Penis is Such an Ugly Word

Predator Press

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I really try to keep bad language on Predator Press to a minimum.

-But sometimes it’s hard to get around, you know?

So from here on out, instead of the word penis (or any other variant on the male genitalia), I’ll refer to that part of human anatomy as a "Craig Blair." Okay?

True, Craig Blair might find this euphemism offensive.

But I’m not afraid.

-Word on the street is that he’s too much a "Gwyneth Paltrow" to do anything about it.

Exclusive: Craig Blair Franchise Serves Deep-Fried Babies

Predator Press

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Yep. You read it here first in this Predator Press Exclusive: Craig Blair Franchise Serves Deep-Fried Babies!

Those babies are like 20 million calories apiece. And can you imagine the cholesterol?

-Plus Blair was observed forgetting to wash his hands in the bathroom before cooking, and not wearing a hair net.

I would give it 2 stars.

Tops.

Oh Craig Blair, You Poor GOP Asshat

Predator Press

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Oh Craig Blair, you poor GOP asshat, here I am -a college graduate- already facing washing dishes at Red Lobster to feed my family thanks to eight years of your Bush-addled criminal party "Policies."

-And after the mess you made, oh fearless lawmaker, you brazenly propose a genius plan to further inhibit Average Joe American survival with drug tests for people on unemployment.

-And not at a time when unemployent is low, either: rather than fiddling with it when there are jobs to be had, he picks now -when for some it means life or death.

We sent Michael Vick to jail for what again?

Craig, you're a flat-out evil scumbag. Seriously. You Republican swine screwed us via negligence, and now you -the supposed pro-gun human liberty 'an individual privacy party- are tryin to weasel out on protections people were universally taxed for all those years? Maybe people should be piss-tested before you can take any of their money! H&R Block would be fine with just buying some cups and rubber gloves, right?

And on that note, is there an invasive piss test for intelligence we can make you take? Or maybe one for integrity? For that matter, did you even pay any taxes over your thus far less-than-illustrious and flaccid career?

Welcome to Predator Press you ingrate hypocrite pig: using mere humor, I will tear this country asunder if necessary to rip your tiny little icy black heart from your chest, and shove it from your pasty bloated fat greedy ass all the way up to your Limbaugh-sperm infested gullet.

See you at the country club, you Dame Melba c*nt^[1].

-It’s on.


^[1]For those of you that don't know, during the Industrial Revolution -while ten people lived in a single room and underage children lost digits and limbs working round-the-clock in factories- Dame Melba was an aristocratic entertainer/celebrity that -along with her well-surfeited guests- made a game of hurling her peach pits at the hungry poor from her balcony.

There's your Republican "Party" at it's apex.

Get angry, or get naked.

-and pray for some lube.

268 Days

Predator Press

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With only two hundred and sixty eight or so shopping days left, those showing even the slightest hint of radiant braniosity are already gearing up for the Holiday Season. Indeed, I’m so far “ahead of the game” so to speak my Christmas decorations are already up! (The tree is looking a little spindly, but look around you: trees are everywhere. They’re a tougher breed than you might suspect.)

The reason this is now crucial is two hundred and sixty eight or so days is roughly nine months –almost exactly the gestation (incubation?) period of an average human baby. Without planning ahead, instead of buying dozens of copies of Danger Couch! and the Tinsel of Doom [reviewed here] to distribute amongst your loved ones, you could be embroiled in a screamy, messy childbirth.

Nobody wants that. And have you seen some of the baby pictures out here on the blogosphere? -Yeesh!

I have it on good authority that typical babies are loud, destructive, often smell funny, and are [*shiver*] virulent disease carriers. Seriously. Mumps, measles, cholera -okay I’m freakin’ myself out here, but you get the point, right? No babies could ever provide love, laughter and joy comparable to a single copy of DC!ATTOD. Puppies –eh- maybe, but not babies.

-And babies cost, like, hundreds of dollars whereas DC!ATTOD is a mere fifteen! Heck at that price, you could by a copy of DC!ATTOD, a Danger Couch! t-shirt and probably two or three puppies.

-So act now, keep your pants up in the meantime, and have a Happy Holiday Season.

Predator Plus

Predator Press

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A little bored maybe? I dunno.

-But a rather lengthy phase of unemployment has me thinking about expanding my horizons into other fields I’m lousy at. Maybe YouTubes or podcasting audio Skype interviews of other bloggers.

Does anyone ever really click on those things? I gotta be honest: with the exception of a few blogs I rarely do personally unless I’m looking for something specific.

And I don’t want to throw a whole lot of time at something there’s no interest in. Please drop a comment and weigh in here. Would you listen to podcasts? Given the opportunity, would you like to be interviewed? Or is being phone interviewed kinda redundant for any self-respecting and already self-promoting blogger? Any useful (aka FREE) technologies and service providers I should know about?

Blitzkrieg

Predator Press

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Many beers.

Many, many beers.

-My memories kinda stab in in bright painful flashes. I vaguely remember making a game of yelling obscenities at the neighbors while peeing behind the shed –a concession we made to minimize tracking dirt in the house.

“Where’s Joe?” someone would ask.

-From behind the shed: “Kiss my ass you filthy butt-ugly rat-faced …!”

“Oh there he is.”

-And so it goes.

In spite of my initial dread the barbeque was mostly fun, marred only briefly by something enormous rudely crashing into me. It turned out to be the ground.

-I was in no condition to fight the entire Earth, but I intuitively knew the Earth was a pansy that would back down if properly challenged: we trash-talked each other for a few minutes, but things smoothed over fairly quickly.

This was the biggest social event I’ve attended since the welcoming party when Terri and I moved out here. Again there was a nice big bonfire. The weather was perfect, and air was thick with the delicious smells of one fabulous food after another.

I like these people too. On a whim, two of them blew in from Spokane.

-Picture a well-armed redneck ski patrol.

"You’re mama is so fat, ... !"

Maintaining a good stream of obscenities while, eh, “marking your territory” isn’t as easy as it sounds. Still I highly recommend it. It’s cathartic.

“You should try it,” I explained to Terri.

She glowered.

Priss.

Too Many Secrets

Predator Press

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When unfairly cursed by fame such as I have, one must take precautions when going into public.

-Luckily, Predator Press scienticians have devised a series of subtle prosthetics that I may use to walk amongst you undetected –that I may slide “under the radar” so to speak, and drink in the real Americana that most fabulously rich and successful celebrities such as myself often never see.

And it’s true: mine is, as far as I know, the first case in human medical history of actually having sprained his pupils contracting due to sunlight exposure ... but I have been assured this condition is quite temporary, and curable by physical therapy consisting of gradually-increasing increments of the ultraviolet spectrum.

Once this adaptive process is complete, I will be prowling around unobserved and writing stories about “Regular Joes.”

But it might take me a few weeks.

-The television gave me a sunburn.