* Had my post stress-relief sleep interrupted by a gaggle of near-worthless assassins, last night. They abseiled onto the penthouse roof and tried to sneak in through an air duct, not realizing the air ducts are routinely patrolled by The B.U.I.L.D.I.N.G.'s defenses. I awoke to the smell of cooking would-be assassins, followed by the screams of the sole survivor as he tumbled out of the central air duct in the main room. He was too out of it for a proper interrogation, so I left him to METALMAID to deal with. Boy was he surprised to see her!
* Tossing the bodies over the edge has thankfully retained its amusement factor, as Neo York City sanitation's on the warpath again. I have had no less than fifteen bags of dog!@#$ set afire on my doorstep over the last week, along with a full mailbag of death threats and incriminating photos of me giving would-be assassins the air-stairs. The Mayor has sent over people to try and intervene, but these have been given the full METALMAID treatment and sent back to City Hall. I'm expecting a person visit from hizzonner at some point. I can't wait.
* Speaking of METALMAID, the behavior patterns seem to have leveled off. She's no longer oddly cheery about seeing me off or seeing me home. I'm still a little worried about her programs acting up, but with Dr. Yesterday still down at the Ice Palace, still pretending he can't get into The Chamber, there's really no one qualified to took into her brains and see if she's got a problem. So as long as I don't come home to find her making dog!@#$ sandwiches, !@#$ the cat, and singing Conway Twitty, I think we're okay.
* Not that I think METALMAID would get anywhere with the cat. I came home the other day to find Beebee's decided to start sleeping on top of my old AK-47. I tried to reprimand the furry little !@#$ but she was so cute, lying there asleep with that cute "if you wake me up I will end you" look on her face. So I just gave her some catnip, skritched her under the chin, and walked away very, very slowly.
* Yes, gay men can like cats. !@#$ off.
* Ice-Palace-Scapades. The snoops we left behind before we bugged out show that the Bluehelmets are doing what Bluehelmets do best. Namely, not a !@#$ thing. They're trying to make sense of the things we couldn't make sense of, and catalog all the things we already cataloged. To his credit, Mr. USA is aware that he's been saddled with idiot wrangling, and is doing his best to make the best of a bad situation. But he's fixated on getting those Chamber doors open, and they aren't opening, so all kinds of little things are just slipping by him. I'm trying not to laugh, honestly.
* Speaking of laughing, I have received word that Cartoon All Stars are out west, turning a portion of the Nevada desert into something... interesting. My contact (the blue dog I beat down and back up again) tells me that they've managed to get the Tooninators working, and actually permanently tooned one of them so they can shuffle back and forth into our reality without needing any "real" people. This means they are now self-sufficient, and wondering why the !@#$ they didn't think of it before. My answer is "government slavery," of course. I am also invited out for a drink when the something interesting is done.
* The Flaming Patriot, being the homophobic !@#$ who tried to barbecue my delightfully fine behind at the Studio 54.1 the other weekend, has been identified as one Daniel Thomas O'Leary, 45, who maintained a small little apartment in Queens for the last few years. The subsequent raid and dismantling of that apartment by COMPANY Agents revealed that Queens is more than a little ironic. It seems that Mr. O'Leary was a member, user, and exile from several ex-gay ministries, trying to cure his little man-on-man problem through the Bible. Their inability to cure said "problem" was cause for him getting belligerent and nasty with them, hence his eviction from one program and prompt enrollment into another, over and over again. How and when he became a costumed anti-gay science terrorist is uncertain, though his neighbors told us that he'd been unusually excited about something over the last month or so. Nothing in his background indicates technical proficiency, nor a lot of money to buy someone else's, so it looks like we have a villianmaker on the loose. And that is no !@#$ good, son.
* Also no good, I have been informed that SPYGOD'S BIG !@#$ ACTION SHOW is a go. Adult Swim will start showing episodes next Spring. The first episode will apparently have me taking on an entire enemy base by myself, armed with nothing but my fists, someone's detached head, and a weed whacker. I will smash through ten floors of bloody mayhem, occasionally interspersed with random, out of sync backflashes of explanation, and then blow up a giant space robot squid before it can spawn and destroy the world. That's only the bare bones of the plot, of course, but they tell me that hints of things to come will all be there. I can't wait to see how many inappropriate liberties they take with the facts. I may end up making a long list and nailing it to their writers' ball-sacks.
* In better news, my adopted commie pinko Alternet reporter sent me an email yesterday. Apparently he and the kids from the Ice Palace are touring Europe, and he's showing them the remnants of the Third Reich in an attempt to show them what they escaped. Auschwitz actually made them cry. I'm not surprised. You can stand there in bright sunlight on a summers' day and you'll still feel as cold as ice. That much death wasn't meant to be anywhere in the world. Maybe there's hope for those kids, provided Dr. Yesterday can fix their genes so they actually have something approaching a decent lifespan.
* GORGON. I'm not liking how they just slipped away. I have some feelers out towards Atlantis, given that they escaped West Papua by submarine, and they have the monopoly on tracking secret underwater movements. But Thurl's a real !@#$ and I already owe him one for NAZISMASH, so this may take a while. I don't think I have a lot of time, though.
* HONEYCOMB. The data we got is proving invaluable. There may actually be a way to send a remote shutdown code to all their HIVEs, which would effectively cripple the whole group in one bang. Somehow I don't think it'd be that !@#$ easy, but it would be something of a relief. I'm going to have enough problems with GORGON, especially after what Shift told me.
* Speaking of Shift, I paid a teleconference visit to the North Carolina Governor's office regarding the folks from Roanoke Colony, expecting to have to bust his !@#$ up one wall and down the other. Surprisingly, he's actually got competent people on the case. It's too soon to tell but they seem to be adjusting okay, once they had the facts told to them. It's a lot to take in, of course, but with some work they might be able to get adjusted to the 20th century within a couple months. Whether they stay here or go back to England is something they'll have to determine later, but for now things are alright.
* What isn't alright is the question about what the !@#$ the King of Time was doing down there in the first !@#$ place. Knowing him, he had a plan. It probably was not a very good plan, given his general incompetence in things supervillian, but he had some kind of angle. But what?
* Celtic Pirates. Three shots Baileys, three shots Captain Morgan spiced rum, one shot Kahlua. Like chocolate milk that turns your brain to goo. I've been drinking them all day, pondering the pieces I've got in front of me. A plan is forming. Where it goes from here I don't know, but I do know I don't have a whole !@#$ of a lot of time. And since that is a sobering thought, I'm having more pirates to balance it out.
(SPYGOD is listening to Parklife (Blur) and having Celtic Pirates by the shipload)