Tammy Faye Pillowcases to Hang at Louvre Amid Controversy

Predator Press

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From the moment the Louvre announced it’s intent to display all sixteen pieces of “Rhapsody in Linen” this June, protesters lined up in the streets of Paris.

“This is disgraceful,” marked one picketer. “The idea these pillowcases should hang next to great works such as the Venus de Milo and the Mona Lisa is simply outrageous.”

Aside from her rather striking makeup style, Tammy Faye Messner is probably best remembered for her doomed marriage to television evangelist Jim Bakker who, due to his extramarital affair with Jessica Hahn, was subsequently exposed and found guilty of numerous crimes including mail fraud and conspiracy.

Director Henri Loyrette concedes that that display is unlike any other displayed in the Museum’s illustrious history, but defends his decision.

“All art is suffering,” says the aficionado. “Michelangelo had censoring detractors. Van Gogh had depression. I don’t see how Tammy Faye running out of cold cream at 3 am at a Holiday Inn would be any different.”

When asked to comment, the InterContinental Hotel Group [IHG], owner of the Holiday Inn franchise issued only the following statement: “We have no interest in exploiting the late Tammy Faye’s good image. But we washed and bleached the damn things like 50 times. We have a right to recoup our losses in any way we see fit.”

If There Was No God

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Muslim outrage has made a movie nobody would have ever heard of –let alone seen- a global sensation. Pakistan, moreover, has just issued a $100,000 bounty on the film’s creator, and now he is cemented in history.

???
-Okay now I'm outraged.

I consider myself a shade Christian by upbringing (later sprinkled with Taoism and Buddhism), and from behind this lens I’ve seen some of the most barbarously cruel “Christian” acts -most wrought in whiplash contrast to the teachings. In short, I’m not indemnifying any religion from the accusation that people do dumb, counter-intuitive things instead of rising to -and above- the occasion at hand. But spiritually I have no use for anything that promotes anything but peace and prosperity. Otherwise why bother? For God? Regardless of what we do, God's plan is going to work out just fine. We, on the other hand, decipher cryptic runes for rumor, pore over parables for meaning, and tell our children wonderful and fantastic tales ... all parsed in effort to scramble out of God's way during the Devil's final asskicking.

So I started playing with a hypothetical situation: What if someone with a time machine offered me one trip backwards, so I could prove or disprove any single event in religious history? Not to tamper with … just to observe. I toyed with this for a while. How cool would it be if you saw Moses literally part the Red Sea? Or saw David defeat Goliath? Let’s face it: the sequel is awesome, but if you want to witness top notch religion you gotta go Old Testament -I’m almost certain it has a Cyclops somewhere.

But then, faith affirmed with a firsthand account … what? Put on a sandwich board? Stir the flames between other religions? The world is full of people with “Faith.” This outcome really has no consequence.

The other potential outcome, conversely, is utterly horrifying. What if you go back and find out something didn’t happen? Or a miracle was explainable? Or perhaps, maybe worse, someone important was a lot less than what you expected? In this case, when returned to the present time, do you explain it to the people clinging to these beliefs, unleashing the flaws and passions previously tempered by their now-shattered faith? I could make an argument that you would be morally obligated to lie, lest civilization burn at your own hand.

This hypothetical scenario, interestingly, loses on both ends. And I would certainly never do it; in a sea of people one hundred percent certain about their opinions, a little bit of doubt actually seems to make the world a better place.

My religion and philosophy -of the head and heart, serene and non-denominational- offers up but one single prayer:

"O Great Magnet, please ensure that Muslims never, ever, ever discover Adam Sandler ..."

There Are Too Many Of You People

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I wonder why there are so many hockey players in general.  For instance I don't personally know anyone that ice skates, therefore I'm led to the observation that ice skaters are pretty rare.

But then you need one that says, "Gee, I sure like ice skating. Too bad it's not violent."

Where Do Babies Come From?

Predator Press

-By LOBO

(My first children’s book. Illustrator needed)

So you have been wondering where babies come from, and you’re not buying the whole “stork” thing anymore?

Fret not.

-I'm gonna give you the straightforward birdless, beeless science.

See when mommies and daddies are in love, they take their pants off and share a ‘Special Hug.’ And if the hug is done right, they shoot Deoxyribonucleic Acid [DNA] all over each other.  This sometimes makes babies.

But one day mommy found daddy with his pants off, shooting Deoxyribonucleic Acid all over the realtor lady.

Mommy should have almost certainly gotten therapy -she still has that weird tic in her face. But instead she got an AR15 from the gun rack downstairs, and unloaded the clip on daddy and the realtor lady while they were in the shower.

The lawyers tied up the entire estate in probate, and the whole thing was gone even before the blood, bone and hair had swirled down the shower drain. And they were unable to get mommy a manslaughter plea deal: she was sentenced to six years, and subsequently jumped the $250,000 bail. That’s why you and mommy live out of a car in rural Montana, drink boiled rainwater and eat slightly al dente squirrels six times a week, and poop into a coffee cans for squirrel cooking fuel.

Probably.

But now that you’re older and have read the newspaper articles, have you ever wondered why you, daddy, and the realtor lady all had the same last name and mommy doesn't? Or noticed that you look more like the realtor lady than you do your so-called "mommy?"

Babies come from a horrible, horrible place.

Now go to sleep, ya lil bastard.

So What is a Caucus?

Predator Press

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A caucus is a meeting held by Caucasians –hence why most are held in Iowa.

Caucasians are a group of light skinned people who, like the Jews, have faced decades of oppression. For instance in early American history, the North American Indians started firing arrows at them almost upon sight.

The "Anne Coulter" was a
popular Caucasoid model
in the late 19th Century.

The peaceful Caucasians -armed only with firearms, cannons, a naval armada and organized militia- were soundly conquered on the battlefield of Indianapolis, Indiana. Even to this day, Caucasians are subjugated by horrifying casino odds, and Caucasian children are issued agonizing "Indian burns" on the playground.

Later in early American history, plantations and farming became big business.  But while darker-skinned people were allowed to have jobs, Caucasians were forced to stay home and perform vastly less dignified duties such as accounting and planning cotillions.

Widespread violence and cruelty often forces Caucasians to deploy decoy robots of themselves. These are called Caucasoids.

Modern Caucasians, while not attending caucuses, are often found watching NASCAR, playing in the NBA [citation needed], attending square dances, and buying Toby Keith records.

The Jawbone of an Ass

Predator Press


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Monday Night Football -opening night- is something I've been looking forward to for six months. But staring up at the large television screen, I suddenly realize I have no idea who is playing.

And like a ship coming in from a midnight horizon, I slowly realize Barbarossa is talking to me.

"... I mean it's your third divorce right?" he shrugs in a saccharin optimism. "It's just like riding a bike."

We are regulars here. I even have a drink named after me.  But from somewhere deep behind the warm, invisible shield provided by my third or fourth "el LOBO" (a Fuzzy Navel with a miniature umbrella), I concede that there are far too many witnesses present to kill Barbarossa; despite the chemically-exaggerated comfort level and nigh irresistible appeal to irony, "Happy Hour" lacks the sadistic discretion required for murder.

-And it's hard to kill a man with a jukebox, napkins, and neon beer signs frankly ... it would be a lot easier, for instance, if we were at Sears in the Craftsman tools section.

Tall and lanky, Barbarossa's skinny arm lands across my back, grabs my opposite tricep and pulls me in for a sympathetic hug. Balancing haphazardly on the barstool, my eyes bulge in sobering panic.

"Stop walking around so ... so wounded," he slurs in sincere sympathy. "Don't think of them as marriages.  Think of them as leases. You know, serial monogamies."

"For some of us maybe," I says, peeling his spider-like arm off. Scowling thoughtfully, the urge to drive ample fistfuls of spent miniature umbrellas repeatedly through his eyes and deeply into his brain melts away; instead I find myself reeling in Barbarossa's unprecedented nugget of dark philosophical wisdom -an observation so devoid and pure of subjectivity, it borderlined math.

Barbarossa wobbles visibly. "That's the spirit," he agrees apropos of nothing I can readily discern. Then, after perhaps suffering a fleeting glimpse of self-awareness, he sits more upright, raising his drink in an courage-inspiring toast to me.

"So what are you going to do first?"

Absently, halfheartedly colliding my drink into his beer mug, I weigh this murky prospect carefully too.

"Everything," I decide.

"Seriously?" he says in disbelief. "Man, it's already like nine thirty. How about pinball?"

Rejection Coverage 2012

Predator Press

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Hmmmmmm.

My life was never worse than it was under the much-ballyhooed Ronald Reagan.

But Ronald Reagan is credited with restimulating the American Economy exponentially during the 80's.

Thus -despite being all old and battered and spent- I owe another hellish decade to protect the Nation's future for my kids and should vote Republican?

-Have you seen my kids?