World Domination Update
Secret word for the day: Spackle
Site of the Week: Gothic Martha Stewart
Cheese of the Week: It would be “Extra Cheese” but Gumby’s Pizza sucks
Now Playing: Blue Öyster Cult, Agents of Fortune
in this issue:
Bet you were all expecting a long rant on Columbine High and a good number of bad Trench-Coat Mafia jabs. Sorry, but I’ve got bigger tuna to toast.
Summer’s just barely started and already there’s bad juju on the loose. Brain Police activity against us is at an all-time high, with our man saint being at the top of the shit list.
Most of you know about the snipe on saint’s car. The “official story” is that he parked in the wrong spot at the wrong time when some drunken sacks of shit, testosterone, and steroids got kicked out of a party a few doors down from The Oasis. Bent on spontaneous, random revenge they smashed two of his windows with rocks and then booked off to parts or parties unknown.
But maybe that’s just what They want Us to think.
Laramie was the first to suggest that the real culprit behind this is Gumby’s Pizza. This certainly makes more sense motive-wise, and could explain how the hit squad got away so fast (ie: unmarked delivery vehicle.)
However, Smoking Gun offers the most plausible explanation: this was Brain Police, pure and simple. The proof is in what they hit: the back and left windows. saint’s car got JFK’d. Also, the locations of the rocks inside the car are inconsistent with the shatter patterns, and it is unclear how many rocks were actually thrown or even how many throwers there were.
Brain Police hostility towards saint has spilled over to include BP monitoring of the neighboring Ranch Peninsular heresy. saint was present when the Blue Light got “shopped” by what could only have been an undercover nark (saint said, “my spidey senses were tingling.”) The RP’s first convert, Pears, has simply vanished, as has potential BF-in-training Medium Rer. Indeed, as of this writing arch-heretic DK himself was back in Detroit; he was (pick one):
a) on the lam from the BP
The last has some weight behind it, as DK made the mistake of saying when the Ranch Peninsulars took over the world, barbecue sauce would be illegal. Them’s fightin’ words, and I don’t doubt that saint stepped up.
We do have a new schism in out midst, though: Burning Bush, our Man in Maryland (The Land of Mary Splinter, Washing Your Feet Chapter) has confided that he prefers bleu cheese to barbecue. Burning Bush’s a good dude, though, and saint lauded him for his recognition of the importance of cheese. Cheese is our friend, and is important enough to merit a selection of the week in the opening credits. Which brings us to the next point.
A recent run-in with the cheese nazis at Gumby’s Pizza has convinced me that they are a front for the Brain Police. Scumby’s Pizza is a franchise from Gainesville that targets the campus crowd. I believe this is intentional, explicitly to monitor college students. No one questions a car with a pizza delivery dome on top; it’s a great mobile cover. My guess is they’re either hit men, or “special” couriers. Although I have yet to work out the exact connection, I am sure that Scumby’s skimpiness on cheese is part of the plot.
I’m still steamed about that. Honestly: what’s a man gotta do to get some extra cheese?!? A pox on the Gumby’s Dairy Gestapo and their rationing thimbles! I hereby declare Scumby’s Pizza UN-Kosher.
This adds them to the
Shit List, along with
Denny’s and IHOP.
Scumby’s did get me thinking, though.
Most religions try to deliver you from Evil.
The Branch Floridians can deliver Evil to your door, in 30 minutes or it’s free!
For those who are either new or just haven’t been paying attention, our protective mantra is, “Trust no one, deny everything, and always keep your lighter handy.” Many of you scoff or snicker at that, not realizing the wisdom in those words of power.
Last week I was sitting down to watch the X Files when suddenly my power went out. Knowing full well this was a standard assault tactic, I grabbed my .44 and hid behind the sofa, waiting for the dynamic entry of Brain Police with a battering ram and a no-knock warrant.
After a few minutes I eased off the hammer and figured I had blown a fuse. Simple enough matter, except I wasn’t sure where the fuse box was. Worse, it was pitch black and I couldn’t see anything.
But fortunately, I always have my lighter handy. (ta-daaahh!) Instant torch. Never did find a flashlight, but thanks to my Zippo I had a continuous light source that really helped me out.
Oddly enough, it wasn’t a fuse. By law the main circuit breakers to our houses are on the outside (I guess to make it easier for the police to raid crack houses.) On my building, all of them were locked but mine.
Hmmm... maybe my having my lighter handy (not to mention my Dirty Harry) put The Fear in Them and they backed off.
See?!? Always keep your lighter handy.
The following is a BCC e-mail forwarded from a friend of mine. I have been unable to discover who originally wrote it, so I print it here anonymously with the suspicion that the author is a Branch Floridian in spirit if not actual membership. The part about the ‘hall of tortured souls’ is especially interesting, and if you like that sort of thing (or want to learn more) check this out: The Easter Egg Archive.
> Did you know that Bill Gates' real name is William Henry Gates
Although the above anonymous author makes some valid observations and commentary about the Computer Cookie Conundrum, I reject his conclusions that various factors actually add up to 666 the way he claims. I realize that s/he was attempting to make a sarcastic pun with it, but there actually are groups out there who see 666 in everything and do similar logic loops to find it in what they want.
The problem with such thought, though, is that the number referred to in Revelation 13:18 is “six hundred sixty-six” and not “six six six”. Click here for an extensive commentary explaining the semantical nuances of this.
Sorry, but its abig pet peeve of mine...
|car||air bag gas||secret recorded message|
|Trans Am||sodium pentathol||Adam Sandler is funny|
|Camaro||sodium pentathol||go to a barber and get a mullet|
be a sheep, follow the flock,
baa! baa! baa!
(in Latin!) anything done for the first time
unleashes a demon
|Delorian||ether||keep Ireland disunited|
|Rolls Royce||nitrous oxide||cricket is a fun game|
|Lexus||nitrous oxide||register to vote, then don’t|
|Volkswagen||zyklon b||Seig Heil!|
|BMW||zyklon b||Eweige Blumenkraft!|
|Hyundai||serin||Reverend Sun Yung Moon is (?the/your?) Father|
The spring season of flicking filters at the bucket under saint’s window officially ended, with these results:
Medium Rer: 6
G-Off 1 (actual), 1 (style)
in other sports news,
Topeka Sheep 6, Portland Porpoises 0
Edgewater Mudsharks 8, Boston Bovines 0
Catalina Peccaries 2, Wichita Wildebeests 1
Toronto Turtles 16, Las Vegas Lounge Lizards 13
Hartford Hamsters 3, Lubbock Lemmings 2 (in OT)
St. Paul Girls vs. Minneapolis Woolly Mammoths: canceled due to snow
St. Louis Squirrels 10,876, Des Moines Octopuses -8
player of the week: Kobiashi
The Hedgehog Corner
By Harriet the Hedgehog
Although we hedgehogs are big believers in passive resistance, our natural defenses branch from the evolutionary theory of “peace through superior weaponry.” We have many means of protecting ourselves, all designed to make tangling with us more trouble than its worth. While our dreaded “chuff” can put fear in both predator and pray at ten cubits, and we have the most teeth of any placental mammal (44), our main line of defense is our quills.
Getting through that ball of spikes is bad enough, but we ’hogs play dirty by licking a special secretion onto them. To humans it is a mild irritant, but the smaller you are the worse the burn. Just added incentive to leave us alone. We make this secretion ourselves, using as a base whatever material happens to be available to chew on. Leaves, carpet strands, shoelaces, magazines; many uncouth ’hogs in the wild use their own feces. Chew it up, add our gummy saliva, and spit it onto ourselves. Lick of the quills and they’re coated with the crud.
Human zoologists familiar with the Family Erinaceidae call this process “self-anointing.”
Messiah is Hebrew for “anointed” (‘Christ’ is the Greek) so be definition, Hedgehogs are the Messiahs.
This is even hinted at in the Dead Sea Scrolls’ Insectivores 5:23 “...and buy his Chuff ye shall know him.”
that’s all for now; so you know the drill:
trust no one
and always keep your lighter handy
“This ain’t the Garden of Eden,
There ain’t no angels above.
And things ain’t what they’re supposed to be,
And this ain’t the summer of love.”
—Blue Öyster Cult