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Archive for January, 2004

Extensive Therapy

January 31st, 2004
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Orbamajig online, broadcasting from somewhere in Hell… Dr. Azathoth lies on a couch. Sigmund Freud takes notes.

Dr. Azathoth: …So then he throws her actions back in my face! I can’t believe that he would go for such a low blow.

Freud: Perhaps he is more perceptive then you believe. Your desire to punish this Parabola fellow for leaving his employer could be the result of your anger at your own creation rebelling, no?

Dr. A: *sigh* Maybe you’re right. Maybe I should work out my own issues before I start wrestling with random people who knew my old college roommate…

Say, Freud, what are you doing down here, anyway?

SF: I shot a man in Reno, just to watch him die.

Dr A: That’s what everybody says down here.

SF: Well, it’s an obvious joke.

Dr. A: Well, much as I appreciate the gallows humor down here, I really should be getting back to the material plane. I’m worried about how Atomo is doing without me. I sent some of my friends up there to help him out against Festering Death, but it would still make me feel better to know how he’s doing.

SF (Looking directly at the camera): Why don’t we check in on him right now?

Cut To: The irradiated ruins of the Kent State University’s School of Mad And Weird Science. Atomo appears to be standing in the collapsed ruins of the underground particle accelerator, which is cut off completely from the outside world. The only source of light is from Atomo’s Multi-Purpose Utility Belt-Buckle. It’s worth noting that he seems to have developed some kind of tick, as his right lens is fluttering open and shut uncontrollably. It’s hard to tell in the dim light, but he also seems to be caked with a variety of unpleasant substances.

Atomo: ATOMO-ONLINE. INTERNAL-LOG-ENTRY: (Error: Date Software Malfunction)

A: I-HAVE-LOST-ALL-SENSE-OF-TIME. THE-CREATOR-APPARENTLY-FELT-THAT-THIS-UNIT-WAS-INCAPABLE-OF-TRIUMPHING-IN-A-MATCH-AGAINST-UNIT: Festering Death AND-THEREFORE-RESURRECTED-THREE-LOST-SOULS-TO-IMPROVE-THIS-UNIT’S-PERFORMANCE-IN-THE-AREA-OF-WITHSTANDING-POINTLESS-VIOL ENCE. SOUL-UNITS-SENT-TO-IMPROVE-THIS-UNIT’S-PERFORMANCE-ARE-DESIGNATED-UNIT: Marquis DeSade, UNIT: Maldaror AND-UNIT: Elizabeth Bathory.

A:*click* IT-IS-FORTUNATE-THAT-I-*click*-DO-NOT-POSSES-EMOTIONS-*click*-AS-OTHERWISE-I-WOULD-BE-IN-SEVERE-DIS-*click*-DIS-*click*D ISCOMFORT.

THE-TRAINING-IMPOSED-BY-THESE-UNITS-IS-MOST-UNPLEASANT. ONE-REGIMEN, REPEATED-MULTIPLE-TIMES, INVOLVES-BEING-RAPED-IN-EVERY-ORIFICE-BY-UNIT: Maldaror’s BULLDOG. SUBSEQUENTLY, HE-REMOVES-ALL-INTERNAL-COMPONENTS-VIA-THE-LOWER-ANAL-CAVITY. I-AM-THEN-FORCED-TO-EAT-MY-OWN-INTESTINES (NOTE: I am once again forced to question the utility of incorporating a digestive system into a robot that does not eat). AFTERWORDS, OTHER-TRAINING-SEGMENTS-INCLUDE-

(WARNING! Trauma Circuit overload imminent! Initiating Memory Repression Module! *grind grind grind*).

THE-PURPOSE-OF-THESE-REGIMENS-IS-OSTENSIBLY-TO-IMPROVE-THIS-UNIT’S-FUNCTIONING, THOUGH-I-MUST-QUESTION-WHETHER-THEY-ARE-ADEQUATELY-SERVING-THEIR-PURPOSE. SINCE-BEGINNING-THESE-EXERCISES, THIS-UNIT-HAS-DEVELOPED-A-NUMBER-OF-PECULIAR-OPERATING-DEFICIENCIES, OFTEN-TRIGGERED-BY-CERTAIN-REGULAR-STIMULI.

Elizabeth Bathory From off-camera: Atomo! Bath Time!

Atomo’s lens flickers more rapidly

A: CASE-IN-POINT. ON-THE-POSITIVE-SIDE, ENCOUNTERS-WITH-FESTERING-DEATH-HAVE-LOST-SOME-FO-THEIR-DREAD. ON-THE-OTHER-HAND, THIS-UNIT-MUST-QUESTION-WHETHER-OPERATING-DEFICIENCIES-INTRODUCED-BY-THIS-TRAINING-WILL-OFFSET-ITS-BENEFITS.

Marquis DeSade: Atomo! You know the penalty for disobediance!

A: END-LOG-ENTRY.

This seems like a good time to sign off.

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Hell’s Bells

January 19th, 2004

Orbamajig Online…
Yeah, I’m in kind of a searching phase of my life right now, so I’m still trying to decide on an appropriate name, one that really reflects my true inner light… Oh, yeah, we’re in The Discombobulator, the swingingist nightclub in hell’s swingingest city. This is like the eighth time they’ve played that stupid “I’m on fire feeling hot hot hot! song. I swear, if that DJ doesn’t put some techno on soon I’m gonna-

Dr Azathoth: AHEM.

Oh, sorry, the doc is here too. He’s chatting up some chick who looks a bit like Beyonce Knowles… With a gapping stab wound in her back.

Beyonce Chick: …So, I’m in there dancin’, and the next thing I know, there’s this shoting pain in my back, and Boom! I’m on this ferry with some old geezer going across a river of blood… I don’t even know what I did to end up here.

Voice from above: FORNICATOR! THOUS HAST OFFENDED THINE-

Dr. A: Be silent YHWH, unless you want me to get all Pnakoptic on your ass. You know I’ll do it. Man, what a story. Me, I was banished here by the holy power of the cross, which really bit, let me tell you.

Dr. A: I was watching that promo where you died.

BC: Pardon? Watching where, exactly?

Dr. A: TV, it was on one of those BOB promos they show on cable access.

BC: So… you’re saying that the ending moments of my life, the most tragic event my parents have ever gone through, was used to promote a low-tier wrestling match?

A Girl Scout, missing an eye, walks up

Girls Scout: Yeah, you and half the people in here, sister. Some freakish monster attacked my troupe and stabbed me through the eye. I was lucky though, since I died quick I wasn’t around to see what that bignosed motherfucker did to me after. You know what the worst part is? Instead of informing my family, those BOB assholes just aired the whole massacre, uncut. The first my parents heard about it was when they turned on the TV to see a smiley violating my headless corpse.

Another woman, butchered in a way I won’t even describe, walks up.

Woman: What, are me talking about Maldoror?

Dr. A: Fear not, ladies, for as soon as I leave this wretched yet entertaining place, you shalt be avenged. My robot is about to show that smiley the what-for, and I, Personally, have a challenge to Mr. Parallax: You’ve been trying to rise above your station in life, and I simply can’t abide by that. You should murder only those whom your master tells you to. Since Sir Zeno seems reluctant to punish you adequetly, the task falls to me. Well, me and Steve Spudnuts… and douJa… and that Afro Zimbofro guy… But really, thse crushing defeats won’t put you in your place quite the same way a beating from me will. Therefore, I challenge you to a Yog-Sothoth match.

Yog-Sothoth knows the rules…
Yog-Sothoth is the ring…
Yog-Sothoth is the referee and the announcer of the match…
Wins, losses, and draws, all are one in Yog-Sothoth.

So, Once the rest of the BOB roster has finished pummeling you into submission, I hope you have the guts to extra-dimensionally rotate your pathetic carcass over to my neck of the cosmos. Now, shut the camera off, as I hear my favorite song coming on and I can’t think of a witty way to end this.

End Transmission

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More Channel Surfing

January 11th, 2004
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John Leary note: This originally was posted by “A Channel Surfer.” Who was me. Just a fun way to continue hyping Sunday Morning Chloroform

[A cartoon fellow swallows some nicotine gum and mumbles something before the show fades to black.]

CAPTION: COMING IN FEBRUARY…

[A sexy photo of Kay Fabe flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Sarah “The Jobber Slayer” flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Nurse Heidi flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Candy Cantaloupes flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Jeannie flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Christina Aguilera flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Brooke Burke flashes on the screen. Then a sexy photo of Jenna Jameson flashes on the screen.]

BigBOSS’s voice: Hold it, hold it! Who is running this slideshow? We’re supposed to be showing picture of BOB’s sexiest women. Christina Aguilera and Jenna Jameson are not in BOB.

[Cut to a cramped television studio.]

Scotty Whatbody: You told me to fill 30 seconds, BOSS. Have you seen Massive Man in a thong? Not a pretty sight…Hey, I forgot this hot BOB chick!

[A photo of Michelle Gellar flashes on the screen.]

BigBOSS: Scotty! She’s only 16!

SW: You mean her hooters are gonna get bigger? Woohoo!

BOB. Are you ready to rumble?

February 2004.

Look out, WWE!

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Channel Surfing

January 11th, 2004
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John Leary note: This originally was posted by “A Channel Surfer.” Who was me. Just a fun way to start hyping Sunday Morning Chloroform

[Several random channels flip by before pausing on “South Park.”]

Evil Woman: (Singing) There’s got to be a morning after…

Chef: (Singing) If we can hold on to the night…

[A shot of the horrified faces of Stan, Kyle, Kenny and Cartman.]

Chef: (Singing) We have a chance to find the sunshine…

[Fade to black.]

BigBOSSes voice: In 20004…no, make that 2003…I mean 2004! Gah! Can we re-edit that bit?

Voice: Sure.

BigBOSS: In 2003…DAMNIT!

Voice: Are you alright?

BigBOSS: I’m FINE! I just can’t type. My script is a mess.

Voice: What happened to it?

BigBOSS: Same old story. I’m just typing away and my wife just keeps nagging me. Women…

Voice: Yep. What’s that have to do with the script.

BigBOSS: Nothing, really. Say, are you going to finish that doughnut?

Voice: Umm…yes?

BigBOSS: You sound a bit unsure.

Voice: Do I?

BigBOSS: Yes. You do.

Voice: Why don’t you just explain what BOB is for all the viewers.

BigBOSS: Boobs.

Voice: BOB is Boobs?

BigBOSS: Say, that’s a good name for our new B-show!

Voice: B-show?

BigBOSS: You know, like Smackdown is Raw’s B-show.

Voice: I don’t think we’re supposed to mention the WWE.

BigBOSS: Nobody else is mentioning ‘em much these days either my friend. BOB is sweeping the nation! Next? The world! I hear we’ve got a strong showing in New Zealand already.

Voice: What about wrestling?

BigBOSS: What about it?

Voice: Well, the viewers are going to want to know a new wrestling program will be airing on Comedy Central.

BigBOSS: Sure, at 3 a.m. And there are no rules then, baby! Probably because everyone is asleep, or in an alcoholic coma.

Coma: Poink!

BOB. Are you ready to rumble?

February 2004.

Look out, WWE!

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New Year…time once again to get….hardcore!!!

January 8th, 2004

The Are You Out of Your Frickin' Mind Hardcore Title Belt

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