Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Why do you keep screwing with Lindsay Lohan?" asks Nurse Garrison.
"Thut up!" I says.
"You realize she's pulled your tongue through your keyster, right?"
"Yeth I do, thankth."
Sunday
Aftermath
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Why do you keep screwing with Lindsay Lohan?" asks Nurse Garrison.
"Thut up!" I says.
"You realize she's pulled your tongue through your keyster, right?"
"Yeth I do, thankth."
The Final Conflict
Predator Press
[LOBO]
"Lohan," I says. "I knew it!"
"Look," says Lohan. "See this hand?"
She shows me her gloved left fist, and then punches me with her right.
"I have nothing to do with all this crap," says Lohan. "I don't even know who you are. Now please stop writing about me, before my agents sue you into the Middle Ages."
"You don't fool me Lohan!" I says, sobbing courageously. "Although I would really appreciate it if you stopped punching me."
"Get back up you wuss!" she screams, kicking me in the stomach. "You're not getting off that easy."
"RDO would never threaten to ignite the atmosphere and wipe out all Humankind!" I protest though broken teeth. "I would delete his entire Halo 3 profile!"
"What?" I hear from my watch. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh yeah I would, RDO," I says into the watch, spitting dental shrapnel. "Just try me."
"You would sacrifice all my Halo 3 achievements for that scubby little planet?"
"It's your call Miss Lohan," I says, openly weeping.
"I'm not done beating you yet," she says.
"I'll wait," says RDO.
[LOBO]"Lohan," I says. "I knew it!"
"Look," says Lohan. "See this hand?"
She shows me her gloved left fist, and then punches me with her right.
"I have nothing to do with all this crap," says Lohan. "I don't even know who you are. Now please stop writing about me, before my agents sue you into the Middle Ages."
"You don't fool me Lohan!" I says, sobbing courageously. "Although I would really appreciate it if you stopped punching me."
"Get back up you wuss!" she screams, kicking me in the stomach. "You're not getting off that easy."
"RDO would never threaten to ignite the atmosphere and wipe out all Humankind!" I protest though broken teeth. "I would delete his entire Halo 3 profile!"
"What?" I hear from my watch. "You wouldn't dare!"
"Oh yeah I would, RDO," I says into the watch, spitting dental shrapnel. "Just try me."
"You would sacrifice all my Halo 3 achievements for that scubby little planet?"
"It's your call Miss Lohan," I says, openly weeping.
"I'm not done beating you yet," she says.
"I'll wait," says RDO.
Welcome to the Fall
Predator Press
[LOBO]
Now that it's virtually October, that means that one of my fave holidays is coming up.
Really, the only thing that sucks about Halloween is that it also means I finally gotta take down the Christmas Tree from last year.
I can reuse the coal and cinderblocks, but the razorwire has somehow lost it's gleaming holiday luster ...
[LOBO]Now that it's virtually October, that means that one of my fave holidays is coming up.
Really, the only thing that sucks about Halloween is that it also means I finally gotta take down the Christmas Tree from last year.
I can reuse the coal and cinderblocks, but the razorwire has somehow lost it's gleaming holiday luster ...
Saturday
This Land is My Land, This Land is My Land
Predator Press
[LOBO]
An Open Letter to Lindsay Lohan
Lindsay Lohan,
According to a web site I found, the United States --currently embroiled in a debate over immigration-- has 20 million illegal aliens within her borders. Stormtroopers are already dancing in the streets of Tokyo! Why have you convinced everyone that RDO is poised to ignite the Earth's atmosphere and wipe it clean of all life whatsoever?
I don’t know what evil scheme you’re hatching, but you’re scaring the hell out of Tom Cruise.
George Clooney narrowly escaping death by having a particularly nasty swatch of speeding blacktop crash into him 'an his poor motorcycle has your earmarks all over it: you ain't foolin nobody ... and I'm onto your whole "E Coli-China toys-Van Halen-George Bush" conspiracy too.
But for God's sake, why the stripper pole at Nipples Italy?
What the hell is wrong with you?
Why Lindsay?
Why?
[LOBO]
Lindsay Lohan,
According to a web site I found, the United States --currently embroiled in a debate over immigration-- has 20 million illegal aliens within her borders. Stormtroopers are already dancing in the streets of Tokyo! Why have you convinced everyone that RDO is poised to ignite the Earth's atmosphere and wipe it clean of all life whatsoever?
I don’t know what evil scheme you’re hatching, but you’re scaring the hell out of Tom Cruise.
George Clooney narrowly escaping death by having a particularly nasty swatch of speeding blacktop crash into him 'an his poor motorcycle has your earmarks all over it: you ain't foolin nobody ... and I'm onto your whole "E Coli-China toys-Van Halen-George Bush" conspiracy too.
But for God's sake, why the stripper pole at Nipples Italy?
What the hell is wrong with you?
Why Lindsay?
Why?
Aging Van Halen Still Kicks Ass
Predator Press
[LOBO]
After squandering the prime of their musical careers over bickering, tantrums and infighting, Van Halen is once again trying to capture their unprecedented thunderous '80s inertia and screw the fans out of a few more bucks.
Van Roth is a strange and quixotic enigma, providing a groundbreaking musical genius fused with no professionalism whatsoever and a c'est la vie attitude toward their fans. This was punctuated loudly by ditching even their own induction to the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame earlier this year.
But the ever-inventive Van Roth has once again hatched a scheme to 'hold the ship together' long enough to squeeze out some new musical "art": this time they have wisely chosen to replace all the members with people that get along better
Don't get me wrong. I'm really excited that the guys will be picking up some new cars, summer homes, and "Mammoth" child support payments only previously achieved by NBA players. WTG and on with the show. But to be honest, I think I would have preferred a Pay-Per-View death match. You know, a "four men in, one comes out" kinda thing.
I think 'lil Wallety and I have other plans this year.
Friday
Bloggers Unite for a Good Cause
Predator Press
[LOBO]
On September 27, there was a lot of buzz about "Bloggers Uniting Against Abuse".
I kinda wanted to participate, but I couldn't really think of a topic. I'm pretty much a whore for the March of Dimes, but that hardly stacks up as "abuse".
And 'Abuse' topics are complicated when your blog's name is Predator Press; if I start putting up pics of abused and missing children, some whack job idiot is going to start misinterpreting stuff and bitching. Then I gotta find 'em, get their ass beat to a fine paste, and arrange their assassination as they are being released from the Emergency Room months later --way, way, way too much work that could be easily avoided with some prudent caution.
But I'm absolutely mystified I missed telemarketers: those intrusive pigs abuse all without discrimination.
I've screwed my share of telemarketers already: a buddy of mine heard me doing it, and has asked me to record a cd of it. I suck them in amiably, rack up massive purchases, and much much later --when it comes time for the Visa-- I just recite random numbers until they hang up.
But a day late for the "Abuse" stuff, I wanted to give you a chance to eradicate this vile pestilence scourge from the face of the Earth altogether:
After signing up at the Do Not Call Registry, in my "comments" field I want to share your collective anger, outrage and insights about telemarketing. I want stories, rants, fables, lies, plans, and outright outrageous creative thinking. I want fantasies about salted and rusty jagged catheters being torn out of their pasty and spongy, writhing, broken and rotting screaming bodies. I want smoky mesqite-flavored strategies involving gasoline and matches, and splatter-pattern jpegs from squishing them through a fine mess screen of acid-dipped razorwire.
This is my 'Cause'.
And I'm sticking to it.
[LOBO]
On September 27, there was a lot of buzz about "Bloggers Uniting Against Abuse".
I kinda wanted to participate, but I couldn't really think of a topic. I'm pretty much a whore for the March of Dimes, but that hardly stacks up as "abuse".
And 'Abuse' topics are complicated when your blog's name is Predator Press; if I start putting up pics of abused and missing children, some whack job idiot is going to start misinterpreting stuff and bitching. Then I gotta find 'em, get their ass beat to a fine paste, and arrange their assassination as they are being released from the Emergency Room months later --way, way, way too much work that could be easily avoided with some prudent caution.
But I'm absolutely mystified I missed telemarketers: those intrusive pigs abuse all without discrimination.
I've screwed my share of telemarketers already: a buddy of mine heard me doing it, and has asked me to record a cd of it. I suck them in amiably, rack up massive purchases, and much much later --when it comes time for the Visa-- I just recite random numbers until they hang up.
But a day late for the "Abuse" stuff, I wanted to give you a chance to eradicate this vile pestilence scourge from the face of the Earth altogether:
After signing up at the Do Not Call Registry, in my "comments" field I want to share your collective anger, outrage and insights about telemarketing. I want stories, rants, fables, lies, plans, and outright outrageous creative thinking. I want fantasies about salted and rusty jagged catheters being torn out of their pasty and spongy, writhing, broken and rotting screaming bodies. I want smoky mesqite-flavored strategies involving gasoline and matches, and splatter-pattern jpegs from squishing them through a fine mess screen of acid-dipped razorwire.
This is my 'Cause'.
And I'm sticking to it.
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