Predator Press Interviews: Ethan

Predator Press

[LOBO]

"Hey Ethan, do you want to be interviewed on Predator Press?"

"Are you still jealous that Don Lewis got interviewed on Angry Seafood?"

"I am definitely not jealous," I point out. "I'm merely suffering from the perception that attention or appreciation I deserve has been diverted to someone else."

"Like Don Lewis."

"Why would I care if Don Lewis got interviewed? Don Lewis is a great blogger."

"Then why is your eye twitching?"

"It's not twitching. It's exercising. Look, we do lots of interviews. It's a perfectly viable medium for getting to know interesting people and celebrities. And I'll bet all Predator Press readers want to know more about the 'real' Ethan. Do want to be interviewed or not?"

"Well okay. Fire away."

"Cool," I says, sitting across from him with my clipboard. "The first question is 'How long have you known LOBO?'"

"Wait a minute," he says. "Are all these questions about you?"

"Of course not."

He snatches the clipboard from my grasp.

"Don't read those!" I protest. "It will ruin the spontaneity and candid nature of the entire piece!"

"Uh huh," he says reading down the list. "'Is LOBO really as handsome as is reputed?'"

"The people have a right to know."

"'Describe how I landed the brilliant employee in the world.'"

"I love that story."

"'How do you keep yourselves 'down-to-Earth' when constantly surrounded by his outrageous successes?'"

"Okay, I admit that on some of these I'm curious myself."

"'What would you consider to be LOBO's most outrageously successful quality? His' -oh my god- 'well-muscled physique or his radiant brainiosity?'"

"We have to hurry up," I insist. "I need to post this and quickly suit up for the Lakers game. And they have to configure all the CGI equipment so Kobe Bryant's head is superimposed over mine."

"What's the picture of the firemen for?"

"That's for casting LOBO: The Motion Picture; it's kind of a cinematic 'visual aid' of me being portrayed by two gifted actors, swimming in gritty heroism. Now can we please get this over with? If I'm late, we'll lose the game. And they won't let me back in the NFL because I throw the football too hard."

"Using your 'radiant braniosity', guess what I'm going to do with this clipboard."

"Should I go ahead and call the ambulance now?"

Plan X

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Finally persuaded that coaching the Lakers for Game 3 myself was going to be the best course of action, I figured I had better do it disguised as Phil Jackson as not to send the wrong message to the Celtics, Lakers and fans.

The team was already warming up when I arrived. And taking a page from Bobby Knight’s playbook, I took my giant yellow ‘Lakers are #1’ foam hand and hurled it violently against the wall.

The players stopped and stared at me, bewildered.

But even before the unattended ball stopped bouncing off the court, my unrequited rage had impelled me to yet another act of wanton destruction: with a short running start, I kicked an empty Gatorade bottle three or four yards.

Masking my cry from the sudden pain in my toe with that of a furious scream, I bared my teeth at them, hissing and spitting.

“Are you okay coach?” asked one player.

“Weren’t you taller yesterday?” asked another.

“Shut up!” I bellowed, grabbing a gym towel at the ends with my fists.

While unsuccessfully trying to tear it in half for a few seconds, the entire team has assembled in a semicircle. I finally toss the intact towel to a largish guy in a Lakers uniform who promptly tears the towel in half.

Pacing, I glower wild-eyed up at their kneecaps.

“I don’t know what’s more disgusting,” I begin. “That pisspoor excuse for basketball I saw Sunday, or how alarmingly few of you are wearing underwear right now!"

“But coach,” says a Laker. “We came back 30 points in ten minutes, and almost-“

“Almost what?” I demand.

The players head fell forward, silenced.

“That’s what I thought," I says.

Standing on a chair, I arch an accusing finger up at all of them. "And that whole time five or six of of you were out on the court, dozens of you lazy jerks were lounging on the bench with towels around your necks!”

“Were only allowed this many on the floor coach,” says my new towel-tearer, holding up five fingers.

“Say’s who?”

“The referees.”

My eyebrow arches high. “And which side is the referee on?”

The players look at each other.

“Well it ain’t yours!”

Pleased with having driven my point home with such dramatic flair, I relax a little. “How many of these games do we have left?”

“At least four, coach.”

“Four!? Ah crap. And we have to win them all?”

“If we lose two more, that’s the end of the season.”

"Wait. We can lose one?"

"Yes."

“That’s a relief,” I says exhaling. “Alright. We’re going to go with Plan X.”

“Plan X?”

“For this first game, we’re only going to use white guys that aren’t Hungarian or Ukrainian, and names that amount to 66 points or less on an official Scrabble board. You other guys lay low and rest up for the last four games."

“How are we going to win this game?”

“We're not … And it’ll lull them into a false sense of security. Then bam, we win the next four games in a row.”

Towel-tearer raises his hand, and I acknowledge him.

"What if," he asks timidly, "we can get our usual run in the fourth quarter?"

"Fourth quarter? Jesus how long are these games? I'm going to miss L.A Law!"

Sports with Balls

Predator Press

[LOBO]

It was about 8:30 pm when the phone rang.

“LOBO?”

“What?”

“LOBO, it’s Phil Jackson.”

“Phil!” I says. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been better. We’re down by 30 points.” Phil sighs audibly. “We need you to suit up.”

“Phil, I haven’t seen my Bulls uniform since the 3-Peat.”

“I’m with the Lakers now.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. We’re in Game 2 of the Finals against the Celtics.”

“The Celtics? Wow. So Larry Bird is really handing it to you, huh?”

“Larry Bird is retired.”

“Well then Magic Johnson should totally cream them!”

“We need you LOBO.”

“But Phil, I’ve only got 29 free days left on AOL. Then those jerks are going to start chargin me.” I rub my temples thoughtfully. “Did you try good ‘ole number 23?”

“Beckham plays soccer.”

“I mean Michael Jordan.”

“Well, no. That's a good idea though. But we were really hoping you would come through.”

“Phil, you know I hate doing that. All the other players do is complain, ‘wah, LOBO jumps too high’ and ‘boo-hoo coach, I never get the ball now’. I mean it just wears on me, you know?”

“If you give Kobe the ball once or twice during the game, I’m sure he’ll be cool with it.”

“Artificially inflating another player’s stats is the equivalent of lying Phil. Why should I jeopardize my reputation of integrity by participating in something dishonest?”

“Well telling everyone I use the Triangle Offense when I actually use a rectangle was your idea.”

“Geometry doesn’t count Phil. You know that.”

[brief silence]

“There’s nothing I can do to change your mind?”

“I don’t think so Phil.”

[*muffled sobbing*]

“Phil. You’re going to be fine. Before you know it people will be throwin octopuses and batteries at you too. But you can’t do it with a negative attitude.”

”[*sniff*] Okay LOBO. I’ll try.”

“Atta boy Phil. Now get out there and sink some touchdowns!”

Going Topless

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Nestled just south of Angry Seafood and west of Musings of a Barefoot Foodie, Alltop just got it’s newest resident.

-I didn’t want to do it, but Guy Kawasaki was just relentless.

“LOBO,” he says. “Alltop’s motto is ‘We’ve got humor covered’. If Predator Press isn’t on it, I’ll be sued!”

“I just can’t Guy,” I reply. “And just what kind of name is 'Kawasaki'? Is that Swedish?"

"No."

"First of all," I says, "This isn’t a humorous-type blog. It’s more like the Wall Street Journal -‘cept with pictures and interesting content. If I allow this critical and historical document’s philosophy to be corrupted, the very fabric of our Great Nation will unravel. Do you Swedes want the terrorists to win? Do you? Hm?”

“But you’ll get more traffic,” he persists.

“I can’t handle anymore traffic! I got like four comments on my last post. Four! I defy you to show me any other blog with four comments. My server is completely ground to a standstill, and I simply can’t afford any more fruit baskets.”

“I can get you 30 days free on AOL.”

“Deal.”


Thanks Guy!

Rubber Base Black

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Predator Press is suffering some “technical difficulties”.
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I’ve used up all our blog ink copying the dollar bill Don Lewis sent us as souvenirs for all our fans.
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS We made hundreds of thousands of these souvenirs. And we were so happy with the idea, we occasionally jumped in the piles and rolled around naked in them.
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS But when we were bundling them in stacks of 100 for efficient storage, we discovered that Don’s original dollar bill was counterfeit!
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I for one am shocked that Don would sink so low as to proliferate phony cash, and completely ruin our plan to give these little keepsakes to millions and millions and millions of fans to show our appreciation for reading (or working at Best Buy, Aston Martin, Cunard Cruise Lines, et cetera).
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS The ink is very low; if I were you I would highlight all the text in this post with your cursor in case you missed something; some text isn't transferring properly.
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I’ll get this corrected as soon as possible.
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS Thank you for your continued patience and support.
I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS I HATE DON LEWIS

Milestone 1/999,999,999% of Goal Achieved

Associated Press

Amidst rumors to the contrary, the Predator Press-sponsored “Feed LOBO” charity resulted in what Editor-in-Chief LOBO referred to as an “encouraging start”.

“Now that the seal has been broken,” LOBO explains, “some serious coin will start rollin in. And those fat sacks of cash are gonna get me some kickass bling.”

Acts included Pat Boone performing the Tool classic “Prison Sex” with the Pianosian Symphony Orchestra, Corey Haim’s two hour lecture on “The Cultural significance of Hair Gel and Why it is Soooo Cool”, and rap artist 50 Cent -via satellite- explaining how LOBO's assertion that "I'm With Stupid T-shirts are bling!" is technically not correct.

While spectacular overall, the telethon was marred early on when during the Riverdance segment Michael Flatley snapped his knee backward and kicked his own forehead.

“That was the coolest part!” said LOBO, who did not attend. “When I woke up, I just fast-forwarded through all the bullshit on TiVo. But I've watched that scene like a dozen times.”

Slowing down the footage, he demonstrates. “See? Wait for it … wait for it … clacketty clacketty clacketty-POW!!!"

"Ah god," he adds, wiping back a tear. "That just slays me."

Jerry Lewis, host of the event, concluded the evening with an emphatic, “LOBO is far and away the most handicapped person I've had ever met. Please help!”

This is widely believed to be what triggered the only donor of the day -It’s a Funny Thing author Don Lewis- into action.

“We were going to send the first donor a plaque," commented LOBO. "But then we realized the daily ‘take’ would actually be negative $498.99 ... and that it was Don Lewis. Instead, we sent a slightly-warped Tupperware lid crawling with the ebola virus."

"Plaque, plague -it’s all semantics,” insists LOBO. "And do you have any idea how difficult is is to scratch 'Thanks Don Lewis' in cursive with a key on space-age polymers?"

Predator Press Declares War on Environmentalism

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Bee at Bee's Musings has the noble distinction of being the first blogger to notice my new fundraising effort, "Feed LOBO".

See, if you look in my sidebar you will find a handful of fine bloggers that have gone through a lot of trouble writing brilliant and/or funny books so they can earn an income.

But books have an insidious tendency to wind up in libraries, being studied, and, well, read. Remember school? It just makes me sick. I don't know exactly why those guys are being so mean to the Future Children of America by writing more of these 'books', but I'll have no part of it.

Hence my fundraiser: I, LOBO, solemnly swear that if I reach my modest goal of $999,999,999 by May 16, 2009 I will never write a book.

Probably wouldn't read one either.

And who has time to read and write books when -even as we speak- hemp-addled smelly hippies are treacherously allying themselves with 'environmental causes'?

Don't they realize this 'Environment' is tryin to kill us every day with deadly bacteria, disease, hurricanes, tidal waves, killer sharks, tornados, earthquakes, MicroSoft, catastrophic meteor strikes and X-rays from space?

I think most scientists would agree, "Mother Nature" would like nothing more than to dance barefoot in our slippery entrails ... and as Nietzsche probably said, "That which does not kill me is either lazy, or just waiting for the chance."






Tell those hippies to roll over, 'cuz this
thermometer is goin in the plooptionary.