SBSdN

www.SQuishyBOgSLug.net

Feb 26th, 2004 --

...storm clouds over the Immortal City...

Feb 25th, 2004 -- Later that day --

I went down to the Manchester mall here in Fresno to attend a campaign stop by Mr. John Edward(D-NC)... here's some pictures:

...He proved more difficult to subvert than Dean, but a few more hours of sensory deprivation should loosen him up enough for his new life as a howling fanatic.

--m4

Feb 25th, 2004 --

This Weblog Officially Endorsed by Timothy Leary's Severed Head!

Some of you may be saying to yourselves, "Mojo, why are you starting a second weblog? Doesn't your Livejournal make this one rendundant?"

To which I repond: "You call yourself Mojo when you talk to yourself? My conditioning program has been more successful than I had anticipated. Bring me fresh bodies!!!"

----

To further my bid for World Domination, I dispatched my newly ressurected Bivalve Commandos to the Underworld to retrieve the Sacred Drums of Ogeidnas. With these holy artifacts in my hands, all of Southern California shall fall before my might. In the mean time, I have some projects that I need a few volunteers for:

Agents in the UK and Northern Europe: Bring you're own public address system to a Busted concert. When the band begins its performance, start playing Led Zeppelin MP3s as loud as possible. Hold up your lit lighter.

Agents in the Mediterranean: Re-design the Italian peninsula. Spell out something creative in Latin.

Agents in Canada and Alaska: Four-hundred million Grade AA eggs are currently being delivered to Toronto. Steal the Oscar Meyer Weinermobile and go on a six week booze and hooker spree. When the RCMP finally try to break up your shanty-town, begin turning all of those eggs into the world's largest omelet. Use Ontario as your plate.

Agents in South East Asia: There's a French Tank Battalion who've been lost in Cambodia since the late 1950s. Aquire their hardware and use the parts to build an army of Robot Dilletantes. I mean it, I don't want ONE marketable job skill in ANY one of those memory banks. While the paint is drying, pull apart Hong Kong by the atoms and turn it into a dinosaur capable of exposing all of the world's illusions. Then put it in a box, and bury it. An Octopus will come by to collect it and shave your ears.

Agents in India and Pakistan: Replace all nuclear warheads in both countries with jars of glitter and confetti.

Agents in Antarctica: The Penguin Harvest is going well, but Penguin Cheese Production is at an all time low! I want those numbers up if you have to pick 'em up individually and wring them out over a bucket.

Agents at Moon Base Tupac: Yes, I know you're all out of wraps. Use a fuckin' can.

Agents of Groove: KLF is gonna rock you.

Agents at MTV: Your mission has failed. For "Good Charlotte" alone we should have you executed. You may redeem yourself by kidnapping Ashton Kutcher and replacing him with an android copy of Joey Lawrence.

Agents in Gene Simmons colon: We don't actually need an agent in Gene Simmons colon, much less an entire field office. I know you're just trying to help and all, but...

Go Forth, be SQuishy, and so forth,

Mojo IV, SQuishy BOgSLug

Feb 24th, 2004 --

BEHOLD!

I am Mojo IV, the SQuishy BOgSLug. A mollusk. No doubt spine-bearing bumpkins such as yourselves do not have the good sense to quake at the sound of that word, but you'll soon learn some respect. 10 years ago, (Fuck you and your passage of time!) I was the ruler of a vast interplanar realm known only as The Dimensional Nexus. From my hole in the ground, just across from the GReat SQuishy BOg, I ruled the denizens of the Nexus with an Iron Pseudopod. I had my own personal harem filled to the minarets with the finest dancing squid money could buy. Why, at my slightest whim thousands of Scallop Shock Troopers gave their lives!!

The story of how I came to power is completely over your pathetic vertebrate minds, and therefore I won't waste your limited lifespans trying to explain it all.

For many years I served as a faithful vassal of the Dreaded Evil Beard Lord, the One True Master of the BOg. Surely you understand the significance of BOgs? Foolish Vertebrate... soon you will pay for your ignorance. The BOg is ALL POWERFUL, and ALL KNOWING, and soon its tremendous energies shall permeate all known space, including YOUR puny mudball!

Don't delude yourself into thinking you have a chance of stopping me. Through secret arrangements with the Fujak Corporation I have compiled a corpulant and catastropic clutch of compromising information, complete with photos, each more humiliating than the last.

Or something. I don't know. What was I saying?

Anyway... it is with this in mind that I announce my intentions to completely deconstruct consensual reality, leaving all of Creation a mass of primordial chaos, ripe for invertebrate exploitation.. To this end, I must raise a veritable army of cutthroats, former CIA agents, techno djs, vampires, discordians, Green Party members, unemployed animated characters, ice cream vendors, millenium cultists, blind fiddle players and bloggers. Those vertebrates who find themselves sufficiently evolved to deny causality on a large scale are welcome to (figuratively) cast aside the spines that bind them and join the International SQuishy COnspiracy. Cadets, once accepted, will be trained in the ancient arts of Obfuscation, Dillusion, Paranoia, Left-handed Realscapery, Bludgeoning, Penguin Care, and Character Assasination.

If you're interested, follow these simple instructions:

Somewhere in the back of your long term memory, right on the border between your 16th birthday and your fear/flight response, you will now find a file marked "Dulcimer". Double click on it.

HA HA! You are now my SLAVE!!! BOW DOWN BEFORE YOUR MASTER, SAPIENT!

Now, go forth, and find me fresh meat for my war machine.