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"Special" Effects
2007-05-01 01:04:00
Ethan and I, smoking cigars, watch 'the dailies' with great interest. "Rumsfeld is killing Osama?" he asks. "I thought Cheney killed Osama about twenty minutes ago." "No, that was Saddam. Remember the mustache?" "No, that was Chemical Ali." "No, Chemical Ali was killed by Ann Coulter." "I'm confused." "Remember, when Cheney and Limbaugh had to hook south at the Anthrax factory? Rush, the team medic, told her he had something she could take that would let her take six or seven more direct mortar hits. Then Chemical Ali attacks them, and Anne rips out all eight of his arms and pushes him over the cliff?" I sigh. "I agree. This edit seems a little disjointed. Maybe it was a bad idea to have Cobe play all the bad guys after all." "Cobe just doesn't seem to have any acting range whatsoever," Ethan observes. "Vince!" I yell up at the projection booth. "Play the opening sequence." I settle back in. "Still Ethan, you're gonna love...
Chiefly Speaking
2007-04-29 23:31:00
George Bush Junior, clutching a fire hydrant, was begging. "Please don't do this anymore. I'll do anything!" "George," says the guy in the Nixon mask. "Join me, and together we shall rule the galaxy." "Shit, I'd join you if you just took me to Dennys!" "You have no idea the power of the Dark Side." "Look, asshole. I already said I would join you." Bush gets up, walks to the mysterious stranger's car, climbs in the passenger side and slams the door. Rolling down the electric window, he yells, "This is the maximum level of joining you." "George," says the masked stranger. "I am your father." Suddenly, the Nixon mask comes off, and it's George Bush Senior! "Oh yeah Dad," says George Junior tiredly from the car. "Like that bit didn't get old the first time you did it. What was I, eight then? Huh Dad? I'm thirty-five now. I'm in college fer Chrissake. Plus I think I'm a goddamn member of Congress or something like that." Sulkily,...
Let Freedom Scream
2007-04-29 17:37:00
"Alright Newt," I says. "Lets go over this scene once more." "I'm standing right here," says Newt. "I don't think you need the megaphone." "Look Newt," I says frustrated. "This ain't Capitol Hill. I handle all the censorship around here. Now in this scene, you jump off of the fourth story, somersault gracefully to the ground by virtue of this crane and harness, and kick the crap out of six insurgents." Newt pulls on the harness nervously. "Are you sure this thing is safe?" "It's all physics, baby," I says walking back to my chair. "As long as you're exactly 180 pounds like it says on your driver's license, you're as safe as if in your mother's arms. Now the second you here the 'All Clear' safety bell, jump." A bell rang, and Newt jumped. The crane buckled, and what followed was a scene of catastrophic mechanical failure. The bell rang again. Exasperated, I answered my cell phone. "Hello? Oh hi Mom. Listen I can't talk right...
The Best Laid Mice of Plans and Men
2007-04-28 23:23:00
"The idea," says Ethan touring me through the studio, "is simply that if the media is responsible for the state of current affairs-" We enter a room where Donald Rumsfeld, shirtless with an M-60 and bandoliers, is shooting six Al Qaeda guys while rifle-butting another and rescuing a puppy. "-that we can end the end the war the same way," Ethan finishes. Donald 'tucks and rolls' into an adjacent set, where he delivers an Iraqi baby waving a tiny American flag, all the while ducking gunfire and lobbing potent hand grenades. "Okay," I says. "But I don't see where I come in." "LOBO," sighs Ethan. "I want you to film Bush, Cheney and Rumsfeld getting pissed off and flying to Iraq, and ending the war once and for all. Personally." "I like the name 'Gen. David H. Petraeus' too. It sounds kinda Latin. Biblical. Greek even. 'Petraeus' almost sounds Roman, and even after all these centuries the Romans are still kicking ass. Shit, you can't m...
2007-04-28 22:16:00
"I left you guys," says Ethan tersely, "on a teambuilding exercise. For two weeks. And you have burned my entire empire to the ground." "There's always the rubble," I says. "You burned the rubble down!" "Well, you can't say I'm not thorough." "Well, I really appreciate it," says Ethan. "Now Babs doesn't get shit." "So you're okay with having lost $470,005,058.05 as long as Babs didn't get anything?" "Oh yeah." "So we're cool?" "Shit, as soon as I get some money, I'm giving you a raise!" "Well," I says. "It had better be substantial. You have no idea how traumatizing this has all been." "We got a military contract," says Ethan. "$150,000,000,000. The first year." "Ethan, I don't think I'm up for pissing off other countries anymore. Do you know it's a Class X felony for a woman to have sex with me in Australia now?" "I told you Australia existed." "I know. And now I want to have sex there in the worst way!" "The last thin...
White Power
2007-04-28 08:00:00
Well, being in jail is by no means fun; nonetheless, when I found out I was in jail with Richard Gere, I was thrilled. Richard Gere, star of such brutal fight scenes such as the ones in 'An Officer and a Gentleman' and 'Pretty Woman', was right the fuck here sharing a holding cell with me! I immediately start talking trash. Dice, Tic Tock, and Shiv weren’t too impressed at first, but when I told ‘em all they was 'so ugly they hadda fake orgasms while masturbating', they had a huddle. Dice: “Yo man, these are either the dumbest white men on Earth, or maybe they’re just crazy.” Tic Tock: “Yeah, dude just said Tom Wopat was the Antichrist. Who the fuck is Tom Wopat?” Shiv: “Wasn’t that one cracker that dude in Pretty Woman?” “That’s right!” I exclaim. “And if I give the word, Richard will pull your tongues through your keysters!” I stare at them crazily. “What you dogs doin time for?” says Tic Tock. “Tell ‘im Richard...
Internet Swag
2007-04-27 18:19:00
Predator Press
2007-04-27 04:29:00
“You know,” I says, pushing my plate away. “I was a little disappointed with the fettuccini.” “Really,” says Sapphire. “Am I supposed to think you are classy because you are pointing out flaws at something you invited me to?” she giggles. “I suppose you cook?” “I’ll cut you a deal,” I says. “I’ll handle the macaroni and cheese. No matter what you decide to make, I’m doing the mac and cheese.” “Oh thank God,” Sapphire laughs. “Until we get married,” I add. “When we get married, you’ll be pretty fucked as far as pasta is concerned.” "So then we'll eat, what, leaves and berries?" "If you're lucky," I says frowning. "Look, I know your 'affiliation' with LOBO--" "Well, it's funny that you mention that," she says. "Because LOBO needs to post Bail."
Perfectly Legal
2007-04-25 03:08:00
"I'm serious," I says. "I've got his contract right here!" 1) Don't be a Dick = 50% Gilmore's Score: -50% 2) Never Say 'LOBO is Too Busy' for Free Meals = 21% Gilmore's Score: 21%, + 6% bonus for timeliness 3) No Fat Chicks = 20% Gilmore's Score: 20% 4) Never Kill Ethan = 9% Gilmore's Score: -9%, + 6% bonus for timeliness Net Total = Fuck Gilmore. "It's all perfectly legal," I insist.
Scar Tissue
2007-04-21 23:27:00
“Look,” says Gilmore, stuffing the bloody tissue against his nose. “I did the right thing. If, in fact, Babs has anything to do with this, somebody should have been ‘engaged’ in what is going on.” “How do we know your loyalty isn’t with her?” says Sapphire. Maybe it was the adrenaline of the fight --I don't know-- but the next thing out of my mouth was, “What the fuck do you know about loyalty?” Sapphire's eyes flashed dangerously. “Excuse me?” she blinked. “What was that disappearing act over Winter Break all about? I thought we were getting pretty tight. Then boom. You didn’t even send me a Christmas Card.” “You took a hooker to Christmas Mass from what I heard.” “Don't blame me if there's no 'Saving' her."
More About: Scar
Black Flag
2007-04-21 03:57:00
Ethan disappearing isn’t really always that unusual; he’ll just up and go on a vacation or a business trip often without even packing. But this is the first time he’s gone ten days without contacting anyone. Making things worse is the glaring absence of Cobe; while that lazy fuck is off vacationing or whatever in the arctic, everything was beginning to fall apart without Ethan at the helm. The sense of deterioration in the office was obvious and virtually palpable. Supplies were being ordered incorrectly –if in fact ordered at all. Bills were going unpaid. Deadlines were being missed. Things were so bad, when Babs asked me if I run the warehouse for a few days, I jumped at the chance. The truth is I’m somewhat of a shipping and receiving prodigy. With a crew of 46 hard-scrabble industrial types, on a typical day we would receive about 26 semi trailers with materials and generally ship out about the same amount. Now, under my radiant g...
Day Six
2007-04-18 12:12:00
Needless to say, tempers are wearing thin. The strictly-distributed rations are low, and lack of hygiene is becoming painfully obvious to Phoebe and I. I have several days of 'scruff', and Phoebe's refusal to wear shorts during the hottest parts of the day suggests that she probably does too. We smell bad. Phoebe, without makeup and her usual vast assortment of beauty creams and oils seems to have aged ten years while simultaneously developing acne. Her cheeks are growing taut and sunken --as are mine probably. Sapphire, an android, looks just as fresh and beautiful as she did a week ago; this I can understand. But as for LOBO, there is no explanation whatsoever; he's clean-shaven and smells faintly of Old Spice. And he almost seems to have gained weight. Is that what he was wearing when we got here? "Good morning," says a distantly-familiar voice. Surprised, we all turn to see Gilmore, dapper and smooth in a custom-fitted immaculate ...
Day Two
2007-04-18 02:59:00
You know, it's been about 30 years since I've done anything similar to camping. And while not particularly exited about the idea at first, it soon became apparent that LOBO wasn't going to be hanging around; this leaves the rather attractive prospect of me alone with Sapphire and Phoebe for however long this "teambuilding" exercise will last. LOBO -despite his claims to have been on a few of these activities before-seemed to rattle rather quickly. After a few hours of staring despondently into the woods where Ethan drove off sort of sulkily resigned himself to "roughing it". This lasted around eight minutes. Frustrated by his inability to find a way to plug in his canteen and mess kit, he was soon bored, hungry, and growing increasingly agitated by the sounds of the wildlife surrounding us in the darkening wood. "What was that!?" he would demand abruptly. "I think it was a sparrow," volunteers Sapphire. "How dare Ethan leave me out her...
Ten Years Gone
2007-04-12 18:46:00
Believe it or not, there was a time when the world didn't have Predator Press yet. And without Predator Press around to document an accurate and quantified objective world history, little is know about these dark times: they are shrouded in legends and mystery. Oh, sure. There are "history" books chocked full of fanciful and unverifiable claims such as the Lunar Landing, Women's Suffrage, and the existence of Australia. But remember what history books cost? Compare that to the price of your Predator Press subscription. Hell, at $50 or more a pop, I would be tempted to tell you stuff like 'the world is round' and Steve Gutenberg invented the movable type as well. I mean who the hell would need that? We have integrity. The reason this comes up now is because Lady Pyrate has recently uncovered some pre-Predator Press documents written by me. Doing my duty as a citizen, I first emailed the Smithsonian notifying them of the staggering significan...
Fisting: It’s Not Just for Old People Anymore
2007-04-02 01:53:00
You remember the drill: no sooner would you get that kickass skateboard ramp all set up, and some blue-haired wrinkle kit comes running out yelling “GET OFF OF MY LAWN!”, shaking his liver-spotted and crunkly clenched hand at about eye-level to punctuate every syllable. But now widely-embraced by America as a whole, ‘Fisting ’ is now being done by a vast myriad of generations: people are fisting Sanjaya even as we speak. I fisted Madeline Albright repeatedly for her foreign policy. Hell, I saw a guy earlier today fisting my girlfriend in traffic! ‘Fisting’ has sneakily entered the American lexicon, and is rapidly rising to a level of Global and Universal Symbolism.
2007-04-01 22:31:00
2007-04-01 04:16:00
I didn’t have my door locked, and Babs ‘an six big guys in matching jumpsuits just come right in. The jumpsuited glandular freaks are carrying furniture. What the fuck? “Good,” she says. “I’m glad you’re here. I’ve decided I’m moving in.” “Here?” “Yes.” “Why?” “What do you mean why? You might’ve squirmed out of that marriage business for now, but you’re still my bitch.” “But we were getting along so well not seeing or talking to each other,” I reason. “Yes, well all that’s changing.” “Ma’am?” says a mover. “There isn’t going to be room for the china hutch.” “The hell there isn’t,” she scowls, circling the house. Decidedly, she stops and points. “Get rid of that.” “My big screen television!?” I says. “Look here, sister. What in the hell makes you think you can just walk right in here and start throwing out my stuff?” “I can bend parking meters with my ...
Kyle Sampson is a Big Fat Lying Poo-Poo Head
2007-03-29 22:57:00
It’s jerks like that that completely ruin our ability to enjoy this Zenith of Republican Enlightenment. Look around you! There are no wars, taxes, or poverty. Everyone is free to worship Our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ as much as they choose, and the streets are safe because anyone able to hold a gun, does. And the spinach will definitely not kill you. All you alarmist liberal hippies and pinko-commies should put down your hookahs and catch a boat back to whatever other country kicked you out for treason. Move along. There's nothing to see here America; go about your business.Everything’s just fine.
More About: Fat
2007-03-29 01:57:00
“You’re finished with your Penance already my son?” asks a skeptical Father Fritz. “10,000 ‘Hail Marys’?” I says. “Not a chance.” “Well then what are you doing here?” “It’s a Miracle,” I says excitedly. “I’m no longer a pyromaniac, nymphomaniac, or hypocondriac. And my claustrophobia, necrophobia, xylophobia, spectrophobia, bolshephobia, agateophobia, phthiriophobia, syngenesophobia, coimetrophobia, sophophobia, virginitiphobia, agrophobia, russophobia, spacephobia, myrmecophobia, phasmophobia, and phobophobia? Gone. Gone! And best of all, my sinuses decompressed for the first time in weeks.” “Really?” “Yeah. Who would’ve thought chemically-treated pallets would smell so good.” “Pallets?” says Fritz. “Where exactly were you saying those ‘Hail Marys’?” “At the music studio.” “You have pallets at a music studio?” “No, no. I was at the warehouse.” “I’m not following...
2007-03-28 04:24:00
I don't tell you this often, so when I say explicitly "this is a true story," this is a True Story. My mom, given the opportunity, will confirm it. And neither one of us recall me as a toddler being a particularly fussy eater. But when introduced to Brussels's sprouts, it was on. I still hate those innocuous-looking vile little hellspawned biological perversions. Oh, sure mom issued the S.O.P. 'Miranda Rights' for a kid: "No desert 'til you clean your plate!" --generally this heralded "GAME OVER"; it was a matter of time before I would capitulate. Except this time; even after a cascading portfolio of ice cream and Popsicles, I would not budge. Dad said "Fine," and put me in the high chair. "No desert at all then. Yell for us when you're done." And then they left for the living room. They turned the lights off, and the television on. ... My god, these people aren't bluffing. *** Around 9:30, I was kaput. And I had no ideas. I mad...
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