Predator Press
[LOBO]
[total silence, text fades in and out of darkness one line at a time]
Are you
tired of writing your blog?
Or are you just too busy?
Well millions of wealthy and high-powered CEOs and celebrities just like you suffer from many of these same issues.
And so do some robots.
[cut to woman in pantsuit, dramatic music begins]
Woman in Pantsuit: “I’m a very busy executive, and in charge of a lot of things. Between flying my private jet and watching my stock market ticker, I just don’t have any
time for blogging.”
[pan back to see baseball player behind her hit a home run, run the bases and then get swamped by masses and masses of cheering fans. cut back to woman -now confused, tearful and afraid.]
Woman in Pantsuit: “I don’t know anything about baseball. I sure hope
Predator Press can come up with something that rich entrepreneurs like myself can pay for so people will think I do!”
[cut away to man in suit with pistol, firing at henchmen in a castle]
Man in Suit with Pistol: “After a hard day of espionage, who has time to blog?”
[short martial arts sequence with ninjas]
Man in Suit with Pistol: “Oh
Predator Press I live in bloggless shame! Can’t you find a way to aid me with this difficult burden that I must bear for my entire life forever?"
[fade to black, dramatic music builds, narration begins]
Narrator: “In a world that has turned it’s back on Humanity.”
[fade in footage of Wall Street and tanks and bombers and stuff]
Narrator: “In a world that has turned upon itself”
[footage of, like, Hitler or something]
Narrator: “In a world that has turned upside down, because that’s what happens when you turn something round upon itself. And remember how it 'turned it's back on Humanity'? Well the world would be facing it again now ... assuming it's a sphere.”
[hey, who the &@# hired this *@#! narrator?]
Narrator: ”In a world where very busy rich people have no one to turn to.”
[okay. maybe rats, like gnawing through a bloody argyle sock. no, wait! like picture the dude in front of a gigantic citizen cane-style fireplace just typing into a laptop and then like ten rats just start eating his legs. twenty rats. a million rats! he tries to fend them off with his cognac snifter and a big cigar, but finally succumbs to them right on top of his bear skin rug as blood sprays everywhere. yes. kiss my ass, spielberg.]
Narrator: “One man answered the desperate call of a dying planet."
[cut to tinfoil fedora. hey, if we use the 'raiders' theme, do you think anyone would notice?]
Narrator: “One blog rose to the challenge.”
[cut to Predator Press logo as logo is struck by lightning and explodes into like a million pieces. but don’t make it a million pieces because that'll be a real bitch to clean up … make it like 12 or 15 pieces. and make it of Styrofoam. and then cut to me looking cool.]
LOBO: “Hi. My name is LOBO, and I’m here to help.”
Narrator: Hey, isn't that the 'Raiders' theme?
[ignore the narrator, but cut to guy on yacht before the dumbass says anything else]
Guy on Yacht: “Thank God you finally have arrived LOBO. I have to decide between blogging and going to the Big Party tonight. And
Princess Fantasia is going to be there! What shall I
do?”
LOBO: “Have no fear my wealthy friend. I can write your blog
for you!”
[i open my laptop, and like golden rays of sunlight beam up and a subtle angelic hymn begins]
Guy on Yacht: “Really LOBO? You can write my blog?”
LOBO: “Yes it’s true. For an astronominal fee you can go to the Big Party and leave all your blogging worries to me.”
[cut to surgeon, surrounded by nurses mocking him]
Nurses Mocking Surgeon: "Be careful or you'll bore the patients to death!"
[nurses exit laughing stage left]
Surgeon: “LOBO, chicks think my blog is really dull. Can you help me spice it up so they will dig me?”
[i take the laptop off of the patient’s chest and hand the surgeon his glimmering scalpel, confidently smiling.]
LOBO: “Do you want 'Dangerous' or just 'Freaky'?"
[cut to leper on table]
Leper: “But with all the working out you obviously do, you can’t possibly have time to help
all of us.”
LOBO: “Why yes I do my friend.”
[i touch the leper’s forehead, and he is, like, healed.]
LOBO: “Yes I do.”
[here’s where I narrate a montage of really scientific-looking lab equipment. cue upbeat sciency music]
LOBO: “See we here at
Predator Press have always prided ourselves in looking out for the welfare of very, very wealthy people. And very wealthy people often have very difficult and expensive obstacles in the way of their blogging destiny."
[cut back to nurses previously mocking surgeon, all staring into a computer monitor]
Nurse Previously Mocking Surgeon: "Wow was I wrong about that surgeon! Did you know the government is considering replacing George Washington’s image on the quarter with his?”
Other Nurse Previously Mocking Surgeon: "Yeah. And last weekend he saved a puppy out of the shark tank using nothing but a carpet deodorizer!”
Another Nurse Previously Mocking Surgeon: "Do you think the surgeon would mind if we all go skinnydipping?”
[other nurse previously mocking surgeon begins to unbutton her blouse]
Other Nurse Previously Mocking Surgeon: “Race ya!”
[cut to surgeon in front of shark tank, giving “thumbs up” to camera]
Surgeon: “Thanks
Predator Press. "You have completely changed my life forever.”
Former Leper and Nurses Previously Mocking Surgeon: [splashing, laughing off camera] "Thanks
Predator Press"!
Predator Press
So I figured we feed them to one of the Predator Press Scienticians, and then feed him to the shark, right? Well it turned out that Predator Press Scienticians were too lazy and worthless for this historic opportunity.
