Tag Archives: Revengerists

Olde Times are Goode Times

At the request and behest of our esteemed guest, who arrives just too late and right on, we exemplify how the olden times are the besten times, with music from the turn of the Swingin’ Century, slowly evolving as have our petty mindsets. Some political rations and weird subsidies later, you arrive in the Strangeland.

So stick around for the BONUS segment where fellow Revengerist Dr. Tasty reacts to the show and current events, and lo, the Earth mightily trembles.

PLAYLIST
In The Hall Of The Mountain King – Will Bradley-Ray McKinley Band
For Old Times’ Sake – Annette Hanshaw
Ragtime Regiment Band (1913) – Heidelberg Quintet with Billy Murray
Frog Legs Rag (1906) – James Scott
Original Rags (Piano Roll) – Scott Joplin
Hobomoko – John Philip Sousa Band
Pozzo – Frisco Jass Band
Dixie Jass Band One Step – The Original Dixieland Jazz Band
Alexander’s Ragtime Band – Ethel Merman, Al Jolson, Eddie Cantor, Sophie Tucker
Lady Is A Tramp – Sophie Tucker
Changes – Bing Crosby
Paul Whiteman – The Charleston
Everything Is Hotsy Totsy Now – The California Ramblers
Maple Leaf Rag – Bix Beiderbecke
Down South Camp Meeting – Fletcher Henderson
Night And Day – Django Reinhardt & Stéphane Grappelli
Making Whoopee – Eddie Cantor
Let’s Misbehave – Irene Bordoni
Anything Goes – Cole Porter
You Do Something to Me – Billy May & The Andrews Sisters
Canned Heat (1947) – Chet Atkins
Jolly Banker – Woody Guthrie
Old Blind Sow, She Stole the Middlins – John W. Summers
Death of J.B. Marcum – Asa Martin
I’ll Never Get Out of This World Alive – Hank Williams, Sr.
I’m Gonna Move To The Outskirts Of Town – Louis Jordan & His Tympany Five
Juke Box Boogie Woogie Chick – Snookum Russell
Jumpin At The Jubilee – Big Joe Turner
Finger poppin time – Hank Ballard & the Midnighters
The Stuf Is Here – Cleo Brown
Powerhouse – Spike Jones
Rhapsody In Blue – George Gershwin & Paul Whiteman
Frankie And Jonny – Gene Vincent
My Baby Don’t Love Me No More (1957) – Happy Wainwright & The VI-Counts
Red Hot – Billy Lee Riley
Rink-A-Din-Ki-Do – The Edsels
All Right, Baby – Janis Martin
I’m Getting Sentimental Over You – Herb Alpert & The Tijuana Brass
Runaway – Del Shannon

Stranger in a Strange Land 2012-06-16: Olde Times are Goode Times by The Stranger on Mixcloud

Romney blurted out more of his anti-American anti-government anti-populist anti-worker conservative rhetoric. We already know that he “likes being able to fire people,” wants to privatize formerly public fields so that unregulated industries can sap the life from the Public, and now he’s also aiming at “firemen, policemen, and teachers.”

I’ll just say it. Mitt Romney is soft on crime. He’s anti-education, and pro-fire.

Indiscriminate privatization, and the greedy politics of unfettered selfishness, will bankrupt and destroy this economy, this country, and the American people.

All the more reason to believe that the GOP is doing this on purpose.

Be it ideology or stratagem, the GOP has blocked pro-growth policy and backed job-killing austerity – all while blaming Obama.

“The single most important thing we want to achieve is for President Obama to be a one-term president.” -Senate minority leader, Mitch McConnell

Republicans will do anything, including short-circuiting the economy, in order to hurt Obama politically.

Then again, it’s a hard accusation to prove: after all, one person’s economic sabotage is another person’s principled anti-government conservatism.

Republicans have opposed a lion’s share of stimulus measures that once they supported, such as a payroll tax break, unemployment insurance, bargaining against the interests of Americans (or holding their needed public services or national credit rating hostage) to keep tax cuts for the wealthy.

Republicans have made practically no effort to draft comprehensive job creation legislation. Instead, they continue to pursue austerity policies, which reams of historical data suggest harms economic recovery and does little to create jobs.

Meanwhile, a critical document from President Barack Obama’s free trade negotiations with eight Pacific nations was leaked online early Wednesday morning, revealing that the administration intends to bestow radical new political powers upon multinational corporations, contradicting prior promises.

The new leak follows substantial controversy surrounding the secrecy of the talks, in which some members of Congress have complained they are not being given the same access to trade documents that corporate officials receive.

The newly leaked document is one of the most controversial of the Trans-Pacific Partnership trade pact. It addresses a broad sweep of regulations governing international investment and reveals the Obama administration’s advocacy for policies that environmental activists, financial reform advocates and labor unions have long rejected for eroding key protections currently in domestic laws.

But foreign corporations operating within the U.S. would be permitted to appeal key American legal or regulatory rulings to an international tribunal. That international tribunal would be granted the power to overrule American law and impose trade sanctions on the United States for failing to abide by its rulings.

China, of all places, has just released a report on the (lack of) human rights over the past year in the U.S.A. Are we living in an authoritarian society without knowing it? Via China Daily, and they would know!

Whatever the deep reasons for the (Occupy) movement are, the single fact that thousands of protesters were treated in a rude and violent way, with many of them being arrested – the act of willfully trampling on people’ s freedom of assembly, demonstration and speech – could provide a glimpse to the truth of the so-called US freedom and democracy.

While advocating press freedom, the United States in fact imposes fairly strict censoring and control over the press and “press freedom” is just a political tool used to beautify itself and attack other nations. The US Congress failed to pass laws on protecting rights of reporters’ news sources, according to media reports. While forcibly evacuating the Zuccotti Park, the original Occupy Wall Street encampment, the New York police blocked journalists from covering the police actions. They set cordon lines to prevent reporters from getting close to the park and closed airspace to make aerial photography impossible. In addition to using pepper spray against reporters, the police also arrested around 200 journalists, including reporters from NPR and the New York Times

Even the Russians now know our press (non)freedom is a joke:

“They just put handcuffs on me. I tried to tell him that I am a journalist. He pulled out my State Department accreditation and asked whether I have a New York police one. Unfortunately, that one expired,” explained journalist Kirill Belyaninov.

The reporter has been working in the US for the last three years.

“Whatever proof you have – they don’t really care. It’s just business, and your credentials can’t really protect you,” he said.

Sent through a whirlpool -like legal system, the seasoned journalist was treated as a protest participant under arrest. 24 hours behind bars, a quick trial, 600 dollars in fines were his punishment – for doing his job – covering the news of the day. And then there were the two days of community service and six months probation.

It’s just a matter of time before any non-corporate citizen journalist is automatically branded a terrorist. Though we now know that Americans Are as Likely to Be Killed by Their Own Furniture as by Terrorism!

Terrorist attacks killed 17 U.S. civilians last year and 15 the year before.

According to the report, the number of U.S. citizens who died in terrorist attacks increased by two between 2010 and 2011; overall, a comparable number of Americans are crushed to death by their televisions or furniture each year. This is not to diminish the real–albeit shrinking–threat of terrorism, or to minimize the loss and suffering of the 13,000 killed and over 45,000 injured around the world. For Americans, however, it should emphasize that an irrational fear of terrorism is both unwarranted and a poor basis for public policy decisions.

~The Stranger
thestranger@earthling.net

Also, enjoy this BONUS nugget of the Stranger in a Strange Land, guest starring the one-and-hopefully-only Dr. Tasty! The founding members of the Revengerists (Consortium of Stuff) are together again to discuss the minutiae of time distortion, powers, current events, robot apocalypse, world-ending cataclysms, crime-fighting, affinity groups like the Cacophony Society and other subversive underground organizations, and the 10 weirdest urban ecosystems on Earth.

Stranger in a Strange Land 2012-06-16: Revengerize with Dr. Tasty! by The Stranger on Mixcloud

Strange Days Have Found Us

Well, we’ve really done it. Ze Black Waffle and I have returned triumphant from waging the Robot War for the Future against SpaceWeb and its mechanical forces of cold calculation. We are safe from the existential threat of malevolent, artificially-intelligent automata… for now.

Unfortunately, in preventing a horrific potential future from coming to pass, we may have accidentally set into motion an equally-dystopian (if somewhat less lazer-burning) future of corporate takeover and constitutional debauchment! We sincerely apologize if the butterflies we crushed in our reckless traversing of spacetime resulted in the awful offshoot reality of japanese earthquakes, #NDAA, #SOPA, and #DNF (Duke Nukem Forever). Sorry about all that.

I am impassively dedicated to covering the disturbing developments as they formalize and gel into our present, with Mutiny News, twitter, and The Stranger in a Strange Land. We welcome your insights, shared posts, rantings, musings, and dark prophecies, as each unfolding event of doom is rewritten newly before us.

Archived Stranger in a Strange Land shows from the Imperial era are being lovingly polished, annotated, timestamped and uploaded, both on the Mixcloud and on the Stranger‘s own blog of Absurdist Noir. Sadly, the same timequake that causes the fabric of reality to tremble EVEN NOW is also responsible for the loss of several of those archived shows. We soldier on, all of us, into the dark unknown.

For the the most multifarious (that’s multifaceted + nefarious) tunes and freshly-lacquered commentary, check out the Stranger in a Strange Land, Sat. 2am-4am (that’s Friday night going into Saturday mornings). For interviews involving eclectic esoterica, write to thestranger@earthling.net. For general Mutiny Radio coverage, send your aggregated articles, accomplishments, muckraking investigations, and fluffy public interest pieces to thestranger@earthling.net. For that money I owe you, see me next Friday.

Understanding being nothing else, but conception caused by Speech.

The stakes were high, with arbitrary considerations of ‘law’ and ‘justice’ and ‘order’ strained to their definition points. Pulling this single lynchpin, this keystone, this golden spike… might derail a pivotal international plot to highjack all finance, commerce, private ownership, an election, choice, the ability to make total war… the very essence and being of the human race.

Hard was the task before me, to truly understand the confederacy of ubiquitous dark forces, at the most pragmatic moment, in order to graft with them fully, meld slowly as the creaking patient tree amongst the artificiality of a steel-ringing chain-link fence. Grease, moisture, pressure, unbearable turmoil, and then dry-rot set in, leaving only that aperture from whence one entered, shattering the bloated blighted blemishes from their torpid comfort. Stirring and dissolving, hacking away at each other searching for their common enemy, long since gone slinking into the night. Those who remained were easy pickins, but for their evolved sense of survival atop the trash heap, and amalgamation of super-science and evil.

Caught full blast during this janitorial duty unawares by just such frenetic fanatical foes, entrenched in their last ditch fraternity of hostility and subatomic-particle-rearranger ray set to 11, I strained to regain composure, nay, composition, in an all-out knock-down knuckle-dragging denial of all things physical, and a few illicit drugs as well.

It was then that I stared foully deep into the unending maw of universal truth; it was, as awfulness goes, inversely proportionate to the awesomeness of cunnilingus.

O what did I learn, children, and how does simple universal matter, or organic brain cells, or inferior English speech translate it now?

“To understand this for sense it is not required that a man should be a geometrician or a logician, but that he should be mad.”

Necessity dictates that so being is so, so being is so. This so being, being so, is being so also so being? Man, reduced to his natural state, is mere animal. That doesn’t say much for man, but it certainly doesn’t say much for animal.

“The privilege of absurdity; to which no living creature is subject but man only.”

I’ve had people ask me if what I write about in my blogs is ‘true.’ My eyes then glimmer go dinner-plate wide as I stand on shaky legs and pound a fist into the air, rapaciously demanding to know where these people on the bus get off following me around and reading my blogs, and who the fuck they think THEY are.

Honesty and truth: I can honestly proclaim to believe something that isn’t true, if I honestly didn’t know that it wasn’t true. I can dishonestly report a set of truthful facts. If I attempt to be honest, I am good. If I attempt to be dishonest, I am bad. Goodness is contingent on honesty, which leaves truth mutually explusive, which means that truth can very well be evil. It’s better to be any kind of honest than an evil kind of truthful. So then the BEST kind of honesty doesn’t reflect a truthful truth at all. Honest.

“Such truth as opposeth no man’s profit nor pleasure is to all men welcome.”

When I read about the famous words of powerful leaders from around the world, something moving in their speech strikes me. Specifically, conjunctions.
“They’ve now got it.” “As you so choose it.” “Seeing as there is…” If you then speak as such, you’ll soon become a world leader and douchebag both.

“Words are wise men’s counters, they do but reckon by them; but they are the money of fools, that value them by the authority of an Aristotle, a Cicero, or a Thomas, or any other doctor whatsoever, if but a man.”

Acid won’t do anything for you that being stuck under a boulder for a few days in the mountains can’t also. One is just slightly more portable than the other.

“In the state of nature, Profit is the measure of Right.”

I’m not proud of what happened then, as chemistry on a first-name-nucleotide basis and then consciousness slowly wound back into the realm of what can only be assumed to have been a pre-existing condition of reality. I did what had to be done, in that it is what has already happened in the temporal existence of things, it came to be so it had to be, and somewhat vice-versa. Suffice it to say I triumphed over evil yet again.

But at what price?

“I put for a general inclination of all mankind a perpetual and restless desire of power after power, that ceaseth only in death.”

Fraught With Peril

Where has our valiant (and at that quite salient) hero been O these past few months? Bored or boycotting Myspace? In a politically-charged controversial coma/self-induced media blackout/circus? Zoning out listening to late 60’s/early 70’s Psychedelia? Alcoholics Anonymous?  Perhaps he hadn’t gone anywhere, but simply skipped ahead in what you myopically call the ‘timeline,’ but what he prefers to call his own ‘Choose Your Own Adventure Novel.’

I don’t think my mild-mannered employers would have mild-minded that too much at all! And in these engrossing times, the Revengerists have seen every goal completed quietly, thoroughly, awesomely (needless to say), and without the ostentation of one ‘Will Ferrell.’ Having fulfilled its purpOses, and with a lease paid through to 2012, (as the Mayans foretold: ‘yea when all leases shall summarily end’), the Revengerists compound sits, secure and yet absolutely vacant. All but for the occasional janitor, tour group, haunted spirit (built upon a Civil War battleground as it is), or junior members who don’t check their text messages lost in its expansive labrynthine corridors, it echoes still in the night, or the day… depending on the time… that it is… when.. it echoes…

I can tell you one thing, I definitely did not go to Studio 54.

Now, having uncovered an insidious plot of the powers that be effecting the very atoms that make up the whole of our being, I go where none may accompany me. No beloved sidekick, grizzled old vizier, or that cute couch-surfing chick who wanted me to help her with her novel… No. Through a combination of radical research and development, subversive culture-jamming, motivational speaking courses and my uncanny powers of antiphysics, only I can prevail against this slithering hidden evil. As it was writ in Ancient Sumeria, so shall it make for a most excellent riveting dramatic speech of departure…

The Demon of Thought
I Fought, But Not
Armed With Sword or Rapier
With Zeal I Sought and
Peril Fraught, I Brought
His End with Pen and Paper

Everything is nice in Smileyland; and when it isn’t, they kill it with their lasers. Something is rotten in the state of Smileyland.

Chip Can’t Walk in the Fire Without Fire Boots!

I’ve been having trouble sleeping at night for no specific reason. It’s nothing in particular, but a reeling, seething mind full of unanswered questions and a stomach full of rotten four-cheese Cheez-Its. Who really killed the Kennedys? Jacob seems to think that it was Mokèlé-mbèmbé, and I’m starting to agree. Too bad the bastard has a head start on us by forty-four years, two months, two days, five hours and four minutes.
Other questions that haunt me at night: Why does God allow bad things to happen to good people? When will the mighty evil enveloping this shrinking universe be seen for what it is and defeated by the masses? Is the inherent nature of humanity one of chaos, fear, ignorance and hatred?
Why are there vegetables?
In other news, that tiger that the po-po* riddled with holes made her way to heaven, despite being bogged down by a cosmic battle with a departed demented bag lady, and the loss of physical form into an ethereal blob of mere concept. Once into the light, she plopped her blobform into the unemployment office, and currently tends bar at the swankiest tiki bar in all the dreamrealm, (i get my Zombies there for the friend price!) In case you were wondering (you sick fucks, you) Heath Ledger went straight to H-E-double-hockey-sticks.
I haven’t heard from Future-Breshvic in a while. That’s probably not a good sign for me. Either I’m dead (done in by some cunning foe or eventual atomic deterioration), or I’m pulling double shifts at work, or I’m keenly smitten with some new flame, they’re pretty sweet on each other and are going steady. Duder! Temporal dopplegängers before hos! Temporal dopplegängers… before hos.
Whatevs, that me is (going to be) a total asshole anyways. Once I showed up in a twisted bunny costume. I told me that I hated that movie, but then I said that in the future I love it and its my myspace page theme. It’s like I don’t even know who I am anymore. And to learn that myspace is still popular a year from now! I am Jack’s clichéd movie quotation.
Hmmm… I wonder if I’ll have a place to live this time next week?
*
Great Scott! The Libyans!

Sounds made up.

Things are so hectic right now. Not only do I have work every day at six am, but I have to get the rest of my stuff boxed up, read six or seven books, write out some plot synopses, finish off this roll of film, defeat an arch-foe or two, fill out this sketchbook, do the laundry, find an apartment, and our Revengerists Compound was bombarded sometime last night by dreaded space Cosbium-14. And I can’t shower today because my dad is grouting.

But tomorrow I am going to the zoo. The same zoo where a tiger escaped and killed a man, where a snow leopard and a polar bear almost escaped in the past week. Since it most likely won’t get published by the several newpapers I submitted it to, here is the article I wrote (unedited in blog form) concerning the tiger. I want to reiterate: we don’t get mad a pie for being delicious.

I had a dream the night of the attack, long before I could know of it, that a tiger escaped from the zoo. But at the end of that dream, I was eaten alive by a hippopotamus. Then I come to find out that the contractors who fucked up the tiger thing are also responsible for the grizzly bears and the hippos. A hippo has a vertical leap of twenty-eight inches. We’ll all see what happens.

Also: If a baby giraffe runs into a wall and kills itself, then that baby giraffe did not deserve to live. Giraffes are lame. End of story.

http://www.theworldwidegourmet.com/?action=recette_show&id=1866&lg=en

NOTE to Future-Breshvic: This Cosbium thing might have put us into an alternate timeline and gang aft agley all our best laid plans. I don’t remember anything being made mention of it when I was in the future, but maybe it was just such a minor setback it wasn’t worth mentioning. Then again, maybe our timelines are so far removed from the ethos of psychohistory that you and I shall never meet, in fact, are DOOMED. Questions. Comments. Concerns. An ashtray. And a paddle ball game. Remote Control. These Matches. And this lamp. And the chair. And my dog.

Possible Side Effects

Unfortunately, with great power comes a lot of nagging, incessant pains in the ass. Considering what my capabilities are actually capable of, I need to be extra careful. It’s like messing with the source code, or randomly deleting files from your computer willy-nilly. And we all know what can happen. Willy. And. Nilly. Time freezing forever! Vortexes ripping the sky asunder! Everything on the planet losing gravity and floating up into space, screaming in confusion and horror! A suddenly created momentum towards a brick wall! Skyscrapers losing mass! Increased density of the oceans! Uncalled for teleportation! The implosion of the Earth and neighboring heavenly bodies upon themselves! The sudden transmutation of all local matter into Beef Croquettes! I have learned that with casual apathy, and NOT keen concentration, I can control my skills with greater ease and less risk (I learned this after many weeks wasted in concentration camp). Certain abilities, like walking on hydrogen molecules, or bending light into various fractals, doesn’t require much, and can be a sort of second thought reaction, which doesn’t result in much mayhem. Sometimes, I think I slip into alternate dimensions unknowingly, where everything is exactly the same except for the conversation I’d just been having. A man on the bus turns to me and continues a conversation that I was not aware that we were having. He says; “But I do like that hat, though. Like I say, you need a big feather for it.” I had to check, but I was pretty sure at the time that I wasn’t wearing a hat is crawfish season, and I’m very excited! Thank you for axing! Oy, I wish I was recreating with some herbal supplements (or CDs) right now. I haven’t exactly talked to Sampson in a while. NOTE to Future-Breshvic: All Systems Are Go.

Day Five

The key players of the superteam are being contacted and assembled, a base of operations is being sought and priced from the rental guide, and we almost have a wicked sweet name to instill fear and awe into our foes. All the pieces of the plan are coming together, actually quite ahead of schedule. Which is bad. Because I carefully planned all of this shit using psychohistorical methodology and a slide ruler. This either means that I need to take a few days off and catch up on some other neglected projects, waste the time of some of the key players involved on busy work in order to get back on quantum quota, or send everyone but myself back in time about a week. But then there would be two of everybody and nobody around me. And I won’t get invited to anybody’s bangin’ dopplegänger parties…

Actually, I think I’ll just do what I always do in these situations. Get drunk and expect that everything will work out.

I found two lucky pennies today!

You may be asking yourself, (or me if you had any balls, which you don’t), “hey, why write all of this on your myspace page, if Mr. Mind is going to be able to see it? Fools! You don’t understand how radio works! Mr. Mind can (durdurdur) read minds, and since I have valuable knowledge involving the intricate and delicate timestream leading to his fiery hell-ish dominion, then I WANT to explain every one of my actions in painstaking detail. You may now be asking yourself, “B-whu?” Allow me to elucidate for some of the Tommy Turkeys in the room: Mr. Mind knows I wouldn’t be stupid enough to reveal my plans to such extent, but he also underestimates my every move. Therefore, if, he doesn’t expect me to do something that only I could be capable of doing knowing there’s no other way I wouldn’t do it, then it stands to reason that I have to do it. Understand now? If I’m revealing my plan on the internets, then they must be false informations. And if I’m willingly admitting that part of my plan is to plant such false informations on the internets in plain view, then it must really be the actual plan! Obviously, if its so clearly the actual plan, it can’t possibly be it, and should be disregarded.

Confused? Don’t worry. For all of you depending on me, be assured that everything I say on here is 100% true. Except for that. Or… was it? But seriously, it was. You can’t obviously believe that! How stupid are you? Where do you get off?

And my profile pic, (which the motaba seems to have rendered freakin’ impossible to remove), is actually growing on me. It brings me all sorts of joy and wonderment, just like videos of monkeys in tubes. It may be a subtle form of sick neurolinguistic programming designed to indoctrinate me into the Monster Society of Evil’s New World Obliteration (catchy, huh?), but my hatred for Mr. Mind hasn’t subdued at all. Even if I do like the new gif, and even if the motaba has doomed all attempted contact from SPAM profiles to horrendous unspeakable destruction, I still want to grind the pissant little insect under my size-eleven steel-toeds. When I think of all of the horrific ways in which I had to watch my friends and colleagues perish in the future nightmare world of– OOH! Lookit! A fox with his guts all splayed out on the road! That was a good one! Hahahahahahaha! I dint see that one afore! Hooee. Ah. aheh. What was I talking about?

I forgot to end-quotes somewhere a ways back. Well, better late than never.”

Dr. Worm

Yes, the much-awaited details of the latest nefarious plot of that accursed Mr. Mind, or as I call him, Dr. Worm (he’s not an real doctor but his is a real worm, he is an actual worm).

First I think I ought to divulge the methodology in the retrieval of aforementioned information. Try saying that ten times fast! I had to break a lot of skulls in a lot of airport smoke lounges to get some pretty flimsy leads. Then, to speed things up a bit, I broke the space-time continuum. This isn’t easy to do, mind you, but I had to traverse the tumultuous years ahead. The hardest part is the fasting and water-binging for two days or so before each trip, believe it or not. I had to travel into the near future and also to such God-forsaken places as Phoenix and L.A., so that I could learn and hopefully later impart crucial knowledge to my close friends and family that would protect them in the terrible days to come. I do not expect to fail in the process of foiling Mr. Mind, but then again, he doesn’t expect to be foiled either. Neither one of us can count too much on the other, then, can we? Remember, the road to hell is paved with vintage lunchboxes, but that has nothing to do with this! Pay attention, dammit!

This is what I learned:

Mr. Mind is actually from a parallel and surreal dimension of insane (and some argue inferiorly crafted) “fiction” nonsense, as well as one planet over. Upon landing in our reality, he immediately sought to accomplish two things, One; to re-form his infamous Monster Society of Evil by employing the sad, frustrating, but equally devious villains of our planet and immediate solar system. Two; to squelch any possible interloping by do-gooder Billy Batson, coincidentally their World’s Mightiest Mortal.

Unfortunately, (or not, it’s a matter of perspective), Batson does not exist in our version of reality, as neither did Mr. Mind himself. In fact, many of Mr. Mind’s favorite delicatessens and movie parlours are not where they should be, further fueling his malice. Not understanding the cosmic rift that deposited him here, nor the sudden changes in this suddenly dissimilar universe, Mr. Mind began to search for Batson using a variety of telepathic methods, spy networks, government databases, Google Earth and wikipedia. Starting in Batson’s hometown of Fairfield, which had incongruously been decimated by an atom bomb by Mr. Mind in his own dimension, he searched for any super-powered or otherwise noteworthy individuals from this sleepy 89.86% White populated suburb.

So it stood to reason that he would discover me. I haven’t exactly hidden myself from society. Various battles with Mythical Chinese Dragons, paranormal research, centralised power surges, failed sketch comedy pilots, countless message board trolling, and knock-down drag-out fights with multidimensional shades and demons have all seen to that. And they bite! And while it might be fair to put me in the running for ‘World’s Mightiest Mortal’ in this world, anyway, there are plenty of more deserving candidates for Mr. Mind’s replacement arch-rival. My powers pale in comparison to those of Bruce “If Chins Could Kill” Campbell, Jim Vivas (Viking God of teh Roxors), the Beastie Boys, the Aquabats, Dr. Tasty, or maybe even Mark Mothersbaugh. There are also numerous underrated heroes at the street level, not to be discounted, like Crazy-Pants, the Southside Santa, the Worst Ninja Ever, the Crazy Running Lady, George, or the Dancing Man.

In fact, part of what confounds me the most is that I wasn’t even the only global power around the region. In my graduating class alone, we had a shadow ninja, a mad scientist, telekinetic mutant, amateur inventor of super-robots, dabbler in ‘teh force’, and invincible extraterrestrial, (what up, Andrew? me? oh, just holdin’ it down, you know how we do).

How he first reached me, I don’t know. It may have been through the mental manipulation of my landlord, but then again she may have just been a bitch anyway. I could have been the persecution of friends and roommates through various judicial, financial and hospitalization means. Suddenly, word came from a mysterious source (okay, it was Rabbi Levi), that in order to protect my friends from fates worse than Old Tyme, I must exile myself to all points west, in search of higher wages and greater wisdom in the fight against evil. He didn’t exactly say it like that, but it kind of loses something when translated from the original Yiddish. More importantly, to all my relations, it was crucial that things seem natural. So I threw a mediocre party, cheaped out on moving costs, and packed up my records. Then into the abysmal black hole from which few return, on a journey that could easily spell certain death. But at least I got to watch E3 with my cousin and LAN party with my chums for the release of Halo 3.

Anyways, it was on a showroom computer at a Radioshack establishing a new secret identity and myspace page that I was able to do most of my research into Mr. Mind’s workings in and around Fairfield. Mind you (no pun intended), I was a good few months behind him, and had to work hard to uncover his hidden tracks, he had made some glaring errors. His compulsive conquering had led him to run for School Board, momentarily possessing the mind of Arnie Eagle, with an outrageous plan to shoot down even more school levies (which he was planning to do anyway). Luckily, a coalition of Warrior X (at least that’s what he called himself when I knew him), Jungle Jim, and the ghost of baseball legend Joe Nuxhall managed to send the miserable worm out-of-state with his tail between his… well, uh… so then he left, anyways. Armed with the information I needed, and sick of relying on my grandfather for transportation, I continued my journey whilst under the ruse of vacation time. Hopefully, they will be too distracted by their bumbling store manager and impromptu district manager visits to discover the quantum deatomization restructuralizer I worked out of their parts drawers and ipod display. I would have taken it with me, but I had already lifted a little Hexbug toy and a handful of gold doubloons, and didn’t want to push my luck.

From there, I was able to regroup on the West Coast, and then head for my mission in Phoenix where I was to ‘visit some friends.’ In actuality, I was to meet with an unnamed informant, whom we shall refer to as ‘Dasypus Novemcinctus,’ who I convened with for the moment I was able to break away from my friend at the Phoenix zoo. In Los Angeles, I was to reconnoiter the headquarters of the Monster Society, and though turned away due to their stringent dress code, I was able to accomplish my primary goals; establish the hierarchy of command in the organization, identify the principle members as well as their comings, goings, and shift changes, and Bluesnarf their mainframe while stealing high-speed wireless from all their base. Thank you once again, Radioshack!

Aside:

Monster Society of Evil? What kind of a name is that? Besides being only slightly less redundant that the Department of Redundancy Department, I’ve never understood the utility in naming your organisation bent on world dominion with such foreboding, like SPECTRE, or the League of Assassins, or the Empire of Death, or the Legion of Doom. Why, I can’t say I seez no sense in it! Hardly anybody brands themselves as ‘evil,’ let alone ‘monsters,’ and a whole society of them accept this moniker? Granted, its a terrorist organisation, intent on instilling fear into the nations of the world, but what’s your SIDE of the story? Surely you feel that your actions and position are not only justifiable, but in fact reasonably righteous. You have to have some BELIEFS. Even that crazy nut who laughs maniacally on my street corner at three in the morning thinks that he’s providing a public service.

To make a long story slightly less long, I can afford to keep quiet no longer. Having seen the future, I know that now the time is ripe to reveal Mind’s scheme to the world, and pray that the powers of the world can do what they can, or haven’t been done in by his subterfuge already. Here goes: Mr. Mind has been planning to hemorrhage large stockpiles of LEGOs through various worldwide pipelines, with which he will not only be able to construct armor, weaponry, and multiple artificial floating island bases, but also dominate a monopoly on this valuable finite resource. Other various aspects of his intrigue include the systematic destruction of LEGO wholesalers, warehouse raids, large eBay purchases, and finally, the well-coordinated yet tragic bombings of LEGOLands worldwide, which will effectively place all LEGO resources in the feelers of that dastardly Mind. Then, once the stock market and retail outlets are in a fervor over what to do, he will flood the market, devaluing the US Dollar and sending the major world powers into depression and economic tailspin. After that, though details are sketchy and sources even moreso, a bilateral attack will occur on our technological and military infrastructure, forcing the human race into a primitive nomadic culture. And not the raucous Gogol Bordello-styled quirky nomadic culture we’ve all dreamed about, but a sort of pathetic Eloi ripe for totalitarian domination and the intergalactic slave trade. And while some of you are just asking for it, its really going to be pretty bad. Without getting too detailed… uh… Rod Serling bad… suffice it to say it would be better if we kind of pooled our efforts on this one, guys.

In short order, I will reveal to each of you your instrumental parts to play in this cosmic game of chess, for not only your own survival but that of the very WORLD! (Except you, Lee. Your instructions will just be for your own survival. Sorry. The world doesn’t need the sort of help that you bring to the table. Trust me on this.)

Aside:

And why conquer the Earth, anyways? Everybody’s always trying to conquer the Earth. Take it from somebody who lives there: Erth is Dum. And I’m totally not just saying that in some reverse psychology ploy to convince any would-be conquerors that the Earth is only SEEMINGLY not worth conquering. I mean, I am really sincerely genuinely honestly synonym when I say, this planet is an embarrassment to conquerable heavenly bodies. I would conquer Krylon-6, whose inhabitants not only imbue their conquerors with great self-esteem, but also make better pelts. Or the Great Spacefence of the Outer Bic Galaxy, which will literally give you powers over life and death, and has the fine distinction of being the only tourist spot in the known universe to have NEVER been conquered. Eh? How about that shit! What have we got? A measly yellow sun that can *temporarily* grant some *demi*-god-*like* superpowers. Great. So what? It only works if you stay here, and who wants to stay here? Ever since Kennedy got assassinated, the Soviet Union collapsed, and they cancelled Arrested Development, things here have been pretty lame. Oh, the girls are pretty cool, I guess, if you want a nice conversation about wine and a little light petting. But we all know there are sexier spacebabes with longer tongues and shorter inhibitions out there. Ever been to the Liquitex Nebula? OH, LEWD NOISE!!

I mean, I’m not worried for me. I can just bounce to my Omniverse crib. Great view of the Lake of St. Flckni’tpxx. And I have a standing offer at this awesome Polynesian pop shop in the dream realm. It’s minimum wage, but minimum wage in the dream realm is whatever you want it to be.

TIPS TO PROTECT YOURSELF FROM THE MONSTER SOCIETY OF EVIL IN ’08:

Hoard your LEGOs.

Practice the martial arts, or at the very least, hit the sticks and work on your Fight Night moves.

Don’t allow yourself to become possessed by the forces of evil. Try not to leave your house if you think you might be.

If you see a monster, assume the worst. While we all would like to think we live in politically correct times. Sometimes we have to see the seven-headed hydra as a seven-headed hydra. It is easier to apologize than to regenerate.

Memorize bad poetry. You’d be surprised.

Get a cat. They’re excellent protection from the forces of evil. Unless you have an evil cat.

Stay away from evil cats.

Wear steel-toed boots.

Don’t trust whitey.

Stop the Earth from imploding when applicable.

If you see something, tell someone!

Stock up on plastic sheeting and distilled water.

Keep your chin up. Mr. Mind is short, and this will make it harder for him.

Carry a subatomic raygun. It’s hard to get a permit, but it is your right as an American.

At night, wear that reflective bike shit. It’s just a good idea, anyway.

Crouch behind a rock. (I’m talking to you, Lee!)

Learn voodoo.

Write your congressman.

Never have nightmares.

Ever.

Carry a flashlight.

Don’t vote Republican.

Buy volcano insurance.

Buy Black Death Ray insurance.

Back up your MP3 collection.

Wear mystical amulets. Failing that, wear mystical Reeboks.

Don’t believe everything you read or see on television. In fact, don’t believe anything you read or see on television.

Try to be as immortal as you can in these situations.

Drink a glass of wine every night.

Keep your friends close, and suspicious Nazi supersoldiers closer.

Buy some insecticide, or maybe a flyswatter.

If you find your mind being taken over, think of They Might Be Giants songs, they will totally get stuck in the mind of whomever just took yours, and its a nice parting shot.

Beat up gutter punks. This actually does nothing to protect you from the Monster Society of Evil, but it couldn’t hurt, either.

Don’t engage in class warfare. Don’t you see he’s just pitting us against one another?

Keep an ear and eye open for recent assaults on LEGO storehouses.

Practice your rationing and nomadic skills. It could save you in a Harlan Ellison-styled post-apocalyptic future, and looks good on a resume.

Don’t take part in any deterraforming clubs, no matter what ‘work from home’ or ‘make millions’ BS they feed you.

If you are in possession of magical, future-telling pearls, don’t let that shit out of your sight for an instant! Show a little foresight!

If you’re like me and think the Monster Society of Evil might be on to you, invest in some plastic surgery. I would, but I can’t even afford LASIK, and that’s been first on my list since way before all this.

Have somebody else start your car for you. When possible, have somebody else taste your soup for you, as well.

Don’t use 4-1-1. Not even that 1-800-FREE-4-1-1 shit.

Watch the Rockford Files. Learn.

Start digging.

Tell your loved ones how much you love them.

Worst comes to worst, we’ll meet up at the Super Wal*Mart.

Make some friends in other dimensions or faraway planets. They might come in useful come June.