Predator Press

Shanghaied

2008-08-20T23:59:00.011-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

“So let me get this straight,” says Nurse Garrison, looking down her glasses. “Due to mortgaging the house and a streak of tawdry material, your wife assaulted you?”

“If you replace the word ‘assaulted’ with the words ‘collided a cast-iron skillet with’, you would be 100% correct.”

“She must’ve been pretty mad.”

“I’ll say,” I says through the gauze. “She made bacon and eggs in it first.”

No Mammograms Were Conducted During the Making of this Post

2008-08-19T23:59:00.013-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Not to be outdone by the rash of recent mammogram popularity across the Humor-Blogs spectrum, I was faced with either of two options: get implants myself, or simply get as close to the action as possible in order to speak knowingly on the subject.

Since the former would have required me to buy all new t-shirts, I opted for the latter; hence, I mortgaged the house and bought the Mamm-O-Van.

I can't wait to surprise Terri with this –perhaps my most noble and holistic contribution in Public Service ever. ‘Gal on the Go’ between meetings? Don't sweat it. Can’t drive all the way to the doctor’s office? I've got you covered. HMO? No problem!

-These poor women deserve fair and equitable medical services too.

Sleeping Dogs

2008-08-18T23:59:00.020-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Well, Steven Spielberg has officially rejected my screenplay "Schindler's Full Black Down Metal Hawk Jacket": it came back in the mail today with a rejection letter smelling suspiciously like urine.

It would appear I have only one hope left for getting a movie made, and I’m banking all Terri's money on my secret weapon: The Scalding.

It’s an epic two page script about a buxom hot chick relentlessly tormented and attacked by a radioactive space toaster.

You should see the poster!

***

On the first day of shooting, the cast and crew effusively greeted me as I arrived on the set.

“Pleased to meet you sir,” says a homeless-looking guy. “I am the Producer of The Scalding, and I’m sparing no effort or expense to make this the greatest epic thriller since The Exorcist V." A thick bourbon smell complimented his whispers. "We are now filming the scene when Large-Breasted Scantily-Clad Chick Number One’s boyfriend arrives after his CIA mission."

"Oooh, goodie!" I says. "The part where the waffle iron spawns a second head?"

"Yes."

“Alright, everybody,” demands the apparent director. “Quiet on the set. Large-Breasted Scantily-Clad Chick Number One, this is your Big Scene. I want to see some fear. And ... Action!”

Large-Breasted Scantily-Clad Chick Number One cringes against the large picture window in the kitchen as special effects guys pull a rather un-menacing looking waffle iron crablike across the countertop with fishing line.

LBSCC#1 screams, mascara-stained tears raining down over her magnificent bosoms. She kicks at the waffle iron vainly with her stiletto heels. “You’re lucky my boyfriend isn’t here,” she cries.

“Alright, mark!” says the director. “Cue airplane now!”

A tiny plastic model airplane –also on fishing line— starts randomly spinning in a downward trajectory by the picture window.

"Hey!" I whisper to the producer. "That's supposed to be a stealth bomber!"

"Well to be fair sir," the producer says quietly. "How many kitchens have picture windows overlooking military airport runways?"

“There he is!”, exclaims LBSCC#1, pointing at the hero on a motorcycle. “He’ll stop you, you evil radioactive space waffle iron!” As she crosses off-screen, the click click click of her heels diminish audibly from the plastic microphone.

"Well," I concede. "She does have large breasts and is scantily clad."

Suddenly the airplane’s fishing line got tangled with the toaster's electrical cord. And after a few frenetic moments, the toaster flew up in the air and the two unlikely objects collide solidly. Both burst into flames, and -fishing line burned away- they fall to the ground with a hideous clang off camera.

“Cut!” yells the director. He stands. “That was brilliant! I'm already envisioning the 'Revenge of the Toaster' sequel!”

“What exactly is the budget for this production?” I ask.

“About eight bucks.” Says the producer. “You got a quarter? We need more fishing line.”

“Can’t any of you guys work with a budget?” I complain. “With six bucks, I’m funding the Predator Press Space Program, the Topless Holistic Online Medicine and Cancer Research Institute, and the LOBO Foundation for Sickly, Dying, Hungry-Yet-Hard-Working Orphans with Gambling Problems!”

"I'll pay you that $50 Friday, sir," he says. "But please don't put me back in the Space Program!"

"It's not my fault you bet on the Lakers with only a six point spread."

Dear Mom

2008-08-17T23:59:00.016-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Having officially decided to move West, I think maybe I overshot.

We ended up in China just in time for the “Jump to Your Feet, Get on your Vespa and Drive to a Dennys and Order Something Not Weird From the Bitchy Waitress” Event.

After much ado we were soon chowing down on Sh** on a Shingle loaded with fried pig parts, a side of chicken embryos and a brown-colored juice made from beans.

The much-lauded decathlon was cool to watch, but seeing all the losers shot in the head was a bit distressing. Still, a bike and a gun are always handy in these circumstances; I was happy to have them.

Anyways, I did well in the Olympic Kites Event as you always predicted, and will be bringing home some gold we can melt down for rent.

Love Always,

LOBO

The International Star Registry

2008-08-16T23:59:00.001-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Let me get this straight.

For a few measly bucks, you can name your own star?

Does this mean that in 2090 we are going to be fiercely embroiled in a galactic war against creatures from 'Steve Loves Amanda XXXOOOXXX'?

Look you waffling space pansies, pick a team for god's sake: I won't even play Tic Tac Toe unless we are both "X"s or "O"s simultaneously and I get to go first.

And how would you write catchy graffiti on the bombs like, "Take that, creatures from Steve Loves Amanda XXXOOOXXX"? You know how military spending goes: every single one of those "X"s and "O"s will be like ten billion dollars!

By 2090, an aging, balding-yet-mulletized Steve will have a flying El Camino on spaceblocks with the fusion engine hanging from a space tree in his spacetrailer's back yard. And while slaving over his spacemeth spacelab in a spacewife-beater -skillfully intercepting space disability checks and artfully avoiding spacechild support payments- he will be basking in the glorious privacy of Amanda's Temporary Restraining SpaceOrder.

Let's leave the naming space stuff to guys like Stephen Hawking. One look at the guy, and you know he's a big Dungeon and Dragons head: we'll have cool places to have wars with like The Great Ogre Vortex and The Giant Leech galaxies.

Thanks for showing up at LIVE LOBO SATURDAY Citizen Dorph!

Movers to Shakers

2008-08-14T23:59:00.005-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Ugh.

I’m burned out on the “Midwest”.

Seriously.

One has only to Google “Midwest” to realize nobody knows where this place really even is. Middle of what? West of what?

-Imagine my chagrin to discover that in my adulthood I would grow to agree with the gnarly-toed hippopotamus woman that taught Geography in elementary school, and demand a little more commitment and resolution when it comes to my national regions!

California -where my lovely wife is from- continues to seize upon my imagination. I mean why should I deny myself the incalculable wealth and fame of such glamorous celebrities as Leonardo DiCaprio, Paris Hilton and Diesel?

And as the first blogger to have debunked tornados, why not continue on to debunk earthquakes as well?

… The scientific import alone warrants this debate.

Predator Press Welcomes CanuckleHead to HBFFL

2008-08-13T18:28:00.010-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Olympics?

Pffft!

Why everyone is watching that old outmoded crap is totally beyond me. I mean what have those ancient Greek people ever done for us? And aren’t they all dead?

Soon millions and millions more countries around the world -and across it too- will be watching the infinitely more historic and important Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League.

Predator Press heartily welcomes CanuckleHead to the games.

(And to put some clothes on.)

Contact Angry Seafood to join the
Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League!

Clay Aiken: An American Athletic Legend

2008-08-12T23:59:00.001-05:00

Predator Press

LOBO: It's an honor to meet you sir!

Clay: Well thanks! It's nice to be here.

LOBO: You're a lot smaller than I expected.

Clay: What?

LOBO: I guess it's true the camera puts on like 100 pounds. What're you, a buck-twenty soaking wet?

Clay: What the are you talking about?

LOBO: You must have been fast as hell. If them other football players woulda caught you, they'da squished you.

Clay: What football players?

LOBO: That's the spirit. A scrawny guy like you out there on the field's probably gotta have a scrappy attitude. 'Specially having been inducted into the Pro-Football Hall of Fame.

Clay: Don't call me scrawny.

LOBO: I wanted to draft you for my Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football team. Did you retire from the Dallas Cowboys and stop working out completely? Oh wow. Was it 'roids? Is this like the husk of what's left over of an athlete after you burned out on anabolics and Gatorade 'an stuff?

Clay: No, it wasn't 'roids'. I think you have me confused with Troy Aikman.

LOBO: Who?

Clay: Troy Aikman. The football player. The Cowboys' first-round draft pick in 1989. Led the team to three Super Bowl wins. Winningest starting quarterback of any decade with 90 of 94 career wins occurring in 1990s. Held or tied 47 Dallas passing records, and posted 13 regular season and four playoff 300-yard passing games. Named to six Pro Bowls, All-Pro 1993, All-NFC Second Team 1994, 1995. Born November 21, 1966, in West Covina, California.

LOBO: That makes sense. I was wondering why when Troy got into that fight with that chick on the airplane a few years ago, he didn't just kick her ass right through the fuselage.

Clay: That was me that got into the fight.

LOBO: So who won?

Clay: It wasn't that kind of fight.

LOBO: What kind of fight was it?

Clay: It was an argument.

LOBO: Oh, c'mon. It was on the news and everything!

Clay: I don't really want to discuss it.

LOBO: Why? Did you get you're your ass kicked or something?

Clay: I said I don't want to talk about it.

LOBO: Well what do you want to talk about?

Clay: You're conducting the interview.

LOBO: Well, uh, have you ever done anything interesting?

Clay: I was on American Idol. I did very well. It was in all the papers.

LOBO: Did you ever meet Sanjaya?

Clay: Well, yeah.

LOBO: That Sanjaya kicks ass. I'll bet after winning that year, they hadda bring him back next season just to try and do the impossible and have him defeated. Impossible!

Clay: Actually I think Sanjaya got voted off that year.

LOBO: Really?

Clay: Yeah.

LOBO: Do you know him? I would really like to interview him.

Clay: I really don't think I would put him through this.

LOBO: Say are you hungry?

Clay: Well maybe a little.

LOBO: We're ordering sandwiches from the deli. Want one?

Clay: Do you have a menu?

LOBO: Menu? You don't want a menu. Most of their food is terrible. But they've got fantastic Reuben. Man, I highly recommend eating a big, fat Reuben sandwich from this place.

Clay: Are you screwing with me? We can do this thing in the parking lot if you want.

LOBO: The parking lot? We can't do an interview from the parking lot. And we're ordering from the deli. They won't deliver our food there.

Clay: I know women that could kick your ass.

LOBO: I'll bet! Man, you must've scored a sh**-ton of chicks after that American Idol thing.

Clay: What? Was that some kind of sarcastic crack? I just became a dad. I'm not gay.

LOBO: I'll say. You should try and get more sleep. You're about the crankiest person I've ever interviewed.

Contact Angry Seafood to join the
Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League!

Restraining Disorder

2008-08-11T10:32:00.022-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Okay. I’ve created my Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football team and discovered that my first match-up is going to be with none other than Renal Failure.

If Renal’s coaching is half as good as his razor-witted blog, this will take all of my football knowledge, cunning and skill.

So I head over to the draft roster. This turns out to be a disappointingly long list of guys nobody’s heard of. Peyton Manning? Tom Brady? Eeek! What if I get stuck with Cindy or Marsha?

I’m no sexist: if Cindy or Marsha Brady want to play on my team, that's fine … but I can only imagine what the mandatory methamphetamines and steroids would do to them over the long haul.

At the very least, they would have to sign a waiver.

Contact Angry Seafood to join the
Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League!

The Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League!

2008-08-10T22:21:00.024-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Once again Chris Cameron has struck a brilliant chord in the worldwide blogging concerto, rising above the dissonance with a bittersweet and blood-soaked symphony of sweet bone-crushing harmony: the Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League.

I’ve never done a fantasy football league before, but I’m totally jazzed at the concept: I might not know jack about football, but me 'an fantasy go waaaaaay back.

And man is Terri pissed.

… That lawn may never get mowed again.

Contact Angry Seafood to join the
Humor-Blogs Fantasy Football League!

How to Blog

2008-08-09T09:15:00.038-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

People are always asking me, ”LOBO, I too want to start a blog that’s a raging commercial success read by millions and millions of people everyday –just like Predator Press. How do I do it?”

Well I’m glad you asked me that.

# 1: Steal Ideas. There’s no shame in it out here. In fact, the idea for this post was originally Chris Cameron’s –the distinguished and erudite author of Angry Seafood.

I just happen to type faster.

# 2: Keep it Real. Forget whatever your English teacher told you. Nobody gives two craps about your spelling, punctuation and grammer. What they really want to know about is the humdrum mundane stuff that makes up the minutia of your life. Get a cat and post pictures with canned captions like “Saltwater fish? But I’m cutting back on my sodium!”

I also happen to be a big fan of Twitter. I’ve mastered it. In the “What I am doing now” box, I put “Typing” about 6,005,004 times until I learned that I could cut and paste stuff with hotkeys. Now I can put “Cutting and Pasting ‘Typing’ With Hotkeys” 10 times faster than I ever could type “Typing”.

# 4: Use the Technology. Speaking of Twitter, get lots and lots of poppup windows and modules. I can't say enough about modules. The more modules you have, the greater likelihood at least one of them will be totally crashed and produce a ‘broken link’. Broken links are like a Google aphrodisiac. Also, broken links add to the lag time of loading your page thusly keeping your readers stuck there longer.

# 9: Be Flashy, Get Noticed. Use impossibly attractive photography and indirectly imply that it’s you. Then doctor them up with cool glittery effects circa MySpace.

Nothing impresses readers like glittery pics. And cats like it.

# 4: Make Sure Your Site Blasts Music Upon Arrival. Even if people like the song, there’s a pretty decent chance they aren’t currently listening to it. And if they are listening to it, you might have created a nifty echo effect that will endear your reader forever.

Some people are already listening to music while they are browsing. Screw them: your musical tastes are clearly superior and it’s high time they knew it! I mean if their music was so great, they would be listening to it instead of surfing blogs, right?

Also helpful is to make the ‘pause’ button on your music difficult to find. Nothing triggers a frantic search on your blog like a cubicle in a sea of cubicles suddenly blaring your 80’s crap. They might notice something they otherwise would have missed!

# 10: Know Thine Enemy. Below is a collection of links to blogging heavyweights who have offered up some of their "helpful" tips and techniques. These blogs should be avoided at all costs: They are only pretending to provide useful information in hopes that you will remain in dismal obscurity. You should stay here at Predator Press where we only have your best interests and success at heart.

Brent Diggs: The Secret to Writing Humor

Blog Like SinisterDan! Or Else!

Diesel: How to Write a Funny Rambling Style Post

Diesel: Me and My Big Head

Diesel: Close to Ten Tips on How to Write a Funny Blog Post
(yeesh. Alright Mister #1 Diesel. We get it already!)

And there you go: LOBO's 10 tips for successful blogging.

I may add some more links here and there, but you get the picture.

Now go!

Blog!

(Thank you Rickey for appearing on LIVE LOBO SATURDAY!!)

Russia Invades Georgia!

2008-08-08T16:25:00.023-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

After being without electricity for nine hours, imagine my surprise to find out Russia has boldly moved into Georgia with tanks and militia!

While I will most certainly miss the World's Largest Peanut Monument and the Replica of the Statue of Liberty, you have to tip your hat to the tactical brilliance of the Ruskies here: they have put themselves in a good position to strike at Alabama and South Carolina, and effectively cutoff Florida and Key West altogether.

I would like to be the first to express a whole-hearted welcome to our Soviet conquerors, and how much I always liked those big fuzzy hats. And who is really going to miss Georgia anyway? I mean they put a peach on their commemorative quarter for god’s sake! There can’t be much going on down there.

As Chancellor of LOBOnia -a tiny territory consisting of a mobile 10' circle around myself- I assure you the diplomatic relationship with the capitalist pig-dogs is cordial but very loosely maintained. And Predator Press -in keeping with our long-standing tradition of being one of the most progressive independent publications on the internet- is all about embracing change whenever completely necessary.

In honor of our glorious and valiant new comrades, tomorrow at noon Predator Press will be conducting the first “LIVE LOBO” completely in Russian.

The topic shall be, “So How Cool is that Kremlin?”

The Power of Cripes Compels You

2008-08-07T13:32:00.031-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

"Sir," says Natalie, scowling into her computer screen. "This is the sixteenth time you've called."

"I'm hoping for an update."

"Nothing has changed in the last eight minutes."

"A lot can happen in eight minutes. I can make eight completely different batches of rice in eight minutes."

"I understand that sir-"

"Miss, I don't think you do understand. I have no electricity, and millions and millions of readers are waiting anxiously for me to post today. Do you want to be responsible for what could happen if I don't?"

Natalie leans back in her chair exasperated. "Sir, there were three confirmed tornado touchdowns in your area."

[audible sigh] "Of the thousands of electric company customer service representatives, how do I happen to get the one that isn't a Predator Press reader? I debunked tornados weeks ago!"

"Sir-"

"Maybe next you can tell me the story of how Bigfoot and the Tooth Fairy are to blame!"

"We've got 200,000 other people out of power as well," she says twirling the phone cord in her fingers absently. "And you are accounting for half our phone traffic."

"Well this is important. In my absence, who will protect my readers from internet marketers, Forex associates, alien invaders, SEO optimization, shark attacks, Olestra, scams from Nauru, mad cow disease, zombie uprisings and tofu? Who?"

"Brent Diggs maybe?"

"Hiatus."

"Really?"

"Yes."

"Is it because his power got shut off? I can switch the grid and have him back up in five minutes."

"I knew it! How come you can't do that for me?"

"Sir, your problems are far more serious."

"It's sweltering hot in here, and my refrigerator doesn't work," I add. "And what the hell am I supposed to do with all this rice?"

She plucks at the keyboard. "Our technicians are working around the clock to restore your power. The current esimated time of repair is ..."

"Yes?"

"Huh," says Natalie, leaning into her screen. "That's strange. I'm showing your power was only out for twenty minutes."

"Twenty minutes? It's been nine hours."

"Did you flip your breaker switch?"

"Yes. I tried that right when it went out."

"Did you flip it back?"

"Of course I did."

Over the phone there's an audible click, followed by the sounds of a blaring stereo, three televisions on different stations, an air conditioner, two blenders and a microwave.

"Is there anything else I can do for you today sir?"

"Do you know how iPods work?"

Rental Hygiene

2008-08-04T12:36:00.020-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

There’s been a lot of controversy surrounding the use of cellphones while driving recently.

Now I get that, but I’m also very laid-back about it personally. If you can multi-task while driving, that’s great. I suppose I trust you. Ethan, for instance, uses an electric shaver on his way to work.

I, for one, “self-police” in this regard: I can barely drive when that’s all I’m doing; if the phone rings while I’m driving, I’ll let it go to voicemail and return the call later.

But this morning in traffic, I saw a woman flossing.

To me, handling any two-handed activity while simultaneously driving with your elbows is impressive.

But flossing?

How can you see with big chunks of food obscuring your windshield?

Predator Press Reviews The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor

2008-08-03T15:35:00.012-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

From the moment lights dim, suddenly the action begins.

First Jet Li does some stuff, and then Brendan Fraser does some stuff.

But the stuff that Brendan Fraser does really pisses off Jet Li, and then they start karate-chopping each other.

Predator Press gives The Mummy: Tomb of the Dragon Emperor three out of ten thumbs up: between the explosions, swords clanging, audience gasping and the thunderous soundtrack, I don't think I got eight consecutive minutes of sleep during that whole two hours.

How to Break Up With Gods

2008-08-03T12:02:00.007-05:00

Predator Press

Dear Medusa,

I can't do this anymore.

It's not really about the obsession with sculpture, the bloody dandruff, or the thick scales stuck in the soap bar; I just really think we should start hissing and spitting at other people.

I will always remember the good times -like that time we tickled Sisyphus until he dropped his rock and he hadda start History all over- but we've grown in different directions, and I want my half of the direction our music collection had taken.

And my Dean Koontz paperbacks.

We're just too different. I think we should just be friends. And I'm not good enough for you . . . you need to find someone who will treat you like you deserve being treated for.

It's not you; it's me.

Don't come by unexpectedly; I'm now married, and my wife runs a business breeding blindfolded mongooses.

Your Friend Always,

LOBO

Talk This Way

2008-08-02T18:13:00.024-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Today at noon was the first semi-operational “LIVE LOBO”.

I’m considering it a partial success because at one point we had 19 people here. I’m also considering it a catastrophic failure as only six of us seemed able to participate.

A few complained that all they got was a grayed-out box. I’m still not certain why that was … but I suspect it had to do with what browser you use. If anyone knows for sure, please enlighten me as I would like to do this at noon(ish) every Saturday (it beats the crap out of lawn care).

Operating models of the "Shoutmix" can be viewed at It's a Funny Thing; if you can see it there, you should be able to see it here.

Even though the Shoutmix interface itself is so totally simple even Don Lewis could figure it out, just in case there’s any confusion over the controls I put together this image:

(You can click on it to enlarge)

Also, despite my rampant narcissism, I’m not sure “LIVE LOBO” is the best name for it. I’ll try and come up with something else this week.

Ethan, Terri and I had a ball meeting some of you!

:)~

(Thanks Don and Sue for appearing on LIVE LOBO SATURDAY!!)

Tomorrow I Will Briefly Stop Killing People

2008-08-01T12:00:00.008-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

The only thing better than lazily basking in Saturdayness -the most hallowed of all holidays- is lazily basking in Saturdayness while wiping out the entire human race.

Pandemic II (the most recent in an increasingly long series of events that are preventing me from mowing the lawn) is a great little Flash game. In it you play The Disease, and continuously evolve and mutate while staying one step ahead of humankind’s efforts to thwart your swelling and deadly ranks. After a 10-minute tutorial, you too will be multiplying your virulent and lethal pestilence worldwide!

But for a few hours this Saturday, I’m going to briefly set aside my desire to have you all killed and try another round of “Live LOBO”.

Maybe noonish.

Brett Favre Offered $20M Not to Play Football

2008-07-31T13:55:00.010-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

In an effort to keep Brett Favre from playing for an opposing team, the Green Bay Packers have offered him $20,000,000 to “stay retired”.

Packers President and Chief Executive Officer Mark Murphy has failed to return my calls on how much he will pay me not to play, but I have offered to not do it for half that amount.

Mars Rovers Found at Hawking Summer Home

2008-07-30T21:44:00.018-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

A search for drugs and pornography at Stephen Hawking's summer home in Casa de Rio turned up more than was bargained for: both $350M Mars Rovers -supposedly on Mars since 2004- have actually been sending photos from the beach, and fetching drinks for scantily-clad supermodels.

"Oh come on people!" says noted physicist Hawking as he is handcuffed and escorted away. "Microbes? On Mars? Please. I coulda sent you guys pictures of turkeys an you would've bought it."

Space: The Final Dumpster

2008-07-30T21:41:00.025-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

As I see it, the biggest problem in the United States -besides Shia LaBeouf's unlawful incarceration- is all the money we are paying those so-called "engineers" at NASA for space exploration.

I mean come on already! This is 2008. We're supposed to have this:

-but instead we have this?

I'll bet those NASA rubes are pulling down like $9 or $10 an hour. And rather than developing cool-looking planet-smashing war machines and evil alien empires to have wars with, we're in a garage hammering the dings out of a two-toned spaceship so dumpy looking the mere site of it would only encourage a deadly hoard of would-be space overlords!

I wouldn't scrounge that thing for parts. I mean it doesn't even have a lousy Death Ray. Not one! Shouldn't we at least get Congress to pass a Bill to pay for gluing some fake ones on? Heck, Pfizer would do it for free if you stuck on some Viagra stickers!

And for that matter, how many hundreds of our tax dollars are being spent every year on this stuff without finding any would-be space overlords? Heck at least wash the damn thing ... the would-be space overlords are probably laughin at us right now!

I hate those guys, all smug and hiding out there behind a phony shroud of tranquility while obviously plotting the demise of the Human Race in secrecy. Those guys should get their asses kicked! We need to find them, exterminate their military with extreme prejudice, and then occupy all of their home worlds while making the survivors do forced labor before the inevitable sneak attack and subsequent invasion.

The way I see it, the only way to bring them Freedom is by ruling the primitive war-like inhabitants of the galaxy under Enlightened, iron-fisted Human Benevolence; not taking the initiative here will most assuredly invite cosmic despotic tyranny.

I, for one, won’t stand for that.

Slightly Off the Mark

2008-07-29T18:15:00.010-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Jazzed by having received my copy of The Amadeus Net by Mark A. Rayner in the mail today, I started to think, “You know, why should I prevent my own radiant brainiosity from being studied and enjoyed by generations upon generations in the annals of future history?”

I've been trying to root out my own book deal, but that's a difficult thing to accomplish when I haven't actually written the book yet.

Or the draft.

Or the outline.

Or have a clear idea of what it will be about.

... But I do like the title.

7

2008-07-28T18:40:00.020-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

My Social Security number is “7”.

And I swear upon various gods that’s a fact.

Before you ask, no, I do not know who 1-6 are; they are obviously shrouded in some really kickass secret way-cool lucrative conspiracy that they are not telling me about.

I hate those jerks.

ANTNM

2008-07-27T10:36:00.012-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

You would be hard-pressed to find a single American who hasn't at least heard of America's Next Top Model: a glamorous leggy reality show hosted by Tyra Banks.

But few remember the vast number of prototypes attempted previous to it's highly successful format.

Before ANTM, we didn't know that America wanted to watch pretentious and callow stressed-out 80-pound chicks clawing each other's eyes out; all we really knew was that as long as we kept putting crap on television, America would watch with tightly-gripped interest.

Forever lost in the vast archives of failed television -somewhere next to the reels of XFL Football and the Gieco Cavemen show- all the episodes of America's Next Top Not Model [ANTNM] gather the dusty neglect of failed hopes and dreams.

Perhaps only I still remember the most exciting and fantastic week of my life.

But that's okay.

I still remember.

***

From the moment the Greyhound bus dropped me off in front of Château le Scone, it was a first-class act all the way. I had never been to Biloxi, the high-powered world center and apex of international beauty before; it actually teemed with energy and life.

Once adequately armed against said teeming energy and life with our complimentary guitar-shaped flyswatters and mosquito nets, we were introduced to the other contestants by the pool. My heart sank as I saw the mammoth caliber of my competition: George "The Animal" Steel was getting his back waxed, and Gilbert Gottfried his eyebrows. Paul Reubens was snoring loudly with cucumbers over his eyes, and Chris Farley snapped his Speedo at anyone who failed to resist his obvious predanatural gifts.

Without severe discipline and hard work, I didn't have a prayer.

***

The only "original" member of the cast that survived to the show's current bastardized permutation America's Next Top Model is Jay Alexander. I remember him fondly; once he essentially stopped eating to control the nausea, he himself gave me the regimented routines that would prove to be my only chance for survival. Tips like not shaving or bathing and consuming nothing but Blue Beaver Beer, pizza, Twinkies and nachos 24/7 proved invaluable as the final weeks progressed.

And then that prick Paul Reubens ruined everything.

He started sneaking vegetables on my pizzas, and switching my beer to Blue Beaver Lite. He doused me constantly with Aqua Velva under the guise that it was fly repellant.

That prick stole and burned all my turtleneck shirts and parachute pants.

When I saw the footage of what he did to my favorite plaid leisure suit, I wept.

And I was voted off that very week.

***

Once my arteries cleared up, I left the hospital and decided to write my story as a warning. And I'm sure you already know that being overly-possessed with how you look is not healthy, and rampant vanity can be a fast track to full renal failure.

But this is a warning to Paul Reubens.

That suit was polyester.

We'll meet again, Paul.

Oh yes.

We shall meet again.

Cabals N Bits

2008-07-26T09:50:00.022-05:00

Predator Press

[LOBO]

I have no idea what this image is supposed to be, but the alternative to wasting an hour on it was wasting an hour mowing the lawn. Let’s just call it a homage to Rickey and move on. Okay?

What I wanted to specifically address was the startling number of recent comments. I would like to reply to all of them individually, but between the last two posts I’ve got almost forty.

Forty!

-That’s more than I got all last year.

What the heck are you people doing!? When I go to your sites, Do I lay this kind of guilt on you? No. I’m far too busy scrawling all your funny ideas on a notepad so I can plagiarize them later.

Forty comments on Predator Press is the blogging equivalent of the last episode of M*A*S*H.

(*spoiler alert* In the last episode of M*A*S*H, Henry dies and Winchester doesn't.)

(... Oooooo I hate that snooty Winchester!)