Choose Your Own Adventure #20: Escape

It's time for more Choose Your Own Adventure goodness and where better to rejoin the series than with a book that one critic raved about with lines like "this is another average book" and "it's rather uncreatively (that's not actually a word, dude) developed." Wow, if that's doesn't get you pumped for this read-through I don't know what will. Let's get ready to thrill to the mediocrity and sink deep into the "uncreatively" realized world of the future!

 World War 2 fighter planes...of the future!!!

And make no mistake, this is The Future, specifically 2045. The USA has collapsed (nice going Obama) and Balkanized, with an evil police state called Dorado and a relatively benevolent Democracy called Turtalia vying for control of the ruins. In a strange bit of reverse nepotism I've been sent on a dangerous spy mission to the Evil Empire, despite being the son of one of the "Panel of Five" that rules over the spiritual successor of America. The story starts with a prison break out and now I've got to cross hostile territory to get back home. 

He seemed so trustworthy.

Joining me are resistance leader and action girl Mimla, the tough guy Matt, and quiet, nerdy, nervous guy Haven who is obviously either going to go crazy and/or betray us at some point. We're waiting for a "motor-glider" to come get us, but it's late by several hours. We decide to wait and Haven is getting more and more twitchy by the moment. Could you at least try to be subtle about your imminent psychological collapse? To really hammer the point home the author even flat-out tells us "there's something strange about him." Honestly, a giant neon arrow that says "Traitor" pointing at him would be about as subtle.

 "I got your back, don't worry."

My patience is rewarded with the arrival of the plane. Wait, plane? I thought it was a "motor-glider." This must be that future naming convention deal where everything gets a new name for no good reason because future. Let me type that out on the alphabet-rectangle and then smile as I read it on the glowing box output device. Plusgood.

Anyway, the "Windmaster" is a 2012 (Future!!!) design that apparently combines glider features with that of an airplane because technology often takes unnecessary backward steps for no good reason. At least my in-book avatar is impressed, wishing he had one of his own. Unfortunately, the pilot, "Bill," picks this exact moment to have a heart attack. I mean, what are the odds? I'm all "don't worry, I've got glider training." You know what, we've seen this exact plot device before. In fairness, this one was written much earlier, so let's not jump to any conclusions or damn this book as "uncreative" just yet.

  Come spend the night inside my sugar gliders.

Given a choice between flying and setting off across the desert in a truck it's not hard to decide, especially with my glider credentials. I manage to take off in the bizarre concept-plane and it isn't long before we're flying over some mountains. Then the next danger appears: cumulus clouds. No, not clouds! I'm told they could easily take the wings off, which even someone who never took a single class at a sugar glider school could tell you is not a good thing.

I get past the clouds. I guess when the threat is introduced and resolved in two short, consecutive paragraphs it kind of hurts the drama a little. Anyway, Matt is willing to take the controls for awhile so I can rest. Next we get a choice between "circling" and hoping the weather improves or making a run for Denver, capital of the New America. I don't think you escape anything by going in circles, just sayin'. 

Heading into bad weather we get the Choose Your Own Adventure equivalent of one of those flight simulator computer games. It's just a little less complicated: up or not. Seeing as we're in mountains, I'm going to go with "up."

The long-awaited expansion, featuring 70% more ads for Red Bull and new "fly up" mode!

My extensive knowledge of flying (down = crash = bad) saves the day from the bad weather, but we're not out of this yet. Three Doradan "patrol planes" which are the World War 2 fighters depicted on the cover are closing in! I'm all "how did they know we were here" which is a fair question considering the limited range of that sort of plane combined with the bad weather and mountain range. It's almost as if there's someone in our group helping the enemy, perhaps a twitchy nervous fellow...nah, it's probably just very bad luck.

Obviously my lame glider isn't going to outrun this 1942 technology, so I duck into the clouds (now apparently no longer dangerous) and try to lose them. Friendly radio messages! We give some codes and get a dramatic moment where we wonder if it's going to work or if friendly fire will ironically get the job done where the enemy and Mother Nature failed. We get permission to land, Haven acts creepy again for no good reason and then we successfully touch down. Victory! 

This one was fun. The plot is straightforward and there's a decent amount of tension. Sometimes less is more. You're in a hostile country, now escape. That works. The flight simulation that made up a decent amount of my run seemed reasonably realistic and the author probably knows at least a little, even if he doesn't hold an advanced sugar glider degree. Maybe finally getting another "good" ending is prejudicing me a little, but I'd say this one's worth a look. Just make sure you don't trust Haven, dude is sketchy, for real.

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

News You Can't Use: 13 Worst Predictions Made on Earth Day, 1970

What better idea for a holiday than something created by a convicted murderer to mourn climate chaos? Yes, climate chaos is, to the best of my knowledge, the new correct term, replacing new ice age, global warming, inconvenient truth, global cooling, climate change, and the sky is falling oh no as the accepted progressive language to communicate the fact that we're destroying the environment. How bad is it? Well, let's look at what 1970 thought, because there's no better source of good ideas than 1970.

In 1970, the first Earth Day was celebrated — okay, “celebrated” doesn’t capture the funereal tone of the event. The events (organized in part by then hippie and now convicted murderer Ira Einhorn) predicted death, destruction and disease unless we did exactly as progressives commanded. Behold the coming apocalypse as predicted on and around Earth Day, 1970:

All right, no need for the smart mouth Mr. CONservative. The predictions can't be that bad, right? I mean, they might have guessed gas would be $4 or that we'd have nuclear disasters or something similar. That all happened. I bet these 1970 tree-huggers will be completely vindicated.

"Civilization will end within 15 or 30 years unless immediate action is taken against problems facing mankind."  — Harvard biologist George Wald

Remember when civilization ended in 1985? Leave it to the Cambridge diploma-mill to produce this sort of intellectual light-weight, but we've still got some really nice universities, like Stanford, to pick a random example.

"Population will inevitably and completely outstrip whatever small increases in food supplies we make. The death rate will increase until at least 100-200 million people per year will be starving to death during the next ten years." — Stanford University biologist Paul Ehrlich

You know what? Let's just move on.

You'll fool everyone...until you open your mouth.

"In a decade, urban dwellers will have to wear gas masks to survive air pollution… by 1985 air pollution will have reduced the amount of sunlight reaching earth by one half." — Life magazine

I'm not sure why 1985 was such a favorite for doomsday predictions. I guess 15 years was long enough for people to forget the crazy stuff you printed in a magazine...then that dang internet had to come and ruin everything. Stop holding us responsible for our deeply cynical alarmism!

"At the present rate of nitrogen buildup, it's only a matter of time before light will be filtered out of the atmosphere and none of our land will be usable." — Ecologist Kenneth Watt

Now this guy at least thought this through. It's sure to happen...eventually. Just a matter of time. Might be tomorrow, might be a thousand years. Whatever, just get scared and give up your rights so we don't end up in endless darkness with no usable land (I'm assuming he means for farming. We could still stand on it or make a baseball diamond or the like).

"Usable land" is over-rated, my SUV is thirsty!

"By the year 2000, if present trends continue, we will be using up crude oil at such a rate… that there won't be any more crude oil. You'll drive up to the pump and say, ‘Fill 'er up, buddy,' and he'll say, ‘I am very sorry, there isn't any.'" — Ecologist Kenneth Watt

The most ridiculous part of this prediction is the idea that there would still be gas station attendants and polite people in 2000. Also, we still have oil, so there's that.

"The world has been chilling sharply for about twenty years. If present trends continue, the world will be about four degrees colder for the global mean temperature in 1990, but eleven degrees colder in the year 2000. This is about twice what it would take to put us into an ice age." — Kenneth Watt

...and you thought I was joking with that "new ice age" wise-assery earlier. 

Original Article

When you can take an idea like "let's not destroy our planet" and actually make it unsympathetic that's quite an accomplishment. Maybe a more common sense approach and less doom-saying could lead to sensible reforms instituted in a equitable manner. On the other hand, I didn't go to HARVARD!!!!111oneoneone so let's just say if we don't shape up we'll all be dead by 2020, at the latest.

Komment Korner  

And yet, despite being totally wrong about everything he's ever predicted, Paul Ehrlich still has credibility among the Chicken Little Left. 

put the vicks formula 44 bottle down

"if present trends continue" The above caveat is the problem. We have never been able to predict if trends will continue or change. Why would anyone think that temperature trends or other climatic trends would be any different? 

We are pitiful creatures indeed. 

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

DotTeeVee: I Got Arrested For Asking a Cop For ID!

The erosion of our rights is one of the more troubling recent trends, as the so-called "Land of Free" begins to resemble a coast-to-coast prison bloc where decent people are arrested and harassed for no good reason by badge carrying (but not showing!) fascists. If you were reading that and nodding your head in agreement, have I got the video for you. It's the incredible story of how a simple man stood in front of a tank, held up his hand, and said "No." Wait, my mistake. That was in China. It's actually some Canadian goof who acts like a jerk and then gets arrested.

Before we get started I should point out the author of this amazing stand against sub-prime tyranny calls himself "LaRouche Canada." If you don't know what a LaRouche supporter is, maybe a visual aid will help.

Oh, I get it. He's Hitler. Clever.

Yeah.

The video starts with our unseen, LaRouche voting anti-hero asking for the titular "ID" from some nebulous authority figure. The actual context of why this discussion is occurring in the first place has been excised, I guess to make his dissent seem more heroic. When we later find out (spoiler!) the issue in question is public intoxication it will make him even less sympathetic than he already is. 

When they came for the lush I said nothing, because I wasn't a lush.

The upshot is that no proper identification is forthcoming as the Orwellian nightmare unfolds itself. First, we're told "you guys have to leave." I guess they could just obey that order and there wouldn't have been any trouble, but this is a matter of principle, a sacred, sacred oath we have sworn to protect our right to get smashed in public parks. Even the threat of two young, less than imposing backup apparatchiks will not sway our hero and his drunken friend from their inspiring civil disobedience. As Thoreau might say, "Why aren't you here, drunk in a park."

 The junior anti-public drunkenness brigade.

Our young invincibles don't understand the "why" of this tyranny. Question authority, man. This effort to speak truth to power is deflated somewhat when the fascist notes that the truth-teller is so drunk he can barely stand. Sadly he simply falls silent instead of offering a mind-blowing rejoinder like "You're right I can barely stand...for this tyranny!" Far out.

We come full circle with more requests for identification. The stooge of The Powers that Be is all "I've got on this uniform." Our hero correctly notes that this proves nothing. It could just be a Halloween costume or something, right? Come on, use your imagination! Then he gets arrested and it's over.

Or is it? Well, yes, it is, but the last free man provides a postscript. I think I'll just let this LaRouche voting, park drinking, authority challenging Canuck take us home.

I asked this question for a reason. I was not trying to cause trouble. I was defending our rights. I was trying to have a rational discourse with him, and teach him a bit about how far gone the rightful interpretation of the law in Canada is. Instead he taught me.

I was then brought downtown, treated disrespectfully, and put in a cold solitary confinement cell for 7 hours for being drunk which i wasn't. 

He defended this right.

Komment Korner 

actually he's right..the US stepped in and beat the serbs..it's a victory

your shit disturbing at what i'm presuming is a zoo.... you should of just got your ass kicked instead.

honestly he should've just left

this video is a false idea

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

News You Can't Use: Fork Vibrates When You Eat Too Quickly

The stagnation in fork technology, especially when compared to the dynamic and exciting field of the knife, has been a troubling indictment of modern society. Why are we still using tined eating implements that would not have been out of place in 1900? Where is the innovation? And most importantly, how can it strip the joy out of stuffing garbage straight from a chemistry lab into the old sarcasm hole? Well, someone finally stepped up. For the first time since the introduction of the spork the dinner table landscape has changed, perhaps irrevocably.

Looks at fork, looks at toothbrush, looks at marital aid...an invention is born!

 

An electronic fork that vibrates when you eat too quickly has hit the marketplace. It's called the HAPIfork. It's makers say it allows the consumer to quickly monitor and reduce the speed at which they eat.

The average modern person is completely helpless without various electronic devices beeping and buzzing and generally giving orders. No longer will we have to rely on indicators like "my mouth is currently full" or "man, my stomach hurts" when a simple, expensive as all hell, device can do the job for us. The next logical step is putting a phone and internet connection into it. Maybe an app that makes a map on how to get from the plate to the big hole in your head.

The French inventors hope it can help combat obesity.

This intolerant fork is guilty of fat shaming! Hate crime! Fatophobia! Shame! Shame! Shame!

Body Type: Average. Nationality: American.

 

If someone is deemed to be eating too fast, HAPIfork alerts them with a gentle vibration and indicator light to remind them to slow down.

Don't go getting any weird ideas, ladies.

The company is trying to raise money via the crowd funding site Kickstarter.  People who pledge $99 to the company get one of the forks.

What a brilliant idea "Kickstarter" is. It's like an initial public offering with all expectations of "return on investment" neatly removed. $99 for a vibrating fork. Give $98 and you get the warm inner satisfaction of funding an idea so profoundly stupid that it almost beggars belief.

All the amazing details.

Komment Korner

Michael Moore could use his as a jackhammer.

If Limbaugh had one, would be shaking like Madonna's nightstand....

Only the French could be this stupid!

Now you will be told how fast you can eat, then next on the list will be how fast you should breathe, because as Bloomberg said, we know better then you do, what's best for you. You're too stupid.

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

Twistaplot #7 The Video Avenger

Video games are the greatest human invention, ever. They transport us to wonderful worlds of fantasy and wonder, worlds rich in horrific imagery, morbid violence and shoe-horned in for no good reason sexual content. They allow ten-year-olds we've never met to yell semi-coherent profanity, improperly applied racial slurs and other assorted gibberish at us through special headsets. They encourage a culture of inactivity, social retardation and binge eating. But it's all worth it because it sure is fun to pretend to shoot stuff on the television.

I'm an old school gamer at heart, cutting my teeth on cigarette-burned Ms. Pac Man cabinets at the local bowling alley. Back then home consoles were crude and unimpressive, so the action was out in what today's gamer fearfully calls "the real world." It was even kind of edgy, in an awesome "falling in with the bad people" way instead of the pathetic "sat in own waste in front of television for 72 hours" malfunction now associated with joy-sticking. Back then we could only dream of somehow taking the magic of the arcade into our own house, possibly via some sort of super-computer. Well, today's subject is all about that idea and how it goes horribly wrong. We're about to unlock an achievement: getting trapped inside awesome video games!

 I like the "avenger" part, as if you're seeking bloody retribution against the Space Invaders.

We start with trademark Twist-A-Plot snark. I've won a "super-smart" MEE-II (get it?) computer from the local Burger Bomb. "Those 4,789 cheeseburgers you ate paid off!" I'm told. Yup, that sounds like your typical video gamer. Surprisingly, in the accompanying illustration the "you" avatar is thin, which suggests that either there's some sort of super-metabolism going on here, that childhood obesity did not exist yet in 1983 America so the illustrator couldn't even imagine what it would look like, or I'm on the old scarf 'n' barf diet.

Another "Mallet University" Snob. I'd love to take that Beaver League stuffed shirt down a few pegs!

What would you do with a super-powerful, self-aware computer? Make a fortune from insider trading? Conquer the world? Create the world's most comprehensive pornography collection? Obviously, none of the above. No, it's time to play some Death-Beam Dinosaurs. Yes, this came out in 1983, why do you ask? Anyway, there's no controller, but The Computer gets all televangelist on you and wants you to touch the screen. As you would assume, this immediately sucks you into the game.

I just had a word of knowledge...someone is struggling with death-beam dinosaurs.

The computer explains that if I die in the game I'll die for real and is all "good luck!" I'm in a spaceship being menaced by a seven-headed dinosaur, presumably a dinosaur of the death-beam variety. In fine "Defender" tradition I hit the hyperspace button. This takes me to the "inner circuits," which, as you might expect, is a giant landing strip for video game space ships. After landing I follow a "strange woman" because why wouldn't you?

This leads to falling down a "long black hole," but it's not nearly as righteous as I accidentally made it sound. Instead I meet a sort of computerized La Resistance that are hiding out in "a forgotten packet of circuitry," presumably the circuits that are used for running that financial program that comes packed in. I'm told some of these digitized partisans helped to build the computer. Whoa. That's some good irony, dude. They're all "join us!" 

Are you bad enough to select O RLY?

Without any better options, I agree to join. The plan is to have a gamer "distract" the computer with their leet Space Invaders SkIlLz while they shut the computer down. Yes, the computer knows they're going to try to do this, but is so overconfident that it doesn't stop it. Yeah, good plan. They immediately start proposing the I be the "human sacrifice." (!!!) Yup, I know how to pick 'em. Unsurprisingly, I opt out for a "better idea" without even knowing what it is yet. 

The other plan involves challenging the computer to a game and then "playing dumb" which will somehow trick an emotionless, super-intelligent machine. I think the mystery of how all these people got trapped in here has been solved. We go round and round a bit more. Man, this book has turned into "The Local City Council Meeting Avenger." Anyway, I get randomly assigned my "game assignment," I guess like those Chinese political prisoners that are forced to play online games all day. 

Action! Adventure! Plans! Negotiation! 

I'm led to a darkened room where an object that looks a little like a flashlight (just a little?) is on the floor. I'm supposed to use it for the game. It's some sort of laser, but I'm getting rushed by "hairy lumps." Yes, I'm battling Critters. As I start fighting I realize what game I'm in: "Last Stand in Space." Everything was space in the eighties. Also this is bad news because it's "the hardest video game of all." No one has ever defeated the "Mad Munchers" (!) and I'm no exception, being devoured in fairly short order. Game over.

The real "last stand" video game.

This one was all right. It benefited from having fewer self-aware jokes than the last Twist-A-Plot book I read, which helped a pretty risible plot line. The idea of "trapped in the computer" wasn't really mined for all the bizarre weirdness it could have generated, at least in my play-through. Instead the bulk of the story revolved around listening to horrible plans and rejecting them. I guess C-SPAN wouldn't make a very good video game.

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

News You Can't Use: Justin Faker!

Twitter is a miracle of this modern age. You've got celebrities and politicians who apparently think it's facebook, providing endless banal life updates (I drank a soda!) and sometimes destroying themselves with mildly amusing meltdowns that unsuccessfully challenge the prevailing orthodoxy. You've got shills, endlessly pushing their lame goods and services (Not like I'd know about that. In unrelated news The Foolchild Invention, probably the best novel ever written, is currently available at Amazon.com). You've got single issue voters eager to endlessly discuss that special one issue. You've got teens and their extremely important teen problems because that's the most meaningful and valuable time in the human life span by a wide margin. You've got "joke" accounts, with names like Dave Chickensoup and Manda CrimesAgainstHumanda making wacky quips that even mainstream television would reject. And, of course, fakes.

Yes, phonies. It's a tough pill. I assumed that dozens of swimsuit-clad ladies, many in various states of what zoologists calls "presenting," wanted to hear my third-rate stand-up act played out over a series of 140 character posts. The sad, bitter truth is it turns out probably at least some of these bathing beauties are not actual people as we know them. Still, I can take some solace in knowing it also happens to Justin Bieber. Yes, you read that correctly. The horror, the horror...

The Canadian teenager was crowned the King of Twitter earlier this year when he overtook Lady Gaga's follower count. But it would appear the award was bogus as the study reveals Gaga has in fact got more real followers. Justin, 19, leads the top ten Twitter accounts for fake fans with around 45 per cent of his following believed to be completely phony.

Noooooo!!!!! Now who will rule over us? Next you'll be telling me that so-called "fake fans" are also having an impact on, say, presidential elections. I refuse to Bieleib it. 

I'll spend a few hundred bucks, get a fake army and then conquer the world. Am I doing it right?

Fake followers are determined as those who follow less than 50 and have less than one follower, have never tweeted or use Twitter to promote spam and use words including 'diet', 'make money' and 'work from home'.

At least this is logical. No real person, at least in America, has any interest in working or dieting. #DevastatingTruths 

But the Twitter news is the latest blow for Justin who has endured a tough few months. He was dumped by girlfriend Selena Gomez at the start of the year and was booed on a recent trip to London after arriving two hours late on stage.

You're not Axl Rose, kid. Try to be more punctual in the future. This write-up will go into your HR file, along with a formal reprimand for having fake followers. 

 Original article which is ironically riddled with annoying ads for useless garbage.

Aaron Zehner has many real twitter followers, all of whom are extremely intelligent and attractive. His first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

DotTeeVee: "Lipstick" Bounty Hunters Attack and Injure Citizen

Posting bail is one of the stranger ideas that western jurisprudence has produced. Honestly, think about it. We'll let some criminal element go, on his or her word of honor, because some third party's borrowed money has been paid. Then, when the inevitable case of "rabbit" ensues we'll deploy semi-competent, violent individuals who are differentiated from the criminals they re-catch only by the thinnest of technicalities. This leads to more crimes and property damage and hurt feelings and (major spoiler) flukie football, but on the other hand it creates several minutes of mildly entertaining streaming video.

Sometimes a woman's touch makes all the difference and tonight's feature presentation is all about what happens when the fairer sex enters the exciting and glamorous world of bail bonds. If you're thinking "I bet they're inept, more extreme than men would be and constantly do crazy things" then you're both a politically incorrect genderist monster and right on the money.

"...and that's why I trust Summer's Eve."

We start with an info dump describing today's fugitive. He's both small and husky. Short and an All-American beer belly, thanks a lot genetics and sedentary lifestyle. Man, if this was a video game this would definitely be the easy tutorial stage. His hobbies include illegal narcotics commerce and deadly weapons, turn-ons are profitable crime, bubble baths and fine men's cologne and turn-offs are dirty fingernails, being shot with rubber bullets and people who smoke in enclosed spaces.

I'm just big boned..

The plan is to meet him at an "Arby's" under false pretenses involving a thumb print. This promises so much adventure, exotic locales and grrrl power, I'm already fired up and nothing has happened yet. It's revealed that he's not even actually a fugitive, but had his bond revoked for lying on a form or something. Employment application, by all means lie your ass off. Applying for a bail bond? The rules are a little different, it would appear. Anyway, the plan is to catch the drug-dealing Napoleon in a roast-beef induced food coma and make a nice clean capture. Let's do this thing.

Usury, junk food, fossil fuels = legal. Lying on a form = illegal.

The well-conceived plan of running up to the semi-fugitive, grabbing awkwardly at him and then having back-up rush in awkwardly holding a giant hand cannon unfolds and it's a bit of a mess to say the least. In a land of frequent "open shooter" incidents I bet the bystanders had a good laugh once everything was explained and the initial horror wore off. Look at the next image. Is there anything that screams "America" more than guns, fatty food, yelling and attempted imprisonment? If Norman Rockwell were still alive, this is what he'd be painting.

Sweet land of liberty, of thee I sing...

Our meth-cooking friend wants to know "what the fudge?" and considering the circumstances it seems like a fair question. Despite facing down the barrel of a gun and being awkwardly grabbed he makes a break from the fast food Waterloo and we get some nice Blair Witch camera footage as the ladies rush after him in hopes of collaring the not-exactly-a-fugitive-but-still-kinda-is. 

What happens next calls to mind my first game of tackle football, age ten. We wanted to emulate our steroid-powered heroes but because no one knew how to correctly tackle we ended up grabbing shirts and pulling each other down with tiny handfuls of ripping fabric. A bunch of us got hurt, all our clothes were ruined and no one learned a damn thing. A similar narrative unfolds in this video as one of the women grabs a handful of shirt and hangs on with bulldog-mode determination while the running man yells clever rejoinders like "leave me alone!"

  No, you're ripping it! My mom is going to kill me!

Rubber bullets are deployed at point blank range and if you like hearing a grown man say "Ow!" over and over you're in for a very special treat. Luckily, his natural huskiness seems to act like a sort of natural armor and the subduing projectiles prove inadequate to the task. Another attempted grab sends one of the lipstick bounty hunters crashing to the cold, hard ground. Trouble, trouble. All this is then shown in loving slo-mo instant replay.

After further review the runner's knee was down prior to breaking the plane of the goal line.

After about another hundred or so "Ows" combined with more concrete meet-n-greets the husky liar gets in his car and drives off. Two other cars block off the parking lot and are described as belonging to "friends" of the suspect, but frankly whatever remaining credibility this video had was already strained to the breaking point. Now we're supposed to believe there's some massive, anti-lipstick bounty hunter conspiracy? It makes me long for the realistic story-telling of professional wrestling.

Suspect's other friend in orbiting satellite fires an EMP to aid in his escape.

Despite this massive coalition gathered by the non-fugitive-but-still-wanted man, the lovely ladies are not about to give up and they pursue in the lipstickmobile. Without a clear resolution the video ends, presenting a "to be continued" with some out of place rapping. "At the Arby's eating that swill/now a gun is up in my grill/trying to run, getting hurt/damn, stop pulling on my shirt." That sort of thing.

Komment Korner

This is real. He filed a multi million dollar lawsuit against them.

 lol a bunch of out of shape bitches trying to play dog the bountydude

I know this is pretty cruel but I found this video utterly hilarious

 I hope the next person you attempt to catch is armed and kills you stupid fucks.

Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.

News You Can't Use: The Anti-Drone Hoodie That Helps You Beat Big Brother's Spy in the Sky

There are few safer choices of clothing than a "hoodie" if you want to avoid being the victim of random violence. But could it defeat drones? An exciting new story confirms that no, it could not.

Huzzah! My +2 Hoodie of Drone Immunity is ready, Obummer!

I am wearing a silver hoodie that stops just below the nipples. Or, if you prefer, a baggy crop-top with a hood.

"I am writing an article about this." Yeah, I get it. Also, I definitely prefer the second description. We don't need to bring the "N Word" into this story of fashion, hipsters, paranoia and other assorted idiocy.

  

It has wide square shoulders and an overzealous zip that does up right to the tip of my nose.

I don't know if "overzealous" can be applied to zippers when it comes to secretive murders carried out by the N.W.O. If anything, that zipper doesn't go far enough.

 
It does not, it's fair to say, make its wearer look especially cool. But that's not really what this hoodie is about. It has been designed to hide me from the thermal imaging systems of unmanned aerial surveillance vehicles – drones. And, as far as I can tell, it's working well.

"Yeah, have a good laugh. We'll see who is still laughing after the unmanned aerial surveillance vehicles, or "drones" if you will, are deployed against us by an evil madman that once won a peace prize for some reason.

Hopefully he's more accurate with these than he is with a basketball.

"It's what I call anti-drone," explains designer Adam Harvey. "That's the sentiment. The material in the anti-drone clothing is made of silver, which is reflective to heat and makes the wearer invisible to thermal imaging."

Hell yes. I'm like a Starbucks drinking version of The Predator. 

It began in 2010 with Camoflash, an anti-paparazzi handbag that responds to the unwanted camera flashes with a counter-flash of its own, replacing the photograph's intended subject with a fuzzy orb of bright white light.

Thanks to that invention the paparazzis have all been forced to retire and get honest jobs. Most people don't even care about celebrities anymore and the pursuit of scientific knowledge is now the main interest of the average American. Discarded televisions are filling our landfills and this new Golden Age of knowledge and wisdom is a direct result of the "Camoflash." Now if only we can figure out a way not to be murdered by Comrade President...hoodie...yes...societal perfection achieved.

There is, I point out, no obvious target audience for anti-drone fashion. He's unfazed.

Hey, shut up. 

So this is that "sarcasm" I keep hearing about.

You can imagine everything, from general domestic spying by a government, or more commercial reconnaissance of individuals."

Go on bud/zip it up/'til you reach that pure imag-in-ation!

Not least because many of the people making counter-surveillance equipment are keen to keep it out of civilian hands. "The only people who really don't need to be seen," says military camouflage designer Guy Cramer, "are the ones who are doing something wrong out there."

There's nothing more relieving than having a shady military-type explain that only the "bad people" are going to get it and you're certainly not one of the "bad people," are you? We can all stop worrying.

He, too, is sceptical about the real-world application of anti-drone fashionwear: "It doesn't matter how good your clothing is, if you're not masking every part of your body – your hands, your face, your eyes – it's going to give away your position." An anti-drone burqa, then? That, he admits, would do the trick. But it would really take the fashion out of counter-surveillance fashionwear.

"It wouldn't even protect you when we come to get you...er, which we'd never do because your government loves you and cares deeply about your rights as a free individual in an open society. Now, if you'll excuse me there's this germ warfare project I have to get back to."

Full Article.

By the way, April Fools. Haw. Haw. Haw.

Komment Korner 

Remember the Branch Davidians in Waco? Lots of Britons among the dead, killed by a US police agency. Today, they'd probably use drones instead of a tank to burn people to death.

I don't think I need a tinfoil hat. I think you lack empathy and compassion.

Youll be able to identify tw*ts from a mile off when they start wearing those things.

 Aah, a bad taste April Fools.


Aaron Zehner's first novel The Foolchild Invention is available in e-book format at Amazon.com and Barnes & Noble.