Internet Swag

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Charlie Sheen's Winning Recipes from Charlie Sheen

Internet Swag

Predator Press

Stainless Steal

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I’m alarmed that Donald Trump, evasively squaring up for a Presidential run, is saying things I like -hell, need to hear!



AMERICA KICKS ASS

(-And we’re tired of taking your shit!) 

Indulging in that logic is almost sinful delight. But if we’re honest with ourselves, other countries didn’t water down our schools and jobs … we did.

So sure. Kick the shit out of another country. Then what?

Wait -that’s your plan?

Today's America is suffering from a crippling sense of entitlement. And before all you “Greatest Generation” Baby-Boomer assholes start high-fiving, I would like to point out that in 1968 America was every inch as rife with self-overthrowing sentiment as it was in 1776; but in 1969 -admittedly after a decade of effort- we put a man on the moon, and it’s been pretty smooth sailing ever since.


We.Americans.Did.That.Together.  

But what will be this American generation’s ‘Man on the Moon’ moment?

 

And what happens if we don’t get one?

I Feel My Pain

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I don’t know if you people know what an “MRI” is, but I had one today. An MRI is a test where they stick you in a white tube, ask you not to move, and blast you with Pink Floyd noises.

Well apparently holding up your lighter and yelling “Freebird!” counts as moving. The doc conducting the test eventually freaked out, and I won. So I passed the test, right?

-Just to be a mean-spirited asshole, Witchdoctor Quack M.D. further implied I needed a “Blood Panel” too. A “Blood Panel” is when a dark-skinned chick with letters tattooed on her knuckles stabs you in the arm with a rusty icepick until she has gathered three tubes and illegibly scrawls them with black marker.  The scrawls are almost certainly cryptographic symbols for Breakfast, Lunch, and Dinner  (but I cannot back that up: the only tube labels I had time to make out said "Date Night" and "Not Cat").

Still, my agonized and noble shrieks and screams apparently warned others, and the clinic became surrounded by numerous loud car door slams and squealing tires. Finding my car in the parking lot will be easier now, right? I mean I’ve certainly passed this MRI bullish at this point!

But no. Nonetheless, this Third Trial was where I truly shined: my non-tiger blood came back as A+, clearly demonstrating its intellectual superiority over lesser, stupider bloods -and the same blood type I discovered my wife had the week before I suddenly proposed.

Take that, Charlie Sheen!

How Complex Cassandra

Predator Press

[LOBO]

It occurs that, without having written in a few months, I might be “out of touch” with The People.

-So I did what anybody does when out of touch with The People: I watched Lifetime Movies to get up to speed.

“Unsolved Mysteries“ scared the shit out of me yesterday, and that was supposed to be my new Predator Press topic. But today Unsolved Mysteries had a whole ’nother episode ... And it turns out there's a brand new one tomorrow!

Fuck all this "Mystery" crap.

-Without me, you people are goddamn lazy.

Executive Disorder

Predator Press

[LOBO]

How can you expect me to blog right now when Charlie Sheen has hijacked the entire Predator Press Charter?

”Tiger Blood?” … “Adonis?”

Oh please.

-The funny part is Charlie Sheen thinks Predator Press readers have fallen for the obvious diabolic geniosity we share!

But where will it end, Charlie?

Hm?

Wise Up, Gatha Wound

Predator Press