Soma Says: Hilary Does Well For Herself

Hillary Clinton declared victory in the recent Pennsylvania Primary. This intrepid reporter waited patiently at the Hilary Clinton campaign headquarters while campaign staffers celebrated by snorting cocaine off of dead puppies and making prank calls to local pizzerias.

The evening included a twenty-five Eskimo all male sex show where several office implements were utilized during the erotic act. The celebration ended the next morning with all but yours truly passed out. The office smelled of feces and ammonia. No one was sober enough or even awake to interview and I was lucky to get out of there unmolested - but not before tea-bagging some strangers. I love my job.

Midget Thought Gay, Actually French

Local authorities conducted a sweep of circuses, film sets, and daycare centers in search of the notorious mad scientist, Os Tête Cerveau. Os, the on-again-off-again acquaintance of Quantum Lux, is wanted by Interpol for various crimes against humanity ranging from “arboreal necrophilia” to “impersonating a leprechaun.” Os is a known ally of the 500 year-old transvestite Amish zombie, Yabbi-ta. (see Field Report: Signs of the Apocalypse? post)

"Jigsaw" Strikes Again!

Murder most foul! The serial killer known as "Jigsaw" claimed another victim last night with a diabolically ingenious deadly puzzle-trap. Sandy the kitten was lured into what investigators are calling "the yarn trap" with promises of "play and sweet bliss" as recorded by Jigsaw himself on a taped message found in Sandy's hip pocket.

Death occurred by self-strangulation during exhaustive and rigorous yarn play. Also found in Sandy's pockets were a bag of catnip, a glass pipe, a lighter, three mouse tails, and Prozac. Sandy gained national prominence after being sexually linked to once powerful, now fallen, U.S. senator Slappy the cat. (see Who is your Slappy? posting)

Where Are They Now? E.T.

Do you remember that cute little shaven ape in that movie E.T. The Extra-Terrestrial? Of course you do. It is still one of the top grossing movies of all time. I caught up with E.T. for a surprisingly candid interview and received an in-your-face update as to the doings of E.T. after all these years.

It started while I was hunched over in the middle of a field taking a monster shit. I had stunned a family of squirrels with one of the concussion grenades I happened to have with me - so I was set for toilet paper. Living “Green” means shit streaks down a squirrel’s back helps them with their camouflage - and that’s never wrong.

Experience had taught me to always be prepared because one never knew when the world will go tits up, and having a wide selection of munitions always helps ease the transition from civil society to horrid mutant wasteland. Experience also taught me that I am never more vulnerable than when I am taking a dump. It is at these special moments I am most heavily armed. God bless Chuck Heston, the NRA, and The Duke.

So there I was, hunched over in the middle of a field taking a monster shit when who should stumble through the underbrush but E.T. himself, 3 days drunk and sporting several cold sores around his mouth. As I reached for my Beretta 9 mm, I noticed E.T.’s eyes were darting about in a paranoid fashion as he whirled around in shaky circles.

At the base of his back was a crude swastika and the numbers 88 tattooed. There was a bullet scar on his right shoulder, railroad tracks on his left arm and between his toes, a dozen knife scars on his abdomen and sides, and a sharp waft of exotic berries and sweet fruit accompanied his asthmatic labored breathing.

Without even looking, I already knew E.T. had golf ball sized hemorrhoids hanging out of his ass like a vine of grapes. The vision before me was telling me the story of E.T. with glaring clarity. After the movie came out, E.T. couldn’t find any meaningful real work in Hollywood, and did a few commercials and some stage work as Othello.

That soon dried up and his wife divorced him; leaving E.T. alone, broke, and homeless. He was desperate and developed alcoholism as well as a craven desire to view Asian fetish porn involving vomit, ninja, and apples. This eventually led him to the gay porn industry working as a “power bottom twink.” The perks were few and the pay was even less.

His desperation led him to deep depression and robbing liquor stores to feed his ever growing gambling debts. During one such robbery E.T. was shot in the shoulder by a clerk and arrested whereby he landed in state prison. No prison gang would have him so he aligned himself with those he most felt comfortable with, the Aryan Nation.

The Aryan Nation made E.T. their prison bitch and tattooed him with a swastika and the numbers 88 to signify their ownership of E.T. and his drug mule status. He got herpes from giving too much prison head and eating prison cake. No doubt a fight broke out with another prison gang causing E.T. to be shanked repeatedly. While in the prison infirmary he got hooked on morphine and later heroine.

I knew E.T.’s entire history without him uttering a word. He had done things that he’s not proud of, or even remembers. Yup, I had his number. There he was in all his drunken glory – and just as fast, E.T. stumbled back through the underbrush. I hadn’t flinched during the entire encounter because I had enough firepower with me to overthrow a small country.

So there I was, hunched over in the middle of a field taking a monster shit when the squirrels started to regain consciousness, I needed to act fast. So I reached for another grenade…

Soma Says: Man Orally Rapes Bear Cub

Is this another sign of the apocalypse? Worry not folks, I have several contacts throughout every strata of life and I will get to the bottom of this. Stay tuned for further news.

Oh, and by the way, "metrosexual" is code for gay. Hear me ladies? The next time you fall for a guy who takes care of himself, exorcises, is fit, eats right, and is ultra attentive about his grooming habits and uses a body spray, chances are good balls were aggressively bouncing off his chin last night right before he swallowed. Since we are talking about oral, I thought I’d bring that up. You know, in preparation for the upcoming zombie apocalypse and all.

Field Report: Signs of the Apocalypse?

Yabbi-ta, a 500 year-old gender confused Amish zombie, rose from the dead today and threatened to “make shit happen” if its demands were not met; namely, to drink the blood of children and make good on the ancient Aztec “vote or die" prophecy.

According to Quantum Lux, cat-about-town and current Chief Executive Overlord of Vorpal Sphere, “Yabbi-ta represents 1% of all known zombie-kind and it is more accurate to call it a “revenant” as it has the goal of bringing about the apocalypse, creating other undead, and voting in the upcoming presidential election. Other distinguishing traits of Yabbi-ta include: the ability to speak, gender-shifting, cross-dressing, and lurking in dark places."

Lux added, "Sooner or later I will draw upon all my knowledge of zombie-lore for a showdown with Yabbi-ta. I’m ready and my kung-fu is strong.” Folklore tells us eating brains is the hallmark of zombie-kind, the disgraced Amish zombie is not above a little snack on the side.

The New Guy

Greetings, my name is Jonny Soma. Our glorious founder has seen fit to appoint me as the Senior Field Reporter for Vorpal Sphere. I plan to tackle this with all the zeal of an escaped mental patient on the hunt for a greasy taco. That's greasy taco the food, not greasy taco the vagina. Unless you are a cannibal that is. In that case, you get the best of both worlds.

My new position means greater responsibility. I shall go to where the story is. I shall find the truth – barring that, I will substitute my reasonable investigative findings for that which I feel needs to be reported. If I still come up short - I'll just make it up. Watch for "Soma Says," "Where Are They Now," and "Field Report" for future postings.

Consensual Fisting?

It’s that time of year again where the government bends us over and shoves a thick prick up our asses. No dinner, no kiss, no lube - just the cold harsh reality of anal intrusion without the benefit of alcohol first. That’s how it seems at times. Whatever happened to all those promises of simplifying the tax code? Let them eat cake – let them “work, earn, and consume.”

Oh to be 9 years old again where my only care was to be home before the street lights turn on. There was something almost James Bond-ish about that. Back then, at least it was only clergy tapping my ass and not a football stadium size group of bureaucrats looking to move in. I miss my anal virginity, metaphorically speaking of course.

Noise-hole

Verbal idiocy is a debilitating condition marked by an aura of social ineptness. What if the all-encompassing umbrella of verbal idiocy and ignorance had a name? My personal encapsulating definition is “noise-hole,” which is further defined as “the unpleasant and undesired sounds emanating from the oral aperture of an ignorant person’s head.” When encountering such, I recommend having earplugs handy for audio-defense as well as an escape plan.

Over the years I’ve grown extremely annoyed by certain people spewing a string of foolish ill-thought words that I couldn't help but correct them for the sake of the human gene pool. I am fed up with people who are erupting volcanoes of verbal idiocy. We have all encountered such frustration in our lives. Chances are we will again. Am I to endure such nonsense for the rest of my life? Is there no government program available to help these unfortunate souls? Has the bluebird of happiness quietly been replaced with the red pigeon of despair? Not if we understand the enemy is ignorance. Ignorant statements emanating from somebody's mouth may not be depleting the ozone layer, but it can't help. Under these conditions, that mouth becomes a noise-hole and is the bane of all reason wielding and clear thinking sentient beings.

Ignorance distinguishes a noise-hole with glaring clarity. Identifying a noise-hole and its ignorant owner is the first step in treating the cause. Treating only the symptom will result in mind numbing failure that is sure to trigger years of therapy and screaming oneself to sleep. I'm not talking about curtailing free speech by any means. I am talking about identifying and correcting those people who don’t know what they are talking about. They are the same folks who won't let the facts get in the way when discussing a topic with anyone within earshot. How they do not implode under the weight of their own stupidity is a science beyond the scope of my current education level and this benevolent posting.

I will identify a few groups and categories for the purpose of classification. These quotes are from real people and I refuse to tie a name with the quote because I don’t want to provide anymore notoriety these people think they already have. The truly ignorant know nothing, nor do they want to know anything. They are perfectly content in their own little world and never bother with any knowledge outside of their immediate sphere. Example, “We should pay for all illegal alien’s bills that are lucky enough to get here.” “We should just not worry about the terrorists, and then they will leave us alone.” Anybody paid to work in or around politics more often than not has an active noise-hole. They are especially active during an election year. Example, "You know the one thing that's wrong with this country? Everyone gets a chance to have their fair say." "It is wonderful to be here in the great state of Chicago." An ever increasing number of news anchors, news media, and journalists have the loudest and most public noise-holes. Example, “We are fair and balanced.” “Those who survived the San Francisco earthquake said, ‘Thank God, I'm still alive.’ But, of course, those who died, their lives will never be the same again." "Most cars on our roads have only one occupant, usually the driver." Actors and famous people in the entertainment industry are astronomic public abusers of their noise-holes when they are not in rehab, ducking a paternity suit, or otherwise engaged in nefarious and scandalous activity. Example, "Smoking kills. If you're killed, you've lost a very important part of your life." "Fiction writing is great; you can make up almost anything." "Whenever I watch TV and I see those poor starving kids all over the world, I can't help but cry. I mean I would love to be skinny like that, but not with all those flies and death and stuff." Radical fanatics and zealots have nothing but their noise-holes to rely and feed each other’s ignorance with vexing efficiency. Example, “The feminist agenda is not about equal rights for women. It is about a socialist, anti-family political movement that encourages women to leave their husbands, kill their children, practice witchcraft, destroy capitalism, and become lesbians.” Pressure groups usually have the most well funded noise-holes. Drug abusers have the best medicated noise-holes and always seem to be struggling for their daily share of oxygen. The following are exempt from the noise-hole designation due to situation or circumstance: The mentally challenged, brain trauma victims, anyone below 18 years old, and anyone over 107 years old. This list is substantially shorter.

Now let’s ask ourselves, what kind of diseased brine do their twisted brains slosh and float? If the noise-holes ran society, up would be down, donkey-punching would be in fashion, personal accountability would disappear, lettuce would have the vote, and I would be taxed every time I surfed the Internet. Think I’m joking? Wait and see which of these are being debated and passed by our lawmakers at this moment. But I digress. Noise-holes can come off as festering pustules of vitriolic hate that need an emotional and social time out. Pandemonium is said to be the capital city of hell. If ignorant noise-hole practitioners continue to gain momentum in their campaign of vocalizing their idiotic buffoonery and fascist social engineering, pandemonium will be just beyond our front door. Intellectual and knowledge stagnation is an insidious tumor in the otherwise healthy body of critical thought and rational reasoning. It is my wish to inform everyone of such perils and shine a light on the plague of the noise-hole. Let's hope a metaphoric vaccine is soon discovered and knowledge wins the battle over noise-hole ignorance. Until then, let’s do our part and correct any noise-hole ignorance encountered. What say you?

Keeping my Daughter off the Pole by Fishing

I have a daughter and I have dreams for her. My dreams for her are not so grandiose as to be unachievable. In fact, to call them dreams is perhaps a bit misleading. I want for my daughter. I want for her all the things every parent wants for their child – good health, success, warmth, love, and happiness. More especially, I want for my daughter the ability to view the world through the eyes of wonderment. Curiosity comes natural for her, just as it did when I was 4 years old and questioned the world around me. I questioned my father about the stars in the sky and the mermaids below the sea. I questioned why water tastes like nothing yet boogers came in a variety of flavors - and dispositions.

Rather than sit and wait for my daughter to start questioning the world around her, I chose to take action. I first tried by taking her to some baseball games – why not? Baseball teaches teamwork and patriotism. She quickly grew tired of America’s national pastime.

I next gave fishing a shot – I mean, how hard could teaching my daughter be? A little self-reliance and recreation would be good for her. I have been fishing all my life and I turned out okay – my parole officer and the voices in my head say so. Taking her fishing would be doing her a favor, after all, I don’t want her to join a gang, or turn into some hippie, or even be seduced by the violin.

The first goal was to convince her that sharks or crocodiles don’t live in the body of water we would be fishing. Not because she is scared of them – but because she was afraid they would eat all the fish before we had a chance to catch them. She hates competition and will grow up to be quite the capitalist.

She showed the uncanny ability to find worms. It was as if she were a debt collector looking for worms in default. She reasoned that if worms are good enough for fish to eat, then they are good enough for humans to eat. I quickly dissuaded her from this line of thought by telling her if we eat the worms, then the fish won’t have any.

I showed her how to bait the hook and even let her bait mine. As she did this, she squealed with the ecstasy and joy usually seen in the criminally psychotic – I was proud of her. When she wasn’t looking, and before I cast my line out, I removed the worm from my hook thus ensuring she would land the first fish. She did – one after another. At the end of the day she asked me when we could go fishing again – and also not to tell mom - because this, was our thing.

Turkey vs Rabbit

Sometimes it takes a loving slap to the face to hook and enlighten a reader enough to continue reading. While the topic of global warming may seem to need no such verbal hook, inbred generational eco-empathy, ignorance, and distortion are alive and well. Let me hook you.

Let's say my grandmother made a Thanksgiving turkey with all the trimmings. Let's also say this was one huge bird. The kind of bird that causes all my hungry relatives to pat their stomachs and quietly think, “I'm sure glad I wore my eating clothes today.” This is the kind of bird that could feed Rhode Island, twice. Upon closer inspection, the kind of bird that could trigger several countries to hire Sherpas and scale it to plant their national flag for the bragging rights.

Let's further say while my relative’s eyes were making a hundred promises of phenomenal textures and tastes their stomachs would soon regret, I carried this plump turkey to the top of a seven story building, Atlas style on my back, stopping only to pose and flex for the paparazzi. If I tossed the turkey over the edge of the roof, what would happen? Any rational thinking person would say it would fall to the pavement below due to gravity. Others would say I am an idiot for removing a delicious turkey from immediate consumption. I say it would be efficiently tenderized and enjoyed by many. Is everybody right? Regardless, the turkey and terra-ferma are now well acquainted and several university seismometers can provide confirmation.

Now let’s say I replaced that plump and juicy turkey with an equally cute and fuzzy bunny. Any rational thinking person would say it is cruel to toss a fuzzy bunny off a seven story building, especially since it would presumably soil itself on the way down. Members of PETA would try and chain themselves to the cute fuzzy bunny and stage protests while chanting mantras and sloganeering. Because it is a living thing, we now have a new factor in the equation, specifically emotions. Where humanity is concerned, emotions cause more irrational thoughts, words, and actions than any known substance in the universe, even reality TV! Don't worry, the cute fuzzy bunny is actually a veteran stunt rabbit (local 223) and makes more in a year than most corporate CEOs. No doubt because of a lesser known provision of the Patriot Act. See, don't you feel better now? Emotional disaster averted.

There are scant few subjects in the world that the human race bothers to recognize enough to understand, undertake, and solve. People take minor notice or give little consideration to global war, global famine, global terrorism, global plagues, or the global economy. Global warming, however, is at a fever pitch in the United States. As with any potentially emotional issue, there are always extremists and fanatics on both sides of the argument. A wide variety of voices cuts a swath of opinion and adds to the debate of the cause and effect of global warming.

Unfortunately, extremists and fanatics saturate the global warming debate with junk science, emotions, vitriol, misleading data, and downright idiot buffoonery. These voices, more often than not, drown out legitimate data, research, and facts. As clear thinking and rational people, we should always consider the source of any fact, theory, or data point.

It is up to the individual to assess the agenda that motivates each side’s view, data, and facts to sift through the rhetoric that seems to permeate this potentially emotional issue. Politicians seek to garner votes, scientists seek research funding, political action groups seek donations, fringe organizations want to push their beliefs on everybody, and the general public is caught up in the wake of hazy deceit, pseudo-science, politics, and the truth. It’s all enough to make a cute fuzzy stunt rabbit eat an efficiently tenderized turkey.

Who is your Slappy?

This is my brother Slappy. He used to be a U.S. senator who, like some other losers and scrubs, likes to "medicate" himself into oblivion. We all know someone like Slappy. Anytime he is sleeping off a bender, I find new and interesting ways to yank his chain. Just last week when I tripped over his relaxed carcass, I acted fast by administering a teabag wipe across his forehead.

For the benefit of polite society, "tea-bagging" is dipping your (hopefully sweaty) testicles onto a helpless friend, family, lover, or (if you are very lucky) a stranger. It's a subtle yet highly useful maneuver. Much like dipping a real teabag into some hot water. But I digress...

It's always advisable to have a cover story in place if caught. As always, I did. If Slappy came at me with "Yo, Quantum Lux, why did you teabag me bro?" I would assure him with "Listen Slappy, when the zombies rise and are roaming the countryside looking to munch brains, they will see you are already "marked" as belonging to someone else, and thus will leave you alone. I did it to save your life man!" Slappy would have no choice but to be grateful and offer to scoop my cat box for a month. Sweet!

Lift off

People piss me off. Not all of them, just the idiots. It seems no one takes responsibility for their actions anymore. These people spout off the most insane nonsensical rhetoric imaginable as well as act the bumbling fool. It is in this vein I chose to act and start this site - this, my grand thesis. Strap yourself in, it's going to be a bumpy ride!