Operation Shadow Coup

The H-Chip

Thu, 19 Feb 2004 06:55:59 GMT

From the depths of my futuristic yet subtle labratory comes an invention designed to considerably reduce instances of the following socially awkward moment: You're walking on campus. You glance up and BOOM! Accidental eye contact with some pseudo-aquaintance. Do you maintain eye contact, greet them, possibly partake in a stop-and-chat? Or do you go for the old avert-and-avoid? It's a conundrum for the ages.

Enter The H-Chip. Grafted under the skin between your thumb and index finger, this tiny implant communicates with satellites to triangulate your relative position to all other H-Chip-equipped humans. Once you come within a certain distance of an aquaintance your H-Chip releases a minor electrical pulse, alerting you to their presence. Using a buddy-list interface quite similar to AIM's (not stealing - I invented AIM with the help of Al Gore), one can rate the depth of their relationships with each buddy. The less you like the person, the more intense the electrical shock.

Whether you're in a rush or enjoying a leisurely stroll, make it Aquaintance-Safe(c)! Go H-Chip! Mikey likes it! H-Chip, it's what's for dinner! H-Chip, the new white meat. Where are you going with your H-Chip today? Just H-Chip it. H-Chip, it's in the hand! H-Chips, they're magically electric. You're in good hand with H-Chip. Doesn't your hand deserve H-Chip? Reach out and avoid someone. H-Chip, it does a social life good. An H-Chip is forever. Strong enough for a man, and made for a man too. Nothing comes closer to the bone. Gentlemen prefer H-Chip. We answer to a higher authority: the H-Chip satellite. I want my Maypo!

Also note that The H-Chip comes in handy for anyone trying to avoid stalkers.

The Kids in the Hole

Wed, 11 Feb 2004 00:28:45 GMT

Americans are stupid. Our system of education is outdated and underfunded. Therefore, I shall outline my plans for the future of American education. It revolves around a carefully constructed, well guarded facility dubbed: "The Library."

Kids in the age range of approximately 12-17 share a common trait: they are fucking annoying. In addition, these are the formative years of their intellectual future. So, the obvious solution is to ship the little bastards away to an educational program designed to cultivate a deep interest in learning. "The Library" is this program.

Note: I am omniscient and thus am fully aware of establishments known as "boarding schools." Bottom line: they ripped me off. Lawsuit pending.

On their 12th birthday, children shall be shipped to their local "The Library." Here they will stay (for free, might I add. I am for the people.) until academic proficiency is proved. Parents have visitation rights as well: one visit per year where the parent may speak to the child through bullet proof glass and give the child certain items through a metal slot.

The facility itself is a sizable library. A surveillance system is present similar to Orwell's Big Brother. Besides the library there are bathrooms and a meal hall. Students are responsible for their own education. Since there is absolutely nothing to do besides read books, these children will undoubtedly develop into well-read citizens. Any disruptions will be met with physical force administered by a team of trained guards and rabid bunny rabbits.

On the ceiling is a small hole. To achieve high school level proficiency, the student must stack the books he has read into a mountain, allowing him a climb to freedom. Any collaboration of books will result both children's finished books being burned. Upon reaching the hole, the student will be tested on the books he used in his stack. Note that the hole is small in order to weed out fat kids from the population.

America must be whipped into shape and this is the plan to do just that. And finally, a note to adults concerned with the question of who shall now be employed at movie theaters, ice cream parlors, and Burger Kings across the nation: a team of service industry robots are currently being tested by my R&D department. Sit tight.

Oh, and for sweat shops - kids under age 12 are still available.

The Truth About Cats and Dogs

Mon, 09 Feb 2004 17:17:18 GMT

Who were the farmers looking at in American Gothic? Me. What is that guy screaming about in Munch's masterpiece? Me. Why is the Mona Lisa smiling? I'll tell you right now, it's not because of Julia Roberts. It's me, of course.

I am the common thread. But despite this omnipresence, I must clear up some confusion brought to my attention in yesterday's comments: I am everything. I am nothing. But I am NOT the Illuminati. They are adolescent amateur scum scraped off the bottom of my boot heel not unlike a glob of gum straight from the mouth of an emu.

The world is a house. The normal population of humans is the owner of that house. The Illuminati (plus all other secret organizations of world domination) are the dog. And I am the cat. While the Illuminati, the dog, drools on its own nuts and then humps the leg of the population, I bask in the sunlight on a window sill. I am calm, collected, independent, and unnoticed. But if I so desire, you may come home to find your brand new Sealy mattress ripped to shreds.

( )

Mon, 09 Feb 2004 01:15:33 GMT

You do not know me, nor shall you ever. For I rule not by iron fist but by the soft caress of a subtle wind. I control not by laws and demands but by insertion of intuitions, opinions, dreams. My mark is unrecognizable, my fingerprints undefinable, my influence undetectable.

But I am always there. My words are heard across the nation. Your respected newspaper editors scramble for stories that I have engineered. Your President memorizes the state of the union address holding paper from my printer. Your Janet Jackson bares her breast at the Superbowl because, well, I kinda wanted to see it.

But despite my ruling of the United States by complete authoritarianism and my shadow government's absolute secrecy, I believe in freedom and unrestricted access to information and knowledge. Therefore, I have created this blog for you to better familiarize yourself with the power that, in complete secrecy, determines your every breath.