Bluezer0.net

Shadu Reunited (and it feels. . . OK)! Legal Status Update Pending

2012-03-25T15:49:22Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Clintonville – When last we heard about The Shadow almost two months ago, things were still up in the air. That is, after the charge against him (possession of a schedule I narcotic with intent to distribute) was dropped due to his not actually being human, it was not clear what The Shadow was going to do with himself. Legally stripped of the ability to work (not that he ever did anyway – not really), and barred from returning to the city itself, the last we saw of him was this pathetic tableau: The Shadow begging to be admitted to the goddess Danu’s apartment. Fuck him. He deserved that. But now it is clear enough that The Shadow and Danu are back together. Local celebrity couple Shadu, together at the grand re-re-opening of a Nebuchadnezzer II’s Hoagie Shack on the (rather seedy) west side of Worthington. The paparrazzi-type that sold us this pic claims The Shadow was saying, “Take one more picture of me, and I’mna ram that fucking camera straight up your gerbil burrow!” The goddess Danu was heard to giggle, “Calm down, honey. You can kill some people later.” The Shadow and Danu were seen together Friday night, at a local celeb party that took place at the fabulous new Worthington club, Nebuchadnezzer II’s Hoagie Shack. After the event was over, local paparrazzi followed Shadu for eight miles before getting their windshields smashed by bricks that The Shadow was apparently throwing out the back of Danu’s SUV. However, just before passing out due to blood loss, photographers Matt Bevilaqua and Rocco Dimeo claimed that they were heading in roughly the direction of Danu’s apartment on the south side. It seems, then, that the couple are back together – and even cohabitating. However, several things remain unclear. When the honorable judge Adam Keefe Horowitz ruled that The Shadow was legally an animal, he warned The Shadow that returning to the city and thereby becoming a nuisance could result in his being “put down” by a rifle shot to the head. When I phoned judge Horowitz at 2AM on Saturday just to let him know that The Shadow had been back in the city, and according to his ruling would have to be shot in the head, the judge informed me that he’d “make another ruling ‘cuz The Shadow wanted more of this, suckers they be thinking they can disregard the ruling of judge Horowitz.” However, as of press time, judge Horowitz informs me, he is powerless to rule that The Shadow be put down because Danu’s lawyer, Harold Melvoin, has filed an injunction preventing any action against him before the honorable judge Vincenzo Luvineri can rule on whether The Shadow, as an animal, can be classified as Danu’s pet! This, of course, would mean that The Shadow would be allowed back in the city, subject to the same rules as any other pet – however, he would still not be able to work legally. How will he support himself? Will he simply sponge off the goddess Danu? That seems less than likely. And that much aside, how could Danu, who works at Cinnabon, afford a lawyer like the famous Harold Melvoin? We shall see. Meanwhile, let’s all hope that Judge Luvineri makes the right decision, and rules that The Shadow must be shot in his fucking head. The bastard.

Big Gunny Wayne Hates On The Fat Kid

2012-03-18T23:49:04Z

Clintonville - With Decanus and The Shadow out, both suffering from spring fever, and The Fat Kid faking up a doctor's note, little is going on this week at the BZ offices. So, the BZ staff decided to break out the mail bag again. Lucky for you, our loyal readers, they found a surprise! Big Gunny Wayne loads it up once more. Just like last time and the time before that, he's pointing his wordy criticisms with both barrels of the dictionary shotgun. This time he shows The Fat Kid no mercy. . . To Whom It Should Concern, If ever I had a letter to write, this is it. My challenge is to convince BlueZer0.net readers that The Fat Kid's perceptions constitute one of the many conduits of antagonism in our culture. I don't want to promote The Fat Kid's blandishments. Generally, I find The Fat Kid's obloquies rather minatory. But too often, The Fat Kid's utterly flabby synapses leads him to believe that heathenism is a viable and vital subject for our nation's online media institutions. First, the misinformation: He suggests that satanic squirrels and space aliens are out to launch their hell-war of death all over us. What? Better he stop getting his opinions from devious dissemblers and start doing some research of his own. This much is clear: When I say that The Fat Kid's diatribes are mystifying revenge fantasies, I mean it. I don't mean that they remind me of something recalcitrant or that they have one or two recalcitrant characteristics. I mean that they are recalcitrant revenge fantasies. In fact, if he leads with, "The Fat Kid reporting. . ." one more time, I'm certainly going to throw up. Let's get down to brass tacks: BlueZer0.net is administered by pecksniffian, namby-pamby boeotians and it doesn't do us much good to become angry and wave our arms and shout about the evils of The Fat Kid's particularly dotty form of irresponsible journalism. Let's just ignore him and see what he does. That's it for this email. I sincerely hope that typing it was not a complete waste of energy. I would like to encourage our spirits to soar. Unfortunately, I do realize that my words will probably trigger no useful response from The Fat Kid's brain. I just felt obligated to go through the motions because there should be a law against what he is doing. In harm's way, Big Gunny Wayne Now, wasn't that surprising? -Pimples Malone

The Haunting Continues (with streaming video!!!)

2012-03-11T17:26:18Z

The Third Fictional Reporter reporting. . . Clintonville – Some of you may recall that several months back, BlueZer0 reported on some strange incidents that took place in Clintonville’s famous Chateaux Clintonville complex, the former home of The Shadow, and long-time home of BZ luminaries such as Decanus Picto, the BZ offices, and now – after a brief stint in an overpriced shithole in Upper Arlington – the Fat Kid is back in one of the Chateaux as well. However, things have not gone smoothly for The Fat Kid, as he has been the target of numerous attacks by supernatural entities, at least one of which has sworn to drive The Fat Kid to suicide, and take him to hell. However, as this story fell by the wayside in the wake of The Shadow’s daring daylight robbery and subsequent arrest and imprisonment, I saw this thread as an opportunity to earn a paycheck. Accordingly, I packed my digital recorder and. . . well, that’s all I packed. And I didn’t really pack it so much as I just stuck it in my pocket. But whatever, dude. Just read the thing below. A horrible cell phone pic of one of Clintonville’s three famous Fateaux. The Fat Kid might live in this one, no? The Chateaux at night are big and bright. And they kinda remind you of that Amityville house, too, right? With all the lights on and stuff? That’s the effect I was going for here, anyway. When I returned to The Fat Kid’s Chateau for the first time since November, I noticed that the atmosphere of the place was grim. Not like someone farted real bad, but rather like someone had just been beaten up, and they were still real mad about it. Upon reaching The Fat Kid’s wing of the chateau, it was deadly silent, and my footsteps echoed up and down the unusually long corridors. In The Fat Kid’s cavernous library, the effect was the same as, over a snifter of Newcastle Brown Ale (recently voted the world’s most important liquid, beating out water by a wide margin, and beating out blood by over 50%), he related the following account. FK: It is not worth telling, this story of mine – at least not worth writing – because people won’t believe it. People only believe in ghosts when green-looking people on TV pretend to have seen them and then act real scared. Other than that, unless they have a recording of some static that they can pretend is a voice, they just act like ghosts don’t exist. But they do. Since the BAGD swore it’d get revenge on me for shit that other people did, my life has been pretty normal. Right afterward, I was really on my guard – always looking around corners carefully, burning sage – smudge sticks, they’re called – in all the corners, wearing protective amulets, and regularly invoking Shabuel, Demuel, and Vihael – and lemme tell you, Vihael is a cut up. But anyway, there were only a few small incidents. One night, I was sure that someone was walking around in my room, for instance, but I couldn’t see them. And one night I heard someone walk down the hallway and stop at my door, but the footsteps never went away – it was like the person just stood there and disappeared. But, again, that was small stuff that never resulted in anything in particular, and then after a little while even that stuff went away. For a couple of months, there was nothing. But now it has started again. Two weeks ago, I was having trouble sleeping. I was just staring at the ceiling, sort of getting impatient, tired of waiting to drift off, and then I noticed that there was a kind of sound, a small type of sound – the kind of thing that can go totally unnoticed unless you’re in a perfectly quiet room. It was a metallic sound, almost like a muffled squeak – and then it hit me that it was my door knob. Someone was twisting my door knob, almost millimeter by millimeter, trying to get it open, but not to wake me. The thing is, I leave my chamber door unlocked – I see locking it as unnecessary, since there’s so much security at the East and West entrances. I started sweating, thinking it was a burglar or something, and that whoever it was, they would be in my chamber WITH ME in just a few seconds! I was paralyzed – I couldn’t move no matter how much I wanted to. Every couple seconds, the doorknob would squeak just the tiniest bit, an almost undetectable amount, but I could hear it. But then it stopped. I almost thought that I had just been scaring myself to death with paranoia, but then something WORSE happened. The door started to open. Again, the movement was slow and painful. It opened only the tiniest bit at a time, and then for almost a full minute it would sit perfectly still. And during that minute, I’d hope and pray and wish that it would be over, that whoever was standing there would just leave, just go away, but then that infinitesimal movement would begin again, and end just as quickly – and then I’d wait again, sweating, eyes wide, and utterly paralyzed. After this went on for however long – it seemed like hours, but could only have been minutes at most – the worst thing happened. When you’re going through something like this, with anticipation tearing you to shreds, the one thing that keeps you sane is the miniscule, but very real, hope that whatever is tormenting you isn’t really there – that you’re making it up, or that you’re delusional, or hearing things. But there comes a time when your worst fears are confirmed, and it shocks the system. And that’s what happened to me – my fear was absolutely confirmed when I saw a crack of light coming in from the hallway – the door had actually opened! Someone real and tangible, with intentions that could only be VERY bad, was standing right there, opening my door millimeter by millimeter, and there I was, in otherwise pitch darkness, with no weapon – I didn’t even have shoes on! That crack of light steeled my resolve, and the shock it gave me freed me from paralysis. I reached over to my bedside table and grabbed the first thing that came to hand – but it was useless. It was my digital camera. The camera was too light to do anything but irritate the intruder if I threw it at him, and there was nothing else within my reach, so I did the only thing I could think to do – I turned it on. I don’t know why. I guess, in retrospect, I thought I’d take a picture or two, and maybe leave some evidence behind for the police when they found my body in a few days or whatever. But in any case, that’s all I could think of, and that’s what I did. The problem, though, was that the camera made noise coming on, and even my moving just to reach the thing had made noise in the otherwise silent chateau, so I knew the intruder knew I was there, and awake, and waiting for him. This was the worst moment – not knowing what he, whoever HE was, would do. Would he leave? No. That didn’t make sense. Whoever this person was, he was there for a definite purpose that he was bent on carrying out. The only thing he’d do, the only strategy left to him, was to spring the door open as quickly as possible, but at an unexpected moment, and try to take me by surprise in that way. That was the only possibility. And I figured the man would probably have a gun and would simply shoot me, or maybe he’d just rush at me right away without leaving me time for photography. So if I was going to leave any evidence for the police, I’d have to guess exactly when he’d open the door, and take a pic at that exact second. Again it was an excruciating wait – the tension was ripping me apart, and the sweat streaming off me. I waited, but nothing happened. There was just the crack of light streaming through, and dead silence, but with each second that went by I feared more and more that I’d miss my chance. Eventually, I felt that I couldn’t take it anymore, and decided to force the situation – I’d snap a pic and trip him up, make him do something out of sync with his intentions when he heard that sound, and catch HIM off guard. Maybe he’d kill me all the same. But maybe he’d leave. Or maybe it’d buy me a second or two to get out of bed and fight my attacker on an almost equal footing. I decided to do it – and I did. But there was no picture. Earlier in the day I had been shooting a homemade porno with a bunch of homeless ex-runways, who were now too old to get by on their looks, and the camera was still set on video mode! When I pressed the button, there was no flash or anything, just that irritating beep that cameras make! And then a second later, the door eerily creaked as it swung open and there stood – THE BAGD’s ghost!!!!!!!!! All I could see was its silhouette, but it was certainly him – all aluminum pipe, with that eldritch bungee cord hanging off its neck like a stretchy noose! The macabre BAGD’s nightspirit stood in my doorway laughing at me, and told me it was going to take me to hell! The spectral BAGD makes an appearance at The Fat Kid’s fat-ass door. Do you believe he actually fits through there? Really? His fat ass through that regular-ass doorway? I don’t. Not without some lubricant. Maybe butter. I’m sure he has a ton of it around. In just seconds the BAGD’s ghost disappeared, and I almost didn’t believe what had happened. I thought it must have been simply a nightmare – but I still had the camera in my hand, and when I sifted through the porno clips I had shot earlier, there it was – I had the ghost on video! After this, The Fat Kid didn’t want to continue the interview, which was just as well, given that he told pretty much everything that happened. However, I was able to get him to agree to let me have a copy of the video, and I will upload to the site ASAP. So, the haunting of Clintonville continues. And who knows when or how it’ll end?

Decanus Returns – FROM THE DEAD!!! Claims Responsibility for the New North Korea

2012-03-04T08:31:03Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Port Columbus International Airport – Regular readers will recall that, after reportedly being smothered [to death “accidentally”] by an adult film star’s ass, Decanus Picto was sighted, first at a Turkish restaurant in Grove City, and then just days later he was photographed in North Korea, where he was being led around in what looked like a slightly less than voluntary way. While there were rumors that the always-mysterious Picto might have been the exiled son of Kim Jong-Il, and that North Koreans might have believed the same types of wacky things about him as they believe about their “Eternal President,” Kim Il-Sung, and his recently-deceased son, Kim Jong-Il, these have proven nothing but shameless frauds, trumped up by our informant, Kim Il-Smith, just to get twenty dollars from us [In an unrelated incident, Il-Smith has since been beaten up, and robbed of twenty dollars. – Ed.], and Decanus has safely returned to America. He landed at 3:20 this afternoon at Port Columbus International Airport, where he addressed the media – and BlueZer0 was there. The media fervor was created due to the fact that Picto’s visit commenced just three days before North Korea announced that it was willing to cease all nuclear weapons tests, shut down their uranium enrichment program, and allow UN and IAEA inspectors to monitor activities linked to these programs. While these two things may, under other circumstances, have seemed like coincidences, it is known that Picto spent his entire time in North Korea closeted with the country’s new leader, Kim Jong-un. This, of course, has led to speculation that Picto in fact negotiated the country’s peaceful new position in an effort to attract the attention of the electorate. Picto, claiming that he did in fact die under that Colombian whore’s ass. Though he was tired as fuck, and wanted to get out of that neighborhood because “they be trippin’ over here and shit," Decanus agreed to speak for a few minutes, though he declined to answer questions directly. My fellow Americans, I’m addressing you now because I know that some of you have heard rumors about my involvement with North Korea at this particularly sensitive time. Some of you have seen a picture released by Kwangmyong, and in this picture I was being led by heavily-armed security guards, wearing these funny Russian-looking hats. I’m also addressing you because I know that my funeral was international news, and that “the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated,” as a fine American humorist once said. So, I’ll address each of these issues in turn. First, with reference to my death, I’d just like to say that everything about my death and funeral reported by BlueZer0 was correct. That’s right. Once in a long while there are people who have risen from the grave. Jesus is the obvious example, but there are also people like Lazarus, Osiris, Adonis, Dionysus. You’ll notice a trend here – except Lazarus, who didn’t COME back, but was instead BROUGHT back – these are all classic slain-and-risen gods. They all follow the formula and are of ancient origin. And then on the end of the list. . . there’s me. You know, and I don’t mean to sound like Empedocles or anything, but uh. . . I’m just like them in a certain specific way. You can go ahead and infer whatever you want about that. But the fact is that I died under that whore’s ass. I was there, in that smotherbox, gasping for breath, and soon everything went dark. There was no more pressure. No more dolorous life. No more worries. No more pain. No more whore’s-ass taste in my mouth. Nothing. Just peace. And then suddenly there was a blinding light, and I went into that light. And there I had many experiences. I saw my whole life from start to finish, all at once. I saw and felt everything I did, but from the perspectives of the people whom my decisions affected. And I met people. Important people. And I was told things. I was given information. For three days I dwelt in the dimension of the dead, learning the secrets of the other side. After three days, I found myself awake in my coffin. It took me another three days to break through that lid, and claw my way up out of my grave. But once I did it, I felt like I had been reborn, and like I had a mission in this life. For three days I dwelt in the dimension of the dead, and for another three days I dwelt in the land of the dead. And now I have come back to the land of the living. And I will give you everything I have to give. And I have brought information and insight back to Earth. I’m here to impart that information specifically to the American people. And, of course, 2012 is the year for that. So, I made my way back from Colombia, and found myself in Grove City. And it was there that I learned what my mission was – to cut roasted meat off a spit. But when my peace was disturbed by that jack off and his wife with the wrist injury, I had a vision. As I ran out the back of that kabob place, I decided to get wasteder than a motherfucker. And that I did. I drank Wild Irish Rose until it actually tasted good. Yes, THAT much. And it was during that time that I realized that there were opportunities all around me. Opportunities to make the world a better place. But that if the world was under a nuclear threat, we couldn’t carry on in peace. So, the next day, I recovered from my liquor coma, and then the NEXT day, I flew to South Korea, and started making my way north. When I finally broke through the border and reached Pyongyang, I somehow knew that Kim Jong-un would see me. That he expected me to come, and that I could get right in. Some of you have seen that picture of me, and it did look like I was under a military threat, but there was nothing to it. It’s normal for security to be heightened when a foreigner of uncertain background enters the private rooms of a world leader, the leader of an unregulated nuclear state. And that’s especially so when a new leader has just taken office. But I was admitted to the chamber of Kim Jong-un, and after a brief discussion, in which I had related to him many things that I learned in the dimension of the dead, we had reached an agreement. And then we spent the rest of the weekend watching M*A*S*H on DVD. That’s a funny fucking show. I really dig it. But the point is this – my diplomacy wasn’t heroic. Or, I mean, it kind of was. It was kind of awesome, and un-freaking believable. But it wasn’t JUST heroic. It also demonstrates that I have a unique ability to negotiate with other cultures, even power-mad leaders of utterly insane nations. A proven ability to create peace in the world. I plan to use that ability. And, of course, 2012 is the year to do that. Thank you all very much. At this point, Decanus stepped away from the awed crowd and caught a cab back to Clintonville without saying another word. What did Picto mean when he compared himself to the slain-and-risen gods? Was he saying that he, too, is a god? And what did he learn in the dimension of the dead? Though we can only make inferences about that. However, it is obvious, even without his saying it directly, that Decanus plans to restart his POTUS campaign. Picto in 2012!

Picto Lives!!! But WHERE?

2012-02-26T05:21:49Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Pyongyang – Last week’s sighting of the so-called Pecanus Dicto may or may not have been real, but in any case Decanus Picto is back in the news. The Korean Central News Agency (KCNA) has released a single photograph of Picto arriving at the Kim Il-Sung Administrative Center. The picture is dated February 23rd, four days after Picto was sighted at Grove City’s now-famous Kabob Palace. Decanus Picto being escorted through customs by North Korean “greeters.” For those of you who don’t recall, this is a big deal because Decanus was reportedly smothered by a porn star’s ass in January of this year, while scoring a porno film in Bogotá, Colombia. A screen shot of the film that Decanus scored during his trip to Bogotá, showing his on-screen credit. It. . . doesn’t look good. I’m gonna go ahead and not watch it. Thanks all the same, though. Word on what Picto is doing in North Korea is. . . fuzzy. An article on Kwangmyong claims that Picto traveled to North Korea to experience one of the unusually mild winters that Kim Jong-Il added to the country’s weather system in 1999. Though Kim Jong-Il died in December, 2011, Decanus’ coming was foretold by a starling in 2010, Kwangmyong reports, so the great leader, son of their “eternal president,” had enough time to arrange for pleasant weather at the time of Picto’s arrival. Kwangmyong aside, among BlueZer0’s informants are several North Korean defectors who came to this country to buy fabulously cheap bootleg DVDs from some Nigerians that hang around by Nationwide Plaza. One such defector whose name is – you guessed it – Kim, told BlueZer0 that there is a more sinister purpose to Decanus’ trip to Korea, and that it may not have been altogether voluntary. The otherwise anonymous Kim spoke with me briefly today. “Koreans in the north are force-fed propaganda all their lives, and they are made to believe what is untrue,” he said. “They are told in elementary school that North Korea is the greatest country in the world. But the dictatorship runs on a ‘Cult of Personality,’ where they are made to believe their leaders are almost gods. They are told that Kim Il-Sung created the world – and some of them actually believe that. They used to believe that Kim Jong-Il could control the weather. And some of these same people have gotten around the boundaries of Kwangmyong using cell phones and dial-up modems, and have become BlueZer0 readers. And they have come to believe similarly strange things about Decanus Picto. They believe he has certain powers that mortals do not have. And some of them believe he has a secret connection to Korea. That he was sent away from here as a child, for his own safety.” Kim would not comment any further, however, his allusions are very interesting. Those of you who frequent the site will recall that Decanus’ place of origin was under dispute in his obituary. Our film-loving defector/informant seems to be implying that Decanus may have been born in North Korea, and sent away as a child to foil would-be assassins who may have plotted to kill him. But why would they do that? The only other North Korean I can think of who was sent away in this manner is Kim Jong-Il himself, whose father was the North’s “eternal president” Kim Il-Sung. Is Picto actually an Il (or how ever you figure Korean surnames)? Have the North Koreans called him home to fulfill his destiny as Supreme Leader, and to show Kim Jong-Un the door, and possibly the GRAVE? CHECK BACK FOR UPDATES!!!!!!!!!

Decanus Alive? Elvis-style Rumors Spread Through Ohio

2012-02-19T05:09:40Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Grove City – A crowd has formed outside the famous Kabob Palace Turkish restaurant and bar, but not because the people of Ohio love Turkish-style lamb. Instead, they’re here because some jack off claims to have sighted Decanus Picto in the back, slicing meat off a rotating spit. Yeah. That’s why I had to take a bus all the way to Grove City. Some guy and his wife claim Picto is alive. Grove City’s famous Kabob Palace, where Picto was allegedly sighted by a drunken jerk off. [Reports indicate that he was actually a jack off – ed.] Though sightings of dead celebrities such as Elvis and JFK were once common, the era of grainy photos and tabloid journalism are over, and Elvis sightings have been relegated to websites of almost Angelfire-esque or Tripod-ean shittiness. The sighting in Grove City has caused quite a stir anyway, though, because a quick customer, John Offerman, managed to get a slightly-less-grainy-than-expected picture of Picto with his iPhone 4S, which is totally badass and I want one. Also, the alleged Picto made some very strange statements before he escaped the establishment. An iPhone photo of the Turk who is allegedly Picto, without his crazy kill-the-infidels headscarf/wrap/turban thingy. Said Mr. Offerman, “At first, you know, he looked just like some regular Middle Eastern dude with one of those big turbans on. But not like the Indian turbans where it’s just like a hat, but like the turbans from the violent part of the Middle East, where they got the, like, mask part of it that covers the mouth and stuff. He looked like that.” Mr. Offerman went on to explain that the loose end of the turban got caught on the rotating spit, which ripped the whole thing off. “I was just looking down at my bomb-ass iPhone. You know, I wasn’t really doing anything, I was just pretending to text, and trying to avoid eye contact with anyone that had one of those crazy kill-the-infidels hats on, but then my wife started tugging on my shirt sleeve and going, ‘Jack, look, Jack, look!’ So, I sort of looked up a little bit, and the turban was getting wrapped around the spit thing. At first he was trying to fight it, but it didn’t help, it just got more tangled, and then it came off and fell right on the floor. And then there he was – it was definitely Picto. No doubt.” As the crowd started to realize it was looking at a person who very closely resembled the recently deceased musician, they started to push back behind the counter and close in on him. Mrs. Offerman said, “Picto started backing away like he was scared, even though he had that big meat knife in his hand. I said, ‘You’re him, you’re Picto,’ and he said, ‘No, I’m not Decanus. He’s dead. I’m somebody else. I’m his identical cousin, Pecanus Dicto.’ And then he ran off. Right out the back door. It’s pretty fucked up that he’d lie to our faces like that. And he didn’t even sign my copy of An Electronic Soundtrack for the End Times. I guess he thinks he’s too good to mix with his fans.” Mrs. Offerman declined to be interviewed further as the arthritis in her wrist was acting up, and she wanted to get home to Hyannis Port as soon as possible, but she stressed that she was certain it was Picto. Identical cousins, while rare, are known to occur in select locales throughout the world, such as Zanzibar, Tanzania and Brooklyn Heights, New York. However, having checked with whatever stats-keeping government agency a person would consult on such a matter, I can confirm that zero cases of identical cousins have been reported in Ohio. Further, I have checked with the same types of agencies in all the places Decanus was reportedly possibly born (as per his obit) – Germany, New Jersey, California, and the Philippines – and none of those locales have any cases either, making it look highly unlikely that Decanus actually has an identical cousin. It goes without saying that the always-mysterious Picto never said anything about having an identical cousin – or family members of any kind – but that’s no evidence, as he keeps personal information to himself. Regardless, it seems to me much more likely that we’re simply dealing with a person who looks like Picto. However, reason never stopped rumors from spreading, and that’s exactly what they’re doing all over central Ohio.

Email From Longtime BZ Reader Chris J!

2012-02-12T05:06:14Z

Clintonville – The staff at BlueZer0.net really does enjoy reading the feedback we get from our fans. Since The Fat Kid is away on special assignment this week [Editor's note: He was last heard from muttering something about "a deceitful, bushy mustached bastard" and "halal food."], we've decided to share some of that feedback from one of our loyal readers. Chris J, seen here enjoying his favorite fruity drink, has something to say. Email 1 [First Contact]: ____________________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Wanted: Staff Cryptozoologist From: Chris J ▆▆▆▆@yahoo.com Date: August 15, 2010 1:09:37 AM EDT To: BZ Staff sexcult@bluezer0.net ____________________________________________________________________________________ Wondering need any fooyimasilogical persons. ____________________________________________________________________________________ Email 2: _____________________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Re: Bluezer0.net Update: BZ House Band Contest Begins Date: Fri, 17 Jun 2011 06:04:32 -0400 From: Chris J ▆▆▆▆@yahoo.com To: BZ Staff sexcult@bluezer0.net _____________________________________________________________________________________ leave me alone or I w kill u. _____________________________________________________________________________________ Email 3: _____________________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Re: Bluezer0.net Update: The Divine Revelations of Danu Date: Sun, 17 Jul 2011 16:51:07 -0400 From: Chris J ▆▆▆▆@yahoo.com To: BZ Staff sexcult@bluezer0.net _____________________________________________________________________________________ Die _____________________________________________________________________________________ Email 4 [A Thank You To Him]: _____________________________________________________________________________________ From: BZ Staff sexcult@bluezer0.net Date: August 15, 2011 2:30:59 AM EDT To: Chris J ▆▆▆▆@yahoo.com Subject: BZ And You! _____________________________________________________________________________________ Dear BlueZer0 Reader, We are grateful that you took the time to respond to some of our article notifications. It is the acknowledgment of our work by loyal readers like you that makes our BZ experience even more fun! -BZ Staff _____________________________________________________________________________________ Email 5: _____________________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Re: Bluezer0.net Update: I'm Stuck in Franklin County Correctional Center, and Time Keeps Dragging On. . . Date: Mon, 26 Dec 2011 04:34:08 -0800 (PST) From: Chris J ▆▆▆▆@yahoo.com To: BZ Staff sexcult@bluezer0.net _____________________________________________________________________________________ Dum ass you see petty shit got u a mini stint every 3 months you end up in the local jail for some minor shit trying to prove your this big house criminal. Buncha bad tats all hard west side  U cost me more money in taxes every year. Go do somthing Big be a real thug then you go to the big house them niggas will eat you to pieces. Fuckin princes. Call your mommy make her suffer to spring your Dum ass so you can break another car window out and cost us all money again . Think about that Liszt boy. Remember real criminals don't get to harass people on the web they don't have computer day _____________________________________________________________________________________ Email 6: _____________________________________________________________________________________ Subject: Re: Bluezer0.net Update: An Open Letter from Danu, the Goddess of Big-Ass Rocks (So LISTEN UP!!!!) Date: Sun, 8 Jan 2012 15:54:12 -0800 (PST) From: Chris J ▆▆▆▆@yahoo.com To: BZ Staff sexcult@bluezer0.net _____________________________________________________________________________________ The good news is I found you yes your ip adress I saw where you stole my email adress from Craigslist. I have an adress conected to you I've been watching you and now I'm thinking what to do I would turn you in but the dumb nigger has no laws in place for you this means I have to handle you this is a warning run run for your destiny I'm lurking in the dark waiting to strike I believe people that distribute porn should pay for there sins my brother I will fix your sinister filthy habbits, I have the law for you ... see you soon _____________________________________________________________________________________ -Pimples Malone

The Shadow Will Not Face Charges!

2012-02-05T16:47:03Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Columbus – The Shadow was last seen running through people’s backyards in Clintonville. Or at least that’s where he was last seen before I dimed him out to the cops and showed them where he went into the woods in Whetstone park, and they got their dogs to track him down and subdue him. After that he was last seen in a jail cell, again awaiting an arraignment hearing in Columbus criminal court. And then finally they tried to arraign him. Tried, but failed. The Shadow, seen here leaving court in his monkey suit. You get it? You see what I did there? Huh? Huh? Anyway, this is The Shadow, being led out of court just prior to his relocation to the woods of – you guessed it – Clintonville. During the hearing, prosecutors contended that Shadow Humperdink was in possession of a schedule I narcotic with intent to distribute. However, The Shadow, serving as his own lawyer, mounted a spectacular defense. He began by pointing out that the prosecution could not establish chain of custody of the weed, and asked to have the evidence declared inadmissible. When the honorable Judge Adam Keefe Horovitz refused to make that declaration, The Shadow deployed his greatest rhetorical gambit to date, arguing that since he was technically not a human being he couldn’t be charged with crimes under any federal or state law. “You can’t charge a dog or cat or goat or deer or any other animal on the Earth for any kind of crime whatsoever,” The Shadow said. “Why, then, should I, as a Sasquatch who enjoys none of the rights and privileges of humanity, be subject to fucktarded laws meant to govern only humans? Bears, cougars, and wolves kill livestock all the time, but no one tries to put them in jail. Weasels sell crank door-to-door here in the Midwest, but no one tries to put them in jail. Guinea pigs commit extortion, but no one tries to put them in jail. Every sparrow any of us has ever seen has committed wire fraud, and is guilty of insider trading, but no one tries to put them in jail – and they don’t even try to hide it, the gutsy bastards. So, how can I be charged with a crime? It’s not fair, it’s not right, it’s unconstitutional, and it shouldn’t be allowed. I should be relocated to a wooded area further away from the city. I’m not asking for special treatment – this is the same courtesy the court would extend an over-excited beaver that built a dam on Fourth Street, or a super-pissed Godzilla that destroyed a major metropolitan area. You’d take the beaver back to the river. You’d take the Godzilla back to the Pacific. So, take the Sasquatch back to the woods. It’s the only right thing to do.” This defense stunned prosecutors who, after a brief recess, argued that because The Shadow is a sentient being who possesses the ability to speak, think, and reason, he should be considered a de facto human for legal purposes. They argued further that The Shadow does in fact enjoy all the rights and privileges of humanity, as demonstrated by the fact that he received welfare for seven years, owned a home, got a permit to build a particle collider, and has received tax returns for the past six years. Judge Horovitz asked whether counsel could cite precedent. Assistant D.A. Lars Frederiksen cited The State of Minnesota vs. Bullwinkle J. Moose, in which case Moose was forced to surrender his entire upsidaisium mine to the state as reparations for destroying property in the cities of Upsala, Watertown, Trout Lake, and Frostbite Falls during a prolonged drunk-driving incident. Asked to respond, The Shadow maintained that he didn’t understand the charges being brought against him, and asked the court for permission to go outside and eat some bark off the sycamore in front of the courthouse. After a twenty minute recess, during which The Shadow ate an awful lot of sycamore bark, judge Horovitz gave the following ruling: “I find that the defendant, Shadow Humperdink, Esq., cannot be charged as a person, and therefore cannot be incarcerated. He is to be relocated in a wooded area of his choice, as long as it is outside Franklin Township. However, Mr. Shadow, I also find that because you are, by your own admission, an animal, any further trouble you cause may be dealt with severely. When an animal wanders into a city and starts selling weed, the animal may be relocated. However, when an animal becomes a repeated nuisance, it may be ‘put down’ – with a rifle shot to the head. As this is not your first brush with the law, be warned.” With that, the case was dismissed, and The Shadow was led out of court – wearing a shit-eating grin all the while. Within an hour it was decided that The Shadow would be relocated to the woods in Clinton Township – that is to say, Clintonville. He rode shotgun in the animal control truck, as they cruised up High Street to Whetstone Park. Though The Shadow disappeared into the woods almost immediately, rumors floating around Clintonville have it that he made his way to the goddess Danu’s apartment, and after several minutes of pounding on the door and whispering into the crack, she let him in. Will the goddess take him back? Only The Shadow knows! Or, well, I guess Danu knows, too. But whatever.

Damn, Dude, Decanus Died!

2012-01-29T15:40:27Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Bogotá, Colombia – According to BlueZer0 sources, Decanus Picto, erstwhile BZ CEO and POTUS candidate-turned-Satanic squirrel-worshipping space musician, has died in Bogotá, Colombia. He was 46. This is the Picto pic we’re using for the obit, cuz it’s the shit. Fuck you, too. I write perfectly good copy. I don’t see you writin’ nothin’, you retarded, big-mouth, know-it-all, asshole, jerk.* So shut up, bitch. Go fix me a turkey pot pie! As some of you may have gathered from Picto’s Twitter feed, he had recently traveled to Colombia to work on the soundtrack of a pornographic movie for www.bossygirls.net. We gather that this was Picto’s favorite website, as it was his home page in all three of his browsers, and because it is unclear whether he was being paid for scoring the film in any way other than getting a link to BZ on their links page. According to Bogotá police, Picto apparently was sampling the wares at BossyGirls’ studios, when there was an accident, and he was asphyxiated while in a smotherbox – a totally disgusting contraption designed for. . . well, you get the idea. Picto died the way he lived – with his head inside one of these, and some chick sitting there. Which is. . . just fucked up, but it was the only way he could chase the demons away after the goddess Danu left him. BossyGirls model Maricela Montoya-Arnaz – the chick whose ass Decanus died under – told Bogotá police that she was sitting on the smotherbox reading People when she fell asleep. When she woke, Decanus was blue and unresponsive. She then smoked a couple cigarettes, which she put out on his eyelids, but he didn’t wake up. The next morning, she put some gas in her car, took her kid to soccer practice, got her nails done, ate a light lunch, did some shopping, and then immediately went to check on him. He was still on the floor in the studio, with his head in the box. Montoya-Arnaz then alerted police that Picto appeared to be dead. After confirming Montoya-Arnaz’s story, police ended their investigation, and his death was ruled a really gross accident that everyone wanted to forget right away. Picto’s early history is very murky. All we know of his childhood is that he spent it either in Germany, New Jersey, California, the Philipines, or possibly Ohio. But then he left. And wherever he left from, he wound up in Delaware, at the famous-but-demolished-and-forgotten Delaware Turnpike Mobil, where he started the Pump Boy Liberation Front, and fought against Anne “Annie Cock Ring” Cochran and the lizards in the brief but turbulent War of the Tooth One of only five surviving PbLF members, Decanus moved to slower Delaware to recover from his PTSD, and drink beer and hang out and stuff. But it wasn’t long before the saucers started coming again, and the resistance was renewed. This time, Picto founded BlueZer0.net as an internet news source, reporting on all things paranormal, beginning with the disappearance of Jared Buckalew. Recruiting fellow PbLF/War of the Tooth survivors The Shadow and yours truly, Picto got his news organization off the ground, and it quickly became the most frequently visited blog-type paranormal site with this color scheme based in northern Delaware with this exact URL. Shortly thereafter, Decanus moved into Jared’s famous Buckalew Compound to facilitate his staff’s coverage of such events as the miraculous resurrection of Lt. Shiny Sides Buckalew, and the discovery that T.F.S. Speculum was stationed in the tool shed outside. As The Shadow and I moved to Columbus – so that I could open a branch office of BZ, and The Shadow could open his short-lived L’École des Beaux Lézards, – Decanus soon followed, inadvertently bringing the BAGD (which was stationed on T.F.S. Speculum at the time) with him, much to the BAGD’s chagrin. Not long after that there was dissention in the ranks that shook the foundations of the media giant that is BlueZer0.net – The Shadow betrayed him, and caused him to be abducted by spotted chicks from Venus, who then sold him into slavery – where he picked up a taste for being pushed around by pretty girls. After being sold, Decanus disassociated himself from BlueZer0. He managed to get a job as a space ship ticket designer, and planned to live the rest of his life in space, which is much nicer than Earth (though it is in space, too). About a year later, Decanus announced that he was returning, and looking for a record label to distribute his first album, Long Tokes at the Gravity Well. But it wasn’t until after he announced his candidacy for the presidency of the United States that he actually released the record, so he could use the tracks as his campaign songs. Disaster soon struck again. It was about this time that I recovered pictures from The Shadow’s camera – the camera he took with him when he boarded a flying saucer hidden underground at Wright-Patterson AFB. The Shadow had taken photographs of Mayan glyphs carved into the interior of the saucer. After weeks of working on them, I finally deciphered their meaning. They not only foretold the end of the world, but also that Picto would be assassinated as part of the beginning of the end. Picto went completely bat shit. The first step in his descent into madness was becoming a survivalist with a real big rifle, but it wasn’t long until he started The First Church of Danu of Latter Day Pagans for his would-be girlfriend, the goddess Danu, who he mistakenly thought would protect him. About this time, The Shadow stabbed Picto in the back for a second time by luring Danu away, which caused Picto to descend further into madness. Now both enraged and desperate to escape his fate, Decanus swore allegiance to the Profane Order of the Black Squirrel. As a devotee of He Who Walks Upon the Trees Picto worshipped Satan in the form of the black squirrels of Whetstone Park, which the Order believes are fragments of the soul of Satan himself. They claim these fragments will one day reunite as one really big black squirrel, signaling the end of days. It was in here that he picked up his signature corpse paint and black squirrel insignia. Picto belonged to the Order until his death. This is Picto’s headstone. It was purchased from Voluntad, a Colombian thrift shop (but BZ’s representatives only shop there ironically), and re-engraved for him. It kinda makes sense, given his hipster mustache and all. By the time BZ learned of Decanus’ death, the funeral services had already been performed. Picto was interred in Cementerio de las Ardillas Negras Satánicas, Bogotá’s most famous Satanic cemetery, under a vintage pre-mossed headstone that was re-engraved for him. Peace to Decanus Picto – he’s being smothered by angels’ asses now. It probably should have said that on the headstone, but. . . we’ll get it right next time. *You forgot ugly, lazy, and disrespectful.

The Shadow Escapes from Franklin County Jail!

2012-01-22T07:22:22Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Columbus – Since Christmas Eve The Shadow has been held at the Franklin County Correctional Facility in lieu of $80 bail for possession of a Schedule I narcotic, with intent to distribute. Though he was initially charged with selling forged artwork as well, those charges were dropped because the forgeries were so poor. However, due to a delayed hearing caused by difficulties establishing the chain of custody of the evidence in his case, there has been no sentence handed down. And due to no one liking the bitch-ass Shadow, no one has scraped together eighty dollars to get him out. So, there he sat. Until Friday. This still frame from security camera footage recorded during The Shadow’s daring escape from the Franklin County Correctional Facility, shows his more simian side. Maybe he’s a Gigantopithecus after all. On Friday afternoon, it seems that the disgusting, thieving Sasquatch, who – despite what he says – snaked our priceless Margaret James original, found a way out of the facility and fled the scene on foot. During the early afternoon, the manhunt was on, and known Shadow hangouts, such as the Triad Lounge (which should be familiar to BZ readers as the location of the release party for Decanus’ first record, and the release party for The Shadow’s now-ancient classic of world literature, Bright Clouds, Dark Shadows), and Victorian Village’s famous Third Avenue Bridge, were watched carefully, but to no avail. However, in the early evening of Saturday the 21st, as temperatures around Columbus were plummeting to a bitter 18ºF, The Shadow was spotted running through people’s backyards, jumping fences and heading vaguely Northwest – in the direction of Clintonville. Said Clintonville resident Gar Samuelson, “It looked just like one of those big squatches you see on that show Finding Bigfoot. Which is to say, I didn’t see anything.” However, Samuelson’s neighbor, Chris Poland, did see something. “Yeah, it looked pretty much the same as that gorilla suit guy from that old-timey video,” Poland said. “You know, the one that’s all grainy and shaky and shit? It looked like that, but real real fat. And it seemed sort of out of breath, like he needed to hit the treadmill. Or like an elliptical or something. Just to build up some endurance. Wherever he was going, I hope they had a defibrillator. Cause, you know. I’d be worried.” The Shadow was last seen cutting through the parking lot at Chateau Clintonville, and crossing High Street, heading directly West. If the police would like me to show them where The Shadow entered the woods, right behind the bus stop there, I can do that. Just email me at fatkid@bluezer0.net, and I’d be more than please to point you all in the right direction. In the meantime, I suggest that they check with the goddess Danu, whose open letter to The Shadow was probably his main inspiration for the jailbreak.

Decanus Picto’s Sophomore Album Release Date Announced!!!!!!

2012-01-15T07:28:31Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Dublin [Ohio, not, like, the good Dublin] – Decanus Picto had been sort of missing in a weird way for quite a little while until this afternoon. That is, no one had seen or heard from Picto since he conducted a necromantic séance at Cornhenge, but we have to admit that we didn’t really look for him that hard. As a matter of fact, the only person who even said he was going to look was The asshole Shadow, after he conducted his own séance in the basement of the chateau. However, as we all know, The Shadow never resolved that situation, and instead stole our priceless Margaret James original, and then went to jail. So, I guess what I’m saying is that nobody actually looked for him, and given that, it’s kind of difficult to say he was missing, because how could you tell if someone’s missing if nobody looks or even makes a phone call? Anyway, this afternoon Picto surfaced via email, claiming that for the next two hours he was granting interviews to the press regarding the release of his second album. I dusted off the ol’ bus pass and jetted up there. Or, really, we went pretty slowly, and then I had to get a transfer to get to Dublin, and that took forever because I had to wait like forty-five minutes for the bus west from High street, and that sucked. But whatever. The point is that I got there, and recorded the following interview. Picto, on the cover of Rockstar “magazine” kicking Satanic squirrel styles, and hocking his new record, Doomsday: An Electronic Soundtrack for the End Times. That’s an awesome title, right? FK: So, where did this album even come from? Who knew you were working on a new record? DP: That’s what I was doing up here in squirrel land, on the down low. I was in the lab, creating. FK: So, by the title, it looks like you’re still focused on the prophecy of Quetzalcoatl. Is that right? DP: I do not fear the feathered serpent. He Who Walks Upon the Trees will be with us soon. FK: I see. So, that one real big squirrel is coming? DP: He Who Walks Upon the Trees is coming, if that’s what you mean. The end times are upon us, and the earthly battle between god and Satan will come soon. FK: When will that be, exactly? DP: Soon. FK: Yeah, but like, when? DP: Soon enough. FK: But that’s not soon enough.* DP: Yes it is. FK: OK, this is going nowhere. Instead of pursuing this, why don’t you tell us about your new record. What’s it like? DP: Well, people are going to be really surprised. It’s really a departure for me. It’s nothing at all like the last record, because I decided that record wasn’t brutal enough. This is my heaviest, most brutal, fucking evil record yet. But at the same time, it’s really melodic, in a heavy way, you know? It’s got sing-a-long choruses that’ll stick in your head, but at the same time it’s ultra-Satanic, and extremely harsh. Picto’s new album cover. They could have gotten a picture or something. I mean, the guy’s name is PICTO, and for exactly the reason you think, so. . . whatever man. This whole thing is disorienting. FK: I see. What about production? DP: Well, you know, I hate all this Pro Tools-sounding shit, where you don’t really even know whether the guy is actually playing the riff or you’re just hearing a loop, and the drums all sound like synthetic loops, or programmed, so we went really old-school on this record. We used all analog tape to record, and there’s no synth or anything, its just me playing. And the old-schoolness really shines through. The sound is incredible. It’s like the tone of it, and just the ragged fierceness of it, reminds me of Superjoint Ritual. It’s like 100% authentic ferocity, you know? Except it’s also got this whole Scarborough Fair thing happening, you know? FK: No. DP: Well, it’s like imagine Glen Benton meets Art Garfunkel. That’s the way my vocals work, you know? Except it’s really mellow, and it has a lot of edge to it. You understand? FK: Nuh uh. DP: Well, you’re fucking dumb anyway, so it doesn’t matter what you understand. FK: OK. Well. . . OK. But, you did say there’d be vocals on this record, is that right? DP: Oh, yes, I finally wrote some lyrics. You know, these songs are really special, and I thought that this time around I wanted to make my message more explicit, to really get some things off my chest, and express myself, especially with reference to He Who Walks Upon the Trees, who, you know, he’s my homie. FK: OK, so that makes sense that you finally want to get some ideas out there. I guess, then, that because you’ve had so much time to think about the lyrics, the album is probably pretty coherent. Like, it works as an organic whole? DP: Oh, yeah, man, it’s almost a concept album. It’s like, the oneness that’ll come with The Great Squirrel, when the parts of He Who Walks Upon the Trees are re-assembled into the great soul of Satan – that oneness just sort of channeled into me, and this record is an expression of that. FK: So. . . you sing? What does your voice sound like? Or is it like a black metal thing, like you’re screeching, or what? DP: Well, the vocals are actually mixed really low, you know? Because we didn’t want them to overpower everything else. ‘Cause I have a really big voice, man. I mean, I know YOU know that, but I’m saying, to the readers out there, I have a really big, loud voice so I thought we’d mix the vocal track EXTREMELY low, you know? Have it really blend it with everything else that’s going on, be part of the organic whole. And it makes you really have to listen close, man. Otherwise you’ll miss the vocals completely. FK: Are you sure that’s the way you want to go? I mean, don’t you want people to hear them? DP: It’s art. It’s not just going to hand you the answers. The whole idea behind modern art isn’t just to look pretty or sound nice, it’s to make your brain work, to fill in gaps, make inferences – and the way the art is made is supposed to affect the inferences you make about meaning. So, yeah, definitely. This record is going to challenge listeners, get them thinking. About the Great Squirrel. FK: Well, it seems like it’ll be really cool. Like, very different from anything of yours I’ve heard before. DP: Definitely. Definitely. It’s like, the record as a whole, as an “album” [air quotes] is like if you crossed Deicide’s Legion, with The Smashing Pumpkins’ Adore. FK: So. . . OK. Whatever. DP: What’s the matter, man? FK: I’m confused. DP: Well, that’s ‘cause you’re fucking dumb. That’s why. Everything I said here makes perfect sense, and you’d get it if you had any idea what art is, or what an artist does. Fuck you. FK: OK. I have no argument against that. I guess I just have to accept it. Whatever. Is it out of line to ask this: Every comparison you gave me was to either a metal or a folk-ish record. Also, you said no synth, and no programming, and it’s all old school, and analog. Does that mean you’re playing a guitar, or with a [traditional] band, or what? DP: I play space music, jerk off. SPACE music. Don’t you get it with your tiny little brain? Space music is electronic music with lots of cool beeps and stuff. Duh. Fucking retard. These particular beeps are authentic, analog beeps from real instruments. Does that clear things up for you? FK: But what instrument beeps like that? What is it that you do? DP: You really are a fucktard. FK: OK, look. . . I gotta go home and. . . put some water in your mother’s dish. Picto’s new record, Doomsday: An Electronic Soundtrack for the End Times comes out January 17th, and you can get it from iTunes. I think. Or Amazon. Whatever. * Yeah, I stole that joke. So what? Fuck you. I’ve stolen other shit for this site, too, from better writers than Lewis fucking Morton. I stole Shakespeare stuff and stuck it on this site with a couple of little adaptations, Lord fucking Byron, and I stole a whole passage from Robert Louis Stevenson, too. What are you gonna do about it, douche bag? Fuck you.

An Open Letter from Danu, the Goddess of Big-Ass Rocks (So LISTEN UP!!!!)

2012-01-08T16:47:57Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Clintonville – After our Christmas day article word got out to the goddess Danu that The Shadow had carelessly referred to her as a bitch. Danu has drafted the following letter in response. The goddess Danu is super-pissed that The Shadow called her a bitch, so she’s going to crush some random people’s skulls. It’s like bubble wrap to her. An Open Letter to The Shadow, and other fucktards that I hate. Dear The Shadow Humperdink, esq, Fuck you. Also, I hate you. Also, it isn’t fair of you to call me a bitch. I didn’t do anything wrong. If anything, I should be calling you a bitch because of what you did to me. I know you know this already, but for the legions of fucktarded little human people out there, I’ll enumerate the things you’ve done to me. And also, I’ll call you “dick breath.” First, you got me hooked on deer. I used to like goats, and goats were easy. Goats stay very still and just die when you kill them. They barely even know what’s happening. And furthermore, they have goats everywhere from Bulgaria to Thailand. Easy, right? Well, now that you got me hooked on deer, I’m learning that deer are hard. Deer don’t stand there. They run away really fast, and I’ve told you a hundred times, I cannot run in these shoes! And frankly, I’m tired of telling you that – you should know it by now. Anyway, I tried to get out of here and go to Ireland to eat deer, and guess what? They got different fucking deer. Who even knew there were different kinds of deer? I thought deer were just fucking deer. But it turns out that my deer are whitetail deer, and they only have them in the Americas. So then I thought, well, whatever, I’m stuck in North America. But so what? North America’s the best America anyway. But then guess what? I went to Texas to kill deer cuz they claim they got real big ones, and it turns out you’re not allowed to kill deer with rocks in Texas. Apparently, Franklin county Ohio is the only place on the planet where it’s legal to kill deer with big-ass rocks. In Texas they want you to use a gun or a bow or a forklift, like a freaking human. So, I said “fine,” I gave up my favorite hunting method – because, really, what is the point of killing something if you can’t do it with big-ass rocks? – and I waited until forklift season, and killed a deer – a whitetail deer, for all the fucking biologists out there – with a rented forklift, by the way (and you had better hope I don’t catch some weird redneck infection from using a rented forklift that like fifty dirty rednecks used before me without cleaning it – you’re supposed to wipe your sweat off the machine, Texans), and then I ate it, and it doesn’t taste right. It barely tastes like whatever Ohio deer taste like. So, I wasted more effort looking into this nonsense, and it turns out that deer in Franklin county have a special metallic taste because of all the mercury in the water, and they have this real chemically taste from all the dioxin that’s in the ground, and Franklin county is the only place in the country where there’s enough dioxin and mercury to make them taste like this. So, by getting me hooked on deer, you have doomed me to Franklin county FOREVER!!!!!!!!!! Or until I start to like something else. But, in any case, I’m doomed to stay here FOR NOW!!!!!!!!!! Do you know how hard it is to stay in Franklin county for a little while? Very hard. So, fuck you. And then the second thing you did was get me accustomed to a certain lifestyle. I used to be just a normal Celtic goddess, being worshipped by fat internet chicks who know they’re way too fat so they try to make themselves seem interesting by pretending to be pagans and “worshipping” me. But fat internet chicks don’t really do anything except download sparkly unicorn/angel backgrounds for their content-free web pages, so it didn’t really mean much to me. I mostly just ignored them. But then you got me used to being catered to by a real person (or person-like thing) in the physical world, and now I’m having difficulty fading back into cyberspace/the ether. I’m used to people doing things for me now. It’s the lifestyle I’ve become accustomed to. But then you go play in the woods, or whatever the hell you were doing with the ghosts and the fat people and whatever, and you leave me here by myself with nobody to do what I tell them to do. If we were divorcing, I could petition the court to force you to pay me however much it took to hire someone to do whatever the hell I say, and maintain me in that lifestyle throughout perpetuity. But since you never married me, you halfwit, I can’t. I checked with a lawyer. So, I’m screwed. I have to do everything now. So, fuck you. And then, because I’m stuck here in the physical world, I gotta have a place to live. I have to maintain some kind of dwelling, and they want money for that. Can you believe these fucking assholes? They want you to give them money just so you can live in their shitty little drywall buildings. And where the fuck am I supposed to get money from? I fixed up my resumé and dressed super slutty, but still no one wanted to hire me for anything good, no matter how many interviews I went on. We’re in the middle of a recession. No one is hiring anyone to set stuff on pink fire, or to crush things with big rocks. Trust me – I glance at the classifieds every other weekend or so. They’re not looking for that. They want people with skills. So, then I go on a job interview, and the dork is like, “Can you use Microsoft Word?” And I’m like, “No, of course not. What do I look like to you?” “Can you use Excel?” And I’m like, “Yeah, I really sit there and type shit into little bitch-ass boxes. Fuck off.” So, just because of that, he doesn’t hire me! You know what kind of fucking job I had to get? I gotta work at Cinnabon selling Chillattas® to giggling high school girls. And that sucks. So, fuck you. So, in conclusion, fuck you, you whining bitch of a sasquatch. Oh, it’s too small in jail, and I’m real big. If you were a real sasquatch, you’d man up and quit complaining. If you were a real sasquatch, you’d break out of jail, and come take care of me in the manner to which I have become accustomed, as is your legal responsibility, or would be if you had married me like you should have. You have no right to call me a bitch. I am a lady, and I’ve been mistreated. First, you got me hooked on poisonous metal deer, then you quit serving me and/or forcing minions of followers of Danu to serve me, and then you caused me to have to work. And that is wrong. And why did you do all this to me? So you could play ghosthunter at that shitty apartment complex. So you could sell cheap copies of famous art on the street corner. And in that pretentious, douche-baggy part of town? And now, you’re actually serving your sentence in jail, like some kind of wussy human or something? If you had a molecule of testosterone, if you had one single testicle, you’d walk out of there and do what you’re supposed to do. Which is whatever I decide. So, I’m not a bitch. You’re the bitch, bitch. So, fuck you. Sin-fucking-cerely, Danu PS Love you, sweetie!

HAPPY DOOM YEAR!!!

2012-01-01T07:37:57Z

We're taking this week off. Please come back next Sunday for our first article of 2012 aka The Year Of Doom!

I'm Stuck in Franklin County Correctional Center, and Time Keeps Dragging On. . .

2011-12-25T06:27:44Z

The Fat Kid reporting. . . Columbus – After tolerating several weeks worth of sub-standard reporting, and no article at all last week, I have returned to BZ, even though my nerves are still shot. Mainly I was asked to return to investigate the disappearance of BZ’s priceless Margaret James original. Though I did not locate the centerpiece of BZ’s art collection, I did manage to locate The Shadow – in jail. The Shadow, pictured here in the visiting room at the Franklin County Correctional Center, at 370 S. Front Street, Columbus, OH 43215. Those of you who managed to slog through The Third Fictional Reporter’s article from 12/11/11 will recall that The Shadow fucking hates jail (as if the other inmates love it there or something – brilliant observation Third, you incompetent douche) and has been known to go to great lengths to avoid imprisonment. Not so far as to actually stop committing crimes, but, you know, just being really careful about how he commits them. But this time it didn’t matter. The Shadow Humperdink esq. was arrested at 164 W. 17th Avenue where he was caught selling: bootleg DVDs of The Incredible Hulk, nickel bags of weed, replica Coach handbags, and forgeries of the works of Picasso, Jan Vermeer, Billy Chenowith, Fiona Kleinschmidt, William Christenberry, Sam Haskins, Claire Fisher, Bois Larent, Antonio Canova, and Margaret James. Apparently The Shadow’s super-sasquatch-strength came in handy as he was carting around full-size copies of Antonio Canova’s Psyché ranimée par le baiser de l'Amour. I’d have to, you know, hit the weights a little before I could lift one of these up, but I’d manage. I wonder where he got the marble. . . FYI, that dangerous and pretentious-as-fuck part of town has long been known as a den of thieves, liars, charlatans, fakers, douche bags, politically correct pussies, and empty-headed know-nothings, and it should be avoided at all costs. Only hardened eight-foot criminals with super strength would be caught dead there – as The Shadow was. When I visited The Shadow, I recorded the following interview. TS: Sup, fuck face? Finally get the fuck out of bed and do some work? Be careful that the scary ghosts don’t scare your bitch ass again. A second discussion with them could set you back a decade. Fucking pussy. FK: Fuck off, dick breath. I know your ass is sore, and you probably are just cranky because you don’t want to sit on that hard metal seat right now, but I have some questions I want to ask you. Like, for instance, what the fuck did you do with our priceless Margaret James original? TS: Nothing. I mean, I studied it closely and made copies of it, which I then sold for $7,000 each, but that was it. Why? FK: Because it’s missing, dick breath, and you were the only known felon who had access to it. Plus, you just admitted to getting really close to our MJ, so. . . give it the fuck back. TS: I don’t fucking have it, retard. I just told you that. If you weren’t too stupid to understand simple English sentences I’d tell you again. FK: Look, just tell me where the fuck it is, and I’ll let you get back to cleaning out your husband’s cell – because I know he’ll bust that bitch ass of yours if you don’t have all your chores done by lunchtime. [The Shadow does not respond.] Seriously? You’re not going to admit to having it? TS: I DON’T have it, jerk off. That’s why I SAID I don’t have it. If you run into anyone smart enough to understand that, ask them to translate it into fucktard for you. FK: OK. For the moment, let’s say I believe you. I guess that since you’ve been in here for however long, you don’t have any idea who DOES have it. TS: Whoa, fat boy, that’s a pretty sophisticated observation for a fucktard. Is someone feeding you these lines? FK: What the fuck is your problem today, anyway? Somebody get shanked at the prison rape support group? TS: What’s my problem? I’m in jail, fucktard. Which pretty much translates to that I’m really unhappy. FK: Why do you act like it’s more difficult for you in there than it is for everyone else? Jokes aside, you’re eight feet tall. Nobody can really fuck with you in there, can they? TS: That’s the problem – that I’m eight feet tall. You know how big a jail cell is? 8 by fucking 12 – and you gotta be in there with a cellmate. I can barely fucking move. Look, if you bail me out, I’ll help you find the priceless Margaret James original. FK: Sorry, dude. I have zero dollars and seven cents. TS: Seven cents, Vern? FK: I haven’t found my pennies, yet. Anyway, I guess that’d piss me the fuck off, too. Why don’t you get Danu to bail you out, or break you out, or what the fuck ever a goddess would do? TS: She’s not even talking to me right now. She said I spent too much time dealing with the ghosts of Chateau 4030 and not enough time killing shit with big-ass rocks, so I could go fuck myself. I call her every fucking day, and every day she tells me to fuck off. Bitch. FK: Well, yeah, that does kind of suck. TS: Anyway, what the fuck is YOUR problem today? You’re a fuck of a lot more aggressive than you normally are when I fuck with you. FK: I don’t know. I’m all fucking agitated all the time. My shrink thinks I have PTSD. TS: From seeing ghosts. You have PTSD from seeing ghosts? FK: Yeah. TS: . . . Pussy. FK: FUCK you. TS: Seriously, you’re a pussy. You know what you get PTSD from? Going to Viet Nam, or Afghanistan. Not from seeing some ghosts. I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you were a little girl. FK: Fuck off. TS: But you know what? This is good. Keep it up. It’s an improvement over your normal excuse for a personality. At this point the guard informed us that visiting hours were over, and I took my bus pass back to the bus stop, where I stood for forty-seven minutes in the freezing fucking cold, waiting for the bus and reliving my vision of hell. Worst of all, we are no closer to solving the mystery of the priceless Margaret James original. The only question is: if The Shadow didn’t take it, who did?

The Curse of the Biaviian Anti-Gravity Device?

2011-12-11T16:59:04Z

The Third Fictional Reporter reporting. . . Clintonville – Over the past several weeks, many strange things have happened in Clintonville’s famous Chateau 4030. First there was the incapacitating visitation of the BAGD in The Fat Kid’s apartment, and then there was The Shadow’s séance with the device, followed by The Shadow’s utterly predictable felony theft of the BZ gallery’s priceless Margaret James original. But these are really mundane things compared to what the BAGD said it was going to do to Decanus, The Fat Kid and The Shadow – drive them mad, and take them to hell. However, in other ways it looks like the BAGD’s curse may be coming to pass. The BAGD’s ghost as it appeared in Dublin, Ohio in mid-October 2011. The camera really does add ten pounds. Obviously, The Fat Kid’s delicate mental state was brought on by direct contact with the device’s spirit, and miscellaneous other spirits that haunt the chateau, but what about the other BZ associates? Are they immune to the curse? The Shadow came face to face with the BAGD twice on the night he stole that ghost hunter routine off the TV and wandered around with a camera, and he’s perfectly fine, so he must be immune, right? Not necessarily. When The Shadow opened this investigation into the haunting of Chateau Clintonville, he forgot to answer one of the questions he started with. If it killed itself on the 3rd Avenue Bridge, how did the BAGD’s ghost get to Clintonville? Around the world, many people who absolutely despise us die every day, but there are only a half dozen (to the best of our knowledge) malevolent spirits haunting the chateau. If just anyone who died could waltz into the chateau and break our balls, we would never get another night’s sleep. There must have been some way or reason that the device came. And there are other questions. For instance, the BAGD has been dead for a year and four months, so why is it here now? Where had it been before now? And why did it show up here? I have an idea. The BAGD was pretty much old news until Decanus Picto called its spirit back from the grave in order to answer some dumb-ass questions about squirrels. It was only after Picto’s séance that the BAGD really returned. As any spiritual medium will tell you, the problem with amateur spiritualism (up to and including the use of Ouija boards), is that once you open the door into this world, and invite a spirit in, it’s in, and it doesn’t leave unless you know how to send it back. Picto being the ultimate amateur in everything – including squirrel worship – gave the BAGD a gateway to this world, brought it back from hell . And once it got here, it ran amuck. Again, its effect on The Fat Kid is obvious, but it is also causing other issues. For instance, did anyone notice that when it spoke with The Shadow it said that it was here to drive The Fat Kid, Decanus, and The Shadow insane, even though two of the three aren’t here, and haven’t been at least since Picto conducted that séance in Dublin? And as far as we know no one has seen or heard from Decanus at all since the séance. Has he already been driven insane? And let’s consider The Shadow. Many people here at the BZ offices just assumed he stole our precious Margaret James original, but why would he do that? Attentive readers will recall that this past spring, the only way we were able to get information from The Shadow regarding the hijacking of our site was by threatening to send him to prison – because as everyone knows, The Shadow has had very bad experiences with prison, and hates the idea of going back. Why, then, would he steal from BZ, knowing full well that he was the only person – or whatever he is – who was an inveterate thief with private access to BZ’s collection, and that based on that we could send him to jail? He wouldn’t. What happened to the Margaret James, I don’t know. Maybe the spirit hid it, and The Shadow fled, fearing he’d get caught. Or maybe it succeeded in making him crazy, and persuaded him to steal it. Maybe it possessed him, and stole the picture in his form. We don’t know. But any way you look at it, the curse of the BAGD seems to be coming to pass not through direct haunting experiences like The Fat Kid had, but in other ways.