show dem pumpum printers

Ha, ze German hairkutters finally admit to be ciciman.

Damage control

File on A. Mayer X23352-07/03/1986 - Code name: The Wimp.
Date of entry: 09/19/2007

Damn the internet. Nowadays information that should be handled with a little discretion is spreading way to fast. Sometimes, footage leaks onto the net and thousands of people across the globe have seen within hours what no one should ever see. Just a few years ago I would have sent my boys to the scene to deal with the eyewitnesses. It sure was a pleasant alleviation of our work when we got the memory-messer-uppers. Now, thanks to the net they're rendered almost useless. This footage leaked onto the net yesterday:



If information cannot be contained the book states several methods of ridiculing it and thus making it implausible. Occasionally, we even leak information to hollow sources such as UFO sightings intentionally. That way if anyone ever does see one of our unidentified flying objects (terrestrial or not), nobody will take the witness seriously.
In the "Wimp" case I chose the full force approach. It was too late to cover this up, so we stomp this boy into the ground by humiliating him publicly. And were he could press charges against the security personnel, the state will press charges against him pre-emptively. That will keep him, and more importantly, the public occupied and distracted from the real critical points - the questions he asked.
I had Fox take care of the situation.



We have clubbed activists like you down in '68, Mr. Mayer. We are not going to let that kind of action go unpunished. What would this country come to if everyone could freely utter there questions to politicians or even suggest criticism to honorable members of the league?

Further proceedings: "The Wimp" is on a watch until further notice.

Hamburg Harburg

Zat is vot ze hole vorld is goink to look like ven my Master finally succeeds! Ze Harburg part zat is, not ze Hamburg part.

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.

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.

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.

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!*

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.

"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...