Thursday

Press Release:


Predator Press

The plan to go beat up John Popper and steal all his stuff in the event of a Natural Disaster has been officially scrubbed until further notice due to developing information.

We’re thinking maybe George "Goober" Lindsey from The Andy Griffith Show now.

Internet Swag

Predator Press





Wednesday

Define the Value of XXX

Predator Press



From Hell's Heart

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Since I’ve finally given up endlessly fiddle-f*cking with “Beta” Blogger’s busted crap and completely abandoned all hope of ever getting my site back on Google and Yahoo, I have concentrated efforts on squeaking out posts ever so often while simultaneously researching out potential new hosts.

With my job going well, my love-life "in tune", and my creative efforts, well, eh, 'adequate', somehow it all just highlights the only thing wrong even more; all those years of work to build traffic to a site --once 100 unique hits a day— were pissed away by a bunch of greedy, short-sighted incompetent hacks in a lab.

And it turns out this stuff doesn’t work right before you do anything to it … I mean come on; what kind of a blog site corrupts photo uploads that provide fatal errors and make your site uncrawlable? Or doesn’t let you put external links in the main fields? Or train wrecks if two different users use have logged in from the same computer?

This site, broken, will stay broken. And from the wreckage, I will rebuild it with and despite these inept tools, if only to create the most well-read and embarrassing eyesore to Blogger’s potential advertisers, clients, and members. I will somehow drive readers here again and again, and insidiously underline the dissatisfaction through the fractured lens of Blogger’s programming “triumph”.

From here on out, Predator Press, on Blogger or not, shall be a veritable showcase of Beta Blogger’s technological boobery.

But why stop at Blogger?

Tuesday

Love Letters

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Approaching 30,000 hits already!

To tell the truth, when we hit 10,000 we threw a party.

30,000 is going to be like wild, primal lovemaking … the kind where your lover says, “Omygod where did that come from?”, and responds with even more savage ferocity. And as adrenaline amplifies and intensifies the sound of your wet flesh and muscle smacking powerfully together, you are driven far beyond the ‘point of return’; dragging up your exhausted and sated love up by fistfuls of hair, you hold the back of the neck while releasing …

… Or maybe it'll be more like that "permanent marker smell". You know, when you just take the cap off? And people ask you why your nostril is green for days?

I can't decide.

Monday

Net Effect

Predator Press

A bunch of single guys finding out LOBO will soon be "Off-the-Market"

LOBO, PREGNANT, SOON TO WED BABS

Predator Press

HUNDREDS OF WOMEN ACROSS GLOBE -AND AROUND IT TOO- SPONTANEOUSLY BURST INTO UNCONTROLLED TEARS AT SURPRISE ENGAGEMENT

--or maybe "Pollen Index", explain scientific crackpots

"Hell yeah, I was surprised," says innocent bystander LOBO. "But all the signs were there if you think about it: the inexplicable gaining of weight, the magnetic pull of Desperate Housewives episodes, the strange transformation into a bitchy, insufferable, insatiable fatass ... "