Hollywood says “Meh” to Child Rapist

Predator Press

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It shouldn’t have come as any surprise.

-Hollywood is an environment that thrives on the publicity of bad behavior in general. The punishment usually takes the form of court-ordered callow televised Public Service Announcements like “Don’t Do Drugs” or whatever –only increasing the individual's Exposure.

But isn't capital "E" Exposure the blood and oil of the so-called entertainment industry today anyway? It seems to me -by logical extension- we are actually paying people to be interesting travesties.

Ironic.

Jillian Michaels –of “Biggest Loser” fame- has given me my favorite quote so far [linked here] in regard to the Roman Polanski arrest: ”I think it’s up to the girl, frankly. I think that if she, you know, if she’s okay with it, and she feels that they’re resolved, then who are we to say? But if the victim has issues, then I feel she should have retribution.”

Well with heavy heart, Jillian Michaels is officially stricken from my list of potential babysitters.

When I was 13, I was a little too preoccupied with comic books and Star Wars memorabilia to worry about getting drugged and raped by and ragingly successful 44 year old movie director -not to mention all the life-altering publicity that would forever haunt me when the perpetrator skipped to another country to make more great movies.

Still, I suppose it is true that while he eluded the law for over a quarter of a century, I should have resolved most -if not all- of whatever Jillian Michaels defines as "issues" by then.

So we should be "cool."

Right, Jillian?

If you watch the video [linked again here], Jillian Michaels will go on to say "If somebody would have drugged and raped my thirteen year old, I'd shoot 'em!"

I guess the lesson here is it’s fine to drug and rape pre-pubescent children as long as they are not related to anyone. And if you've found a way to make the victim “okay” with it over the numerous years you've illegally postponed your apprehension, more power to you.

It seems in retrospect Woody Allen wasn't such a bad guy after all: he -like many other martyrs throughout history 'ahead of their time'- was only misunderstood. As a vanguard for this “New Millennium” morality, he was among the first victims of our already woefully antiquated views, and in modern folklore he’ll be remembered as a Da Vinci-like visionary.

Who could've guessed we would one day owe him an apology?

Exclusive Roman Polanski Arrest Photos!

Predator Press

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It's Official: I Hate Everyone

Predator Press

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I get really really mad at my cat Phil sometimes.

-And sure, every house gets the occasional fly.

But when you own a cat, doesn’t it seem incumbent upon them not to have flies in your house?

I only bring this up because moments ago I’m skimming blogs and drinking coffee –as is my morning routine- and a fly landed on my hand. I slapped at it, but the quick little bastard zigzagged off somewhere.

Phil, at the base of my desk chair, is giving me a migraine meowing.

“No!” I says to her. “Didn’t you see that fly land on my hand? I’m not feeding you for an hour, you damned freeloading moocher!”

To underline this sweeping new policy I take a huge swig of coffee, and realize there’s a fairly large and fuzzy foreign object in my mouthful.

I found the fly.

“Oh yeah Miss Smartypants?" I says moments later to a disappointed Phil, wiping my chin. "Well it’ll take me at least an hour to get all that coffee off of my monitor!”

Mattel Introduces PMS Barbie

Predator Press

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<a href="http://predatorpress.blogspot.com"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168923798517701042" alt="Mattel Introduces PMS Barbie" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand; i peace or img/"src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi28oladbHUCAlifj0bH2sZfncAtnJn0-8COcV9vzcDPoPaKXI9d7xOgUN9l6guTuFKxOc73KaNKB0XgtHmN1Z92BusbFazOE-IHVGNGp_CSiuhA4GVQsruE7eUi0Ont9R8NsQZ/s400/PMS+Barbie.jpg"/></a>

In a Perfect World

Predator Press

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<a href="http://predatorpress.blogspot.com"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5168923798517701042" alt="In a Perfect World" style="display:block;border:0px solid #000000;margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand; i peace or img/" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjUdRokmAelbVaF_2e68MWkfn66Kc5L8WhfZD7J-6XHRhFX2jkRE17UmyBxK6-1GmwTGoq_WuKPGIChgMkJ29jb8-Ru2hN3jc4wJ6wjCAZRrciVA6sRS7kI1CKwOtEiuaUsquoz/s400/JK.jpg"/></a>

Did I Eat This?

Predator Press

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After five years, I finally got my RSS feed working.

I'm really impressed with myself.

-I called my dad.

"Hey Dad!" I says. "I got my RSS feed working!"

"What? Who is this?"

"Dad, it's me. LOBO."

"Who?"

"Very funny Dad," I says chuckling. "We missed you at the wedding."

"What wedding?"

"I married the fair Terri."

"Oh man, she's hot."

"I know!" I says.

"Who is this really?"

"LOBO," I says. "Remember? You were undefeated at finding the most Easter eggs. I was the short one wearing the blindfold."

"Has it ever occurred to you that maybe your dad was the one hiding the Easter eggs in the first place?"

"You would get frustrated after a few hours, and from then on only let us paint them white so they would be easier to spot," I muse. "I found one on my Big Wheel yesterday."

"Well I wouldn't eat it. Look. I'm sorry. I think you have the wrong-"

"You used to drill us at 3:30 every morning in case of a zombie uprising."

"Zombie uprising-?"

"Unless it was Wednesday or Sunday. That's when we practiced for alien robot overlords."

"I have no idea what you are talking about. Say, are you calling me from a cell phone?"

"How about when you burst out from under my bed, and banged a trash can while shining a flashlight into my eyes -the whole time zapping me with a cattle prod and screaming obscenities until I wet my pants?" Rhythmically, I gently kick the kitchen cabinet while absently twirling the curly phone cord in my fingers. "That's one of my fondest memories. 'The Power of Christ Compels You!' Haha. I'll bet you still tell that story."

[audible sigh]

"You realize that those same alien robot overlords would be able to intercept cellphone transmissions if they really existed?"

"Um-"

"And that once they secured a foothold on Terra Firma, they would play back all these messages searching for possible insurgents? They would send Ragnarok the Colossus!"

"Or Thrang, the Human Rototiller!"

"-If they existed, which I would never discuss over a cellphone."

"Remember how you disbelieved that new fertilizer gave you 'billions and billions of new grass blades' like it advertised, and I tried to count them for you? Cripes, I was only at 4,155,189 when the cops came."

"Yeah," says the disembodied voice. "But I was still proud of you."

"How is Rex?"

"Zombie."

"Really?"

"Yeah. We hadda put him down in 2005. He unmistakably had The Look."

"So Rex is gone? Who delivers your mail now?"

"I dunno. Some robot."

"How's mom?"

"Possible zombie."

"Mom?"

"You know her. It's hard to tell. She's never been the same after the abduction."

"Yeah. Good luck getting her near a trailer park."

"I keep tellin' her the best way to kill aliens is with a tornado. But then she just gives me The Look."

"How about Aunt Phyllis?"

"Robot zombie."

"No way!"

"She always was a social butterfly. It worked out really well for her ... she's, eh, a Class C."

"Stainless model?"

"Fusion powered. All chrome. She's really come a long way. And you should see how fast she can deal the cards at Euchre. Mom and her are still inseparable ... but if we have another incident at the petting zoo, I think they are going to call the cops."

"Poor Aunt Phyllis," I says. "It can't be easy to adjust to being a zombie and then pow, a Class C robot too -especially with all those eating disorders."

"Look. I gotta go. You take good care of that LadyTerri, okay?"

"I will dad."

"God she's hot."

"I know dad."

"You realize I have no idea who you are, right?"

"Oh, you old dog! I can see where I get my sense of humor."

"Well, congratulations on that RSS feed thingy anyways. And if you guys ever get down here to Capitol Hill, be sure and have Terri drop by my office."

"We will."

"And stay away from Hittites. Those people are nothing but trouble."

"I will. I love you, dad."

"Fag."

Predator Press Opens Etsy Shop!

Predator Press

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Millions and millions of readers are always asking me every day ”LOBO, why doesn’t an entrepreneurial genius such as yourself have an Etsy shop?”

Well truthfully it wasn’t easy to find stuff worthy of selling on Predator Press. But after scouring the house numerous times, I finally decided I could not, in good conscience, stand between our fans and these fine products:

This colossally historic sandwich has the distinction of being shunned by me personally last February, and has been sitting in my fridge ever since.

-I don’t know why someone would put icky onions all over it, but this mystery only enhances it’s intrinsic value.




The fabulous usefulness of Tupperware can never be overstated, even when the lid is slightly warped and doesn’t close anymore.

Because its history is intimately linked to the afore mentioned sandwich, I consider it part of a collection: reluctant to separate them, I’m willing to combine shipping with the purchase of both.


How I came into possession of the skull of the ill-fated Pedro Enchilada Philippe Van Peebles isn’t quite clear -but as the personal barber and dentist to Isaac Newton’s second cousin's neighbor, the estimated worth is beyond calculation.

Especially if you are Pedro Enchilada Philippe Van Peebles.

Upon request, Pedro Enchilada Philippe Van Peebles can have it at half price.


Imagine my surprise when I bumped into this timeless treasure while trying to find my mailbox.

If you're a gearhead like me, this is a bargain impossible to pass up: this tasteful classic comes complete with a door, two free windshields* and four things wheels presumably attach to.


And finally, there is the crown jewel of the sale.

-No decent fireplace mantle would be complete without my massive 8.5” by 11” hand crafted self-portrait entitled, “I Love Etsy.”**

Each of the 10,000 prints I had made at Kinko's are signed and numbered -but unlike all those other dumb artists, mine are all numbered "1."


* Some assembly required.

** Frame sold separately.