BlueZer0.net

The Shadow reporting. . .

This statue of Icarus, a dumbass who thought he could fly with wax and feathers, is in the lobby of the National Museum of the US Air Force at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base.

DAYTON – On the surface, Wright-Patterson looks like a normal air force base. On the Wright Field side, there’s a museum that houses what I’d imagine is the finest collection of American military aircraft in the world. They even have formerly classified planes, like the infamous, glowing-red U2 spy plane, and the F-117 Stealth Fighter. The Patterson side seems little different than a normal, working air force base. There are landing strips, hangars, the occasional C-130 loading cargo, soliders milling about. There does seem to be an unusual number of F-16s patrolling the area, but it is an air force base, so that could only be considered slightly out of the ordinary. But if you choose to speculate, you could draw some interesting inferences.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Ominous hangars at Wright-Patterson AFB, where The Shadow has tracked the saucer.

DAYTON – Dayton’s Wright-Patterson Air Force Base has a long history filled with military and ufological secrets. There are even rumors that there is an underground base beneath the visible surface-level base. However, many in the ufological community believe that Wright-Patterson’s days as a major center of UFO and experimental technology are more or less over. After investigators revealed that the wreckage of the famous Roswell saucer was transported there, the base was so frequently beset by investigators that it would have been foolish to continue running any but the most mundane operations at Wright-Patterson – it would have been like testing a secret craft in front of a camera crew. But sixty-three years have passed since the Roswell incident, and things have quieted down quite a bit. Other than a small crowd of investigators that cropped up after the appearance of some black triangles in central Ohio a couple years ago, the base has been more or less quiet. Maybe even quiet enough to make Wright-Patterson officials think it was safe to start up the old programs again.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Columbus – As we all know, when Decanus Picto was abducted by aliens and sold into slavery, by spotted chicks from Venus, he started composing music in his spare time, because 12-foot pot plants tend to have that effect on people. Well, those compositions have finally seen the light of day. That is, because The Fat Kid (who should be fired. I’m just saying. . .) was unavailable, the release date and release party actually came and went with no coverage by Bluezer0. So, way to drop the ball on that one, fatty. I hope your snotty paycheck was worth it. Like he’s better than me because he pays taxes. . .

The cover art for Decanus’s new album, Long Tokes at the Gravity Well, available here.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – While the rest of you dipshits were watching for a new report on Decanus’s presidential run, I was out doing the real reporting. Not relying on other people’s work, but actually gathering information, and being out in the field. Really super late at night. Walking through my girlfriend’s neighborhood. Which also happens to be my weed dealer’s neighborhood. But that’s also the field. And I wasn’t holding, so there’s nothing you can do about it. And anyway, nobody saw me, or nobody that’ll talk, so go to hell. Cop.

This video shows what The Shadow claims was a massive cruciform UFO, flying over the Upper Arlington neighborhood of Columbus, Ohio.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – After BZ’s semi-exclusive coverage of the Decanus for President press conference, BZ’s fattest employee made his way home on the Fat Cycle, locked it up, and then rested for seven hours. Unbeknownst to him, there were spies all around.

The Fat Cycle. This is the only picture we have, and the only picture we ever shall have, because somebody has ganked the bike.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – After last week’s rainstorm, I managed to sneak out of the posh and pleasant Fat Cave unnoticed by the alien authorities, who must have assumed that their vicious rain attack had subdued me. I felt like I had to return to the crash site ASAP, but it was about a half hour walk, so I borrowed the Fat Cycle. Despite its structural damage, I made my way there, but to no avail – the rain had turned the river an opaque brown that there was no hope of seeing through. Furthermore, the level of the river had risen, and the already turgid Olentangy was running even faster. There was essentially nothing I could do but wait and watch.

The Fat Cycle: Nah nah nah nah nah nah nah nah FAT MAN!!!!

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – It seems like nothing happened this past week. I mean, we got an insane, open-ended, ridiculously-worded email from a very Jesusy man whose point (other than that he’s going to somehow bring us down because we aren’t Jesusy) was unclear. And there was the BZ audience’s utter failure to participate in the interactive feature, Spot the Gray, which is apparently lame even though we think it’s awesome and will probably continue with it just for our own amusement. But otherwise, there was nothing. Until last night.

The Shadow shot this octagonal flying saucer down last night, and it crashed into the muddy Olentangy.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Victorian Village – After several contiguous days and nights of prison-grade profligacy with Columbus’s own Fourth Avenue Hobo Crew, I was fortunate enough to find myself face up in a shallow part of the Olentangy. However, after I shook off the haze of so much turpentine and 2009 Côtes du Brôoklyn Sterno brand methanol, I realized the reason for my extraordinarily early 11AM waking, was that there was a strange saucer hovering near the third avenue bridge.

This circa 2003 (yeah, we’re that old) pic of The Shadow trying to flag down Tan at the Realm of the Tooth roughly recreates the scene at Third Avenue early this morning. Except this morning, he was wet, and drunk. And he has brain damage from huffing solvents, so you probably don’t want to listen to him anyway.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – After my most recent article, I started checking around with my sources, but no one seemed to be able to tell me very much. Though many people had seen the saucers around the new/old Upper Arlington monument, none of them could say with any degree of certainty why they were there. However, those were just my Ohio sources which, as we know, are a bunch of insane, cokehead hillbillies. So, delving deep into my hard drive, I looked around for some real sources that might be able to tell me something useful about the situation.

An old BlueZer0 contact that proved useful. Good thing we archive everything.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – I’ve been studying the ancient ruins of Olentangea for so long that I almost lost track of our real subject here at BlueZer0, which is the alien presence on/around earth, and particularly here in Upper Arlington, and central Ohio. As many of you may remember, the occasion of the study of ancient Olentangea was a saucer sighting around the new/old Upper Arlington monument.

The new/old Upper Arlington monument, as it appeared in early June, 2009.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – In an effort to understand the alien connection to the Olentangeans, I have attempted to map out the details of life in ancient Olentangea. To that end, I have closely examined many of the artifacts left behind by that ancient people, and have attempted to deduce from those objects what life was like on those now-sunken islands. And a strange picture it is.

This ancient tennis ball was found by The Shadow on the muddy island of Enano. It appears that the ancient Olentangeans played a game similar to tennis. Other evidence indicates that they were aficionados of all the effeminate sports.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – South of Turtles Be Chillin’ Here Island, the sites we find along the river start to take on a different character than those of the Upper Kingdom. The Upper Kingdom is very much like Clintonville, the neighborhood that is now on the river’s edge in that area, in that it is very boring. Its main site, the Clintonville Steppe, has mainly to do with shipping and commerce, while the Lane Avenue complex is a suburban offshoot that was mainly a housing area for workers. This is the stuff of large-scale civilization, but in a boring way – it concerns the business of running an empire: logistics, transportation, and distribution. The southern area, though, is quite strange.

The Clintonville Steppe, according to The Shadow, is boring.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – Here in my sub-bridge library, I have been straining my eyes by candlelight at night, and dazzling them in sunlight by day, reading and reading, trying to explain the ancient mysteries of central Ohio. I have collected as much evidence as possible above water, and have even done some swimming and diving, braving the dangerous Olentangy currents, to scrounge up evidence from the sediment around the blocks, and I believe I have worked out a solution to this most puzzling of Ohio’s many paranormal/supernatural/extraterrestrial/archaeological mysteries. Are you ready to hear the truth, dear reader?

Turtles Be Chillin’ Here Island, part of the Olentangea Complex, was once part of a thriving metropolis. It now lies mostly underwater.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – I’ve been doing quite a lot of reading under my Shadowy bridge, a lot of fact checking, and correlating what I’ve read with what I’m seeing in the Olentangy, and it seems that things here are much larger in scope than I had previously imagined.

These huge blocks, the remnants of the 10,000 year old civilization of Pumapunku, are very similar in size and shape to the blocks The Shadow has located in the Olentangy.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Victorian Village – This area is mostly known for simple things; its quaint Victorian architecture, its trendy shops and upper-crust restaurants, all the super-hot college pussy it houses for three-quarters of the year. Little did the residents of this expensive, trendy neighborhood realize that they were living on the site of what may be the most important archaeological find of the century.

The Shadow has found a proliferation of immense stone blocks like this one, some submerged and some partially submerged, in the Olentangy.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Victorian Village – Days after talking to super-secret hobo source Joe McGucket about the concurrence of our saucer sightings, and getting all trashed huffing turpentine, and falling down the bank and getting all muddy and shit, and losing my keys in the river, and spending like four hours looking for them but still not finding them, I made some shocking discoveries in the area of the Third Avenue bridge.

The saucer-shaped craft was seen hovering above this underwater stone circle in the Third Avenue area.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington – In this largely quiet section of the city, no one expects much to happen. However, since July of 2008, strange things have been seen by those who actually look, especially in the area of the Mexican chateau, and the stone circle that abut the Olentangy river in an ominous formation.

This four-way intersection of road, river, stone circle, and cemetery, with the addition of the new/old Upper Arlington monument, promises a high concentration of weird and unexplainable events this season.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington -- Living as I do, essentially in the woods, the condition of the earth is a thing I can hardly fail to notice. Recently I’ve been noticing very strange things. First, it is slowly getting much colder than it has been over the last few months. Second, all life everywhere is dying. I know, that sucks, right?

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington -- Amidst all the trouble with aliens and the government conspiring to keep us fat, we seem to have lost track of the fact that the focus of this website is me, The Shadow. Other than the very last article, the last twelve or more consecutive articles on the site have been written by either The Fat Kid or the Third Fictional Reporter. In order to lighten the mood, and refocus directly on ME, I have decided to talk about my latest move from the facilities of L’École Des Beaux Lézards to my new purposefully low-tech facilities in scenic Upper Arlington. In order to accomplish this in grand style, I will leach off the popularity of our most popular article ever, HIZZLES.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Upper Arlington -- It appears that the conclusion I reached regarding the purpose of the super storm was premature. After the blurb I gave to The Fat Kid, I started to question whether the manufactured storm had really malfunctioned. I told him that everything the US government sets up or builds turns out not to work. But that only applies to programs meant to help the people. What they do for themselves tends to hum along perfectly. So I started skulking around some more and picked up a few pieces of intriguing evidence.

The Shadow reporting. . .

The Shadow reporting. . .

L’École Des Beaux Lézards -- Having looked over the article recently filed by The Fat Kid, I can tell that he didn’t read my eBook very closely. It doesn’t say so explicitly, but if you look behind the words, you’ll see that I was the one who first came up with the idea that the birds were in on it, and not that (other) fat fucker.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Columbus-- After having spent an unusual amount of time doing school/administrative stuff at L’École des Beaux Lezárds Department of Paranormal Studies, I was finally able to return to Chateau Clintonville to conduct a seance with the ghost of Båtiment 4040.

The Shadow reporting. . .

COLUMBUS -- In a city as sleepy and boring (though not quite so boring as Delaware) as this, one wouldn’t expect that there were such literally otherworldly things as ghosts but, rest assured Columbusians, there are.

The Fat Kid reporting. . .

COLUMBUS - Midnight has come and gone here in Columbus, as has the official release of The Shadow's eBook.

Available exclusively here at BlueZer0.net, Bright Clouds, Dark Shadows.

The Fat Kid reporting. . .

COLUMBUS -- Just a day after BlueZer0 reported that The Shadow had been ousted from the [Censored] State University, and had, like a disgruntled Aristotle, opened his own school, L’École des Beaux-Lézards I spoke with that very same Shadow on the neutral ground of O’Ryan’s Pub.

The Shadow reporting. . .

COLUMBUS -- Since arriving here, I have undertaken to get a feel for the area and its history, and have prepared a report to that effect.

The Shadow reporting. . .

COLUMBUS -- After driving for a ridiculous amount of time, we finally arrived here in Columbus. Things have been rough on your Shadowy reporter. It seems that the people at Self Storage had gotten wind of the story and decided to purge the whole facility nerve gas-style.

The Shadow reporting. . .

NEWARK -- In preparing to leave this carcinogenic shit hole, I’ve been reflecting a bit. I visited the home of my grandmother where I lived for ten years, and have visited innumerable times. I walked down Main Street, where I trolled for pussy innumerable (fruitless) times. I revisited the liquor stores from which I shop lifted, the gas stations where I’ve worked, the McDonald’s where I gained the bulk of my inhuman pudge, the um, well there isn’t anything else in Delaware. But the point is that I visited everything there was for me to visit, and while trying to get a grasp on what I’ve learned, or to scrape up some kind experience I could take away from here, I found myself strangely silent, strangely still.

The Shadow reporting. . .

COLUMBUS -- We left Newark promptly at 6AM, and arrived here in Columbus at 3PM, only an hour behind schedule.

The Shadow reporting. . .

NEWARK -- For those pathetic saps who don’t already know, The Shadow has been admitted into the super secret Al.D (doctorate in alien studies) program at a prestigious Midwestern university. In order to effect this change The Shadow has been forced to give up the palace known as Shadow Cave and find new digs.

As I, Shadow Humperdink, Esquire, will be moving to Columbus, Ohio by the end of the summer I have launched and executed an exploratory excursion to scout out the area. Check for updates from the road!

The Shadow reporting. . .

NEWARK – A global space-bus pass scam has been cracked by 364 year old physicist, Sir Isaac Newton. Apocalypse-advocate Riley Martin was named as the main offender in the scam.

Yet another fictional reporter reporting. . .

NEWARK - It has long been remarked that The Fat Kid and The Shadow have lived in the same neighborhood, paid the same illegal immigrant for sex and housecleaning services, driven the same car, reported on the same stories, “worked” for the same “news” site, and been fat. But only recently has conjecture passed over the idea that they’re gay for each other, and put forth this second and more extravagant theory -- that they are the same fat fuck.

The Shadow reporting. . .

Bear -- On the night of May 6th, 2007 Decanus set up a make-shift studio in the sitting room of Buckalew Palace to record the first ever interview with Jared Buckalew. There was mad liquor, weed, bitches, and hard drive space -- all the defining accouterments of a cult figure of Jared’s stature. The lights blazed, the hard drive spun, and our livers worked just a bit harder as the questions began. Here, for your edification, is the intelligible portion of the result.

The Shadow reporting. . . with contributions from The Fat Kid

A series of storylets that are better than nothing.

The Shadow reporting. . .

The Shadow reporting. . .

After watching the ship fly out of Jared’s tool shed and completely blow through the stop sign, the lights and various devices started to come back on, so we fired up the Shadow Ride and followed. The car would shut off if we got too close, so we had to stay at least a block behind the alien craft, but still we made pretty good time.

The Shadow Reporting. . .

After having begged off as wacko-beat reporter for Bluezer0, opting instead for entertainment news, I noticed that the amount of pussy I got actually went down rather than up the way I expected.

The Shadow reporting. . .

NASSAU, Bahamas -- Some skeevy-looking dude turns out to be the real father of Anna Nicole’s baby Dannielynn.

Fat Kid’s Note: Having been missing in action for quite a while now, I have tracked down The Shadow at his home in Newark, Delaware, and asked him to respond to allegations that he is calling in sick, as it were, while he spends his days luxuriating in his shadowy apartment, with which we’re all so familiar. The Shadow interview follows.

The Fat Kid reporting

Fat Kid’s note: I contacted The Shadow at DiscountPharmacopeia.com Presents the Xanwood Minimum Security Mental Hospital in Nuclear Springs, New Jersey, and he agreed to add his own comments to the following pictorial.

The Fat Kid reporting

By popular demand, Bluezer0 will take a hiatus from covering weighty news like the conflicts in east Africa and Baghdad. With a resounding “Dude, chill,” our readers have indicated that their interest lies elsewhere. So, we have set about gathering entertainment news relevant to our particular journalistic style.

To wit; before The Shadow’s foray into the Middle East, MTV camera crews shot some test reels of The Shadow’s home for an upcoming episode of Cribs. Once the network realized that only four people know who or what The Shadow is, they scrapped the idea, and tossed the film. A source in California has provided me with still shots from those reels. So, Bluezer0 will soon present our own written version of MTV’s Cribs, which will be called Hizzles, Which is Similar to but Legally Distinct from Cribs. Check for updates on this and other thrilling stories here at Bluezer0.com or .net or whatever we are!

Fat Kid's note: The Shadow's projected multi-article project has been cut short. This will be the second and final installment of his overseas reporting. The Shadow is now back in the US, where he will shortly enter treatement for PTSD, according to his confidential medical insurance file, accessible here at the Bluezer0 offices.

The Shadow reports

After visiting, hiding in, and fleeing from the visceral mess that was Baghdad, I decided to make a stopover in Saudi Arabia to recharge my batteries for a few weeks. After resting up, I turned my gaze toward sunny East Africa, just a stone-skip across the Red Sea. The harem I bought by cashing in my 401(k) said it would be too dangerous, but I didn’t listen. I simply transferred ownership of them to the Saudi Royal family – good friends of the Bush family – where I knew they’d get an excellent beating, and set out.

Fat Kid’s note: The Shadow initially came out of retirement to cover Jared’s disappearance, but having gotten a taste of his old journalistic fervor, he has taken it upon himself to do some real reporting. Noticing that other people his age had no idea what (other than fighting) was really going on over seas, he booked a flight to the Middle East, and slowly made his way toward Baghdad. This the first in a series of articles aimed at informing twenty-somethings who don’t much care about stuff, and junk.

The Shadow reports, on location in Baghdad

BAGHDAD. As the rosy-fingered dawn brightens this ruin of a city one is reminded of history’s most dramatic sieges and sickening sights – the earthquake addled walls of Jericho, the degradation of Hektor’s corpse at the fall of Troy, the firing of V-2 rockets into London, and the concentration camps at Dachau, Auschwitz and others during the Second World War.

Shadow Reporting

On Monday, gas station assistant manager and German feudal lord Count Mikhëil von Wilsey of Verzögert Castle, Saxony, made a shocking revelation to the press, claiming that he was in fact the father of Anna Nicole Smith’s five month old baby Dannielyn.

When asked whether it was true that he was actually a virgin, the Count said, “No, there was this girl, you wouldn’t know her. She was from Albany.” When asked whether that was the only girl he had ever been with, and whether he actually knew how to perform the reproductive act, he said, “As Count of Saxony, I order you to be quiet.”

The Count told Bluezer0 that “Anna started getting gas here when she was driving to the Bahamas. It’s pretty far to get there. She came up to the booth one time, and asked why the prices were so high, and I said, ‘That’s the highway, this is robbery.’ She must have laughed for half an hour. I actually thought she was sick or something. Or high. She was high a lot.”

Count von Wilsey gave detailed information about Anna’s bitchin’ Camaro, claiming in a significant tone that he often checked her oil, and that he refilled her windshield washer fluid reservoir several times.

The Count claims his fortune has run out, and that the only things he has left are the family seat in Saxony and his title, which was what Anna Nicole was after. The marriage they planned, which would have given her the title of Countess, was thwarted by lawyer and talk show host Howard K. Stern who was one of several men hittin’ dat, but the Count said he was willing to sell her a lesser title for certain favors, and large tips at the full service pump.

“As lord of Saxony and surrounding bergs, it is within my power to create and sell lesser titles appertaining to those areas. So, I might have made her Viscountess or something. It depends on how many times total, and how often I was allowed to check her oil. If it was too low, I only would have given her the title of Baroness, or even Baronetess, which is lesser by three steps, and the peasants don’t respect you as much.”

Most of the Count’s trysts with Anna were in his shared corner office on JFK Memorial Highway, he said. “She was really into the fake fern. She didn’t really know it was fake. She was amazed that it could grow in there because there are no windows so she thought it was magic or something. She used to hide heroin in there sometimes, too. Christ, I wonder if there’s any left. I’ll have to get rid of it.”

The heroin left in the plastic plant was very high grade, cooked up smooth, and very small doses were seriously effective, indicating Anna had good sources, probably direct from Afghanistan, or the eastern edge of Uzbekistan where the poppy crop is generally early and strong.

Only rarely did they meet at Count von Wilsey’s corner penthouse in Admiral’s Club Apartments, located in a swanky section of Kirkwood Highway near the famous Melrose Place. Mostly they met late at night, when the Count’s father wasn’t home. “She would come over and bring Taco Bell, and we would watch Sanford and Son on Nick-at-Night. Or what do they call it now, TVLand or something like that? Anyway, we’d watch that, or Three’s Company, or Cheers or something. Whatever was on, really.”

It was during one of these late night trysts that Dannielyn was conceived, von Wilsey said. “I was all about the rhythm method, but she insisted on hooking up raw-dog all the way ‘til the end no matter when she was supposed to ovulate.” Asked precisely when “the end” was, Count Mikhëil said, “Pretty much as soon as she got in the door. Sometimes she would hug me, and it was all over. Literally.” That was gross.

Currently, Anna Nicole’s former lawyer Howard K. Stern, and fake royal Prince Frederic von Anhalt claim to be the father, and plan on a paternity test. When the paternity test shows that neither Stern nor von Anhalt is the father, the Count says, he will step in and call for his own test, which will show that he should get custody of the child, and her money.

For the past several months no one has seen or heard of erstwhile delivery boy and present day health food merchant Jared Buckalew. Rumors went flying, but none quite so high as that the day had come for him to take that last ride into the ether with pot dealer and post-traumatic-stress-disorder-sufferer Riley Martin.

First, more than a year ago all internet access had been cut off at Buckalew’s Waterford estate, and then more recently – no one can say how recently – phone service was cut, following which long time resident couch-weight Victoria made a hasty retreat to Missouri or Iowa or some other place equally in love with Toby Keith. All of this coincided with the apocalyptic predictions in recently released government studies showing that not only were humans responsible for global warming, but that it would continue unabated for centuries whether we stop polluting or not.

It seemed, in short, like a systematic shut down of Buckalew Palace in preparation for The Coming of Tan, an alien who claims his interstellar Dart bus will make a stop on earth just as the planet becomes uninhabitable. Jared, bell-wether of all things celestial and long time Space-Dart ticket holder, made no effort to contact any fat people, thereby raising suspicion that he was trying to slip out of the atmosphere unnoticed to avoid being asked for a ride to another suitable planet by those unticketed slobs who could offer neither gas, grass, nor ass.

I, The Shadow, shining beacon of hope for underground resistors and unsatisfied women alike, have since come out of retirement to investigate.

On February third of this year, I was approached by the Fat Kid, who told the following story:
“Yo, I went to Jared’s trailer, like, to see what the deal was with him, like if he was still alive, you know? And he wasn’t there.”

After delivering such masterful oratory, he told me he left the following note:
Jared,
The Fat Kid was here just making sure you were still alive, but then I got hungry and had to leave.
Jeff the Fat Kid

On receiving such a shocking report, I revved up the Trans Am and motored out to the palatial trailer park that Jared calls home, where I found things looking grim indeed. The cat’s water dish was frozen solid, the porch steps were splintered and rickety, and there was no car in the driveway, leading me to believe that Jared had left the scene to meet Tan at a secret landing space, rather than Tan swinging by to pick up his homie.

Despite the sticker on the storm door indicating the estate was protected by a .357 Magnum, I proceeded to investigate the extensive grounds. The Fat Kid’s note was still there on the steps, weighted down with a rock. The blinds were closed on every window, and no servants answered my knock – they must have been dismissed. The tool shed bore numerous signs of being old, and the lawn, though reasonably well maintained, could offer no absolute proof that Jared had been there.

Finding no clues to Jared’s whereabouts, I returned to the Trans Am to think. Other than outer space, where would Jared go? Suddenly, as strokes of genius often arrive, I deduced that if Tan hadn’t picked him up, Jared could only be at one of two places – the 7-11, or his dealer’s estate.

His dealer’s estate being the next lot over, Jared wouldn’t have driven. As no car was in sight, I could tell where my next stop should be.

The 7-11 was deserted, as though no prosperous young cashiers had been there for hours. The cigarette cases were well-stocked, so I could see that I hadn’t passed him on the way back! My only conclusion could be that Tan had finally come, and in a surprisingly Jesusy move, had picked up those believers who had given him money, and left the infidels and heretics to suffer through the rapture. And so it is with great solemnity that I say, readers, these are the last days. On this austere occasion, in our last hours, let us maintain whatever human dignity is left, by not trampling each other as we make our way to the gun stores. There are pistols enough for all. And make no mistake – pistols must be the solution, for who could stand to live through the coming days? Be wise, friends. Purchase pistols from my website shadowpistols.com, and shuffle off this mortal coil (guaranteed when used as directed).

Good-bye friends! What a world, what a world, what a world. . . .

The Shadow

Ed.s note: Jared has since been located, and confirms that Tan has not come, nor is the world to end.

The Shadow Reports:

On Friday the 21st of March, the Realm of the Tooth received a surprise visit in the person (read: Alien) of Tan himself. No, not beige's first cousin in the color spectrum, but the interstellar traveler, savior-to-be of the human race, and famed associate of space guru/alcoholic/pot dealer/space ship ticket artist/hippie Riley Martin, whose writing credits include published pieces in Global Black Woman magazine, The Coming of Tan and several hefty tomes on the subjects of exploiting the gullible, functional alcoholism, semi-functional alcoholism, and bad trips.

Name: Jeff
Known Aliases: The Fat Kid, The Shadow, Bill Cooper, David Icke, Vince Clortho - Keymaster of Gozur
Catch Phrase(s): Damn, I'm hungry. Where the fuck is my turkey sub? I wish (insert any person here) was dead. I hate the clergy.
Department: Satirization Department of the Advanced Concepts Office of the TZR
Title(s): Head writer for the TZR, Mythology Specialist/Book Worm, CEO of The Chandala Association Online, Eliminator of Poultry/Snickers bars, Latin Translator.

Mission(s): To make fun of everyone and everything he sees up to and including himself, but especially Jared. Formerly a reconaissance agent at The Realm whose missions there were to anger the customers, make fun of agents of The Realm, to NOT plus sell, to smoke way too much, to complain in general, and to tell everyone, no matter which side of the resistance they're on, all the ridiculous lies Donald "Gummy Joe" Moore lets loose on the population. To resist the doctrines of The Tooth by way of satire, civil disobedience, and treating people (including the clergy and the mystery shopper) like shit.

Known Characteristics: The Fat Kid is known to be anxious and unable to work unless there is a turkey sub within three feet. Also, he has an insatiable urge to eat Snickers bars, and has been seen staking out the M&M/Mars Factory in Hackettstown, NJ, which he refers to as "the promised land." Also, the Fat Kid has quite a temper, and is known to have yelled at one priest, and at least one "mystery shopper," who he called a "cocksucker."

Intelligence briefing notes: Whenever the Fat Kid doesn't have his mouth full of chocolate covered turkey with nugat and peanuts, he can be seen buried in a book, inside of which are hidden pictures of lesbians. Sometimes he reads the actual text, but only sometimes. What this means, however, is that the fat kid's attention span is quite small, so he can't be counted on to do work of any kind, making him a poor agent of the resistance who cannot be trusted. Consequently, the resistance's loss of the fat kid is not a matter of importance, though he was kind of funny. Also, the Fat Kid is known to refer to himself in the third person when comunicating by way of electronic media, which is his between-Snickers-bars hobby. However, when his attention is focused in the workplace he is a potent force known to disregard nearly every Mobil protocol whether Tooth-related or otherwise, to abuse customers, to tie up the phone line by way of internet access, to convince Gummy Joe that he is catatonic, and convice Pam that he listens exclusively to bands associated with the devil.

The following is my account, to the best of my recollection, of my abduction and heroic escape from the mother ship of the aliens known as "grays."

I was driving north on I-95, between the 896 and 273 exits when above me there was suddenly a bright light. I figured maybe it was the ghetto bird searching for the perpetrators in the Mobil robbery, but then I saw it was far too big to be just a helicopter.

I conducted this seance, or channeling in the home of a concerned third party and follower of mine who was willing to lend us the space and time in order to shed light on the heinous murder of the late Bill Cooper, forcing us to add another late to his name. The two of us sat at the kitchen table of the double wide trailer, and the third party, who wishes to remain anonymous in order to avoid public humiliation and persecution, sat on his couch tapping quietly at the keys of his ibook, occasionally looking up and commenting.

The following interview took place in a public park in Washington DC. The subject contacted me, asking to be interviewed because of the important information he had regarding the shape-shifting parasitic inter-dimensional lizards and the situation at the Delaware Turnpike Mobil. However, the subject asked to remain anonymous for fear of reprisal.

On my first foray into the sandy plains of southern Delaware, I observed the following:

There was a circle on the ground in the center of which was drawn a pentagram. On the west side of the circle was a huge movie screen which must have been at least four feet high and six feet wide. Directly in the center of the circle was a reel to reel movie projector, behind which were two chairs. Behind the chairs was a small silver colored CD player which was plugged into a Honda generator, which was outside the circle. Apparently generators are not sacred equipment, and so could not be included in sacred space or the ceremony at all.

The following interview was recorded in a hotel bar. David Icke was disguised as Mr. T, and wearing a flowing red dress to avoid looking conspicuous, and to throw off his alien pursuers.