Predator Press
[LOBO]
I'm looking down through the trees, and there she is.
And I'm wanting to wave, but I realize she is undressing quickly, and not aware that I can see her undressing; she slides her shorts down over her curvy hips, and in moments she's not even wearing a thong. And then the shirt; a brief and tantalizing silhouette of those magnificent breasts--
"Look," says Father Fritz. "Fine, you're a Republican now. But this isn't therapy, it's Confession --"
"But then she starts rubbing down with this tanning lotion... "
Father Fritz scowls, "Now you're just bragging."
Tuesday
Bittersweet
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I don't tell you this often, so when I say explicitly "this is a true story," this is a True Story. My mom, given the opportunity, will confirm it.
And neither one of us recall me as a toddler being a particularly fussy eater.
But when introduced to Brussels's sprouts, it was on.
I still hate those innocuous-looking vile little hellspawned biological perversions.
Oh, sure mom issued the S.O.P. 'Miranda Rights' for a kid: "No desert 'til you clean your plate!" --generally this heralded "GAME OVER"; it was a matter of time before I would capitulate.
Except this time; even after a cascading portfolio of ice cream and Popsicles, I would not budge.
Dad said "Fine," and put me in the high chair. "No desert at all then. Yell for us when you're done."
And then they left for the living room.
They turned the lights off, and the television on.
... My god, these people aren't bluffing.
***
Around 9:30, I was kaput.
And I had no ideas.
I made an audible sound, acknowledging tiredly 'I give up!'. The living room stirred to life in that flickering pale blue light of the television amongst giggles like, "Well, I was starting to think he was never going to cave in."
It was at that exact moment, as they so smugly gloated, that I stuffed those vile green horrible objects into my cheeks.
And I waited.
***
6:30 the next morning was routine: I get deposited in the bathroom momentarily while mom gathers the diaper change and my daily threads.
But just starting to scuttle and crawl, I've got some surprising mobility, and right at that Single Perfect Moment I drag myself of the side of the toilet bowl, and spit those hateful sprouts from last night directly in the toilet.
It was the perfect crime.
Except I didn't know how to flush yet.
[LOBO]
I don't tell you this often, so when I say explicitly "this is a true story," this is a True Story. My mom, given the opportunity, will confirm it.
And neither one of us recall me as a toddler being a particularly fussy eater.
But when introduced to Brussels's sprouts, it was on.
I still hate those innocuous-looking vile little hellspawned biological perversions.
Oh, sure mom issued the S.O.P. 'Miranda Rights' for a kid: "No desert 'til you clean your plate!" --generally this heralded "GAME OVER"; it was a matter of time before I would capitulate.
Except this time; even after a cascading portfolio of ice cream and Popsicles, I would not budge.
Dad said "Fine," and put me in the high chair. "No desert at all then. Yell for us when you're done."
And then they left for the living room.
They turned the lights off, and the television on.
... My god, these people aren't bluffing.
Around 9:30, I was kaput.
And I had no ideas.
I made an audible sound, acknowledging tiredly 'I give up!'. The living room stirred to life in that flickering pale blue light of the television amongst giggles like, "Well, I was starting to think he was never going to cave in."
It was at that exact moment, as they so smugly gloated, that I stuffed those vile green horrible objects into my cheeks.
And I waited.
6:30 the next morning was routine: I get deposited in the bathroom momentarily while mom gathers the diaper change and my daily threads.
But just starting to scuttle and crawl, I've got some surprising mobility, and right at that Single Perfect Moment I drag myself of the side of the toilet bowl, and spit those hateful sprouts from last night directly in the toilet.
It was the perfect crime.
Except I didn't know how to flush yet.
"Beta" Blogger
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I swear to God, I can't tell you how much I hate what they've done to Blogger ... On a tight schedule, I just lost two hours worth of work because of their defective "Word Verication" software --I even backed the page up both times to see if the mistake was mine!
I would so love to freeze every last one of them in liquid nitrogen, and slowly chip little pieces off until I was knee deep in gory slush ...
[LOBO]
I swear to God, I can't tell you how much I hate what they've done to Blogger ... On a tight schedule, I just lost two hours worth of work because of their defective "Word Verication" software --I even backed the page up both times to see if the mistake was mine!
I would so love to freeze every last one of them in liquid nitrogen, and slowly chip little pieces off until I was knee deep in gory slush ...
Monday
The Truth About Goats
Predator Press
[LOBO]
I use really stringent email filters.
So every once in a while I have to check the “junk” mailbox, just in case any of you rabid and screaming fans are leaving more steamy love letters and/or death threats.
“Spammers”, as they are called by you techno-geeks, are getting more clever all the time, weaving their schemes in a ‘hot stock tip’, or ‘Flandsa Ha’asasanba needs your help to smuggle $80 billion dollars out of Wangswaba’ or ‘enlarge you penis’ ads.
You know, news you can use.
Today, I was shocked to find one that said, “Give Poor Farmers a Fighting Chance.”
Farmers?
Fuck the farmers!
Look, I don’t know about you, but I get my food straight from the grocery store. What Liberal conspiracy is even keeping these guys around anymore? I know for a fact by watching lots of television that farmers don’t do shit except for breed 'goats' (frankly, the ugliest and least-domesticatable strain of dog I've ever seen), obstruct much-needed superhighways and airports over greedily-oversized real estate claims, and occasionally provide a vehicle for another critically acclaimed Pauly Shore movie.
You know, if those hippies stopped soliciting hand-outs via these emails all blitzed on hemp and got a real job, I’ll bet their luck would change real fast. How about getting off of your lazy asses and maybe helping out poor Flandsa Ha’asasanba, you selfish jerks?
This country is completely going to shit.
[LOBO]
I use really stringent email filters.
So every once in a while I have to check the “junk” mailbox, just in case any of you rabid and screaming fans are leaving more steamy love letters and/or death threats.
“Spammers”, as they are called by you techno-geeks, are getting more clever all the time, weaving their schemes in a ‘hot stock tip’, or ‘Flandsa Ha’asasanba needs your help to smuggle $80 billion dollars out of Wangswaba’ or ‘enlarge you penis’ ads.
You know, news you can use.
Today, I was shocked to find one that said, “Give Poor Farmers a Fighting Chance.”
Farmers?
Fuck the farmers!
Look, I don’t know about you, but I get my food straight from the grocery store. What Liberal conspiracy is even keeping these guys around anymore? I know for a fact by watching lots of television that farmers don’t do shit except for breed 'goats' (frankly, the ugliest and least-domesticatable strain of dog I've ever seen), obstruct much-needed superhighways and airports over greedily-oversized real estate claims, and occasionally provide a vehicle for another critically acclaimed Pauly Shore movie.
You know, if those hippies stopped soliciting hand-outs via these emails all blitzed on hemp and got a real job, I’ll bet their luck would change real fast. How about getting off of your lazy asses and maybe helping out poor Flandsa Ha’asasanba, you selfish jerks?
This country is completely going to shit.
Sunday
PEACE ACCORD ACHIEVED
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Well, thanks to extensive LOBOnian Diplomacy, over the span of a single weekend the long-sought-after Peace between the volatile Fort Waynians and the warlike Sanduskanites has been achieved.
God, to look at them you never think the potentially-Apocalyptic conflict even occurred!
As Prime Minister of LOBOnia, I would just like to say no thanks or Nobel Peace Prizes are necessary; we only wanted to intervene before more needless bloodshed.
… but didn't Yasser Arafat get, like, 9 billion dollars for this sort of thing?
[LOBO]
Well, thanks to extensive LOBOnian Diplomacy, over the span of a single weekend the long-sought-after Peace between the volatile Fort Waynians and the warlike Sanduskanites has been achieved.
God, to look at them you never think the potentially-Apocalyptic conflict even occurred!
As Prime Minister of LOBOnia, I would just like to say no thanks or Nobel Peace Prizes are necessary; we only wanted to intervene before more needless bloodshed.
… but didn't Yasser Arafat get, like, 9 billion dollars for this sort of thing?
See Ethan? We Can Do Politics Too!
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Alas, fair Fort Wayne, Indiana; there is treachery afoot!
Even as you sleep, Sansduky, Ohio is spreading disinformation about you and beloved LOBOnia in a vain effort to divide our peoples by eroding our long-standing diplomatic ties for an inevitable attack.
I trust, by your name, that you indeed have a "fort", and hopefully it is of the good sturdy treehouse variety; we have intercepted 'chatter' sent to us that contains invasion plans, as well as a string of malicious obscenities about your mommas so vile I dare not print them here.
As you ready your war machines to avenge this slander, you may take solace in that all peace efforts have already been exhausted without heed: the Sanduskians, a warlike and expansionist community just seething with cooties, would have no part in any of the numerous LOBOnian efforts to achieve a diplomatic resolution.
The hearts, minds and prayers of the LOBOnain people go with you into the doubtlessly bloody carnage that they have wrought upon us all.
Woe to thee, o Sandusky! Why have you demanded the righteous, indignant wrath of two staunchly unified and powerful allies upon yourselves?
(God, this is fun. I feel just like Ronald Reagan!)
[LOBO]
Alas, fair Fort Wayne, Indiana; there is treachery afoot!
Even as you sleep, Sansduky, Ohio is spreading disinformation about you and beloved LOBOnia in a vain effort to divide our peoples by eroding our long-standing diplomatic ties for an inevitable attack.
I trust, by your name, that you indeed have a "fort", and hopefully it is of the good sturdy treehouse variety; we have intercepted 'chatter' sent to us that contains invasion plans, as well as a string of malicious obscenities about your mommas so vile I dare not print them here.
As you ready your war machines to avenge this slander, you may take solace in that all peace efforts have already been exhausted without heed: the Sanduskians, a warlike and expansionist community just seething with cooties, would have no part in any of the numerous LOBOnian efforts to achieve a diplomatic resolution.
The hearts, minds and prayers of the LOBOnain people go with you into the doubtlessly bloody carnage that they have wrought upon us all.
Woe to thee, o Sandusky! Why have you demanded the righteous, indignant wrath of two staunchly unified and powerful allies upon yourselves?
(God, this is fun. I feel just like Ronald Reagan!)
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