The Viscosity of Toothpaste

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Since none of you cowards volunteered to kill my neighbors, I’ve had to take matters into my own hands.

“Look,” I says to the Butterbean kid. “You can’t go toe-to-toe with them. You’re too short. You need to use your weight against ‘em. Work up some inertia first. You know, hit ‘em like a 30 mile an hour walrus.”

“What if I don’t want to kill the neighbors?”

“Then why did you answer my ad on Monster-dot-com?”

“Because it said you wanted an administrative assistant.”

“Good administrative assistants kill people all the time.”

“Really?”

“Well, 'monster' is right in the name. And you gotta let monsters have some fun. If not, you have to pay them.”

“I’m not sure I want the job, actually.”

“You don’t want your secret identity as the deadly -feared and respected by all- Walrus Man? I think that would be a bad career move personally.”

“Why do you want the neighbors killed?”

“Because they’re evil.”

“How so?”

“They do stuff like mow the lawn while I’m trying to sleep.”

“My Dad mows the lawn here, Saturdays at two o'clock in the afternoon” says Butterbean. “I thought you meant the neighbors on the other side.”

“I do mean the neighbors on the other side. Killing your parents is merely a way to test your administrative assistant aptitude.” I pause. “How else am I to find out if you have, you know, the Eye of The Walrus?"

"How about if we ask my Dad to mow the lawn at some other time?"

"See this?" I says, showing my shaky hand. "And look how bloodshot my eyes are! I, author of Predator Press, am under enormous pressure. Millions and millions of readers will always be asking me every day, 'LOBO, why aren't your neighbors dead yet?' And if I don't get fifteen hours of completely random sleep a day, I'm likely to do something crazy -like not kill the neighbors. Do you want to be responsible for that?”

“You only have 150 RSS subscribers," he says skeptically. "And most of those are pre-med students looking for a psychiatric practicum."

“What happened to you?” I demand. “Did they get to you already? Fess up Walrus Man ... Despite a valorous career fighting crime, were you seduced by their massive payroll? Was it money? Was it women? Was it women made of money?"

“No.”

I gasp. “They gave you the Dale Earnhardt commemorative plates? Walrus Man, you are shrewd.”

“Stop calling me that.”

“But I already had it embroidered on your cape!”

My Dead Neighbors

Predator Press

[LOBO]

What? No. I’m not dead.

But thanks for asking.

My neighbors unfortunately aren’t dead either. But you cannot fault me for the fact that Humanity has ground to a standstill by people that use a high-gloss hubcap as a candy dish.

I watch a lot of Forensic Files, and it turns out a) people that don’t live here think murder is bad, and 2) murder has become really difficult because of people that don't live here.

But “let not your hearts be troubled”: when my neighbors finally are dead, I’ll be the first to solve the murders, and Predator Press will have every nuance of the tedious, excruciatingly detailed exclusive story documented.

And while we're on this subject, Predator Press is currently hiring: we need a full-time Predator Press Blog Ink Inspector, which involves a lot of heavy lifting, and impromptu nighttime sub-duties.

Desire to be featured in an future exclusives is a plus.

-No criminal background check or drug test is required.

Outshined (Feelin Minnesota)

-Or, “The Grass is Always Greener Where the Dogs are Shitting”

Predator Press

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Paul F. Tompkins - Letters to Magazines
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Mitch Hedberg - Knocking on Walls
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Everything Must Go

Predator Press

[LOBO]

"There is no ‘Les’ in Les Miserables,” says Terri. “It's not a person. It means ‘The Miserable Ones.’”

“Ah crap," I says. “You mean to tell me I’m 100 pages into a book written by a guy that can’t even spell?"

Terri sighs. “Apparently.”

“Well I’m going to re-write it,” I boast.

“Really.”

Yes. Check this out. “Doctor Les Miserables was a rapper -like Doctor Dre- who loved two things: his bling, and performing abortions.”

“I don’t think that’s going to work” says Terri, reading over my shoulder.

I continue typing. “Unfortunately, he wasn’t very good at abortions, and had to run an orphanage as a consequence … ”

“You’re missing the point-”

“Before you go stompin on my work, would you at least let me get to the alien invasion?

Jackson Tweens Caught With Stun Gun, DCFS Conducting Investigation

Predator Press

[LOBO]

According to TMZ -because one of the children had somehow acquired a stun gun- the Department of Children and Family Services is conducting an investigation of the Jackson family.

So what’s the big deal? If I was 13 and lived in the Jackson home, I would want a stun gun too. They got giraffes 'an crap!

Look. I’m a staunch NRA supporter. And when I last checked, our Nation’s children were protected by a little thing called The Constitution. I for one love my stun gun. How else is one expected to deal with unwanted visits from Jehovah’s Witnesses and Census Takers? Kids getting a firearm should be a prerequisite for graduating kindergarten, thus beginning early the long road of preparation for the firefight formerly known as college.

Sure there’ll be a handful of you sanctimonious, whiny liberals, "But LOBO, a gun can be dangerous -especially when used by children!”

Pthbbbt! Where do you people come up with these ideas? And I didn't say give 'em, like, grenades or something: one measly stun gun is great fun for the whole family!

Don‘t believe me? This morning the Butterbean kid got sent over to borrow a cup of sugar, and I‘ve been stunning him ever since. I even recharged it twice. He’s fine. In the process, I even uncovered some false advertising: the box my stun gun came in says explicitly, “Will incapacitate virtually any assailant instantly.” But this little prick keeps twitching!

And this further illustrates my point, doesn‘t it?

If this little bastard had a gun, none of this would have ever happened.

Exclusive: Brittany Murphy is Dead

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Millions and millions of Predator Press Voluntary Insiders (like CNN and Fox News) have, after a scant three months, uncovered incontrovertible, shocking evidence.

-Brittany Murphy is dead.

I know! WTF!?

I would imagine refunds will be issued for the rest of the “Circus” tour, which has been unwittingly performed posthumously.

-Millions and millions of the Predator Press Voluntary Zombie Patrol are on Full Alert.

Please Stop Sending Me SeaWorld Tickets

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Look, it’s very generous. But I’m very, very busy being unemployed -a trip to Orlando is just out of the question at this time.

Plus it seems a little mean-spirited, as it is widely known that I suffer from Cryohydrotachophobia -the morbid fear of rogue icebergs.

This prohibits me from getting near large bodies of water, and any beverage larger than 32 ounces.