Multiple Scorgasms Spared as Preds Week 3 Lineup Killed by Falling Satellite

Predator Press

[LOBO]

As I write this, Darwin McNuggets has scored 34 points against the Colts. This is the equivalent of Michael Vick throwing the Patriots, the Dolphins, and a bear into space, where Brady would proceed to throw the bear on a course to intercept Voyager and screw up a lot of Star Trek plotlines -minus Las Vegas and/or heroic doses of amyl nitrates, thick, visibly-zippered rubber costumes and Styrofoam geographical features tend to offend my evolved and highly-cultured sensibilities. So -since Gene Roddenberry is already dead- I've decided to preoccupy myself by interviewing internationally-renown golf legend Speedcat Hollydale instead:

LOBO: Speedcat, what is the strategy to win your next golf tounement?

Speedcat: I'm going to try to get the ball in the hole.

And there you have it.

-Back to football.

(PS: Does anyone know where George Lucas lives?)

Gonna Need A Bigger Death Star

Team Duckgirl took out the Death Star that is La Machine. Not only that but she slapped me around some more by picking up and starting the clearly-injured Chris Cooley. What did the five fingers say to my face?

To top it off I was torn with a lineup decision and sat Chris Johnson in favor of Ray Rice.

And of course it was a pain in the ass having to explain the loss to Palpatine...



Up next is Wild Card (bitches!), People's Champion, and whatever else Renal Failure's ego is calling itself these days. But he is 9-0, has a scoring machine for a team, and I'm without my Death Star.

That's why I'm taking a trip this week in search of my new secret weapon...



Why India you ask? Because Renal Failure thinks tossing bears into outer space is the shiznit as the kids like to say these days and India is the only place to find a counter to his gameplan.

Trying throwing the Bearataur into space!
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Predator Press Is Almost Fully Operational. Probably.

Predator Press

[LOBO]

Disenchanted by La Machine’s stubborn unwillingness to let me drive their Death Star, Predator Press has commissioned the construction of our own.

-And let me be the first to tell you, our Death Star blows La Machine’s snooty Death Star totally out of the water.

Scrapping the original design entirely, Predator Press scienticians immediately scoured Culiacan, Mexico for the best engineers money can buy.

This baby -stripped clean of needless, cumbersome and expensive frivolous technologies such as engines, plumbing, and life support- comes equipped instead with sixteen casinos, five spas, three water parks, a driving range, miniature golf, nine heated swimming pools (three indoors), cup holders, air bags, and the world renown Predator Press Death Star Steak House and Gift Shop. Plus we’ve got gigantic mud flaps with buxom chick silhouettes on backorder -and once April 2010 rolls around and that custom spoiler and hood scoop comes in, pow, we’ll be ready for some football.

-It's gonna suck for you guys.

But let not your hearts be troubled; all defeated HBFFL members will enjoy extended credit lines, comped rooms, and continental breakfasts. And not lame-assed stale bagel and jelly crap either: this is a first class operation, and you deserve nothing better than stale muffins -muffins that have stuff that is probably fruit already in them!

And what better way to commemorate the humiliating loss you’ve suffered to Predator Press than rounding up the kids and teaching them of the history you were almost part of?

Star Wars IV: No New Patriot Hope

A long time ago in a Patriot Nation far far away...