s going to be huge buzz about the performances when the Oscars come around this year.
Still, while exhilarating, it was a rather disturbing piece for me --a former “Ghost Rider” myself—to watch.
***
I’m phobic of cotton.
Hey, some people are snakes, some people are spiders.
I’m cotton.
Fuck off.
So one Saturday afternoon, I wake up in dire need of an aspirin. After getting an adult to help me with the cap, I’m mortified to see a massive glob of dry, white horror in between me and my hangover medicine trapped helplessly in the bottom of the bottle.
Now the cotton, all bunched up in the bottle, will not shake out –or release a singe pill—no matter how many hours you spend shaking the bottle upside down or banging it on the table; the cotton just sits there tenaciously, hoarding all my tiny little liberators, daring me to do the unthinkable: to stick my finger in there and actually touch it --an act I know will cause certain and instantaneous death.
So, armed with my fantastic braniosity, I devised a plan.
I would use tweezers.
Now, this is obviously not the most sanitary of solutions. Immediately, I jump online and google ”sterilizing”.
Way, way down, under the Rosie O’Donnell links, there’s a medical page that says that the two best ways to rid your utensils of unwanted bacteria is to either:
1) Rub the utensil down with isopropyl alcohol, or
b) boil the utensil in water.
—So I figure “Hey, if I boil the utensil in isopropyl alcohol, it’ll be really sterile," right?
Well, it turns out that isopropyl alcohol is slightly flammable, and five seconds later, I was trying to get in the Chick Magnet, screaming.
In the dead of winter, starting a 1990 Plymouth Horizon can be rather sketchy. But after fifteen minutes or so, I was well on my way to the hospital. “Hey buddy,” teased some kids passing me on scooters. “What happened to your eyebrows?” By now, the roof liner and much of the interior had caught fire as well. I shook my fist at them, “Just wait until I get into fifth gear you little bastards!”
But atlas, even in fifth gear I could not catch them, because I had forgotten to turn off the AM radio when I turned on the headlights; the Chick Magnet sputtered and stalled. And those little bastards came back and pushed me off the road and into a snow bank!
Engulfed in flames and badly in need of a “jump”, I got out of the car swinging jumper cables over my head in effort to flag down another motorist …
[LOBO]
I don’t know why he does it, but once or twice a year Ethan makes me go and do a movie review.And like clockwork, I come back yawning from the new Hollywood catalog of eye-popping special effects and budget surpluses, loosely wrapped around a $2 script.
But this year I was pleasantly surprised; this movie was a lot of fun.
The first thing that stands out about Ghost Rider is the all-star cast: it features a flaming skull, a tall skinny guy and a chick with fantastic cleavage, and a stellar myriad of various other supporting actors. For a documentary about a tall skinny guy selling his soul to the devil for a chick with fantastic cleavage and then becoming “Flaming Skull Guy”, I think there’s going to be huge buzz about the performances when the Oscars come around this year.
Still, while exhilarating, it was a rather disturbing piece for me --a former “Ghost Rider” myself—to watch.
I’m phobic of cotton.
Hey, some people are snakes, some people are spiders.
I’m cotton.
Fuck off.
So one Saturday afternoon, I wake up in dire need of an aspirin. After getting an adult to help me with the cap, I’m mortified to see a massive glob of dry, white horror in between me and my hangover medicine trapped helplessly in the bottom of the bottle.
Now the cotton, all bunched up in the bottle, will not shake out –or release a singe pill—no matter how many hours you spend shaking the bottle upside down or banging it on the table; the cotton just sits there tenaciously, hoarding all my tiny little liberators, daring me to do the unthinkable: to stick my finger in there and actually touch it --an act I know will cause certain and instantaneous death.
So, armed with my fantastic braniosity, I devised a plan.
I would use tweezers.
Now, this is obviously not the most sanitary of solutions. Immediately, I jump online and google ”sterilizing”.
Way, way down, under the Rosie O’Donnell links, there’s a medical page that says that the two best ways to rid your utensils of unwanted bacteria is to either:
1) Rub the utensil down with isopropyl alcohol, or
b) boil the utensil in water.
—So I figure “Hey, if I boil the utensil in isopropyl alcohol, it’ll be really sterile," right?
Well, it turns out that isopropyl alcohol is slightly flammable, and five seconds later, I was trying to get in the Chick Magnet, screaming.In the dead of winter, starting a 1990 Plymouth Horizon can be rather sketchy. But after fifteen minutes or so, I was well on my way to the hospital. “Hey buddy,” teased some kids passing me on scooters. “What happened to your eyebrows?” By now, the roof liner and much of the interior had caught fire as well. I shook my fist at them, “Just wait until I get into fifth gear you little bastards!”
But atlas, even in fifth gear I could not catch them, because I had forgotten to turn off the AM radio when I turned on the headlights; the Chick Magnet sputtered and stalled. And those little bastards came back and pushed me off the road and into a snow bank!
Engulfed in flames and badly in need of a “jump”, I got out of the car swinging jumper cables over my head in effort to flag down another motorist …
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