BumBoy III - SPACE ALIENS HIDE MY DRUGS!!!

[Linda Reed--PCC West Campus CSC <lreed@west.cscwc.pima.edu>]

BumBoy III - SPACE ALIENS HIDE M DRUGS!!!
__________________________________________

BumBoy Interview: C-J VAN DAMNNED (will it never end?)
{ AnInterViewerToBeNamedLater, sucking medication out of
  Baby's twat, only to find that it was a surprisingly
  pleasureable experience, made the mistake of allowing
  the Author to continue the interview on his own, while
  she and the TruthMongrel engaged in behavior that even
  the disgusting perverts on the BumBoy staff found to
  be revolting, since it was being done by two females.}

VOICES: "Tell them about US..."
VAN DAMNNED: It's not always voices...sometimes it's dreams...
sometimes the TV, or the Radio, or...anything, really...
Like the dream where I'm in the front row at a prizefight,
and two guys are beating the living shit out of each other,
until the final bell sounds and the winner is declared.
Then the two guys get out of the ring and come after me. The
one wearing the elephant-colored boxing trunks holds me down
while the one wearing the donkey-colored trunks starts shoving
a large box up my asshole, and pieces of paper fall out, giving
me papercuts, until one of the pieces of paper cuts my throat
as I puke it out, and the two guys who pretended to be fighting
each other are sucking up my blood out of the trough at the 
edge of the boxing ring, which turns out to be a pig-pen.
As the last of my lifeblood drains out of me, a person in
a dirty white smock appears, saying, "I'm from the government,
and I'm here to help you." As the person places the piece of
paper that cut my throat onto my juglar vein, to stop the 
bleeding, I notice that it is an election ballot--it is *my* 
election ballot.
As the ambulance rushes me back to my office, to return to
work, with the attendants telling me I should be back to normal
in about forty months, the two boxers walk past me, arm in
arm, with two sinister-looking agents walking behind them,
discussing their 'fighters' rematch, four years hence.
They have decided to raise the price of tickets from $100.00
to $500.00, since the government automatically deducts it
from everyone's paycheck, whether they attend the 'fight'
or not. As they discuss how much to raise the concession
prices for beer, soda, peanuts, popcorn and hot dogs, they
seem to suddenly notice me, and stop to offer their sincere
condolences for my 'accident', and say that they hope it
won't prevent me from attending the rematch.
As if on cue, the fight-promoter, who tells me he is from
the government, and is here to help me, picks up a pig-turd
containing a small piece of the hot-dog I was eating when I
was sodomized by the boxers, and hands it to me, saying, "This
is your share of the 'take'. ou know, in Communist countries,
the government keeps it all..."
I don't think I'll attend the rematch. I have a feeling that
I already know who wins...and who loses...

VOICES: "ou're getting excited again. Why don't you take your
medicine, and read a book, or something, to calm you down?"
VAN DAMNNED: ou sadistic pricks, you *know* that the only 
book I have with me is Collier and Horowitz's, 'The KENNEDS,
AN AMERICAN DRAMA,' and it's not in the least bit entertaining,
since I just finished a book about the Mafia, so I know how
everything in the Kennedy book, or *any book on politics, is 
going to turn out even before the authors even finish writing 
about it.
It's even more depressing than reading Hitler's "Mein Kamf" and
"New World Order" and then reading mainstream press reports about
government news conferences. Doesn't anybody do 'original material'
any more, or is everyone just plagarizing President Henny oungman,
who said, "Take my citizens...please!"
And take them...and take them...and take them...

VOICES: "We *told* you that everything since the Big Bang has
been plagarism..."
VAN DAMNNED: Oh, yeah? What about my song, "Booger-Eating Dog
(Don't Bite The Nose That Feeds ou)," or, "I Was Sitting On
My Horse, And She Jerked Me Off," and all of the other sick,
depraved songs I've written? Do you see a big lineup of people
claiming credit for the lyrics?

VOICES: "ou're getting excited again. See, you even placed your
quote marks in the correct place..."
VAN DAMNNED: See, there is another thing that proves that people
are capable of original, independent thought and actions...
Just because I'm the Author doesn't mean I have to use correct
spelling, punctuation, syntax (whatever the hell that is), or
write in a manner that indicates a well-researched and well-
reasoned train of thought. 

VOICES: "That doesn't make you unique, you fucking imbecile.
Just ask any one of a thousand publishing editors who have
to wade through the mountains of trash sent to them by self-
declared 'authors' who eventually end up cashing in Andy
Warhol's IOU for 'Fifteen Minutes Of Fame' by becoming a
guest on the Jerry Springer Show and telling the whole world
about how they got their dog pregnant by sucking themselves
off and blowing their sperm up her twat."
VAN DAMNNED: That wasn't *me*! That was someone who just
looked like me and deposited Jerry Springer's check in my
bank account to make me look bad.
But I don't mind, because it makes me unique!

VOICES: "Everything since the BigBang is Plagarism. ou're just
like all the other Sheeple."
VAN DAMNNED: No! ou're trying to trick me into thinking that
I'm not a free, independent human being. ou're trying to take
away the only things I have to hold on to that make me unique. 
ou want me to believe that I am not the only sick, depraved
pervert in the world who spreads FUD (Fear, Uncertainty and 
Disinformation) in an attempt to cloak my evil, wretched life
in an aura of grandoise importance and imagined righteousness.

VOICES: "ou haven't been following the Clinton-Lewinski affair
in the news, have you?"
VAN DAMNNED: Shut up! I'm not listening! I AM *NOT* LIKE 
PRESIDENT CLINTON!!!
I did *not* give strong encryption to those Chinese people who
let me have my way with Buddy in the Lincoln bedroom before they
ate him. I'm the one who tried to expose the fact that the *real*
Buddy had been replaced by a cross-cloning of Spuds Mackenzie and
Janet Reno. I told the CypherPunks to draw glasses on a picture
of Buddy and see if it looked like Reno.
That was *me*, *really*! I just forged Mark Hedges name to that
post to make him look like an asshole! Honest!

VOICES: "ou're just like all of the other sorry, pathetic losers
who can't get a *real* publishing contract with a *real* publisher
who is helping to destroy the Rain Forests by printing millions of
hardcover and paperback books decrying the destruction and loss 
of the Rain Forests.
"Instead, you continue to contribute to the destruction of the
Digital Environment by sending mountains of your rotting, greasy
Digital SPAM to the CypherPunks Disturbed Male List, where your
sins are compounded in MeatSpace as a result of the millions of
plastic <Delete> keys that need to be created every day in order
for decent, moral, law-abiding NetiZens to protect themselves and
their children from your mindless drivel.
"As punishment, WE are going to tell you the *real* name of the
right-hand square bracket..."
VAN DAMNNED: Noooo!!! I'M NOT LISTENING!!!
AAARRRRRGGHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

{The BumBoy Interview with C-J VAN DAMNNED came to a sudden end,
 as heavily armed, black-clad ninja agents of ACypherNipsNode-
 ToBeNamedLater, came bursting through the door, screaming,
 "Torah! Torah! Torah! Chop! Chop! <Hee-Hee>", surrounding the
 Author and allowing AnInterviewerToBeNamedLater to grab Baby
 and the tape recorder, making her escape while clutching her skirt
 close to her body, as the Author was trying to peek up it even
 as he lie on the floor taking a tremendous beating.
 "ou've got to admire his persistence." she told BumBoy editors
 while dropping off the interview tapes.
 Sadly, we must report that Baby, obviously a codependent enabler
 of the Author's sickness, failed to make it to California, where
 BumBoy was prepared to foot the bill for her to see a Doggie
 Therapist, instead choosing to return to the Author, once again
 dropping the BadBillyG mask at HisOrHer feet and backing toward
 him with her tail raised in eager anticipation.
 Redoubtable sources inform us that the black-clad ninja agents
 of ACypherNipsNodeToBeNamedLater sat back, drinking the Author's
 Scotch and enjoying the spectacle, as well as tucking money in
 the Author's panties when HeOrShe bound Baby's feet for the
 second performance.
 Official Police Reports indicate that, when officers arrived in
 response to noise complaints from the neighbors, that the ninjas
 were fighting violently over a Din-Din Tin roasting pan and a
 bottle of barbeque sauce, seemingly surprised that the Author 
 and Baby TruthMongrel had vanished.
 The leader of the black-clad ninja agents was quoted as saying,
 "Shit! We come to Ito his dog, and now we have to go home and
 Ito mole of his SPAM, instead." Turning to his companions, he
 said, "We go now...chop-chop!"
 Looking embarassed, the leader explained to police, "We not 
 even know what that mean, until oul fliend, Timmy-San, point
 us to the alchives, whele we find out it mean we have big
 cocks, rike Amelican bikels. Then we aporogized fol accusing
 Timmy-San of making fun of us. He good guy..."
 The editors at BumBoy, upon receiving Declan McCullagh's 
 expense receipts for the clothing he purchased to go undercover
 as AnInterviewerToBeNamedLater, could not help but notice that
 an article of clothing conspicuously missing from the receipts
 was...panties.}