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Predator Press

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In a day and age where we can simultaneously download a bazillion gigabytes and get a cooked pizza in 30 minutes or less, I think we are alarmingly short-sighted.

See, we’ve recently enjoyed exponential advances in communication technology. With these advances, we slowly gather the wisdom and beliefs from all across the globe -the ancient wisdom of Buddhism, Zen and the Toa, for instance, have never been more accessible.

And as Americans, our steady and linear march to a global awareness, expanded world consciousness, and –perhaps most importantly- tolerance is quietly tempered in the patient steely Faith that any minute now Jesus will return and kick the living crap out of all those pagan infidels, and cast them into the Lake of Fire to suffer for the rest of Eternity.

I, for one, cannot wait to see those dumb jerks all boiling in agony as Satan rips off random pieces of flesh and bone while they howl in pain, doggie-paddling in the flaming lava of their own boiling misguided swill. “Get out now!” I’ll cry throwing them a life preserver -but I’ll have that life preserver on a super-thin string they can’t see: just like that twenty dollar bill trick we used to see in the movies, as they get tantalizingly close, yoink, I pull it out of their reach.

Haw!

Oh man it’ll be a million laughs. Over a big enough span of time, it would be a million million laughs: I could do that forever, pausing only briefly to high-five all the other angels.

But it’s been two thousand years now, and as evidenced by His failure to return my phone calls and emails I’m starting to suspect Jesus is pretty busy. And can we fault Him for that? No! Can you imagine what Jesus’ itinerary must be like? Oh sure it probably looks pretty simple … 8:00am: Smite Evil, 8:15am: Smite Evil, et cetera. But “Evil” has a tendency to do bad things with complete disregard to Jesus’ WhiteBerry™: Jesus might slip out to Starbucks for a café mocha grande and pow, Evil makes it’s move.

Until we can get it to play fair, Evil should be regarded as very very sneaky.

Well we can’t put all this pressure on Jesus alone, or Jesus might wig out one day and throw the fax machine through the stained glass windows. And we can’t fight Evil without Him either … while the spirit is willing, the flesh is pasty and watching American Idol.

-What I propose is that we take all these miraculous technological advances and build a RoboJesus.

Now before all you religious people start thinking crazy, at least take a moment to consider my RoboJesus idea: we don’t worship RoboJesus of course … we just make a NASA-grade titanium bulletproof steel version to fill in on occasional "light" Evil jobs.

Programmed with both the Old and the New Testament, RoboJesus would wade through Al Qaeda camps spraying them with righteous lasers and napalm, all the while preaching Gospel, humming psalms, and otherwise forgiving the remaining skeletons with deadly pinpoint accuracy. And to ensure the skeletons don’t here the same sermon twice? RoboJesus has, like, iPod technology, and a memory bank chocked full of no less than thousands of hours of Peace and Love audio in any ass-backwards language besides English you could possibly think of.

Even British!

Because Reading is Such a Hassle

Predator Press

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I don’t often post YouTubes 'an Hulus or whatever, but this one made me cry. It’ll make you cry too –unless you’re a heartless bastard. Or a boneless bastard. And hell if you’re a heartless boneless bastard I wouldn’t know where your tear ducts would be anyway.

WTG Jon!

The Daily Show With Jon Stewart	Mon - Thurs 11p / 10c
Chuck Grassley's Debt and Deficit Dragon
www.thedailyshow.com
Daily Show Full Episodes Political Humor Health Care Reform

POP Schedule

Predator Press

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Week: 09/06/09-09/12/09
Featured Author: Mark
Blog: neOnbubble
Status: Published


Week: 08/30/09-09/05/09
Featured Author: Alex L
Blog: The Discreet Charm of the Middle Class
Status: Published


Week: 08/23/09-08/29/09
Featured Author: Mike McHugh
Blog: Road Kill Gumbo
Status: Published


Week: 08/16/09-08/22/09
Featured Author: Stephanie B.
Blog: Rocket Scientist, Ask Me Anything
Status: Published


This schedule is updated as needed, so check frequently.

Predators on Patrol

Predator Press

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Okay. Most of this stuff is common sense and disclaimer blah blah -but since I put the relevant, juicy stuff like contact info (Section 7) waaaaay at the bottom, I get to incorrectly assume you bothered to read the whole damn thing.

But for those of you so bored you're not skipping down to Section 7, here are the rules ... all subject to change as I see fit:

1) I reserve the right to use or not use anything. And for no reason whatsoever. I will occasionally reject a post just because it feels itchy, or contains too many instances of the letter “T.”

2) Submissions must be uniquely written. If this thing sputters out due to lack of interest I may change my mind on this rule in the future, but as for now Predators on Patrol isn't a "Best Of" column ... it's a cross-promotional experiment to expose new readers and writers to new readers and writers. I'm sure those posts of yours are great, but if your fans have already read it, why would they come here to see it again?

Uh, submissions must also be in English. And not butcherin' our fine American language like the British do either.

-And oh holy crap don't submit somebody else's work and claim it's yours. Regarding submissions I will take you at your word, but subsequently busted plagiarists will be disqualified and then beaten to death with cinderblocks and pointy sticks.

3) Content: I use curse words and skirt some taste boundaries upon occasion, but I'm also happily married and have teenage kids and family that read this blog. While Predator Press is certainly not 'PG' in any respect, please use some discretion; nudity, overtly pornographic, racially charged and offensive material will not be accepted. Outright product promotions and ads are not in the spirit of "Predators on Patrol" and will be rejected as well.

[-not that I wouldn't love a good sponsor: separate space for that can be negotiated at the same email address outlined in Section 7.]

4) Submission Mechanics: You can use pictures, but I will only open text files. I will not upload photos under any circumstances. If Section 5 [Format Tips Tricks and Recommendations] is too much, please include the linking address to your desired photos with your submission in an email body. I will take care of the rest (assuming the linking info is accurate), but note the Section 5 opening-paragraph "disclaimer" and try to be available via email in case I have questions or recommendations.

5) Format (Tips, Tricks and Recommendations): Whenever I've guest posted, I've developed the post on my own blog without publishing it to get a "feel" for what it will look like via previews. If you don't know diddly about HTML formatting, skip to Section 7 below with the understanding I may need to fiddle with how the stuff will look. While not entirely precluding layout alterations, the following steps are recommended to ensure they are kept to a minimum:

a) Save your completed post as a draft on your site (most if not all the HTML should still work for me if you follow these steps).

b) switch to "Edit HTML" (or equivalent)

c) Copy the HTML to your clipboard and then paste it into a word processor. If you're new to this, it'll look like it's half symbols, numbers, and other gibberish. That's okay ... I speak Geek.

d) Save the pasted code as a text [.txt] file.

e) Email that text file to me as an attachment per Section 7, and thank you in advance: this way I can simply cut and paste it with a minimal amount of "tweaking." This further preserves my upload space, keeps my page fast, and also protects me from virus threats, malicious codes and blah blah (this is not to imply anyone would do that on purpose, but a lot of bad codes are transmitted by people that don’t know they are doing it.)

6) Everybody who did not read everything up to this point probably has cooties.

7) Where and how to send your stuff. Put "Guest Post Submission" in the email header and send it to carpenoctum[at]hotmail.com. (Potential advertisers and/or sponsors should use this same email address but use "Predator Press Advertising" to initiate a dialog.)

Note: If you want me to notice an email containing your content or questions, do not, under any circumstances, use the words "Winner Notification" or "Enlarge Your Penis" 'cuz I'll never even see it: all that gets promptly escorted into electronic oblivion, your email address gets automatically banned, and God hates and punishes you for the rest of your pathetic, worthless, and revolting excuse of a disease-addled life. And beyond the grave. Probably.

-Follow up if you don't hear from me within a few days too as I might have missed it. (As you might've guessed, I get a lot of junk mail and ignore virtually everything I don't immediately recognize ... you might have accidentally been overlooked.)

8) Don't sweat it. Most of this overcomplicated-seeming blah blah is CMA [aka "Cover My Ass"]. Lock in a date and get your submissions in as early as possible, and we'll figure it all out from there. Have fun. I self and cross-promote wherever possible, so I hope this will be a mutually-beneficial project for everybody.

-And welcome to Predator Press!

Less LOBOs

Predator Press

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Before you start immolating yourselves or jumping off of buildings –or worse, immolating yourselves and then jumping off of buildings- please read this post in it’s entirety.

I didn’t consciously take a week off; I sorta got myself tripped up over a bit of a quandary.

See I’ve had a “Facebook” account for a few years and have neglected it. And as it is still unfamiliar, I was puzzled by the handful of people that had already found the undeveloped page and added me as friends. Heck, half of those resourceful few didn’t remember who I was when I returned the favor.

Despite the nagging guilt, this disregard may have gone on indefinitely. But I read recently that facebook and LinkedIn –used properly- can be assets when on a job search.

-Unfortunately, “used properly” means divulging a whole lot of personal info that I tend to avoid.

So now I need to decide how or if these tools are suitable for my purposes. But I like the relative anonymity, and truth be told there is little spectacular to reveal in regard to my personal and professional life anyway ... and doesn’t putting all that information out there pose a lot of risk of misuse too?

It seems like a lopsided equation in favor of leaving well enough alone.

The reason this is now pivotal is because of a good idea Terri had: taking on guest authors on a non-formal semi-regular basis. Specifically, featuring a unique article by a different blogger or writer maybe once a week or so, and switching up the page philosophy to be more of a magazine-format gallery.

That said, is there even interest in guest participation here? As a former newspaper editor, I would probably skim the grammar and ensure the formatting matches my site -but wouldn’t foresee a lot of micromanaging the guest post content … if it’s interesting, it’s fine. And to mitigate my own irregular posting patterns (I’m not quitting, I’m augmenting), I would make a banner in the #1 sidebar spot for that week’s Guest Poster for easy navigation, and ensure the post would be replete with links back to the respective author’s site.

So there it all is. If you’re interested in guest posting here, leave a comment. Or regarding facebook and LinkedIn users, how have these services impacted your lives? And were I to develop them, should they be extensions of Predator Press humor, or should they be serious and “real,” with author info and so forth?

And if you think about it, you’re doing us all a favor here.

-I could write epic volumes on cat farts.

The Crap I Don't Give Impacted

Predator Press

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It was only in that moment of ridiculous terror I realized it was, well, ridiculous.

-First of all, what the hell would I be doing in a cave? I am a lazy, lazy individual; caves require, you know, getting to them and stuff.

And this is all predicated by the unlikely idea you could convince me to go into a cave as well. Think about what you are up against here: if you uttered something that could be even vaguely paraphrased into "Let's work hard to get into a place we can easily get killed in!" aloud in my house, I would immediately call 911 and secretly hope the cops beat you into paste once removed from the premises.

Who is going to miss a spelunker anyway? Somebody would go, "Where is Bill? I haven't seen him in a few days," and somebody else would reply "He's a spelunker." Then the first guy would say "Oh."

-And that would be that. They wouldn't even look for you for weeks.

If at all.

Now that I think about it, I hate spelunkers -spelunkers, and guys named "Travis." And if you're a spelunker named Travis? Please save us all a lot of time and trouble and kill youself as soon as possible. It's for the greater good. Into the zinc smelter you go, and then foom -that zinc smelter is launched into the sun.

It's that simple.

Anyway if I'm not really in this cave because I'm dreaming, it stands to reason this cable-thick webbing that is keeping me from running isn't real either. This is a good thing, because the spider the size of a 7/11 that just caught me just laid about fifty teeny weenie hungy-looking babies, each only the size of a compact car.

-They too probably aren't real.

Jesus Christ I hope my sheets are dry when I wake up.

This first problem obviously is coming up with a new dream. I don't like horror and worrying if the washing machine and dryer are empty, so no more nightmare -I wanna do, ah, smarmy science fiction. Yeah. With a zesty hint of Western and maybe a pinch of James Bond too.

-I don't remember any transition at all. It was more kinda like forgetting the cave and the spiders.

Now I'm looking down upon a magnificent futuristic city: my cape blows back in the breeze revealing two big and dangerous looking holstered guns -guns I presume I use on people that make fun of my cape.

Man I look good in Spandex.

"That was brilliant sir!" say a voice from behind.

I whirl with the reflexes of a cat, eyebrow raised and gun drawn.

A grandfatherly-seeming man with a high-tech looking darkened spectacle approached, and I could see the flaming remains of my X Wi -I mean X-Thing fighter. (Does George Lucas still sue?) "Congratulations, my boy! You have saved the world again."

"Really?" I asked. "What exactly did I do?"

Suddenly, a thick throng of people close around me in a single wave, drowning the old man out completely.

"That was a fantastic display of heroism, physical prowess and utter genius!" says one.

"Yes it was," I agree. "What was it again?"

Then the cheerleaders start a rhythmic chant, "Horay for LOBO! You saved the world again!"

"Yes I did I suppose," I acquiesce. Well why should I be a party-pooper? Heck, this dream skips right to the victorious end, minus all that exhausting, dangerous 'adventure' crap and tedious detail.

Now that I think about it, this is the best dream I've ever had.

There's only one problem really. See in every 70's or 80's movie you'll ever see, the bad guy always demands a million dollars.

One.

-By today's standards, that's, well, laughable. You could probably get a million dollars for Corey Feldman.

So this is like the Twentieth Century or something. Couldn't I have saved more than one lousy world in my own dream? That's pretty lame if you ask me.

Bodysurfing over the still-growing crowds, I sigh disappointedly under the spectacular fireworks displays spelling "LOBO" is the sky.

Then I notice something unusual.

"Put me down," I tell the crowds.

Once my feet were on terra firma, the fan I happened to be facing smacked my shoulders proudly.

"How did you do it?" he asked.

"Do what?" I replied, still watching the strange object in the sky.

It was a clearly approaching -a gigantic Independence Day-sized flying saucer.

Other people were now noticing it too.

The crowd scattered, and in moments I was in a huge clearing, directly under the central eye of the massive craft.

"LOBO" a mechanical voice boomed, shaking the ground. "We have come to destroy the universe."

"Like I care," I says. "It's a dump anyway. Just don't mess with any of my stuff."

"But," the voice continued. "We have changed our minds after witnessing your recent brilliant and heroic actions. Perhaps there is hope for your feebleminded race and ours to live in peace."

"And what did I do exactly?"

"You saved the universe."

The crowd cheers in the distance, and once again I am flooded by well-wishers.

But suddenly a stray LOBO firecracker bounced off of the goliath saucer's hull, and a million lasers unified on a single point -incinerating the unfortunate pyrotechnics engineer instantly.

And the guns began to take aim on possible threats in the sea of people.

"Oh my god," a woman screamed. "They killed Travis, the fireworks guy!"

As the smell of burnt hair wafted over the fearful spectators, a long uncomfortable silence ensued.

Finally seeming to notice, the saucer blurted "Long Live LOBO."

Whew, I thought.

-I'm pretty good at this 'hero' stuff actually.

Massachusetts Cops: A Lighter Shade of FAIL

Predator Press

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I used to think of Massachusetts as sophisticated and enlightened.

-But it appears if you part that lovely ivy just a smidge, gawsh-golly there’s a rootin’ tootin knee-slappin rebel flag-flyin hoedown just a-bellerin’ ta beat the band!

Betwixt whittlin, law enforcement, and just electrifiyin’ squaredance jug-blowin, Boston Po-lice Officer Justin Barrett done used this here lighty-box to tele-e-graph a mass email hollerin how Harvard professor Henry Louis Gates Jr. is a "banana-eating jungle monkey.”

Now before all you –uh- 'darkies' git ta yer angry break dancin an thowin’ yer fried chicken, y’all should know he has done assured America on CNN he is definitely not -by inny stretch of that thar imagination- a racist.

-In fact, some of his best friends knows people that are Negroes.