tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-42803086088066946742024-02-02T01:22:49.847-08:00Who wants to be a Super-VillainTry the wonderful world of Super-villainary.captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.comBlogger91125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-3591464633809543202007-12-21T11:36:00.000-08:002007-12-21T11:37:49.522-08:00AOC: End of the road<span style="font-family:arial;">Well the day is done and it is time to head back to a galaxy a long time ago and far far away. I congratulate Dr. Mnemonic …. Uhhh Dr. Demonic , well the Brain in the Jar guy.<br /><br />I leave China in the capable hands of Samantha. Who better to run a totalitarian communist/capitalist country? I think she will have the brains, will power and ruthlessness to oppress the people and pump out more lead tainted toy and other cheap crap. I just hope none of the old power structure tried to reclaim the land for themselves, she would slay them all and the streets would run with a different kind of red.<br /><br />Gabby and his guys head off to make a living as re-enactors in Virginia. With the money they made as henchman they decided to get new old uniforms and make it more a hobby than a vocation.<br /><br />As for me I think I learned a lot on this show. I learnd that….<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2126768197/" title="henchy 2 by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2211/2126768197_9124d12e2b_o.gif" width="150" height="299" alt="henchy 2" /></a><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">THE HENCHMAN SHOWS UP.</span><br /><br />“Tak, what ate you doing? You not going to make this a “Very Special </span><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Blossom_(TV_series)"><span style="font-family:arial;">Blossom</span></a><span style="font-family:arial;">” moment are you? Cuz thats kinda girly. The only thing you learned was you got spanked by a Brain in Jar. I can’t believe that he even got more action thatn you did. Did I mention HE IS A BRAIN IN A JAR!!!!!” The Henchman smacks his own head in despair.<br /><br />“If I was going to have a Very Special Blossom moment, that would make you Joey Lawrence. Right?” I ask<br /><br />The Henchman just shakes his head and starts looking for the nearest bar.<br /><br />As I was saying I learned a lot of things, but mostly I learned …..<br /><br />Koma starts yelling at me. “Oy, Clone freak, did you learn to read the shows contract better. Because if you did you would see that the second place contestant has to clean up the mess the show left. So grab a broom and get to it.” He turns and leaves.<br /><br />I look out over the island and harbor.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2127543652/" title="island trash by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2196/2127543652_74e2db32e9_m.jpg" width="240" height="180" alt="island trash" /></a><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">I AM GOING TO NEED A BIGGER BROOM</span><br /><br />I really need to read those contracts better. On the other hand I guess that is why Koma is a evil genius. </span>A Army Of (Cl)Onehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08930894185761008708noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-12711481256433036532007-12-19T11:04:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:18.076-08:00Nemonok: I win<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJkgwIgZwWRmAu1XT-JFn1HqBYPnpyodk4Vg2wuxWGA5gJLF-Df2zNw9hvOJMEZUkmGikR0agUKKdURAsr9pbsXjlDtYz3OBrBBYL93NK5D6mf1i4r0TgKtfZvhjJi5RYBEXDr23uxula/s1600-h/nemonokwin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145758341504009554" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgdJkgwIgZwWRmAu1XT-JFn1HqBYPnpyodk4Vg2wuxWGA5gJLF-Df2zNw9hvOJMEZUkmGikR0agUKKdURAsr9pbsXjlDtYz3OBrBBYL93NK5D6mf1i4r0TgKtfZvhjJi5RYBEXDr23uxula/s400/nemonokwin.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />Dr. Nemonok rolls up onto the stage.<br /><br />Nemonok: Ahem. Before I address everyone tonight, I have an announcement to make. Will the owner of the dull gray dropship tail number NX342 please move your vehicle, it is parked in a loading zone. Thank you.<br /><br />Ladies, gentlemen, mutants, and criminals everywhere. I wanted to thank you from the bottom of my heart, er the bottom of my nutrient containment exchanger system for awarding me this great honor. By allowing me to win, you have of course declared the obvious that I am the most evil of them all. Thank you.<br /><br />I would like to take this time to thank the gracious host, Captain Koma, for allowing me to participate today. Koma, you are a brilliant but petty, bitter man. If that’s what it takes for you to be evil, then by all means, roll with it, doctor.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLgbavAohTraxJiZ_BANgA9lqtWggVVFLTIHo7NpK80H5EmzSSRLcny0N7PO5OUI51N1HZFsCZ9bBamEnw1_z_WWHLLA6m5T58pSv8GBY1_68kvZeOuviZAJRcnOgjjoJ1zc6Leb2EZ8M/s1600-h/nemonok2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145758427403355490" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjhLgbavAohTraxJiZ_BANgA9lqtWggVVFLTIHo7NpK80H5EmzSSRLcny0N7PO5OUI51N1HZFsCZ9bBamEnw1_z_WWHLLA6m5T58pSv8GBY1_68kvZeOuviZAJRcnOgjjoJ1zc6Leb2EZ8M/s320/nemonok2.jpg" border="0" /></a>I would also like to thank the judges, the Henchman and Deadpool. My good men, there is certainly room in my master, the malevolent dark lord Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord’s organization for two men of your caliber. It is of course dangerous work, but the rewards are certainly worth it.<br /><br />Lyn, it is unfortunate that your life has taken a turn like it has. I always found you to be a good looking and very competent actress. Hell, I loved you in Freaky Friday. It is too bad that you chose the path that you have.<br /><br />Commander Oneida, I am not sure why you guest judged as you are clearly not evil. You do work for an evil government though, and I am proud to see you continue to serve them. Keep up the good work.<br /><br />Army of (Cl)One, it was an honor besting you in the competition. You are a worthy champion in your own right and good luck to you at your new post guarding the detention center of the Death Star.<br /><br />To my henches, you have served me well in this competition. You all deserve what is coming to you and I <a href="http://nemonok.blogspot.com/2007/12/my-dark-destiny-awaits.html">will address that</a> before I leave.<br /><br />(Music starts to play)<br /><br />Bah, thank you everyone, I do feel super tonight. You hate me, you really hate me!<br /><br />(Microphone cuts out)Dr. Nemonokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503662033440938621noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-78339603066929845052007-12-18T15:11:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:19.135-08:00What you've all been waiting for."And now your hostess with the mostest. Lin!" announces Deadpool.<br /><br />I walk onto the stage, the music blares out "The Final Countdown."I get to the podium and look out at the audience of four.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hYenvPQjI/AAAAAAAAAKM/Nn-P3sAnEzE/s1600-h/the-crowd.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hYenvPQjI/AAAAAAAAAKM/Nn-P3sAnEzE/s320/the-crowd.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145459857357226546" border="0" /></a>No bother. Its an audience and I can work them like the best.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hdKXvPQnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/VK7OsShlaXY/s1600-h/linspresentation.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hdKXvPQnI/AAAAAAAAAKs/VK7OsShlaXY/s200/linspresentation.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145465007023014514" border="0" /></a>"Wasn't this the greatest Who wants to be Super Villain, ever!" I ask them.<br />"Hmm sort of." says the red robot.<br /><br />"But wasn't this the first. We have nothing to compare it with." comments the gay guy in purple and pink.<br /><br />Ugh! Oh well nothing to do but announce the winner and runner up.<br /><br />"So onto the reason for this presentation the winner of the inaugural Who wants to be a Super Villain!" I shout expecting the four to cheer and applaud.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2he8XvPQoI/AAAAAAAAAK0/rCc_MFV1hvw/s1600-h/Tak-drinking.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2he8XvPQoI/AAAAAAAAAK0/rCc_MFV1hvw/s200/Tak-drinking.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145466965528101506" border="0" /></a>"Just give it to the brain in a jar and put me out of my misery." screams Tak.<br /><br />"But Tak even I don't know who won. The e-mail votes have been kept secret until now." I tell him.<br /><br />"You really mean there's hope I could have won?" he asks.<br /><br />"Maybe." I tell him. "And the winner of Who wants to be a Super Villain by 13 votes to 9 is ......"<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Dr Nemonock!</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/libris_gallery/84741.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 104px; height: 150px;" src="http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/libris_gallery/84741.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;"></span></span><span style="color: rgb(255, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">You are a Super Villain!</span></span><br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">"And as our winner you get to have the certificate of ..... wining."<br /></div><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hcPXvPQlI/AAAAAAAAAKc/wWnf44ZxWPc/s1600-h/certificate.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hcPXvPQlI/AAAAAAAAAKc/wWnf44ZxWPc/s320/certificate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145463993410732626" border="0" /></a><br />"And Tak we're so very sorry at your loss and we'd like to give you a certificate too."<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hcg3vPQmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/gmoeChVUI5M/s1600-h/runnerupcertificate.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R2hcg3vPQmI/AAAAAAAAAKk/gmoeChVUI5M/s320/runnerupcertificate.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145464294058443362" border="0" /></a>"Ok thats all the time we have here. So goodbye and remember don't just try and be a villain. Be a Super Villain."Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-6704895999915069972007-12-17T19:03:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:19.674-08:00The final countdownWell Its all over people. The votes are in and we do have a winner and a loser for the final.<br /><br />So I'd like to take some time and delay the final decision and thank those who without their participation none of this would have happened.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Henchy</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZkahAJMwPPzV6uP12ezl8M67-YPPllR5txifVUdbppRnzNaUJ69K95erVdgTo88_s3SU9b2Nb30FuvS4I6EGEg8McWV9X-w06kAql4CK4X5WrxFCsyNBFfeWPlRcGEaFEkOMjp9Rfjo/s1600-h/hench-mav.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 176px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjXZkahAJMwPPzV6uP12ezl8M67-YPPllR5txifVUdbppRnzNaUJ69K95erVdgTo88_s3SU9b2Nb30FuvS4I6EGEg8McWV9X-w06kAql4CK4X5WrxFCsyNBFfeWPlRcGEaFEkOMjp9Rfjo/s400/hench-mav.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145146876849359730" border="0" /></a>Thanks without your help and encouragement none of this would have happened.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Deadpool </span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtdRdNMq9ZDxwRyY7NhylufgjK6OkU9vlEG577KoSsLiw8F2YCkHqW4A1LhlIxN0VO2_unmq3h_uCQRZM2OlH0dgF66fYNq8v_-aEGtpEwb9_uBUbp3ptQpYNiHwqdk2a_OdLT-W67yM/s1600-h/Deadpool02Shot.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 132px; height: 121px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqtdRdNMq9ZDxwRyY7NhylufgjK6OkU9vlEG577KoSsLiw8F2YCkHqW4A1LhlIxN0VO2_unmq3h_uCQRZM2OlH0dgF66fYNq8v_-aEGtpEwb9_uBUbp3ptQpYNiHwqdk2a_OdLT-W67yM/s400/Deadpool02Shot.gif" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145145244761787218" border="0" /></a>Not sure why I'm thanking you you but yeah thanks.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Onieda</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/images/39931000/jpg/_39931525_rania_ap300.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 129px; height: 176px;" src="http://news.bbc.co.uk/media/images/39931000/jpg/_39931525_rania_ap300.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Its always great to have a guest judge to shake things up. You did real well. Its a pity we didn't get more people who were interested in playing along.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Lin</span><br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz64L-nEXTf1tXilyqdLxAxFKLWAVoZIrcEWsSc1_B-NidVhSZSZ0QbR8ALc5NhXeONIR2ig0xxNhXTJBbfoVqxnzsmPuuq5cb15zpnVIfft1hFLEf01M_M2i6CTNfK3RykPpDvtOx4DA/s1600-h/lindsaylohan_narrowweb__300x460,0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 128px; height: 197px;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjz64L-nEXTf1tXilyqdLxAxFKLWAVoZIrcEWsSc1_B-NidVhSZSZ0QbR8ALc5NhXeONIR2ig0xxNhXTJBbfoVqxnzsmPuuq5cb15zpnVIfft1hFLEf01M_M2i6CTNfK3RykPpDvtOx4DA/s400/lindsaylohan_narrowweb__300x460,0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5145146069395508066" border="0" /></a>Thanks Lin. I think?<br /></div><br />Of course none of this would have been possible without the suckers umm! players. Thanks a lot for loosing oops! playing.<br /><br />So there is a result post coming soon.<br /><br />Lin's doing that.<br /><br />ugh!<br /><br />So tune in later this week for the final post in this the inaugural year of Who wants to be a Super Villain.<br /><br />What!<br /><br />The network isn't doing this unless the viewers demand it.<br /><br />Oh great!<br /><br />Oh yeah with the paltry sum of money left over after Lin's rider cost us $2,ooo a day we've been able to get an act for the final show.<br /><br />Here they are with their one hit wonder Europe and the Final Countdown.<br /><br /><object height="355" width="425"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/7_IKcMl_a9A&rel=1"><param name="wmode" value="transparent"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/7_IKcMl_a9A&rel=1" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" wmode="transparent" height="355" width="425"></embed></object>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-35285504019898122592007-12-15T20:36:00.000-08:002007-12-17T19:01:39.655-08:00Time for everyone to decide.Now its time for the audience to decide who won.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.3dimages.co.uk/gallery/d/712-2/3D+Audience.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.3dimages.co.uk/gallery/d/712-2/3D+Audience.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Of course we are going to have the usual on-line poll again.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://dabbler.pinkandyellow.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/06/poll-final-final.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 258px; height: 294px;" src="http://dabbler.pinkandyellow.com/wp-content/uploads/2007/06/poll-final-final.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>But along with this, the past players of WWSV are invited to e-mail me their thoughts on who won the final round.<br /><br />So who did win this round?<br /><br /><a href="http://whowantstobeavillain.blogspot.com/2007/12/nemonok-power-to-people.html">Nemonock</a> with his highly ironic way of taking over China, with hawt chicks.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://whowantstobeavillain.blogspot.com/2007/12/nemonok-power-to-people.html"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 95px; height: 137px;" src="http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/libris_gallery/84741.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Or was it <a href="http://whowantstobeavillain.blogspot.com/2007/12/aoc-rockin-china.html">Tak</a>. With his three course banquet of doom. Which came with a nice little song from the eighties as well.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://whowantstobeavillain.blogspot.com/2007/12/aoc-rockin-china.html"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.guitarification.com/images/stormtrooper%20front%20display%20PICTURE3%20148web.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Dinner and a show.<br /></div><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Please Vote NOW!!!!<br /><form method="post" action="http://poll.pollcode.com/P0nQ"><table bg="" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="150" style="color:Black;"><tbody><tr><td colspan="2"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" ><b>Who is the winner?</b></span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="1" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Nemonock</span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="2" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Tak</span></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2"><center> <input name="view" value="View" type="submit"></center></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" bg="" align="right" style="color:white;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:black;" >pollcode.com <a href="http://pollcode.com/"><span style="color:navy;">free polls</span></a></span></td></tr></tbody></table></form><br /><br /><br /></div>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-21726294305611775182007-12-15T19:46:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:21.266-08:00Nemonok: Power to the peopleI’ve been involved with doomsday devices in my day. I have to admit that I’m not a big fan of them, if you kill everyone on the planet, there would be nobody left to psychoanalyze. Despite that, there’s a certain elegance to the totality of the doomsday device. If you’re going to destroy your planet, you can do it in style.<br /><br />But what kind of a doomsday device should I use? There are many to choose from: cobalt bombs, planet eaters, hyperspace bombs, Death Stars, mass drivers, Trilithium torpedoes, NOVA bombs, Galactic Implosion Devices, Vogon Constructor Ships, ice-nine. The list goes on and on.<br /><br />For this task, however, I need something tailor made for where we’ll be.<br /><br />My henches and I flew to the People’s Republic of China in my Shadow Stealthship where I began to work immediately on something that would suit our needs.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bNOwdhH8YeXHRfQpMZhGc0PWimqzAtJ3EFqf-H8oKQj_y2bmy1oeXOu6zOvyAYxLCVsITalVHQUyPbagetAQbTH4nSxfUq1SRA8ZRotG7lfod-fuxBoNdSbXIhiqd8pCAdsKhj3rrhd3/s1600-h/bob.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129872686034442530" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj-bNOwdhH8YeXHRfQpMZhGc0PWimqzAtJ3EFqf-H8oKQj_y2bmy1oeXOu6zOvyAYxLCVsITalVHQUyPbagetAQbTH4nSxfUq1SRA8ZRotG7lfod-fuxBoNdSbXIhiqd8pCAdsKhj3rrhd3/s320/bob.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Hey Doctor, you got any shrimp?” Bob the Goon interrupted my work.<br /><br />“Yes, there is a plate in the microwave.”<br /><br />“I knew it!” Bob pulled a plate of breaded coconut shrimp from the oven and left the room munching happily.<br /><br />“Are we gonna blow up the place?” Apocalypto Pickle asked as he watch me running computations. “I can make a big explosion.”<br /><br />“Yes, an explosion would be nice, but not suitable to our needs right now.”<br /><br />“Well, what’s it going to be?” Iron Butterfly asked.<br /><br />“Something so destructively evil that even I am surprised that I thought of it.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauhrf2gyjitJzB5R2AscKqxGaj44ciRUI11SppdKtHHw3qhpjsMi06AbpJDJMXrK-4pq7UMZQ60wVbbKpVu2chjY0dtloJxWKvtvFmu2sdExdrb3ncSL2yz5Vjf7WsMBc-EVm6DEk3kvj/s1600-h/trio.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5129875001021815090" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauhrf2gyjitJzB5R2AscKqxGaj44ciRUI11SppdKtHHw3qhpjsMi06AbpJDJMXrK-4pq7UMZQ60wVbbKpVu2chjY0dtloJxWKvtvFmu2sdExdrb3ncSL2yz5Vjf7WsMBc-EVm6DEk3kvj/s320/trio.JPG" border="0" /></a>“Really,” Gun Nut sniffed snidely. “Few things you do surprise me.”<br /><br />“It is finished. Now, let us pay a visit to the government.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzv5gAa5ZsI6RJQvv0Ph7U7oFxjkx0gdheK3dY0tdF6e0boOGmos3CRkuxZg21oNCTfGnSn1hj5abDhIfHeovAPQcbEnHZELScFuijDQPe8ea9bCBPsMf35-QBS-2mABjm2yn6LEjJcEGY/s1600-h/chinese-president-hu-jintao-premier-wen-jiabao-2006-afp-bg.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144411143407240466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhzv5gAa5ZsI6RJQvv0Ph7U7oFxjkx0gdheK3dY0tdF6e0boOGmos3CRkuxZg21oNCTfGnSn1hj5abDhIfHeovAPQcbEnHZELScFuijDQPe8ea9bCBPsMf35-QBS-2mABjm2yn6LEjJcEGY/s320/chinese-president-hu-jintao-premier-wen-jiabao-2006-afp-bg.jpg" border="0" /></a>We flew to Beijing and easily broke into the office of President Hu Jintao, defeating his guards easily. We were fortunate that Premier Wen Jiabao was there as well as it would make this easier.<br /><br />“Gentlemen, it is good to meet with you today.”<br /><br />“What are you doing here?” the president demanded. “Who are you people?”<br /><br />“Let me introduce myself, I am Dr. Nemonok and I would like to show you the one thing that will bring this country to its knees. The one thing that will bring you to your knees.”<br /><br />“You are a fool,” Premier Wen Jiabao said. “You may have defeated the troops here, but you have the entire nation’s military to contend with now.”<br /><br />“Do I?”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwsIkVP-Y6NAKPrQexnsAHITePD2JcljMioR7PXdvdFklN5GgCbcInUCkHYMu8UkWrslvHPmO7UTc_qK2Bu2bGlXTmzcBR79hUeG_-_MK8CcDBICozi3CtOxRif9TfMKl-TFwj75QC2j7/s1600-h/construct.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144411813422138690" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEifwsIkVP-Y6NAKPrQexnsAHITePD2JcljMioR7PXdvdFklN5GgCbcInUCkHYMu8UkWrslvHPmO7UTc_qK2Bu2bGlXTmzcBR79hUeG_-_MK8CcDBICozi3CtOxRif9TfMKl-TFwj75QC2j7/s320/construct.jpg" border="0" /></a><br />I activated the controls and the construct hummed to life. Shortly thereafter, shapely Chinese women began to emerge from it.<br /><br />“What is that?” Hu Jintao demanded.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1o5TFAsKokpoAZ3NUOjEqLPbDVJP6kFk9XA9cm2sVTkhoWY3Yav1IGs2OJmp8VU0deBYPNdH-RfVR-fUeNnuDXMhW4XdFvP5nEuYrXxFLH0nqxceW2abQUe1Czz2iNwRSFu73MIWYd8f2/s1600-h/chinese.JPG"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144411139112273154" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 295px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 198px" height="212" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj1o5TFAsKokpoAZ3NUOjEqLPbDVJP6kFk9XA9cm2sVTkhoWY3Yav1IGs2OJmp8VU0deBYPNdH-RfVR-fUeNnuDXMhW4XdFvP5nEuYrXxFLH0nqxceW2abQUe1Czz2iNwRSFu73MIWYd8f2/s320/chinese.JPG" width="301" border="0" /></a>“Your new Chinese cloning facility. I engineered the clones myself, normally I stay away from the filthy abominations but in this instance, I couldn’t resist.”<br /><br />“Well, they certainly are good looking,” Wen Jiabao leered.<br /><br />“Yes, they are. Their genetic makeup has also been altered a bit. I isolated some of the unique characteristics of tribbles. These clones are designed to do little more than to eat and reproduce.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CBiZooUw6u86au9uJ02taWiuaN19vl-8S47nFRVZIYTcpZ00uMtBvcILqo1h6a_yVNNdbTDPE-M3AhY-SDpdUlENB-kN6mERcFOOxKQYPzXprQ5FnrwWCg8Olgo8rZSoB5e89T2ET2Gm/s1600-h/pretty-sexy-cheerleaders.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144411143407240482" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" height="228" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj5CBiZooUw6u86au9uJ02taWiuaN19vl-8S47nFRVZIYTcpZ00uMtBvcILqo1h6a_yVNNdbTDPE-M3AhY-SDpdUlENB-kN6mERcFOOxKQYPzXprQ5FnrwWCg8Olgo8rZSoB5e89T2ET2Gm/s320/pretty-sexy-cheerleaders.jpg" width="295" border="0" /></a>“I wouldn’t mind helping them with the reproducing,” chuckled the premier.<br /><br />“Oh of course not, but they will only reproduce women.”<br /><br />“Only women?” asked the president. “We cannot have women overrun our country. We are so overpopulated already.”<br /><br />“Indeed. It would soon be very difficult to handle another 1.3 billion, wouldn’t it? Feeding, educating, housing, and everything else. You would soon be stepping over the bodies of your dead.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9fJQOgEK8vu9UkE33txg23avUR4P8iOYSu-sRa5sbYKUeCq9SiLnMyTIpfuu_ajvKDDnw3df8bOLd8K0lm5fzrmaHJI-96LVy4DKUZQRR143dPqjO6SyunGkFKyX5lCa7B7Qr_XS8qjt/s1600-h/W020060403540168934623.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5144411147702207794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhD9fJQOgEK8vu9UkE33txg23avUR4P8iOYSu-sRa5sbYKUeCq9SiLnMyTIpfuu_ajvKDDnw3df8bOLd8K0lm5fzrmaHJI-96LVy4DKUZQRR143dPqjO6SyunGkFKyX5lCa7B7Qr_XS8qjt/s320/W020060403540168934623.jpg" border="0" /></a>“You’re a madman!” yelled the premier.<br /><br />“A madman am I? No no, I am just the disembodied brain of the galaxy’s greatest psychiatrist contained within a nutrient rich jar. Oh, and if necessary, I could turn up the cloning production a bit.”<br /><br />“No, please don’t,” said that president. “What do you want?”<br /><br />“Simple. Kneel before Dr. Nemonok.”<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“Bow down to Dr. Nemonok.”<br /><br />Begrudgingly, the two Chinese politicians dropped to their knees in front of me.<br /><br />“Nice job, boss,” Iron Butterfly chuckled to me.<br /><br />“Heh, I’ve done better.”Dr. Nemonokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503662033440938621noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-31289978587077127362007-12-15T11:20:00.000-08:002007-12-16T11:35:41.401-08:00AOC: Rockin' ChinaI gather my team to review our Doom Machine options. Gabby reports first.<br /><br />“Me and the boys went and raided Professor Von Steampunk’s base after that Jar Brain had him killed. I like his dirigible with Amberaloic ray guns, so we stole them. Got a fleet of 20.” Gabby smiles at the group.<br /><br /><a title="steam punkairship by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2112656481/"><img height="320" alt="steam punkairship" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2030/2112656481_eb14604e2e_o.jpg" width="276" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">SWEET …. IF I WAS IN VICTORIAN ENGLAND</span><br /><br />Samantha jumps up and shows what she developed.<br /><br /><a title="cookie dough gun by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2112656463/"><img height="500" alt="cookie dough gun" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2322/2112656463_7829e6c9d6.jpg" width="332" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">GREAT GOBS OF COOKIE DOUGH, BATMAN</span><br /><br />“Is that a cookie dough gun?” I ask<br /><br />Samantha grins, “Yes, it is. We have made them big enough to be mounted on the Dirigibles. We can cover a large city with cookie dough in 20 minutes.”<br /><br />“Not bad ideas. I think we will use both of them in conjunction with mine. I call it the Duel Death Star!!!!!” I say with my best booming voice.<br /><br /><a title="deathballs by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2112656421/"></a><a title="deathballs by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2112656421/"><img height="137" alt="deathballs" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2372/2112656421_b720ab4820_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">DEATHSTACIES? BREAST STARS?<br /></span><br />Samantha and gabby start coughing “coughFreudiancoughcompensatingcough mommyissuescough”<br /><br />“Yeah it pretty stunning if I do say so my self” I beam back at them. “also we are going to tell how we took over china with a song. So get your bands together and let’s rock the mic!!!”<br /><br /><a title="gabby band by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2113449810/"><img height="308" alt="gabby band" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2161/2113449810_412bef06ef_o.jpg" width="384" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">GABBY AND THE OLDE TYME STRUMMERS</span><br /><br /><a title="sam homemusic by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2113449844/"><img height="304" alt="sam homemusic" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2099/2113449844_ce7037dcc0_o.jpg" width="436" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">SAMANTHA, LEADING THE GANGSTA GIRLZ</span><br /><br /><a title="stor guatair by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2113449928/"><img height="180" alt="stor guatair" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2096/2113449928_a8c3921dd7_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">TAK: READY TO ROCK!!<br /></span><br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><strong>99 million Red Commie Goons<br /></strong><em>(sung badly to the tune of 99 Red Balloons)</em><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-size:130%;color:#3366ff;">We attack the red menace with all we got<br />Our doom machine are looking hot<br />We’ll set them free at the break of dawn<br />The politburo will soon be gone<br />Back at their base, the commies scare<br />Flashing message, something’s out there<br />The reds know something awry<br />99 million Red goons going to die<br /><br />99 million red goons looking up in the sky<br />Panic bells, Army on alert<br />There’s something here from somewhere else<br />Commie war machine springs to life<br />Opens their eager eye<br />Focusing on the scary clone guy<br />Where 99 million red goons are going to die<br /><br />99 decisions street, 99 ministers meet<br />To worry, worry, super fast<br />Call your troops so we can blast<br />This is what Tak’s waited for<br />This is it Samantha, this is war<br />President Hu Jintao on the line<br />His calls for peace, we decline<br />As 99 million red goons die<br /><br />All the commie’s planes hit the air<br />Gabby bring his guns to bear<br />All the reds start to fall far<br />And are blasted by my Double Deathstar<br />The commies get cut like Darth Maul<br />Oh crap we blew up the great wall!!<br /><br />Shanghai, Beijing and Hong Kong<br />All are dust and all are gone<br />The city of Harbin is below<br />4 million kilos of Cookie dough<br />All the Chinese leaders are dead<br />Samantha takes over making the toys of lead<br />Gabby and his men don’t want a thrown,<br />The just head off to the red light zone<br />And for Tak, his souvenir is now he is the new premiere<br />And here is the last red goon<br />Hhe is crying over this lame ass tune<br /><br />Tak’s team gets to parade down the street<br />Cuz out mission is complete</span>A Army Of (Cl)Onehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08930894185761008708noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-32668930376814633612007-12-11T08:20:00.001-08:002008-12-12T18:13:22.098-08:00Nemonok: A meeting of the mindsI had made it to the final two, and without winning any of these challenges, I might add. Interesting how the clone just got two wins in a row. If I were the paranoid type, I might accuse the judges of malfeasance, though I am sure that is not the case as it is apparent to me that they do not know the meaning of the word.<br /><br />I am an evil mastermind, but I am also a gentleman (or a gentlebrain, as I have heard many times before), and as a gentleman, I will certainly congratulate Army of (Cl)one on his win and making the finals. As there is not better time than the present, I rolled my brain containment case right up next to him. He was busy working on some business or whatnot I do not know, it was of no concern of mine. <br /><br />“Ahh!” he yelled. “Don’t sneak up on a guy like that! I coulda shot you.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFI9EiLav6LsfA72Hq46jeYsHAay5EaY-zWSXyM8tjBZdzj7T_GZA_Gzx0ulpKEaWNa2LfAevynDpiDrf4LiAIgVqvQNlZfjaMWRSVLwlkUsXFk4XRiO-UEHoQtZ6dg3ejZgL2vk3X1INt/s1600-h/stormy.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFI9EiLav6LsfA72Hq46jeYsHAay5EaY-zWSXyM8tjBZdzj7T_GZA_Gzx0ulpKEaWNa2LfAevynDpiDrf4LiAIgVqvQNlZfjaMWRSVLwlkUsXFk4XRiO-UEHoQtZ6dg3ejZgL2vk3X1INt/s400/stormy.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142751147269497490" /></a>“Mr. Clone, congratulations on your second immunity and on making it to the finals.”<br /><br />“Thanks,” he said warily. “Congratulations on making it to the final yourself.”<br /><br />“Good luck on the final challenge as well.”<br /><br />“Yeah,” he looked at me a little cockeyed. At least I am fairly sure that it was cockeyed, it’s hard to tell through that helmet. “Good luck to you, too.”<br /><br />“Please, please, put yourself at ease. I am just here to congratulate you. We may be evil masterminds and in the middle of a fierce competition, but that doesn’t mean we can’t be gentlemen about it.”<br /><br />“Yeah, or gentlebrain,” he replied.<br /><br />“Yes, yes, I have heard that before. Anyway, very nice to see you.” Heh heh, I may be a mastermind, but this clone certainly has a long way to go before he could ever be anywhere near my league. <br /><br />“Yes,” he replied. “Very nice to see you, too.”<br /><br />“And I will be going.” I rolled my containment unit back slightly.<br /><br />“And I will be going as well,” he replied and took a step back.<br /><br />“Very well. Good day to you, sir.” I slid back another meter.<br /><br />“And good day to you as well,” he replied as he took another step back.<br /><br />“Unfortunately, I must get going. I have a doomsday device to make and all.” I slid back a bit more.<br /><br />“As do I, as do I,” he replied and took another step back.<br /><br />“So I will be off, then.”<br /><br />“Me too.”<br /><br />“Are you going to turn and walk away?”<br /><br />“Maybe,” he replied suspiciously. “Are you?”<br /><br />“Of course.”<br /><br />“Then go ahead.”<br /><br />“Very well, I shall.” I slid back a bit more.<br /><br />“And so shall I,” he replied and took a step back.<br /><br />“Ah, this is foolishness. Of course you are not going to shoot me in the back, I don’t have a back.”<br /><br />“And you’re not going to shoot me in the back,” he answered. “You can’t carry a gun.”<br /><br />“Of course.”<br /><br />“Of course.”<br /><br />“Well go ahead.”<br /><br />“No, you go ahead.”<br /><br />“Very well. Good day to you sir.” I quickly slid out of the room. The door glided closed behind me and I chuckled to myself maniacally. “Heh heh heh. He never suspected what I did to him.”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TpKTAiWCxipltynlf1OCUIJ3DLANfkT3D9c5tg44qZpUL1gth8oF6KwXkD40qqf_pipSGPlKsTBAhDmgMogPB4sCgl4WQlYdojss3i7a-fk2wS-3KEoBWpABlmw0rk6F1KrWY9-a8zL8/s1600-h/trooper1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj9TpKTAiWCxipltynlf1OCUIJ3DLANfkT3D9c5tg44qZpUL1gth8oF6KwXkD40qqf_pipSGPlKsTBAhDmgMogPB4sCgl4WQlYdojss3i7a-fk2wS-3KEoBWpABlmw0rk6F1KrWY9-a8zL8/s400/trooper1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142751327658123938" /></a><br />“Good day to you as well!” I heard him call out through the closed door. I thought that I heard him chuckle maniacally as well. It must have been the door sliding shut.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlC8NSSY4oK2-enlRRs5takyUD-vHo-i2iBI1rdgqNh7ifTiWYOM54eBfLlUDxSxvB4niwYNHkCAwTCwSGAu8eGIgCaDtewmLcLXisE8uICSP3wOhg_v1dbkiDl9yRlamuCXlJ_NVd51M/s1600-h/nemonok1.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjKlC8NSSY4oK2-enlRRs5takyUD-vHo-i2iBI1rdgqNh7ifTiWYOM54eBfLlUDxSxvB4niwYNHkCAwTCwSGAu8eGIgCaDtewmLcLXisE8uICSP3wOhg_v1dbkiDl9yRlamuCXlJ_NVd51M/s400/nemonok1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142751327658123954" /></a>Dr. Nemonokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503662033440938621noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-73509840324957612912007-12-10T19:05:00.000-08:002007-12-10T19:51:08.210-08:00Le Finale - Thats The Final in french<div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/libris_gallery/84741.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 117px; height: 168px;" src="http://www.wizards.com/dnd/images/libris_gallery/84741.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a> <span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">VS</span></span> <a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.gamerah.com/img/upl/1c26be39_stormtrooper.jpg"><img style="cursor: pointer; width: 130px; height: 174px;" src="http://www.gamerah.com/img/upl/1c26be39_stormtrooper.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div>Personally I can't believe its come down to you two idiots. Thank God I'm not voting.<br /><br />Nemonock - Who is voting?<br /><br />Tak - Yeah!<br /><br />Well I will be requesting a vote from all of the players who didn't make it to the final round to e-mail me at <a href="mailto:screamingmonnkey@yahoo.co.uk">screamingmonnkey@yahoo.co.uk</a> for who they thought won as well as the usual online poll. So its the public plus the past players that decide who wins the next challenge.<br /><br />Nemonock - That sounds like trickery. The public loves the clone cause he's a simpleton and an ignoramus.<br /><br />Tak - Yeah I'm famous.<br /><br />Lets stop this right now and get on with it.<br /><br />The final challenge is .................................<br />.........................................................................<br />.......................................................:).......................................<br />......................................;(....................................<br /><br />Wait for it...........................................................<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">Build a Doomsday device and use it to take over China.</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://mondomedeusah.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/10/28/blusbdoom.gif"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://mondomedeusah.typepad.com/photos/uncategorized/2007/10/28/blusbdoom.gif" alt="" border="0" /></a>Same deadline as per usual (12am Sunday Morning New York time). You have to build the device, and use it to take over China. I don't care how you do it, just do it.<br /><br />Remember those who were voted off and the public are going to decide the winner.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Who wants to be a super villain is proudly brought to you by Freaking Huge Clocks.<br /><span style="font-size:130%;"><span style="font-weight: bold;">- If you want it big. Its got to be Freaking Huge! -<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.dudehisattva.com/doomsdayclock.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.dudehisattva.com/doomsdayclock.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /></div>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-68472053958764398982007-12-10T18:39:00.000-08:002007-12-10T19:00:12.708-08:00The verdictHenchy had his head in his hands.<br />"Awww Nuts!" He screamed. Actually he said something other than Nuts but this is a PG show and we can't have that kind of language here.<br />"50 bucks Henchy pay up." says Lin. Holding her hand out eagerly.<br />"Rassafrassa loosing to a rassafrassa synthoid." He stuffs his hand into his pocket and pulls out the required amount. Lin snatches it away and begins a rather vulgar display of bad winning.<br />"I got Henchy's money.I got Henchy's money.I got Henchy's money." she sings while skipping out of the room.<br /><br />"I can't believe that Bennet er, Buttler lost." complains Henchy.<br /><br />"Neither can I." I reply. "I thought Nemonock was going down. But all of the sudden there were all these votes. I've been able to trace them to a Washington account. Under the name of P.N.Guin."<br /><br />"That's got to be a fake name." questions Henchy.<br /><br />"No its real. It all checks out." I tell him.<br /><br />Mr Buttler.<br /><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><br /></span><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: rgb(153, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;font-size:180%;" >You are not a Super Villain</span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.etonline.com/photo/2007/02/16347/320_heroes_jcoleman_070222_pdrinkwater_nbc.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.etonline.com/photo/2007/02/16347/320_heroes_jcoleman_070222_pdrinkwater_nbc.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">What Lin bought with her winnings -<br /></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.jaunted.com/files/3/lindsay_lohan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.jaunted.com/files/3/lindsay_lohan.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>She calls it her Henchy Bike<br /></div>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-5022959842623884082007-12-09T17:51:00.000-08:002007-12-10T19:53:23.007-08:00The semi final - The voteHa!<br /><br />I remember how this feels.<br /><br />You've been coasting through the rounds and doing well then you reach the semi-final. And you don't get immunity.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" >Losers!</span><br /></div><br /><br />So now we have to decide between a brain in a jar and a guy with glasses.<br /><br />Get to it!<br /><form method="post" action="http://poll.pollcode.com/43i"><table bg="" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="150" style="color:Black;"><tbody><tr><td colspan="2"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" ><b>Who leaves?</b></span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="1" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Nemonock</span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="2" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Mr Buttler</span></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2"><center> <input name="view" value="View" type="submit"></center></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2" bg="" align="right" style="color:white;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:black;" >pollcode.com <a href="http://pollcode.com/"><span style="color:navy;">free polls</span></a></span></td></tr></tbody></table></form>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-22734099636777496842007-12-09T16:08:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:22.503-08:00Semi Final - I hate you all."Lin your judging the semi-final." Koma tells me. "And this time I want you to be sober for it."<br />"Meh!" I reply.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R1yUHr3hgwI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/i3lCcs0VI1c/s1600-h/lindsaylohan_narrowweb__300x460,0.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R1yUHr3hgwI/AAAAAAAAAJ8/i3lCcs0VI1c/s200/lindsaylohan_narrowweb__300x460,0.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142147734305866498" border="0" /></a>"Lin promise me you'll be sober or I'll set your perkiness on cheerleader." he threatens. It wasn't an idle threat. Koma doesn't make threats that he wont carry out. And since I found out how to be cool and got me a cool posse I got a reputation to keep. I can't be all bubbly and perky again. I tell the "ex" I'll be sober. He's easily placated.<br /><br />To prepare for the judging I go and play my favourite video game.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;">Gingerbread Woman.<br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R1yTjr3hgvI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/I5_adWJhosA/s1600-h/ginger-01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R1yTjr3hgvI/AAAAAAAAAJ0/I5_adWJhosA/s200/ginger-01.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142147115830575858" border="0" /></a>Its so cool. You get to play as Ginger Bread woman and beat up all these guys. Its so good for getting out my frustration.<br /><br />Well after all of that I decided to read these attempts at destroying christmas.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lunatic-fridge.com/img/zombie_wear.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 167px; height: 201px;" src="http://www.lunatic-fridge.com/img/zombie_wear.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Nemonock - Brains of Endearment. The story of a homicidal Sinéad O'Connor freak and her unrequited love for a brain in jar. Also somewhere in there was a plan to have the USA wage war on Santa Claus and Christmas. Dick Cheney should be the Penguin in a Batman movie one day. Its prefect casting but I'm just waiting for Gun Nut to come to her senses and realise that your just another manipulative man. Its just that you lack the proper equipment to really satisfy a women.<br /><br />Oh I meant a heart. You sick pervs thought I was meaning his penis. Weren't you?<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://earthhopenetwork.net/bush%20art/george_bush_the_anti-christ.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 140px; height: 191px;" src="http://earthhopenetwork.net/bush%20art/george_bush_the_anti-christ.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Mr Buttler - Hmmm! I think many right wing Christians would be quite aghast at your tenure as Pope. Well they always said the Pope was the anti-christ, but I doubt your truly evil enough to go through with it. I mean there's still an X-mas. Ugh! Talk about cop out city. I was expecting this to go somewhere. Then again what do you expect from a character that exists in a show where something might happen once every fifth episode. Careful there Mr Buttler you almost had something happen.<br /><br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.eugenewei.com/images/misc2007/disco-stormtrooper.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 144px; height: 245px;" src="http://www.eugenewei.com/images/misc2007/disco-stormtrooper.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Tak - Everyones favourite Imperial Storm-trooper. Your hench-people have way too much control in your organistation so I'd be watching your back. Despite this you managed to get Santa killed and an LA gang blamed for his death.<br /><br /><span style="font-size:180%;">So I give the final immunity to Tak.</span><br /><br />Ha! Eat that.<br /><br />I'm going back to playing Ginger bread Woman.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R1yQ2r3hguI/AAAAAAAAAJs/oFhhVsJbzZM/s1600-h/1336731723-main.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_4mljwk4rgqo/R1yQ2r3hguI/AAAAAAAAAJs/oFhhVsJbzZM/s200/1336731723-main.jpg" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5142144143713207010" border="0" /></a>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-75529689974526586362007-12-08T18:41:00.000-08:002007-12-08T18:44:51.299-08:00AOC: Koma Christmas Deathwish<span style="font-family:arial;">“So who is this Santa guy that Koma wants killed?” I ask my Hench squad.<br /><br />Both look at me a little surprised.<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">Hello, from a different Galaxy! Don’t know all the local dignitaries. Jeez peole throw me a Frinckin’ bone or something</span>.” I glare<br /><br />Gabby starts in “<span style="color:#ffcc00;">Well boss, Sandy Clause is the guy who bring all the presents at Christmas time. He dresses in red, sneaks down the chimney and leaves Christmas gifts</span>.”<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">Does everyone get gifts</span>?” I ask<br /><br />“<span style="color:#33cc00;">Oh no</span>," Chimes in Samantha. “<span style="color:#33ff33;">only the people on the nice list. If you are on the naughty list then you get a lump of coal or some lame thing. The good thing is if you are nice you can write Santa a letter and ask for a specific gift.”</span><br /><br />That must be why Koma hates him. I can’t see Koma being on the Nice list.<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">And he does this on “<em><strong>Christmas</strong></em>”? What is Christmas?”</span> I inquire some more.<br /><br />“<span style="color:#ffcc33;">It the holiday that about 1/6th of the planet celebrates to honor the birth of their God. Well his son, but it is him also. It all get a little confusing, so most of us don’t think about it too much</span>.” Gabby tells me.<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">Well that is weird. What does that guy in the red suit have to do with all of that</span>?” I ask<br /><br />“<span style="color:#33ff33;">Don’t start asking that</span>,” Samantha tells me,” <span style="color:#33ff33;">you’ll just upset Bill O’Riley and Rush Limbaugh and get them all riled up about the war on Christmas</span>.”<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">Cool. You guys have a war on Christmas. That is a really weird way to celebrate the birth of a God, but hey who am I to knock other cultures</span>.” I smile at the two of them.<br /><br />The both have that look on their face again.<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">Well, back to the task at hand. Let me see if I have the basic facts. 1) Santa wears red 2) Santa goes to house on his “nice” list 3) he deliver presents that you asked for. Do I have all that right?” I ask my Hench squad</span>.<br /><br />They both nod yes.<br /><br />“<span style="color:#3366ff;">Ok then, Gabby I need you to find the an address for this organization</span>.” I had him a piece of paper. “<span style="color:#3366ff;">And Samantha I need you to see if you can Slice into …. I mean hack into Santa’s Nice list and put this name and the address Gabby gives you. Also the present you should put down for this person is an Uzi</span>.”<br /><br /><br />They both look a little stunned, but jump in to action.</span><br /><span style="font-family:arial;"><br />On Christmas morning I wake up my Hench Squad and flip on the news.<br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><em>Today we have a tragic story to report. In South Central Los Angles last night a man dressed as Santa broke into the headquarters of the CRISP gang, carrying a Uzi. Apparently the 35 member of the CRISP gang though he was a member of the Aryan Nation trying to disguise himself as a member of the North side Bloods. He was shot 183 time.<br /></em><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2096958190/" title="santa gun by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2217/2096958190_11757c22e5_o.jpg" width="398" height="431" alt="santa gun" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">SANTA’S GOT A GUN, THE DOG DAY JUST BEGUN</span><br /><br />In </span><span style="font-family:arial;"><em>other news Jon the Intergalactic Gladiator surged ahead in the Iowa…..<br /></em><br />I turn the TV off, hand Gabby and Samantha Christmas presents and head to the kitchen for some hot coco.<br /><br /><a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2096181779/" title="17460_8651_santa by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr"><img src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2028/2096181779_40e4899a7c_m.jpg" width="240" height="158" alt="17460_8651_santa" /></a><br /><span style="color:#cc33cc;">KOMA THE DAY AFTER.</span></span>A Army Of (Cl)Onehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08930894185761008708noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-9516298511030254222007-12-08T08:58:00.001-08:002008-12-12T18:13:22.702-08:00Mission Six: X-MasThe challenge was on to destroy Christmas. I began to doubt my own commitment to being a super villain. Sure, I <a href="http://whowantstobeavillain.blogspot.com/2007/11/mission-four-holy-organization.html">shot the Pope</a> and even <a href="http://whowantstobeavillain.blogspot.com/2007/12/mission-five-doombot.html">kidnapped Jane Fonda forcing her to treadmill for eternity</a>. But now we're talking about going up against Santa. Even super villains should have the decency not to mess with the Fat Man.<br /><br />I decided the easiest way to destroy Christmas would be to attack its source: Jerry Christ.<br /><br />"<i>Jesus</i> Christ," The Haitian corrected.<br /><br />"Right. <i>Jesus</i> Christ. To the Vatican!"<br /><br />I put on my big hat and gathered the cardinals together. <br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t_KSMDOgPtw/R1rG3dkIn9I/AAAAAAAAAog/DvWfDBbuXvo/s1600-h/bighat.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t_KSMDOgPtw/R1rG3dkIn9I/AAAAAAAAAog/DvWfDBbuXvo/s400/bighat.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141640580728135634" /></a><br />"Ladies and gentlemen," I began.<br /><br />"There are no ladies here," Cardinal Jim spoke out.<br /><br />"Oh, good," I replied and let out my gut. It really strains the intestines sucking it all in. "I've called you here today for an emergency meeting about Christmas. We have to destroy it, and only we have that power."<br /><br />The Cardinals applauded. "For years," Cardinal Jim said, "we have been forced to compete with St. Nicholas. We even tried revoking his sainthood. Christmas should be our holiday, it's about Christ, our lord, and it's about time we take it back!"<br /><br />"Exactly. It <i>is</i> is about Christ, your lord. But taking it back won't work. We have to get rid of it completely. So, we need to rid this Jesus guy from Christianity."<br /><br />"But," said Cardinal Cassius, "he is the secret ingredient in our Eucharist bread!"<br /><br />"And the foundation of Christianity," Cardinal Jim added.<br /><br />"Then we'll need to find a new secret ingredient."<br /><br />I called up my good friend and mortal enemy, Professor X.<br /><br />"Hey, Charles. Find some reindeer and attach to your wheelchair. Have the mutants make a lot of toys and deliver them to the nice children on December 25th."<br /><br />"Who is this?" he replied. <br /><br />I knew it was sarcasm. His telepathic abilities should have identified me, even over an iPhone. "I know you know it's me!" I replied.<br /><br />"But do you know that I know you know I know it's you?"<br /><br />He was clearly drunk. "Can you help me or not?"<br /><br />"I'm leaning toward not," he replied.<br /><br /><i>Could a man in a wheelchair lean?</i><br /><br />He continued, "After the <a href="http://last-gladiator2.blogspot.com/2007/06/mission-eight.html">ketchup incident</a>, why should I?"<br /><br />"Because Christians deny evolution, and now is your chance to show them the truth!"<br /><br />"Their ignorance does not affect me. I have my own school for the gifted where I teach evolution first hand."<br /><br />"Well," I thought hard. "What about all the good kids that are going to miss out on Santa this year?"<br /><br />"Miss out? Why?"<br /><br />"The President bombed the North Pole. Santa's awaiting trial and will likely be hanged."<br /><br />This seemed to strike a nerve with the pedophile...uh, I mean paraplegic. He paused, obviously thinking about the little ones.<br /><br />"Yes, I am thinking about the little ones," he said. "I'd hate to see them go without their toys. I'll do it."<br /><br />The X-Men all started working hard on restoring what the Bush Administration destroyed. Hopefully they can do a better job than the Democrats.<br /><br />"Sir," The Haitian said to me, "how exactly is this evil? And for that matter, doesn't it do the opposite of what the challenge called for?"<br /><br />He was right of course, but I couldn't show incompetence in front of my minions. That was Wonka's mistake, and now he's wearing concrete shoes at the bottom of the chocolate river. I quickly thought up a new and devious plan. "I have a new and devious plan," I replied to the man from Haiti. "Let the X-Men restore Christmas. We'll switch the nice and naughty list. The good kids will get nothing but coal, except for the good, poor, cold kids. Coal would be a good thing for them. We'll give them ice instead. And the naughty, well they'll get all the greatest gadgets our corporate world has to offer!"<br /><br />With a sinister smile, and using anti-telepathic techniques the company taught me, I handed Professor X the revised lists. He flew off the roof to unknowingly do my bidding.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t_KSMDOgPtw/R1rLwdkIn-I/AAAAAAAAAoo/0pXXVfu_TUg/s1600-h/xmas.gif"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_t_KSMDOgPtw/R1rLwdkIn-I/AAAAAAAAAoo/0pXXVfu_TUg/s400/xmas.gif" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5141645958027190242" /></a><br /><br />Goodbye Christmas, Hello X-Mas.Mr. Bennethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16418603606479190390noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-67108501677967297942007-12-05T11:46:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:24.865-08:00Nemonok: Silent Night, Holy Terror“Oh, Nemmy, wasn’t the party on the <a href="http://jlpicard.blogspot.com/2007/12/enterprise-christmas-party-part-three.html"><em>Enterprise</em></a> wonderful?” Gun Nut interrupted my brooding as she threw her arms around my brain containment jar.<br /><br />An evil mastermind such as me needs his brooding time. I find this new challenge is, for lack of a better term, challenging. Should I shoot Santa’s sled from the skies? Should I travel back in time to prevent the birth of this planet’s savior? Should I fly into the city and steal all the presents? All this seems too easy. I need something special. Something that will really put this planet on its proverbial ear.<br /><br />“Not now, Gun Nut. Can’t you see that this is my brooding time? I have a challenge to prepare for.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOD955JhiXg7OFG1dyJlBovASNCXOqDQzqt6qU8rkDoQroTbzLBoSLuorl_2qiAYeCZF1GCpKIAUyzybBVd57OFxTP_fiT34Wr8Tzew-JwJvzhixX6TQPTN-MopYlW78Y9kjE3KvxqBROw/s1600-h/gunnut1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140573941090963794" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiOD955JhiXg7OFG1dyJlBovASNCXOqDQzqt6qU8rkDoQroTbzLBoSLuorl_2qiAYeCZF1GCpKIAUyzybBVd57OFxTP_fiT34Wr8Tzew-JwJvzhixX6TQPTN-MopYlW78Y9kjE3KvxqBROw/s320/gunnut1.jpg" border="0" /></a>“But it’s Christmas,” she continued. “It’s the most magical time of the year! I even got you something. Here.”<br /><br />I looked at the elaborately decorated box, then looked at my female companion, then looked at the box again.<br /><br />“How am I supposed to open that?”<br /><br />“Fine, I’ll open it for you,” she said still smiling. She tore the wrappings off and held up some sort of a control box in front of me. “It’s a Nintendo Wii! I stole it for you myself. These things are so much fun.”<br /><br />“Yes, I’m sure it is, but how am I to play it? I cannot hold the controller.”<br /><br />Gun Nut’s smile dropped and she looked at me. “Well it’s the thought, you know. For Christmas, it’s not just about what you get, it’s about what the giver gives you. One year, my dad gave me a pound of pork chops. They were delicious, even though that didn’t stop me from shooting him a few years later, I guess. It’s the thought.”<br /><br />“Very well, thank you for your thoughtful gift. Now please give me a moment to ponder this challenge.”<br /><br />“Ugh!” My maniacal, gun toting assassin threw the box down in an uncharacteristic fit of rage. “Do you even like me anymore? Sometimes I think all that you care about is your stupid plans. You’ve never even met my parents.”<br /><br />“Of course I like you. When in your presence, my brain containment fluid temperature rises 6 to 9 degrees and the electrical activity of my brain itself increases 11 percent. Clearly that shows how I feel for you. Additionally, I cannot meet your parents; you killed them both years ago.”<br /><br />“My mom’s still alive,” she sobbed and stomped out of my office, shoving past Apocalypto Pickle along the way.<br /><br />“Hey boss, what’s with her?” he asked.<br /><br />“Bah, women, you can’t live with them and you can’t remove their brains and force them to live disembodied in a jar of nutrients.”<br /><br />“I know what you mean, boss,” he nodded and grinned. “I’ve pretty much given up on women myself.”<br /><br />“Indeed.”<br /><br />Pickle stepped out the door, but his image was replaced by a ghostly image of someone from long ago in my past. Someone who I thought that I would never see again as he appeared to be my former college professor and mentor. But he was long dead, wasn’t he?<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuSY3vy5qrRw7RRR74MJGyeVr6W3i9dFLEjTSRjulbE53-PVby7UDMPRaa3Glu0Ms7mVHwPK4F_sPxnI_8f8eiA4Y4j-Ej9ne4VNZc1Y03ji6Pn5_Cvw4wO1JRtptM0fSwBtaI9013T9B/s1600-h/cerebelok1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140574542386385250" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhuSY3vy5qrRw7RRR74MJGyeVr6W3i9dFLEjTSRjulbE53-PVby7UDMPRaa3Glu0Ms7mVHwPK4F_sPxnI_8f8eiA4Y4j-Ej9ne4VNZc1Y03ji6Pn5_Cvw4wO1JRtptM0fSwBtaI9013T9B/s320/cerebelok1.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Dr. Nemonok, I would have a word with you,” the image spoke to me.<br /><br />“Professor Kingsford J. Cerebelok, is that really you?”<br /><br />“Indeed it is,” it replied. “Though I have gone on to the next level of existence, I have returned but this one time to see you.”<br /><br />“What do you want of me?”<br /><br />“Much,” it replied.<br /><br />“Very well, be on with it then. I haven’t got all day.”<br /><br />“Nemonok, I must warn you. I am forever cursed to wander the galaxy as penitence for what I have done. Do not follow my footsteps, be a better man. Er, disembodied brain in a jar. You do not have to be evil.”<br /><br />“Is this all you have come to tell me? I will hear no more of it, I have work to do. <em>Evil</em> work.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7uzBAhwt0E77G8DHRIj0VjgyfbKa_ioF7qwkVAnoVSryYdqd8DE5PqxMLe5Krd-AvNaB0rW0O-Hl8A4UZrkW9QQRxj6jqSYyfdigU5bq-RKs1a-xTucU1FtdSjfL1I2pB18uUsO5n_5Z/s1600-h/cerebelok.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140573941090963778" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgX7uzBAhwt0E77G8DHRIj0VjgyfbKa_ioF7qwkVAnoVSryYdqd8DE5PqxMLe5Krd-AvNaB0rW0O-Hl8A4UZrkW9QQRxj6jqSYyfdigU5bq-RKs1a-xTucU1FtdSjfL1I2pB18uUsO5n_5Z/s320/cerebelok.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Doctor, I must warn you, you can still escape this fate by the visitation from the spirits three,” Cerebelok continued. “They will see you here, tonight!”<br /><br />“Here?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Tonight?”<br /><br />“Yes.”<br /><br />“Then I shall be going. I have important matters to attend to.”<br /><br />I quickly gathered my four henches (Gun Nut begrudgingly came along, though she gave me the “silent treatment” for the entirety of the trip) and we flew to Washington DC in my Shadow Stealthship. Once at the capitol of the most powerful nation on this planet, my crew and I disembarked to speak with the evil Dick Cheney.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTExlrNWfwMQN4HDSZXdQGRx1nfb42cxmBgixxwHsvZMcPftpz-NqPhyeR7Mvtiue4NhdoZ8J8O4lLuVMwX37S76V897fUOE__SxBVgTSiuWGraZcBM1uf14y2jU-4SzAfj4pdvLG1E9q/s1600-h/dick_cheney_penguin.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5135306198410056018" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGTExlrNWfwMQN4HDSZXdQGRx1nfb42cxmBgixxwHsvZMcPftpz-NqPhyeR7Mvtiue4NhdoZ8J8O4lLuVMwX37S76V897fUOE__SxBVgTSiuWGraZcBM1uf14y2jU-4SzAfj4pdvLG1E9q/s320/dick_cheney_penguin.jpg" border="0" /></a>“You want to what?” he seemed shocked. “Wah wah.”<br /><br />“I want to destroy Christmas. Please just send your troops and weapons to the North Pole and destroy it.”<br /><br />“You can’t do that,” he spat. “It’s evil.”<br /><br />“Yes, I know that. I’m evil, you’re evil. We’re all evil, so let’s just go destroy Christmas.”<br /><br />“But Christmas is the one time of year where even evil gets a holiday,” he answered. “You can’t be evil on Christmas. You just can’t.”<br /><br />“What’s goin’ on in here?” President George Bush walked in on our meeting. He took one look at me and my henches and did a double take. “Now, I’ve seen some weird ones in Austin, buncha dirty dang hippies, but this is the weirdest sight I ever did laid eyes on. Hey Laura, get a load a the brain ina jar!”<br /><br />“I have no time for this. Bob, fire the Hypnoray.”<br /><br />“With pleasure, boss.”<br /><br />With these mindless fools under my control, I quickly sent them to the television broadcast room to send a very important message to the people of this nation.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLb8o4CPwS05j_5WTQ6C5ObsNeJpupcyYeVO21sLrS4vXpDh7lWi1b6WuUH_g-vTHR_POQbn7D23vqBJ7Mnr4RHhCI2iG8p5_kHuK6Fs3ssDiLlTbiRAXrsiF1SRxgqg9j8yseDvBsOuoK/s1600-h/BushIdiot2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140574542386385266" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiLb8o4CPwS05j_5WTQ6C5ObsNeJpupcyYeVO21sLrS4vXpDh7lWi1b6WuUH_g-vTHR_POQbn7D23vqBJ7Mnr4RHhCI2iG8p5_kHuK6Fs3ssDiLlTbiRAXrsiF1SRxgqg9j8yseDvBsOuoK/s320/BushIdiot2.jpg" border="0" /></a>“My fellow ‘Mericans,” Bush spoke somberly. “We have a saying in ‘Merica, I know we say it in Texshush, I think you all say it in ‘Merica: Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice, uh, I won’t get fooled again.<br /><br />“My job is a decision-making job, and as a result, I make a lot of decisions, and for too long, the freedom lovin’ people of this nation and of this world have been living in fearful rule of one man. All of us in America want there to be fairness when it comes to justice, and this one man has been living beyond fairnessness and justice for too long.<br /><br />“These are big achievements for this country, and the people of ‘Merica ought to be proud of the achievements that they have achieved, but in achieving those achievements there is an achievement that we have yet to obtain. Santa Claus has been conducting a one man campaign against the morals and decency of God-fearing ‘Mericans for too long.<br /><br />“My fellow ‘Mericans, I'm pleased to tell you today that I've signed legislation that will outlaw Santa Claus forever. We begin bombing in five minutes. For all who love freedom and peace, the world without Santa Clauses’s regime is a better and safer place. Thank you and good night.”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkg0k4rjG1fE_LKFkAL8P2D2kSBdWSqA5xLxuJ6Loz7HnNsH3BiZ1vjfHrNYoArwBPs9r6QWoHzV9c1fW1MNpVhzvX0IArPGjpKtYQieyB1jwATcF_QucfIQGRC5FiB_a-namV5MLproi/s1600-h/bush.bmp"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140575324070433170" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjGkg0k4rjG1fE_LKFkAL8P2D2kSBdWSqA5xLxuJ6Loz7HnNsH3BiZ1vjfHrNYoArwBPs9r6QWoHzV9c1fW1MNpVhzvX0IArPGjpKtYQieyB1jwATcF_QucfIQGRC5FiB_a-namV5MLproi/s320/bush.bmp" border="0" /></a><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CQssIha-sL3MXtqS6ZuTjRfBK0IJF63my1L1S0A3zImLPeYo_SbbRkdEABk3HIzL4RUtSB_eb24dVi2Vv6fFJAMTL2aMvm7P3WT43v499_YlYlJ3EylaFApJd-OLzyZDFb3y0GZXiHSh/s1600-h/bomber.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140573936795996450" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj6CQssIha-sL3MXtqS6ZuTjRfBK0IJF63my1L1S0A3zImLPeYo_SbbRkdEABk3HIzL4RUtSB_eb24dVi2Vv6fFJAMTL2aMvm7P3WT43v499_YlYlJ3EylaFApJd-OLzyZDFb3y0GZXiHSh/s320/bomber.jpg" border="0" /></a>And with the order from my brain dead puppet, the American Military forces deployed a carrier group to the North Pole. Jet craft carpet bombed Christmas Village and ground forces rushed in to capture Saint Nick, who was quickly found hiding in a spider hole. President Bush quickly flew to the aircraft carrier and delivered a “Mission accomplished speech” to raise morale of the troops.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CtbX7TppbuJMCRhpvkuCA7OAyqxNSqqGYYgJ5vqw_J8JWSY_G1q16E_p1ujXtHpA7E2gGj61Ri7TmtBLLSb1nbNx3nXPSOC0wtLal6X5eorBXm-w5KB0difWLXod-S7Awnvskmh72R6K/s1600-h/bomber2.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140573936795996466" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi5CtbX7TppbuJMCRhpvkuCA7OAyqxNSqqGYYgJ5vqw_J8JWSY_G1q16E_p1ujXtHpA7E2gGj61Ri7TmtBLLSb1nbNx3nXPSOC0wtLal6X5eorBXm-w5KB0difWLXod-S7Awnvskmh72R6K/s320/bomber2.jpg" border="0" /></a>“We have brought in a special CIA operator and master interrogator the <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Warrior_(wrestler)">Warrior</a>, Dr. Nemonok,” Dick Cheney told me as I surveyed the sight from the comforts of the White House strategy center. “We’ll have that fat goose singing like a canary in no time, wah wah.”<br /><br />“Splendid. A merry Christmas to all, and to all a good night, indeed.”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFM1F3KvY_yyCjLY2KF8vOW_BCKGVfo0N3FkyFiNMd-LUg2upJQ4cx2hJjKjnzLDejLImWvrVTVRqZ9OYiOlnnKyxQ5BYm9c_SkxIyYkzwzFODiNw7lU4nAO3-DQpfabNTNIullczyF00/s1600-h/warrior.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5140575538818797986" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhjFM1F3KvY_yyCjLY2KF8vOW_BCKGVfo0N3FkyFiNMd-LUg2upJQ4cx2hJjKjnzLDejLImWvrVTVRqZ9OYiOlnnKyxQ5BYm9c_SkxIyYkzwzFODiNw7lU4nAO3-DQpfabNTNIullczyF00/s400/warrior.jpg" border="0" /></a>Dr. Nemonokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503662033440938621noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-33536009853480571042007-12-03T21:18:00.000-08:002007-12-03T21:21:46.140-08:00Challenge 6Challenge Number 6<br /><br />Ok now there's only 3 of you left.<br /><br />Tak - Hey what happened to Gyrobo you said you were going to throw him off the top of those towers?<br /><br />Nemonock - Yes I wish to know what happened there as well.<br /><br />Buttler - Who cares. Its no longer relevant to the show.<br /><br />The bespeckled one is right it doesn't matter what happened to Gyrobo.<br /><br />Tak - Awww!<br /><br />Ok you next and second last challenge is to.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0); font-weight: bold;">Destroy Christmas!</span></span><br /></div><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/cga/lowres/cgan263l.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/cga/lowres/cgan263l.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I personally hate this annual travesty of greed and kindness and happiness to all. In fact of all days this as a super villain should be the worst day of the year. Good tidings and joy to all th world are not what we want. We want to bring fear and hatred and chaos to the world.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://americandinosaur.mu.nu/archives/KILL_SANTA_CLAUS.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://americandinosaur.mu.nu/archives/KILL_SANTA_CLAUS.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>Work out the best way to ruin this most horrid of days.<br /><br />Let the chaos commence!captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-11948657275794441642007-12-03T21:08:00.001-08:002007-12-03T21:14:47.477-08:00Challenge 5 - The verdictWell it is with a tear in my eye that I say this.<br /><br />This one I thought truly had the ability to go all the way. He was crazy, unhinged, some might even call him schizophrenic. I call him a friend and a mentor in the ways of villainy.<br /><br />-sniff!-<br /><br />Gyrobo<br /><br />-choke!-<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size:180%;"><span style="font-weight: bold; color: rgb(204, 0, 0);">You are not a super villain!<br /></span></span><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://i70.photobucket.com/albums/i99/potamus_peter/gyrofoe.png"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 400px;" src="http://i70.photobucket.com/albums/i99/potamus_peter/gyrofoe.png" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />Its just so sad.<br />It shouldn't have happened.<br />Travesty.<br />You uncouth slack jawed yokels.<br />You don't see genius when it sits on your face and makes a paper crane out of your own dired snot.<br />Your not worth this treasure.<br /></div>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-31802800781764949922007-12-02T19:43:00.000-08:002007-12-02T19:56:10.278-08:00THE VOTE - Challenge Number 5Ok Mr Buttler got immunity.<br /><br />Good for him.<br /><br />Also well judged Onieda you did great.<br /><br />Everyone give her a round of applause.<br /><br />Just for you we've gotten these little children to send you off with flowers and a farewell song.<br /><br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://images.honewatson.com/images/1005/Queen-Rania-of-Jordan.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 306px; height: 247px;" src="http://images.honewatson.com/images/1005/Queen-Rania-of-Jordan.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>What your not Syrian? Whoops!</div><br /><br />Ok now on to the voting. There are only three of you to choose from since Mr Buttler has immunity. Ha! fight among yourselves to see who stays and who we let go from 30,000 feet atop the Petronas Towers in Kuala Lumpar, Malaysia.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.peaceofasia.com/Index/Petronas-Towers.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 279px; height: 406px;" src="http://www.peaceofasia.com/Index/Petronas-Towers.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><br />I love asian nations they let you do anything for the right amount.<br /><br />Oh well here's your voting card. Get cracking.<br /><br /><form method="post" action="http://poll.pollcode.com/eYAb"><table bg="" border="0" cellpadding="2" cellspacing="0" width="150" style="color:Black;"><tbody><tr><td colspan="2"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" ><b>Who's getting let go?</b></span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="1" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Nemonock</span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="2" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Gyrobo</span></td></tr><tr><td width="5"><input name="answer" value="3" type="radio"></td><td><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:White;" >Tak</span></td></tr><tr><td colspan="2"><center><input value="Vote" type="submit"> <input name="view" value="View" type="submit"></center></td></tr><tr><td bg="" colspan="2" align="right" style="color:white;"><span style=";font-family:Verdana;color:black;" >pollcode.com <a href="http://pollcode.com/"><span style="color:navy;">free polls</span></a></span></td></tr></tbody></table></form>captain komahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/13847486048090833167noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-45335676820349308082007-12-02T15:50:00.000-08:002007-12-02T15:52:42.046-08:00JudgingWell that was certainly enlightening. I was thinking I’d see more of a Mechastreisand type of evil robot, but I’m willing that evil comes in many sizes. <br /><br />Tak: I liked your plan, but I think it falls into the devious category more than the evil category. I think your Girl Scout is too much Donld Trump and not enough Kim Jong-Il. To add a bit more evil, perhaps think about adding some toddler stomping and lost pants into the coffee/dry cleaning idea.<br /><br />Dr. Nemonok: Your robot had potential. But providing young boys through-out the country with jeans that are hard to take off, you only protected them from the creepy older men by providing more coverage. That’s a good thing, not an evil thing. <br /><br />Gyrobo: I’m glad you’ll have a nice big robot, but his components make him sound somewhat flammable. A successful evil robot can’t have obvious flaws that are easy to exploit, and your evil machination is one flaming arrow away from disaster. Might I recommend a flame retardant for future models?<br /><br />Mr. Bennet, excuse me, Mr. Butler: Using the power of God to run your monster is a great idea. The only possible downside could be if the world turned atheist and God ceased to exist. But I digress into silly philosophical issues. <br /><br />I know that everyone was worried that I’d be biased and have my favorites *pats Tak fondly on the cheek* I didn’t let that affect my decision.<br /><br />The winner of the ‘build a robot of doom’ segment of the contest is<br /><br /><br />Mr. Benn…ulter, Mr. Butlet, lets try that again…<br /><br /> <br /><br /><br />Mr. Butler is the winner with his Capt. Planet stomping Jane Fonda powered robot.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-58426779327568184912007-12-02T11:59:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:24.923-08:00Mission Five: DoombotFinally, I'm presented with a challenge that may prove difficult. All the past ones dealt with one of my many areas of expertise. But this challenge is new grounds. I've never once built a Robot of Doom.<br /><br />Mr. Bennet...uh, I mean, Mr. Butler....is up for any challenge this competition can throw at me. I'm driven by the desire to protect my family, and this game's perhaps non-existent prize could do just that.<br /><br />"Let's win this one!" I shouted.<br /><br />The girls broke out into cheers to lift our spirits. Once said spirits reached an appropriate altitude, I questioned The Haitian about a plan.<br /><br />"Robots of Doom need massive firepower," he suggested.<br /><br />Kandi added, "Like a big flame thrower and stuff!"<br /><br />I was becoming concerned. This was already turning into an ambitious project.<br /><br />"And a power source," The Haitian said.<br /><br />"My god! You're a genius."<br /><br />The power source would be the key to this challenge. While the other contestants slave away giving their robots an over-the-top arsenal, quirky personalities and benign pop culture references, I would create the most powerful Doombot of all!<br /><br />I sensed an opportunity for a maniacal evil genius laugh and took it.<br /><br />"That was a good laugh," The Haitian complimented.<br /><br />"Really? You think so?" I asked.<br /><br />"Indeed. Very evil; maniacal even."<br /><br />I didn't want to overdo the moment (let's leave that to Nemonok), so the team and I set off in search of the ultimate power source.<br /><br />"What's the most powerful thing on Earth?" I inquired rhetorically.<br /><br />"Ummm....the orange dust from Cheetos?" Kandi asked.<br /><br />"A thousand hamsters running in wheels?" The Haitian offered.<br /><br />"No," I said. "God."<br /><br />"Oh, like, duh!" said Kandi. "I totally learned that at Bible Camp."<br /><br />I decided to use my recently acquired organization to help me harness the power of God. Consulting the Vatican's library, I found all the information on the Holy Grail.<br /><br />"Oooh, cool. A cup!" Christina said enthusiastically.<br /><br />"Better than a cup," I replied, "a woman!"<br /><br />"In Haiti, women have no power," The Haitian droned.<br /><br />According to the Vatican's secret files, Opus Dei had discovered that the Holy Grail is protected, guarded by the last remaining Knight Templar. It is said that he was given amazing powers by the Grail and uses them to defend her and the environment.<br /><br />Opus Dei agents, Duke Nukem and Looten Plunder, were each defeated by the green-haired guardian. But I had already defeated him myself. At this very moment he was being crushed by my garbage compactor.<br /><br />"Um, boss?" Kandi said, "Mr. Planet, like, blasted through the wall."<br /><br />"Blast that Captain Planet!"<br /><br />Fortunately, before bagging him, I made sure to tag him. He'll lead us straight to the Holy Grail, and we'll know where to send the bill for repairing the hole in my lair.<br /><br />The Haitian and I tracked his movements while the girls began putting together the Robot of Doom. He stopped off first at Starbucks, probably to fraternize with that pseudo-intellectual elitist stormtrooper. After that, he flew to the Democratic Debate. Could Hillary Clinton be the Holy Grail?<br /><br />"More like the Anti-Christ!" I laughed.<br /><br />"Huh?" asked The Haitian.<br /><br />"Nevermind." I glanced at the tracking monitor. The blip had come to a rest. "There!" I pointed.<br /><br />The Haitian did a quick Google search and said, "Jane Fonda's house."<br /><br />"of course! She and her diabolical husband created Captain Planet. She's the Holy Grail!"<br /><br />"To the Batcave!" The Haitian shouted.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t_KSMDOgPtw/R1KXATCO1JI/AAAAAAAAAoY/9NPs9K0Z0SI/s1600-R/Jane_X5_b.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t_KSMDOgPtw/R1KXATCO1JI/AAAAAAAAAoY/vcgvhmUdTR8/s400/Jane_X5_b.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5139336156148585618" /></a>A spinning logo and moments later we were at Fonda's Fortress<sup>TM</sup>. With a series of kick-flips, the cheerleaders neutralized the guard dogs. The Haitian picked the lock, and we were inside.<br /><br />"Oh, my!" Fonda cried. "Get out of my house, now!"<br /><br />"I don't think so," I replied. "Have a seat."<br /><br />"Planeteers! Help!" she called out in vain.<br /><br />"Sorry, Ms. Fonda, but they're fish food now, eco-friendly fish food."<br /><br />"Who are you?" she asked terrified.<br /><br />"I'm the man in horn-rimmed glasses. You can call me Noah."<br /><br />The Haitian used his crazy mental powers to knock her out cold. The logo spun again and we were back at the lair.<br /><br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.idmonsters.com/archives/images/GiantRobot.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;width: 400px;" src="http://www.idmonsters.com/archives/images/GiantRobot.jpg" border="0" alt="" /></a><br /><br />"Wake up, Ms. Fonda," I said as I waved a jar of ammonia under her nose. "There's a big day ahead of you."<br /><br />"Wh...where am I?" she asked.<br /><br />"You're inside my Robot of Doom." I replied. "All you have to do is run on that treadmill and you'll generate the energy I need. Energy from the Holy Grail herself! My Robot of Doom will be unstoppable!"<br /><br />"You're mad!"<br /><br />"I know. Now get to running, babe."<br /><br />"Never!" she protested.<br /><br />"If you don't run," I threatened, "I'll have my friend here put you in that blender. We'll grind you into a burnable oil. You know how much using you as that kind of energy source will pollute the Earth?"<br /><br />"Alright! I'll run! Just promise you'll keep carbon emissions low."<br /><br />She began running and the robot roared to life. The Haitian and I exited the robot to watch its first mission. Captain Planet arrived, right on schedule.<br /><br />"Robot of Doom," I commanded, "Kill Captain Planet!"<br /><br />And kill it did.Mr. Bennethttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16418603606479190390noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-63891210183857057732007-12-01T20:00:00.000-08:002007-12-01T17:30:40.359-08:00Angus McGriddle, Doctor of Robots!<div style="background:white url('http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v701/Artiki/web_images/hinchey_nav2.gif'); color:black; padding:7px; border:0px; margin:0px; text-align:justify;">Stained clock faces with bent hands hung on the to-do wall. There were black cast-iron barrels full of 5-cent odds and ends, though at least one must have served as a wastebasket. The only source of light were bright LED bulbs that hung from elegantly retrofitted Victorian chandeliers and wall scones. Dusty posters of obscure and just plain awful films suffocated the varnished mahogany.<br /><br /><div style="text-align:center;"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v701/Artiki/Santa_martians.jpg" alt="Santa Claus vs. the Martians" /></div><br />A lab coat was carefully folded over the back of an efficient Scandinavian chair by the door. <em>This must belong to the good doctor,</em> I thought. Hanging over a broken-in workbench under a blackened window was a corroded fume hood; thick ionic smoke wafted up into it. Pausing hesitantly to wipe his bald head, Doctor Angus McGriddle of the San Serriffe Font Foundry labored away on his latest calligraphic robo-strosity.<br /><br />“They say you make a pretty mean killer robot.”<br /><br />McGriddle flinched, then grabbed his hand. Thankfully the thick work glove absorbed most of the diamond cutter’s brunt. “How did you get in here?”<br /><br />“I checked myself in,” I grinned, showing him the library card I’d won off Hermann Zapf. “Now, shall we rock or shall we roll?”<br /><br />He flipped the diamond cutter to off mode nonchalantly. Bushy eyebrows connected thoughtfully over his protective goggles, and I briefly wondered whether he had laser vision.<br /><br />“Look kid, I don’t know what that loon told you. Angus McGriddle doesn’t do pro bono.”<br /><br />“Naturally we’d be willing to compensate you for you trouble,” I purred, opening a crate of plastic eggs behind me. “This is just the down payment. You’ll get the rest later.”<br /><br />“No deal. We moved off the plastic egg standard when General Pica was hung by his pinkies from the palace walls.”<br /><br />“Then what? Liposuction?”<br /><br />“No! This is all <em>muscle!</em>” he resolutely resisted, manhandling his love handles. “I want <em>revenge</em> against <em>McDonald’s.</em> After their McGriddle breakfast sandwiches came out, I had to stop selling the <em>McGriddle 2000™</em>—something I’d spent the better part of the last decade developing.”<br /><br />“What was the McGriddle 2000™?”<br /><br />“Highly concentrated pancake-sized chlorine tablets. A single puck could kill an African elephant. The lawsuit would’ve forced me to make them unscented, take the word ‘flavor’ off the packaging, and stop advertising using cartoon characters. I refused.”<br /><div style="text-align:center;"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v701/Artiki/Roboshrubish/Scribbles/scribble100.png" alt="Back to formula!" style="border:0px;" /></div><br />“I remember those! They were delicious!”<br /><br />Jalas’ leafy voice tore through the laboratory. “Exactly. So they did the only thing they could: embrace, extend, extinguish.” She swung down from the chandelier, bouncing off the chemical hood and landing gracefully on a small stack of MAD magazines.<br /><br />“Have you spies everywhere?” McGriddle croaked.<br /><br />“Jalas, I’m videoconferencing in person. What gives, yo?”<br /><br />“Navens are raiding the Foundry.”<br /><br />Even though I couldn’t remember ordering my henchmen to raid the facility, I couldn’t rule out the possibility that some higher power had acted on my behalf.<br /><br />“Do they claim to have received a divine missive?”<br /><br />“They claim they haven’t eaten since our airship took on several thousand refugees—I mean, displaced persons—so I sent them on a... fact-finding mission. They got past the Foundry’s high-tech security system in under ten minutes.”<br /><br />“Implausible! I designed that security system—with my bare hands,” Angus anguished. “What about the sonic turrets outside the cafeteria?”<br /><br />Jalas donned her most sympathetic game face. “I’m afraid the Chef’s Special today is Lasagna with a side of <em>shrapnel.</em>”<br /><br />“<em>Sweet Electron of the Rubicon!</em> Why? Why?!” he asked feebly, teetering backwards over the workbench. “That lasagna could have been <em>yours.</em>”<br /><br />“We’re merely taking what we need to survive; you should appreciate that, having been cast to the sidewalk yourself. Join us,” I offered. My hand hyperextended in a magnanimous display of contortionism. “Let’s build that robotic hover-bridge to the 21<sup>st</sup> century.”<br /><br />“It already <em>is</em> the 21<sup>st</sup> century,” the decorated doctor demonstrated, diligently drilling his diabolical day-planner.<br /><br />“Then we’re almost eight years behind schedule. Look, you want to sell chlorine tablets outside restaurants? I can make it happen. You want to poison African elephants? I can do that, too.”<br /><br />“African elephants were only a metric, I have nothing against the gentle giants.”<br /><br />My second-in-command unsheathed a broadsword with the head of a chameleon for a hilt. “I’m going to go stop all the looting and violence now.”<br /><div style="text-align:center;"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v701/Artiki/Roboshrubish/Scribbles/scribble101.png" alt="Go to your angry place!" style="border:0px;" /></div><br />“Bring me back a liver,” I urged laboriously. “Now, Angus-”<br /><br />“Doctor McGriddle, please.”<br /><br />A silence overtook the room following Jalas’ departure. I felt I could finally strike a deal with the amorphous substrate.<br /><br />“Caramel apple?” I held out a tray.<br /><br />“I’m going to want more than that. Like I said, Angus McGriddle don’t work for free. You want Angus McGriddle? You want a giant robot?” He threw down his gloves. There were four gnarled fingers on one hand, and six on the other. “It’s going to cost you.”<br /><br />“No problem! We recently robbed a bank, and have about ten times that much!”<br /><br />“I never... mentioned a number...”<br /><br />“Fine. You can have the crate,” I conceded, passing him the large box of plastic eggs. They were clearly well aged, and some Serriffian collectors would surly still find them valuable.<br /><br />My eyes wondered around the old scientist’s room. There was a rack up against one wall, several shelves, full of action figures and masks. Photos of celebrities shaking hands with various people, and several of Ronald Reagan with the eyes cut out. There was no carpeting (this was a workroom, after all) and a double helix scar etched deep into the concrete. What from, I could only speculate.<br /><br />“You enjoy working here, don’t you, Angus?”<br /><br />“It keeps me busy.”<br /><br />“Would you like to work on some of the bigger budget stuff?”<br /><br />“I’m already the lead roboticist...”<br /><br />“Work for me and I’ll make you the lead roboticist <em>of the entire Earth,</em>” my cape flapped behind me. “Or turn from me, and I’ll feed you to my pet <em>hydra.</em>”<br /><br />“With friends like you, who needs anemones?”<br /><br />“That’s a good one, doc,” I affirmed as he packed a ratty old suitcase. “Keep up the puns... you stuffed pig.”<br /><br />“What?”<br /><br />“I said ‘puffed jig!’ We’re gonna do a puffed jig when we get back to Skylair One!”<br /><div style="font-size:300%;text-align:center;">***</div>“That’s a pretty swanky killer robot.”<br /><br />“It’s mostly cardboard and newspapers.”<br /><br />Angus was competitively humble. In truth, the automaton was so huge that he could only work on the head onboard. The rest of the body would have to be completed at the Foundry by unskilled laborers.<br /><div style="text-align:center;"><img src="http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v701/Artiki/Roboshrubish/Scribbles/scribble16.png" alt="Build the Face!" style="border:0px;" /></div><br />“Is it going to cost a lot to get the body completed? We’ve got a lot of people working overtime.”<br /><br />“Don’t worry, lad. There’re no labor laws on San Serriffe. About two years ago, the leader of the Labor Party, Antonio Bourgeois, was asked by a rookie journalist during a routine interview if he was in Labor. When Bourgeois said ‘yes,’ the reporter asked how far apart the contractions were. That was the day the labor movement died.”<br /><br />“Aren’t most of San Serriffe’s workers pregnant women?”<br /><br />“Politics be a strange art,” McGriddle gritted, squeezing the blowtorch handle. “Finito!”<br /><br />“It’s done?”<br /><br />“The head part of it, anyway. It still needs the body for power and awesomeness.”<br /><br />Featureless and rational in every respect, the face basked in our pride. Its eyeballs were cannons, the nose shot heat-seeking missiles, and the mouth could projectile vomit burning oil. Surely, this was the pinnacle of form, the apex of function, the convergence of everything simple and beautiful and evil and good.<br /><br />“Put some flaws in so people will have a reason to buy a new one in five years.”</div>Gyrobohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03256636954723983135noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-37802775231110653582007-11-30T19:50:00.000-08:002008-12-12T18:13:26.990-08:00Nemonok: Super Happy Destructive Robot Time Go“Gather around, my minions; it is time to prepare for the next challenge.”<br /><br />Heh heh, having minions is nice. I can see why my dark lord Galactor the Evil Galactic Overlord has so many.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauhrf2gyjitJzB5R2AscKqxGaj44ciRUI11SppdKtHHw3qhpjsMi06AbpJDJMXrK-4pq7UMZQ60wVbbKpVu2chjY0dtloJxWKvtvFmu2sdExdrb3ncSL2yz5Vjf7WsMBc-EVm6DEk3kvj/s320/trio.JPG"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiauhrf2gyjitJzB5R2AscKqxGaj44ciRUI11SppdKtHHw3qhpjsMi06AbpJDJMXrK-4pq7UMZQ60wVbbKpVu2chjY0dtloJxWKvtvFmu2sdExdrb3ncSL2yz5Vjf7WsMBc-EVm6DEk3kvj/s320/trio.JPG" border="0" /></a>“What are we doing this time, boss?” Apocalypto Pickle asked.<br /><br />“We must build a giant robot of doom. And as an additional proverbial wrench in the cog, a Lieutenant Commander Oneida will be judging. Therefore, I would like all of you to say something nice about our guest judge in order to get into her good graces.”<br /><br />“You want to get on her good side?” asked Bob the Goon. “We could bribe her maybe.”<br /><br />“Or maybe we could kidnap her and release her only when she agrees that we won the challenge!” Iron Butterfly suggested.<br /><br />“Idiot,” Gun Nut spat. “How is she going to rule in our favor when she’s kidnapped?”<br /><br />“I dunno,” Butterfly shrugged.<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9tSvJsbvyO55MpAMma6U8ymMHC9GPNn3RWVdPk0anFHSnpfntNvYN1x3STVEssVVIjc5jwnjCjkCSMbjKLlGTUe2WTItPV0vl2J931WGYRiD2G9UZrad_ltVNYeu5BGsIydtvrUMepwB/s320/Nemonok.jpg"><img style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiM9tSvJsbvyO55MpAMma6U8ymMHC9GPNn3RWVdPk0anFHSnpfntNvYN1x3STVEssVVIjc5jwnjCjkCSMbjKLlGTUe2WTItPV0vl2J931WGYRiD2G9UZrad_ltVNYeu5BGsIydtvrUMepwB/s320/Nemonok.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Enough, my henches. Let me give you a little class in psychology 101. All humans like to be complimented. It’s that simple. It puts them at ease and it allows them the opportunity to feel appreciated. The fact that we are quite and unusual group—”<br /><br />“What?” interupted Gun Nut.<br /><br />“No!” injected Butterfly.<br /><br />“No no, it’s true. I am sure we are somewhat atypical to what she considers normal or standard. Anyway, remember that she is clearly too intelligent and sophisticated to fall for an insincere compliment, so everyone please compliment our judge and keep it real, as they say.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgh-CVWS05xj7WeMpGsLgtRl1OaYAZ_dhiq0Q2vVzg_ZhJQtk9KBmQC6tNOLZfLbn_tfMWa4rLtu3VRMAZqiznlXRVa7T1hVv_l9aAEZi1TyqBiO8f8hVj-xE5r0uZ1SHbP5IBjPKCVWTIT/s1600-r/bob1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138846011558394674" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgnPaTO4U2gK-1ps9o14YkQqApSwWF57tw2OPYWnxPrOM6jP75w4NxL9ZBCqYcKbuILIgl2jcXH_IV9v7tTLEjX0e3r6EqAuMGKagi1DL24_WMomXTSAqEPpHHrFqfWCqpa3QIzk8UYeAeh/s320/bob1.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Uh, OK,” Bob the Goon thought for a moment. “She’s real pretty, I’d like to take her out to dinner. Maybe we could get some shrimp. See? I keep sayin’ shrimp. That’s no coincidence.”<br /><br />“Uh yeah, pretty,” Apocalypto Pickle added. “Real stylish, too. Her clothes are uh uh uh.”<br /><br />He made a snapping motion in a Z pattern for emphasis.<br /><br />“Yeah, I like her hair,” Gun Nut said. “I’d like to know who does it.”<br /><br />“Yeah her hair,” Butterfly offered. “I sure would like to smell her pretty hair.”<br /><br />“OK, that was borderline creepy but I think it will get the job done. Now, we must get going on our journey and we must hurry as it is apparent that that strung out female robot judge does not have the attention span of a Gernelian gnat.”<br /><br />“Yeah? So where are we going?” asked Butterfly.<br /><br />“We are going to the one place where giant robots of doom are as common as an Orwelian street rat on an Orwelian street. And that is the island of Japan.”<br /><br />My crew of henches and I quickly flew to Japan in my Shadow Stealthship where I quickly used the technology and radioactive materials readily available there to construct the grandest of giant evil robots ever designed.<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEilGNYIvvx5r_uYvseGu2MYBtQhNNYzOO59agDYsHehA_GOpJPaiykfQT1DbmmOGPWoR4s3fg-PT8ezpT-RKSFPNk06gDtaWNgXGun8pLqAk6wf_cLCnvbdO-O49PUJjzd_MHZ1XNTDi2p9/s1600-r/ox.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138843572016970466" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhLRZjhwvV8TfrFklkIiz0rZeMI3JTYGfaikWLs20vKBLg0b60Z3arLhTklkrIL1GtNZvm52x525OKOUIEFDpXwdvzPoGzIgJqeRUE_kUg1UQyXkbO2kKfKxMBJwcXVdLHd4_hsMLh1tkE7/s320/ox.jpg" border="0" /></a>“It’s amazing,” Gun Nut said in awe.<br /><br />“It’s incredible,” Iron Butterfly added as he stared up at the giant automaton.”<br /><br />“That crotch, it’s so huge,” Pickle added. “Er, I mean, the whole thing is huge. It’s a giant robot and all.”<br /><br />“Now to enact the second part of my plan! Giant Evil Robot, smash the building!”<br /><br />The monster obeyed my command and crashed through one of the buildings of downtown Tokyo.<br /><br />“That’s it?” Gun Nut asked. “It’s just going to smash the city up? That seems rather pedestrian.”<br /><br />“Of course wanton destruction is rather blasé, but that’s just the beginning. There should be a good robot or monster flying in shortly to defend the city.”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEghbxJOad6aFpH1nN7isXaTy0DwJPB_0nW0L7uYPUdIrMzgA0MiHWXiX84i0XhXpoWwE-xVe4XA7iP2sI2_YgatUeHrCjk5raQlSL2yq1uUofHX2qg3_a8OTAAeDVLYHGd07AAkaEG_5q59/s1600-r/robot.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138844379470822178" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; WIDTH: 222px; CURSOR: hand; HEIGHT: 196px" height="249" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj_dy7TCP55LTHpHMg0jVNJw8Pa9jctAr_s11J5sFKqduGZuR6-D14dGdUO44X4RsdI5vyaVoOKM5B1M6Dp4kRhsiuBZ_1RmECvW7wcWmeCW-kg21ZUL-P0lmqtmqKaMyhisFfiSPBj05cY/s320/robot.jpg" width="260" border="0" /></a>“There it is.” Gun Nut pointed to the skies. “A big blue one.”<br /><br />The robotic titan landed in front of my robot. They went through a series of elaborate moves, chopping the air and stomping the ground before they began fighting each other.<br /><br />“OK, they’re fighting,” Butterfly said. “I mean, they’re huge. It’s an awesome battle and all, but now what?”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiBLheZiPIT-2R0yHVY5fwY1glpfnS8FiwkTFreWmAhAbaw5e7rWZ_Ss_OzR42tOiowR2GIb2SrYTkic4kUn5c-dXMIRoSPW7mi4Uqd86djxTkO-tjeL8xVu6GhS2mgzmnC8iyAx-qn-8Em/s1600-r/robot1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138843580606905090" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiQKtQm2VNaxQWu7OUDem6vO6-ViZnlw2snhpIsZ9Qu8_u6NgCyY2PsR27c-09xDtGmUt48HGMbbW2k44ilOV6EcdnMNPgfUSc379isw5ie4iaGBGnloE2oPmwd07rnr13OWJJiwk_a-cD7/s320/robot1.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Everyone, keep your eyes open.”<br /><br />“For what?” asked Bob the Goon. “What’re we lookin’ for?”<br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjfwENN3ECs9y1Pq9NEIbGmVuDtNZC1pnbo7hLgctiB-ZnnymtlWilfYK5dgZcsjwkNZWfpmx3VLTUtA1yFZNPATupfB44uOx2xT3Ur04bnol-4YKS10RTriAiRlLwUWwlSHsMkZswKAIqG/s1600-r/kid.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138844375175854866" style="FLOAT: right; MARGIN: 0px 0px 10px 10px; CURSOR: hand" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSFz7BFw63MahO_PAmv4X7OalexXc3ERXtbtqdYUym3lJtv3lD8XAGdluvR0xRGasVEBuFeDycDlZf8HmyNJq0x69kSnFI6oCed51xq_za1EP_6IGEJm7wlJEk0NVh9fbLTXRyQyi63_QS/s320/kid.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Over there. That boy with the remote and the short pants.”<br /><br />“The kid next to the creepy old man? What about him?” asked Pickle. “You want me to go get ‘um?”<br /><br />“No. Just watch.”<br /><br />With another electronic command sent to my robot, the door in its stomach slid open and the contents contained within spilled out.<br /><br />“What’re those?” Bob squinted up at the robot.<br /><br />“They look like—” Gun Nut’s voice trailed off.<br /><br />“Jeans?” Butterfly rubbed his eyes and looked again. “Yeah, they’re blue jeans.”<br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh40uN-jAtGgMZin2OdttKaxfPPi9B4ZUhaw7wbEEf1WiOKhRn-LaLrR_CVG8VQh8zZS2Hu8aU2_eRqMvvgJUEfaQwELWrA75j7wlLX5CDVwCxsnGv8kWn3vIvUSFfAAp5Am3y9E0OJOntG/s1600-r/ox1.jpg"><img id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5138843576311937778" style="DISPLAY: block; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; CURSOR: hand; TEXT-ALIGN: center" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjjXVCaGPUYwMsc6CuBvm_BYBeWLCMGWon5hKr1q36pm6U_eZU7vIL7C1uShFwwYKqo4xTLAg2VMX2mfMuLeBls01hnWF5iJPOTfQihuYirZ4S38J91dMXspckNQ6hX1uhkMSNWu96oYSKx/s320/ox1.jpg" border="0" /></a>“Are they poisoned?” asked Pickle.<br /><br />“Mind control jeans?” asked Gun Nut.<br /><br />“No, just jeans. All of the monsters and giant robots of this island nation seem to have child companions who always run around in those shorts. I find the fashion rather disconcerting, but then again, I have little need for pants myself.”<br /><br />“So you’re just going to give them jeans?” Gun Nut asked.<br /><br />“That doesn’t seem all that evil,” added Pickle.<br /><br />“Of course I am just giving them jeans. This child will take a pair, then the next, then the next. Soon every child in this nation will be wearing these blue jeans. These western blue jeans.”<br /><br />“Yeah? So,” shrugged Butterfly.<br /><br />“These pants will bring this nation to its knees. The elders won’t understand the fashion and it will spin from there. Jeans beget teens wearing yellow wigs and orange makeup, that will beget youth dressing up like their favorite cartoon characters. Tentacle fetishes, bad karaoke, and fuzzy pink Hello Kitty backpacks will all come from this. This once proud culture of ronin, princesses, and dragons will crawl to a halt under the weight of its own junk. Fifty years from now, this will be an island wasteland.”<br /><br />“I, I guess that’s a good plan…” Bob stammered.<br /><br />“Yeah, but we don’t have 50 years to watch it play out, man,” Pickle complained.<br /><br />“Yeah, what are we s’pposed to do ‘til then?” Bob asked.<br /><br />“Heh. You people have no style.”Dr. Nemonokhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/11503662033440938621noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-23381307913611340272007-11-30T12:24:00.000-08:002007-11-30T23:09:12.425-08:00AOC: Robots & Coffee & Lt. Cmdr ... Oh My<span style="font-family:arial;">“Tak …. Tak are you in here?” the Lt. Cmdr voice drifted into my office.<br /><br />I jumped to attention and let her know where I was. She walked in to the room looking stunning in a casual outfit.<br /><br /><a title="Lt. cmdr by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2075747691/"><img height="500" alt="Lt. cmdr" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2202/2075747691_6c2ece37ff.jpg" width="346" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#6633ff;">SHE IS SO CUTE …. I MEAN COMMANDING<br /></span><br />“Tak, I just wanted to say hi. I haven’t seen you in a bit. I this is soooo cool I get to be a judge. I like judging you!” she purred<br /><br />I pull off my helmet and smile debonairly at her.<br /><br />“Tak”<br /><br />“Yes”<br /><br />“Tak”<br /><br />“Yes, Lt Cmdr?”<br /><br />“Tak, can I come closer and tell you something”<br /><br />“Yes” I say breathlessly. I feel like I am shaking.<br /><br />“TAK!!!!!!! Wake up!! And why in tarnation do you keep saying yes? And did you know you are drooling all over the evil robot plans?” Gabby says shaking me.<br /><br />I look over the robot plans that have been submitted by the top R&D people at Starbucks. They enter the room to await my questions.<br /><br />The first robot doesn’t look like much.<br /><br /><a title="coffee robot1 by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2075747655/"><img height="296" alt="coffee robot1" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2028/2075747655_2bdf2529a6_o.jpg" width="350" /></a><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">STARBUCKER T-800</span><br /><br />“So what is so evil about this robot?” I ask<br /><br />Faceless Starbuck R&D guy # 1 starts talking. “This is the auto barista T-800. We could put it in all the Starbuck and we would never need human barista again!” he attempts an evil cackle, but ends up coughing.<br /><br />“While the thought of out of work barista spending their day in search of other meaningless work is appealing to me, it is not very evil in the long run.” I tell him. Dejected he leaves the office.<br /><br />R&D guy # 2 steps up and unveils his evil robot.<br /><br /><a title="Omnibot_Tomy_Toy-Robot_web by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2076535326/"><img height="240" alt="Omnibot_Tomy_Toy-Robot_web" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2178/2076535326_1cdfebc051_m.jpg" width="223" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#6633ff;">IF THIS THING SAY DEEBEE DEEBEE DEE. SOMEONE IS GETTING KILLED.<br /></span><br />R&D guy # 2 jumps right in, “As you can see this is an improvement on the T-800. It will displace barista and it can sing a happy sappy song that customer will not be able to get out of their heads. The only thing that can stop the pain of the song is more Tak’s Coffee. The song choice is between <em>My Hump</em> or <em>You Are The Wind Beneath My Wings</em>.”<br /><br />I nod to Gabby, who cold-cock R&D guy #2 and drags him off to a cell. That kind of evil cannot be released on this planet.<br /><br />Samantha walks in. “Boss, I have been working on the robots, using the starting point of the Starbuck R&D guys. I think I have come up with a evil robot that can also make us money.”<br /><br />“You have robot making skills?” I scoff lightly<br /><br />“Yes, I do. Using the knowledge I have gained through my merit badges on Atomic Energy, Electronic, and entrepreneurship I think I have a great plan.” She scoffs right back at me.<br /><br /><a title="entrepreneurship by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2076535294/"><img height="98" alt="entrepreneurship" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2029/2076535294_e54032b973_o.gif" width="96" /></a><br /><a title="eltronic merti badge by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2075747553/"><img height="98" alt="eltronic merti badge" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2331/2075747553_070039d8e6_o.gif" width="96" /></a><br /><a title="atomic engery badge by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2076685648/"><img height="99" alt="atomic engery badge" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2164/2076685648_af8d4f18fb_t.jpg" width="100" /></a><br /></span><span style="font-family:arial;"><span style="color:#6633ff;">I GUESS SHE DOES HAVE THE SKILLS.<br /></span><br />Samantha’s Robot comes into the room.<br /><br /><a title="coffe robot 3 by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2075747629/"><img height="240" alt="coffe robot 3" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2056/2075747629_5c441051ce_m.jpg" width="222" /></a><br /><span style="color:#6633ff;">LOOKS LIKE AN EVIL ROBOT.</span><br /><br />“So the plan is basic. We use Robot Terror at the coffees shops. Customers will be intrigued by the newness of the Robots and would come anyway due to being addictied to Tak’s Coffee. On every third or fourth customer the robots will “accidentally” spill coffee on them. We will claim it is a software flaw caused by Microsoft and are working on the problem.”<br /><br />“I speak up. “Samantha, while I like the idea of spilling hot coffee on Yuppies and Soccer Moms, does it measure up to being evil?”<br /><br />“But that is where we end up making money, because where ever we have a Starbucks, we will be opening one of these. I have already leased over 300 spaces.” She say as she drops a picture on my desk.<br /><br /><a title="taks dry cleaners by A Army of (Cl)One, on Flickr" href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/90758832@N00/2075772461/"><img height="180" alt="taks dry cleaners" src="http://farm3.static.flickr.com/2025/2075772461_cd9321f52a_m.jpg" width="240" /></a><br /><br />Brilliantly Evil. I love this stuff. I give Samantha and Gabby the go sign.</span>A Army Of (Cl)Onehttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08930894185761008708noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-87685319057336026942007-11-29T14:47:00.000-08:002007-11-29T15:25:49.062-08:00Koma forgot something<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a.abcnews.com/images/TheLaw/nm_ronson_lohan_070717_ms.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 0pt 10px 10px; float: right; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://a.abcnews.com/images/TheLaw/nm_ronson_lohan_070717_ms.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I was out partying with my main girls, Dixie and DJ Cathrine Wheelz. It was a great party and everyone was getting up and catching onto the toonz we were spining (I'm really getting into the DJ lingo).<br /><br />Then DJ Cathrine played a piece she called "Late Deadline." It features a sample of Magneto singing Three Little Maids from School. Wheelz recorded it when Koma gave him to us cause he forgot to post in the first round.<br /><br />I remembered that Koma forgot something about this round.<br /><br /><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" ><span style="font-weight: bold;">He forgot to tell everyone when the deadline for posting in this round was.</span></span><br /><br />I rushed out of the nightclub and took the first car I saw.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://x17video.com/lowres/llohan032507.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://x17video.com/lowres/llohan032507.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>I had to tell Koma as soon as possible. If the players didn't know when they had to post. It could be horrible. Without a deadline Nemonock would never finish, it would just be - to be continued at the end of every post. I was thinking about the horror of Nemonock's never ending story so much that I had a little accident.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.lindsaylohanitalia.it/images/lohan_crash_ss_100505_01.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://www.lindsaylohanitalia.it/images/lohan_crash_ss_100505_01.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>It wasn't bad just that it got on the news and everyone thought I was Lindsay. Its a common mistake for people to make.<br />"The easy way to work out whether I'm Lindsay is to ask the following question." I tell the Sargent who was first on the scene.<br /><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://www.thebiographychannel.ca/images/episodes/3467.jpg"><img style="margin: 0pt 10px 10px 0pt; float: left; cursor: pointer; width: 127px; height: 127px;" src="http://www.thebiographychannel.ca/images/episodes/3467.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a>"And just whats that question?" he asks in a gruff tone.<br />"Can Lindsay Lohan teleport out of here?" I tell him.<br />"Now what kind of stupid question is that Miss Lohan." snaps the Sargent. "You celebrities think you can get away with anything."<br />"Goodbye officer I'm not Lindsay." I tell him.<br />"Ugh! Goodbye. Girl, the only place your going is downtown." he responds.<br />I give him a little wave and -!voip! - I'm gone.<br /><br />"Damn!" replies the Sargent.<br /><br />I tell Koma that he forgot the deadline.<br /><br />He panics, then Henchy calms him down and tells him that all he has to do is e-mail the four remaining players. Henchy is so good to Koma. I wonder when Henchy is going to tell Koma how he really feels for him. They'd make a nice couple.<br /><br />I got back to the party and DJ Cathrine Wheelz and I rocked the Casbah.<br /><div style="text-align: center;"><a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://a.abcnews.com/images/US/wi_ronson_070531_ms.jpg"><img style="margin: 0px auto 10px; display: block; text-align: center; cursor: pointer; width: 200px;" src="http://a.abcnews.com/images/US/wi_ronson_070531_ms.jpg" alt="" border="0" /></a><span style="color: rgb(204, 0, 0);font-size:180%;" >Reprezent!</span><br /></div>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4280308608806694674.post-19833500585676764882007-11-29T10:47:00.000-08:002007-11-29T10:52:37.256-08:00Greetings From The JudgeHi everybody, I’ll be your judge this week. *sees Tak and waves enthusiastically* Don’t worry, I’ll be totally impartial *sees Mr. Bennet and waves* I feel that with my experience in the Galactic Navy of the Republic, I’ve had some experience with robots, most of whom weren’t evil, but were controlled by evil people. But I’ve also had some experience with just straight up crazy evil robots *sees Gyrobo and waves*. So everyone work hard, do your best, and we’ll see what you come up with *see Nemonok and looks a bit confused, resists urge to add some fish food to brain tank*Unknownnoreply@blogger.com5