Tuesday, August 28, 2007

er, er, vee should really support such places

Excellent, Master Fronkensteen's plan to plant ze stupid gene into ze Sous Karolinaien DNA is finally showing some fruits.

Wednesday, August 22, 2007

The G.O.A.T.



Either there's some kind of evil minion convention going on that I don't know about or all of the other bitches on this blog are out getting their pubes waxed...

Anyway, these ransom letters aren't going to mail themselves. In the meantime, here's a video of a real man's man.

Monday, August 20, 2007

Revenge in three easy steps



The number of villains, supervillians and evil geniuses at work in the world is fairly high and each of those figures has at least few thugs in their employ. I don't actually consider myself a "thug", but depending on the size of the outfit, you can run into a wide range of personalities -- from the highly-skilled henchperson to...let's say, the "dumbasses". It's pretty much the same as in any office environment, really.

I was gonna say something along the lines of, "We're paid to read, not to lead." However, that's probably also slightly misleading, as I'm convinced that some of my colleagues are functionally illiterate.

The best way I can describe this type of work environment is like this: Remember back in your school days, when you had to give a book report? A portion of the students in the class will at least attempt to cobble together a halfway decent book report after reading the book. Then, you always have the kids that forego reading in favor of the CliffsNotes, or I suppose these days good ol' Wikipedia. Lastly, you've got the real dumbasses that just base their book report on the movie -- thinking that no one will ever notice the difference.

Designing an evil scheme after something that you saw once in a movie is usually not the way to go, especially if it's a movie where the bad guys lose in the end. However, this doesn't stop some of my co-workers from repeatedly suggesting (or worse, doing) this very thing.

I head up a bi-weekly jour fixe, where we brainstorm solutions to some of our organization's smaller problems. Here's an example of some of the ideas that some of my moron co-workers come up with:

Agenda Item: Dealing with the Federal Agent who has been snooping around.

Lydia: I could hit him over the head with a frying pan, then Big George...uh I mean Brian can chop up the body and we can barbecue him and serve him up to the other federal agents that will eventually come looking for him.

Me: You mean like in the movie Fried Green Tomatoes.

Lydia: Well, not exactly.

Me: No, that's exactly what happened in that movie.

Lydia: I think it's a fucking terrific plan. Towannnda!

Me: Are you drunk right now?

Lydia: Well, not exactly.

Agenda Item: Company T-Shirt Fundraiser Ideas

Bill: We can kidnap the Chinese Consul's daughter and hold her for ransom. Or until they give us some ancient Chinese artifacts that we can sell on the black market.

Me: Like in the movie, Rush Hour?

Bill: Yeah, duh...the best movie ever made.

Me: And did that work in the movie?

Bill: No, but Jackie Chan was pretty awesome. I for one could not understand the words coming out of that little Asian dude's mouth. He's hilarious!

Me: Next idea!.

Bill: How about we make bootleg booze and smuggle it in bowling balls? That's not in any movie I've ever seen.

Me: That's because it was an episode on The Simpsons, dumbass.

Bill: Well, can you come up with anything better?

Me: Yeah, how about we hold a city bus hostage for money and then rig the bus to explode if it goes under 50mph...?

Everyone: Yeah! Awesome!

Me: Of course it's awesome...cause it's the plot of the movie Speed, you idiots!

That said, every once and while, someone will come up with a fairly decent idea based on something they saw on TV or in a movie or (in this case) YouTube.

Agenda Item: Exacting Revenge on Carl (who tipped off the Feds regarding The Boss' most recent world domination scheme)

Me: Ok, anyone got a good idea?

Silence

Me: Steve, you've been quiet this whole time. What's that you've got written on your notepad?

Steve: Well, um...it's nothing really.

Me: C'mon, spill it...

Steve: (after a bit of hesitation) Well, Step 1, we'll need a box. Step 2, inject a local anesthetic into Carl's dick while he's sleeping, then cut off his dick, and put that junk in the box. Step 3, make him open the box.

Me: Basically, we're gonna give him his dick in a box? Brilliant. All in favor say, 'Aye'

Everyone: Aye!

Me: Alrighty then, meeting adjourned.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

A night on the town



About a year ago, my buddy Chris decided to start participating in The Boss' "commuter program". It's for employees who don't want to or for some reason can't live on the island. Chris got hitched about a year ago and when he found out that his wife was pregnant, they decided that they should probably live somewhere a bit more kid-friendly than an island chock full of bad guys and scientific experiments that try to overthrow the laws of God and nature.

It was actually more Chris' idea than Sheila's. Before she went on maternity leave, she was the head of The Boss' super secret Ninja Assassin Squad. So, I think it kinda goes without saying that she's cool as fuck. I think Chris is just using this whole baby thing as an excuse to get off the island. He loves his job, but he has always hated living here.

So, the two of them signed up for the "commuter program" and now they've got a spread out in Las Vegas, go figure.

Employees who want to commute to work can do so from anywhere in the world. The Boss then sets them up with some kind of fancy molecular transporter beamer thingy (think Star Trek, people) and then they beam in for their shift and beam back at the end of the day.

It sounds pretty awesome in theory, but The Boss has never been able to fully work out the kinks in this technology. Whenever he fixes the problem that causes one side effect, another one pops up. First it was: transporting turns you inside out. Then, profuse bleeding from the eyes, ears and nose. Then, there was permanent blindness, the weird shrinking thing, mucus face...and on and on. Needless to say, most employees opted not to participate.

Finally, The Boss came up with a repair that made transporting actually pretty safe and had no life-threatening side effects. The only thing is that it removes all of your body hair. Not permanently, but if you're transporting every day, your hair kinda doesn't get a chance to grow back.

Chris doesn't seem to mind. In fact, it's kinda creepy how much he enjoys his hairless look. He says Sheila digs it. I asked him to not go into any further details about that.

Last night, Chris celebrated his birthday and invited about 20 of us to come over and party out in Vegas. It was all "his treat", but we all had to use the transporter to get out there. Now Chris and I go way back, so I thought that one night of complete hairlessness wouldn't kill me. I imagine it'd be pretty weird to see a group of 20 hairless guys cruising around. I mean not just bald, but like no eyebrows, facial hair, arm hair...

It was all worth it though, we went to this one club and they treated us like fucking kings! We didn't have to spend a dime and got free lap dances all night long. Of course, I tipped the dancers, I'm not a monster. But man, I got so wasted!

At some point, the party group kinda dispersed. I imagine most of them went off to snort cocaine off of strippers' asses, but what happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas. Chris and I made our way back to his place. Along the way, I asked him how he managed to pay for all those strippers and the club and the booze.

He answered, "Dude...I didn't pay for shit."

And I said, "Did we all just unknowingly participate in a strip and dash?"

"No."

"Did you steal someone's credit card and start a tab without their knowledge?"

"Dude, no..."

"Then how did you make that all happen?"

"Simple. I told them that I was a member of the adult version of the Make-A-Wish Foundation and that it was my wish that me and my buddies from chemotherapy have one last night on the town. Actually that chemotherapy excuse works for lots of stuff. People can be very generous if they think you are terminally ill."

"So, you're saying it's like having all the perks of cancer, without the actual deadly disease."

"Bingo."

I just shook my head and grinned, "You're such an asshole."

He just replied, "I know...now, let's go home and fuck my wife."

Pilotink ze pussy

Oh now all ze sudden it vas not you who stuck his päjnös up my arse anymore? Oh Frau Blücher, oh Frau Blücher, let me kome on your vrinkly sagging titties, you skreamt!
Let me tell you somesink, Herr McSatan, I'm pilotink ze pussy, vis Luftwaffe hat and SS gloves and all, just like my girlfirend Alexyss:



PS: FedEx deliwers. And if zey don't find you at home, they ewen offer to kome to your workplace.

*This post was brought to you by FedEx Transilvania, your official parcel service for evil deliveries. FedEx - making the Feds ex!*

Friday, August 17, 2007

Hardy-har-har

I woke up this morning to find a mutilated dead horse in my bed. I don't know how it got there, but I got a pretty good idea of who is responsible for it. I insinuated in my last post that I had sexual relations with "everyone's favorite psycho horse bitch", Frau Blücher.

Geez, it was a joke lady...get over it! No need for killing innocent horses and dragging them to my house. Not only is it unsanitary...it's just plain insane. Should I send you my bloody sheets so you can wash them yourself? Or just the dry cleaning bill? That was 400 thread count Egyptian cotton and now...it's ruined.

Also I don't even wanna know how you managed to get my fucking home address in the first place! I swear, if one of these other fuckers on this group blog gave it out...someone is gonna get cut.

A joke...Witz...I vas making ze funny...? Do you understand?!

Goddammit! Just go take one of your happy time old people pills and chill the fuck out.

Thursday, August 16, 2007

"Good Guys" suck



See, this is what I'm talking about people. And at the end, everybody just has a big laugh. If that cop had broken out the front porch windows of the compound, he'd be shark bait right about now. I can't fucking stand these douchebags. And the sergeant in charge?! He's all like, "How are we gonna write this up?" And I'd be all like, "Bitch, what the fuck?! Come and pet my aquarium full of pirhanas!"

This shit is not funny to me.

On a lighter note, you know that Frau Blücher? She's so freaky, but freaky in the "good way"...if you know what I mean *wink*. Don't get me wrong, she's a mean old bitch, but once you get her hollering that German jibber jabber... It. Is. Over.
Beneath her rough and haggard exterior, she's a total G.O.I.L.F.A. (German Oma -- yadda yadda -- Again).

I think she's into the darkies though...

Ah finally some braun oser braun shade wideo

Zis modern day color shit does not suit me at all. I don't know vot zis jung man is tolking about, zis hip and ze hop, but sänks for bringik somesing i kan see. ze hip and ze hop sounds like somesink ze shildrens do to me. these little krittas...

You hear you little shits, ze next of you who tries to help me akross ze street so I don't get run owa by a horse, I'll breaks your fuckink neck!

Wednesday, August 15, 2007

Hint hint



I don't know how many of y'all remember USA Network's Up All Night, but it was a great show hosted by the oh-so-M.I.L.F.-y Rhonda Shear. Every Friday, she hosted a bunch of cheesy B-movies, which was where I first became aware of the cinematic classic, Chopper Chicks in Zombietown.

Personally, I'm a very big fan of the Keanu Reeves' filmography (Keanu and I share the same birthdate -- plus, I just think he's a raging badass). However, Chopper Chicks in Zombietown is a film that pretty much any man could enjoy. You've got a gang of hormonal, menstrual biker-chicks...there are some midget fights along the way...and the kicker?! They've got to protect a bus full of blind orphans from a town over-run by ZOMBIES!!!

If this had been the plot for Speed 2, I'd bet my left nut that that Keanu Reeves woud have reprised his role as Officer Jack Traven instead of passing. Fucking Hollywood. Always killing a brotha's dreams...

Anyway, Chopper Chicks in Zombietown is available on DVD...and my birthday is September 2nd.

Saturday, August 11, 2007

No hard feelings

I'd have to say that probably the biggest downside of living in an evil lair on a semi-autonomous tropical island off the coast of Mozambique is the rather low ratio of females to males. I mean, that's not to say that I don't work with some attractive henchpeople (the more PC term), but we're pretty low on vaginas over here. I guess it doesn't really matter anyway since I'm not really down with the inter-henchpersonnel relationships anymore. No siree, learned my lesson there.

My last girlfriend was a co-worker and man was she evil! I know everyone says that about their significant other, but I'm talking like literally the embodiment of evil over here. Hot as fuck, though. I guess where the relationship really took a dive head-first into a pool of shit, was that I just couldn't stand her constant nagging. She was always like, "Why aren't you more ambitious? I bet there are at least 10 guys around here who'd be willing to help you get your own start up schemes off the ground. If you make a five-year-plan...I bet you could even manage to get your own compound somewhere out in Utah with a couple hundred henchmen of your own." Nag, nag, nag. I'd take it for as long as I could until finally I'd have to go, "Woman! Dammit! I'm not trying to do none of that. How many times do I have to tell you that my priority right now is saving up for a high definition plasma TV?! Goddamn it, why can't you get that through your thick skull?!"

Yeah, well, I guess she did eventually get it through her thick skull and one day she up and left the island with about 10 other guys. She's somewhere in Portland now running some kind of Anthrax Brownie operation with her new boyfriend (I googled her name last week). I hear it's going pretty good and they got about 50 employees. Anyway, that pretty much taught me not to dip my pen in the company ink. I've stuck to that rule ever since.

Fortunately, we're not too far off from the coast of the mainland. It's only about a 30 min ride with the hovercraft. So, on the weekends a bunch of us will get together and go clubbing and shit. It can be kind of a hassle, cause someone's always gotta be the designated hovercraft driver. It's a new policy ever since a group of croco-lobsters got loose, reproduced like crazy and now basically infest the waters between the island and the mainland. Someone's always gotta be sober so they can be on the lookout for 'em. It's a bitch and I don't really understand The Boss' need for half-crocodile/half-lobster creatures...but evil geniuses aren't always the sanest people on the planet.

The mainland girls are cool, I guess. They can be a little bit judgmental about my occupation, which is totally unfair, because I'm usually pretty cool about whatever it is they do. Besides, the millions of dollars in bribe money that The Boss pays the government to look the other way does go towards building up the country's infrastructure. Well, a little bit of it anyway.... a really little bit. Ok, the government built the Mall of Evil with the money, and that's pretty much it.

But I was talking to this chick at the Jamba Juice at the mall the other day. I thought we were hitting it off, but she completely flipped out when she heard about what I did for a living. She kept going on and on like (crazy chick falsetto voice) "Oh my! I can't believe you work for that man!"

And I go, "Hey, he's not so bad..."

And she's like, "Well, name one good thing that he's ever done."

That line left me pretty speechless, I must admit. I looked at her and responded, "Uh...hello? Are you retarded or something? His money built this mall. And this Jamba Juice... so basically, he's the reason you have a job."

Like a typical woman, she tried to get in one last jab: "I still don't understand how you can live with the loss of innocent human lives."

I looked Jamba Juice girl dead in her eyes and said, "Babe, you can't make an omelette without blowing up a few chicken coops."

"Um, that'll be $4.50 for your Strawberry Whirl smoothie."

I was just like, "Whatever, bitch." And threw down the money and left.

Zombie-osity

Highly underrated. Just listen to our Commander-in-Chief:

Bush vs. Zombies


Someone has totally been doing their research.

Thursday, August 9, 2007

A rough day at the office



A new shipment of killer sharks arrived at the lair yesterday. Guess who had to install the laser beam head gear? That's right, yours truly. Man, sometimes I really hate this job. I know I shouldn't think like that...but seriously, have you ever had to get in a tank full of 15 killer sharks and attach laser beams to their heads? Didn't think so.

First of all, their name says it all. These fuckers are killer fucking sharks. Not teddy bears. Ever rub a shark the wrong way? That shit hurts. And killer sharks don't care if you're technically on the "same side". Second, The Boss is a fucking tightwad. Instead of hooking us up with those phat Japanese laser joints, he buys the cheapos that are probably put together by 5-year-old sweatshop workers in Guatemala. Five-year-olds don't know shit about lasers, that's for sure. Plus, these pieces of junk tend to go off for no reason at all. That's how our first batch of sharks got ruined in the first place. They just lasered each other to death. It's unsafe, I tell you...someone could lose an eye. And I should, know...it's how I lost my eye. I mean, it turned out alright for me, because an eye patch gives me a little bit more "street cred", I think. However, it also leads to my third point, which is that my lack of depth perception makes the task all the more difficult and time consuming.

Luckily, Stumpy Jones was there giving me a hand. The work goes by a lot faster if you've got someone there to keep you company. He throws steaks into the opposite end of the pool to try to distract as many of the sharks away from me as possible. He kept ripping joke after joke and even took off his wooden leg and did some kinda crazy Darth Vader impression using his leg as a lightsaber. You should have seen him hopping around all over the place. I nearly peed myself.

After I got the last shark fitted up, I turned to Stumpy and go, "Hey, Stumpy, you know what I could really go for right about now?"

And he replied, "A couple of hookers and some blow?"

I smiled and said, "Man, it's like you can read my fucking mind! Except I'd add a nice juicy steak and a six-pack of Heineken to that order. C'mon buddy, let's go...the hookers are my treat!"

Then we high-fived each other.

I turned away and headed towards the sliding doors; but, right as I did, I heard a loud "Bzzzzzt!" and then a splat. When I turned back around, I saw Stumpy lying on the ground in a pool of blood. One of those motherfucking lasers obliterated his goddamned good leg!

Stumpy was taking it like a champ, though. He just grinned and said, "Dude, I think I might have to pass on those hookers tonight."

We both started laughing, then I picked him up and carried him to the infirmary. I heard The Boss is gonna spring for two brand new bionic legs for the fella. They're probably gonna be shitty Guatemalan bionic legs, but anything is better than that old wooden mop handle and duct tape set up that Stumpy had been using before. I'm probably also gonna have to start coming up with a new nickname for him.

Maybe when my annual evaluation time comes around this year, I'll ask The Boss for some kind of new bionic eye. Of course, I'll still keep wearing the eye patch. Bitches love the eye patch.

Europeans heighten threat levels

The British are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats and have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved". Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross". Londoners have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz began in 1940 and tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to "A Bloody Nuisance". The last time the British issued "A Bloody Nuisance" warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

Also, the French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide". The only two higher levels in France are "Collaborate" and "Surrender." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability. It's not only the Englishand French who are on a heightened level of alert.

Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout Loudly and Excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbour" and "Lose".

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy.These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

S.L.H

Tuesday, August 7, 2007

German is the language of the Devil

I always knew it sounded evil, but evidently the word itself was derived from German.


The modern English word 'evil' (Old English Yfel) and its cognates such as the German 'Übel' are widely considered to come from a Proto-Germanic reconstructed form *Ubilaz, comparable to the Hittite huwapp- ultimately from the Proto-Indo-European form *wap- and suffixed zero-grade form *up-elo-. Other later Germanic forms include Middle English evel, ifel, ufel Old Frisian evel (adjective & noun), Old Saxon ubil, Old High German ubil, and Gothic ubils. The root meaning is of obscure origin though shown to be akin to modern English 'over' and modern German 'über' (OE ofer) and 'up' (OE up, upp) with the basic idea of "transgressing".

Look how many damn German words they have for evil or something like it! I gotta get there quick! I bet they let you kill babies too.

Just to set the tone here II

Ok, blogger is also pure evil. Showing error messages but actually posting the damn thing is not convenient.

And how the fuck does one delete a post ... guess that's up to our unholy master ...

S.L.H.

Just to set the tone here

Just for those of you who thought Satan's Little Helper would start a debate in the comments anything here, I just want you to know:


Also I wanted to try whether my login works ...

S.L.H