12/17/12 - A Way To Break Through This Cellophane Line

You know, son, the last !@#$ time I was in prison for any appreciable length of time, it was back in !@#$ing Korea, all those !@#$ years ago.

The !@#$ commies had me locked down in a POW camp, and chained up with these special Chinese manacles that kept me from using my !@#$ing powers. And, as I didn't have this shiny little beauty of an eye in my noggin, then, I was pretty well !@#$ed.

Or so they !@#$ing thought, which shows you what your average stupid-!@#$ commie !@#$ knows.

Truth was, I could have broken the !@#$ out of those power-dampeners at any time. I had the know-how, the skills, and an ace up my sleeve that I'm still not !@#$ing allowed to talk about. But I had my orders, which said that I had to stay there until I could ascertain what the Chinese and Soviets were up to.

And you know why orders are !@#$ing orders, son? Because you don't have to !@#$ing like them, but you gotta !@$#ing do them.

So I sat still, played helpless, and watched while terrible things happened all around me. I saw good American GIs and Koreans get starved, beaten, and shot. I saw Strategic Talents get tortured to death, just inches away from my !@#$ eyes.

!@#$, son. I saw ten men raping a South Korean fighter with nightsticks until his intestines fell out of his !@#$hole like bloody !@#$ sausage, just to make the other South Korean prisoners more compliant.

And I watched this, knowing that I could have !@#$ing saved them. But if I did I'd have blown the mission open like a monkey in a barrel of !@#$ing dynamite who's crammed a book of matches up his !@#$.

So I just sat there and watched, manacled by orders stronger than any chain their commie science buddies could have come up with. And I kept my eyes and ears open, even though I did not want to see. And only when I had the information that I'd come for, courtesy of The Dragon's presence in their camp, did I finally !@#$ing shake off those !@#$ chains and get some payback.

Oh, did I ever get some !@#$ payback. I hear the North Koreans still whisper about the Night of SPYGOD, just in case I ever make it North of Seoul, again. Something about fists and guns and fire and the honest power of American revenge.

(And how !@#$ hard it is to run away with a lit nightstick up your !@#$ing !@#$...)

Anyway, that !@#$ed me up something severe for quite a while, sitting there and watching all that without being able to do anything. Thankfully, General MacArthur understood, and graciously set my !@#$ straight, courtesy of my first ever skull-!@#$ing. And I know that makoli house still remembers me.

After that, I kind of associated prison stays as either a temporary setback, or an opportunity to get intel. But I never, ever let myself get !@#$ing maneuvered into a situation where I'd have to watch my friends die and do nothing. Never ever again, son. Never !@#$ing ever.

Which is why I'm not feeling very !@#$ happy to be sitting here, in this nice apartment the city of Neo York City has thoughtfully given the TU to cage me in, along with my boyfriend and my cat, prior to my trial for crimes against Humanity.

That's right, son. TU. As in Terre Unifiee. As in the !@#$ing French, who didn't even have any !@#$ skin in the game while their friends and neighbors fought and bled, and then walked out of the !@#$ end of the Reclamation War with a ton of stuff and strategic talents.

And then they all said "Bon !@#$ing jour, mes amis. Let us tell you how to run things, now."

Okay, okay. No. It didn't exactly happen like that. But it's !@#$ near close enough for !@#$ing government work.

See, all those years we were laughing at Direction Noir and their pathological do-nothing ways, it turns out those horse-chewing !@#$ers were playing it smart. They had a doomsday plan all ready to go, ever since the !@#$ 60's. They horded and they tweaked it and they waited, and, most !@#$ing important of all, they kept their !@#$ mouths shut,

And now, here they are, and they're in charge, and it's like !@#$ing Esperanto all over again.

And it's not like they're doing a bad !@#$ing job of it, either, son. That's what really sucks about this. If they'd been cruel or conquering, or even somewhat graft-handed, then I could justify sneaking out of this well-heeled !@#$hole and kicking their pasty white !@#$es back to Paris and shoving fresh baguettes where la soleil does not !@#$ing shine. 

But it's not like that at all. They've actually done a good job under the circumstances. Things are better than they were two months ago. !@#$ they're better than they were a week ago. They even got the !@#$ internet back up and running again...

But we could have done so much more.

The world was down to pieces, son. Just parts and people, looking up at the sky and asking "what now?" We could have built a new world up from that. A free world, full of free people and free markets. We could have had gun rights, civil rights, everything...

Instead, we get francophone caretakers who think they know what's best for us.

And worst of all, especially for me? They're being led by someone who's got it in for me like you would not believe.

Which sort of explains why I'm here, right now. Although there are many other reasons... not all of which are my !@#$ing fault, but some of them might as well be. You know how !@#$ing reckless I can get when I need to kick some !@#$ for life, liberty, and the defense of America.

And oh, isn't that just !@#$ing ironic, now.

So yeah, son. Long story, short time. The trial's due to start after New Years, which gives me a couple weeks to figure out what the !@#$ we're going to do. My legal team thinks we're !@#$ed, and I can't see that they're wrong, either. And if they aren't, and we are, well... SPYGOD could be in some deep !@#$ing !@#$ come the trial.

But this also gives me some time to take it easy, and enjoy actually !@#$ing having a boyfriend, and a cat. Not having to worry about the whole !@#$ world, anymore, is something of a novel experience. Sort of like realizing you didn't have to recite Shakespeare while you took a !@#$, after years of going through play after play, sonnet after sonnet.

It also gives me time to play around with a few things I've been learning about myself, too, though that's not something you have to know about just yet, son.

(Though the TU might just be learning about it before too !@#$ long.)

So, why don't we call it a night on getting maudlin and complaining? I'll fill you in on what !@#$ing happened as we go along, here, I promise. But for now, I'd like to settle in, have some wonderful homemade Pad Thai, watch some tube, and have hot gay sex in front of an open window just to make those protesters out there really !@#$ing angry.

Because I'm not the one who's locked up here, son. And by the time they figure that out, well... I think the world will have well and truly !@#$ing turned.

Bon apetit, mother!@#$ers.

(SPYGOD is listening to Living in a Box (Living in a Box) and having a bottle of La Biere du Demon )

2/3/12 - The Third Temptation of SPYGOD - Act 2, Scene 1

ACT 2

SCENE 1

The curtain opens on the same street where we left off. It’s late afternoon, a day later. People are walking to and fro, cars are puttering along in traffic, and SPYGOD is sitting on the curb, next to a couple six-packs of good quality beer. Several empty cans lay at his feet. When the curtain opens, he’s chugging a can, which he then tosses at a nearby sign in such a way that it bounces off and lands back at his feet. He smiles, and opens another can, just as BEAUTIFUL STRANGER appears, stage right. He is dressed in the same manner as the day before, and smiles radiantly.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  Well good afternoon to you, my dear (REDACTED). How are you doing?

SPYGOD: Just beautiful, !@#$hole. Just beautiful.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER walks closer to SPYGOD, slowly, as if expecting a surprise, or an attack.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Did you have a good evening?

SPYGOD:  Oh yes.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: And did you have a good morning?

SPYGOD:  Any better and it would be !@#$ illegal in ten states.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  Oh? Do tell.

SPYGOD:  No.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Any reason why?

SPYGOD looks at him, balefully, chugs a can without losing eye contact, and then throws the can at BEAUTIFUL STRANGER’S head. It caroms off and lands right at SPYGOD’s feet, to join the others. BEAUTIFUL STRANGER doesn’t so much as blink.

SPYGOD: There’s some things you don’t need to know, !@#$bake. Anyway, given how much I couldn’t !@#$ learn what I wanted to learn, I figured you were !@#$ watching.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Oh, (REDACTED), surely you understand we’re above such crude voyeurism-

SPYGOD: I’m not.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  Well, that’s a comfort to know, given your responsibilities.

SPYGOD:  And I were you, I’d be watching me.

SPYGOD opens another can of beer and drinks it.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  As it happens, we have a very sophisticated set of failsafes in these scenarios. I told it what things you shouldn’t see, and you did not see them. My presence was not even required.

SPYGOD throws the can of beer at BEAUTIFUL STRANGER’S head. It caroms off and lands at SPYGOD’s feet, with the others.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  Are you going to do that all night, then?

SPYGOD:  It’s !@#$ tempting.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  Well at least I tempted you into something-

SPYGOD: You have no idea how badly I want to !@#$ your skull, right now.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Well.

SPYGOD: I wouldn’t even need to drill a hole or go in through an eyesocket. I’d just grab you by both ears and shove it through your forehead.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Is that something you want added to the deal, then?

SPYGOD: I did that to someone, once.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I know.

SPYGOD: I didn’t have to. I could have just !@#$ shot him and left him as was. Either that or taken his head for some home brewing. But what he did… what I caught him doing… it made me sick. Do you understand what it takes to make me want to throw up?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER:  I think I have some inkling.

SPYGOD: And yet here you are, daring to talk to me. 

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Well, no danger, no triumph.

SPYGOD gets another can of beer and opens it, and starts to drink it.

SPYGOD: I did what you said. I listened. I watched. And it was really interesting... especially the things I didn't see.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Such as?

SPYGOD: Well, let me think, here. I did see that global thing you talked about. It looks like a pretty good setup.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I thought you might approve.

SPYGOD: Oh, I did. I liked the total economic blockade around North Korea and Myanmar, too. I loved seeing that Afghanistan's five different !@#$ countries, finally, though I bet you're not going to tell me how they agreed to that one.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: No.

SPYGOD: Pity about Israel, though. I saw what was left of Jerusalem on the news. No chance you'll tell me about that, either?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Again, no.

SPYGOD: Well, color me !@#$ surprised.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: What else did you see?

SPYGOD: I saw the Superhero who spends his days speeding around Neo York City, making sure criminals get apprehended before they get more than three steps away from the time. I also saw the speeder who keeps the streets clean. Good to see they've got work for qualified people.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Well, it's cheaper than a streetcleaners union, surely.

SPYGOD: True. Probably more efficient. But I really wasn't interested in him. I was interested in what I didn't see.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: What might that be?

SPYGOD: This is 2021, isn't it?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Well, I really shouldn't say so...

SPYGOD throws the can of beer at BEAUTIFUL STRANGER’S head. It caroms off and lands at SPYGOD’s feet, with the others.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: ... but yes, it is.

SPYGOD: So where's the President I left behind?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I can't tell you that.

SPYGOD gets a full beer can and throws it at BEAUTIFUL STRANGER’s head. It explodes and soaks him with something that makes him smoke, bubble, and burn. He falls down clawing at his head, but not screaming, though the pain must be intolerable. SPYGOD grabs the rest of that six pack and gets up, walking over to BEAUTIFUL STRANGER as he writhes on the ground.

SPYGOD: One of my old Strategic Talents friends got into homebrewing because of me. He wasn’t too keen on head beer, but he brews this special kind of alcohol that packs all the punch of a whole Saint skeleton, two flaming swords, and a burning bush. He gives it to people to make sure they aren’t people like you, come over to mess with his sanctum. Never !@#$ fails.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: That... hurt. 

SPYGOD: Oh, really? I well bet this'll feel like a real smooth butt!@#$, then, you little worm.

SPYGOD opens another can of the beer and pours it over BEAUTIFUL STRANGER, who actually screams this time.

SPYGOD: I'm sorry? What was that? 

More screaming from BEAUTIFUL STRANGER

SPYGOD: More lube? Sorry, fresh out. No danger, no triumph, baby.

SPYGOD finishes pouring the can, then throws it at BEAUTIFUL STRANGER'S head. It bounces off, hits the sign, and flies back to where the rest of the empties landed, over where SPYGOD was sitting.

SPYGOD: Okay, buddy. You see that? That is talent. That is what I do for fun when I'm not dealing with wormy little !@#$ like you who think they can sweet talk me into a bad !@#$ deal.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: And what... what's so bad about it? 

SPYGOD: Are you !@#$ kidding me?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: World peace? No more science terrorism? No more mundane terrorism? All the strategic talents working together, under you? No United Nations to hold you back?

SPYGOD: Where is the !@#$ President?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: ... 

SPYGOD opens another can of beer and pours it over BEAUTIFUL STRANGER, who screams a little louder. 

SPYGOD: The President! Where the !@#$ is he?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I can't... I can't...

SPYGOD: Where the !@#$ is the !@#$ President? Huh? It's 2021, mother!@#$. Where the !@#$ is he?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I told you. I can't tell you all the details...

SPYGOD: Well that's just great. How !@#$ convenient. You expect me to believe he's in seclusion, somewhere? Not talking on the internet? Not giving speeches or opening libraries?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Look, let's talk this over.

SPYGOD: His wife lives in a big house in Chicago, all by herself. She looks like someone took her heart out of her chest and !@#$ stepped on it. His daughters are doing well but are clearly hurting on a deep level. I think I know what it is. I've !@#$ seen it enough.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: You can't be-

SPYGOD: Whenever one of my Agents dies, I go check up on the family in secret three years later, just to make sure they're !@#$ okay.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Oh, how noble of you...

SPYGOD: It's my job. My responsibility. I can't fix their lives but I can at least be sure they aren't getting a bureaucratic runaround.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: And what does that have to do with anything?

SPYGOD: When I look in the eyes of their children, I see that look. It speaks !@#$ volumes. It says "I lost one of my guiding stars and I'm never getting it back."

SPYGOD looms over BEAUTIFUL STRANGER, staring eye to eye. Neither blinks, and BEAUTIFUL STRANGER slowly gets to his feet, healing as he rises.

SPYGOD: So. I can only assume he's dead. Which means either you told me to let it happen, or you told me to make it happen.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I will not comment on that.

SPYGOD: Well maybe you can comment on something else, then. This is 2021? Where's all the people?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: What do you mean?

SPYGOD: Last I checked, we were sitting at 7 billion. We ought to be at 7.5 or so, right now. But I listen in and find out we're at 5?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I will not comment on that, either.

SPYGOD: I know losing Israel couldn't have done it. I know there had to have been at least one war you wouldn't let me see before we all held hands and sang kumbaya like a bunch of !@#$ hippies, but I don't see how that loses 1 billion, let alone two. So what happened? 

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Again-

SPYGOD: Did you have me look the other !@#$ way, then, too?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I told you-

SPYGOD grabs another can of beer, and BEAUTIFUL STRANGER hisses and grows fangs and claws.

SPYGOD: Ah, I wondered how long it would take before the real you came out to !@#$ play.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: You mock me at your own peril.

SPYGOD: Funny, I was about to say the same thing.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I have played straight with you as much as I am allowed.

SPYGOD: Now there's some !@#$ irony for you. Lose the CGI, !@#$nuts. You aren't even scary.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Oh, I think you have no idea-

SPYGOD: See, that's it. I do see you. Right through your disguise. And I know how small you really are, and how weak.


BEAUTIFUL STRANGER freezes, cocks an eyebrow, and then reverts back to what he looked like seconds before, only now all damage is healed.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Weak? Even now I'm healed from your crude little tricks. And I think you'll find they won't work on me again.

SPYGOD: Take me back home.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Only if you're prepared to give me an answer.

SPYGOD: Oh, I am. You've given me 24 hours to look around. I took it. Now why don't go back to my place and discuss things.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: Leave the holy beer here.

SPYGOD: It comes with.

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: It stays or I'll leave you here. I do have that right.

SPYGOD: I thought it didn't hurt you, anymore?

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER: I could do without the annoyance.

SPYGOD: Ah, the joy of fine print. Alright then.

SPYGOD drops all the beer and smiles.

SPYGOD: (singing) Take, take me home. Cause I don't remember...

BEAUTIFUL STRANGER curls his nose and waves his hand. BEAUTIFUL STRANGER and SPYGOD vanish. 

The moment they're gone, graffiti appears close to where they were standing, asking WHO KILLED THE DREAM?

SPYGOD is listening to Of Course I'm Lying (Yello) and drinking some holy homebrew) 

10/7/11 - More Crass Commercialism - SPYGOD's ABCs (pt 2)

Note: Continuing on from the previous installment. 

It's clear that, right around here, no one was sure about the tone of the piece, anymore. It jumps back and forth from actually factual information to snarky bull!@#$. This is what happens when you have four or five different writers working on one document, and one overworked editor more or less rubber-stamping the whole thing while getting blown by one of Dr. Yesterday's sex midgets.

We think.

K is for Korean War

Korea isn't just one of the few places you can get soda that tastes like bubble gum. It's also the place where the future of Strategic Talents in the Cold War world was written out. And, more importantly, it's where SPYGOD really became SPYGOD, instead of who he was before.

Long story short? The Commies were evil, and, once World War II was over, stopped being our friends (so we could help defend them from the Nazis) and wanted to take over the world. Part of taking over the world was taking complete control of the Korean Peninsula, which they'd gone half and half on when the Allies liberated it from the Japanese. So, in 1950, a fat, evil Commie named Kim Il Sung got permission from the Soviets, and aid from the Chinese, and his soldiers swooped into South Korea to "unify the Fatherland."

The United Nations, being a powerless fraud, could only condemn it and ask for its members to do something. Fortunately, America intervened, because President Truman was a smart man who knew what happened when tyranny went unchecked. We sent troops in to help the South Koreans stop the commies, and figured it would be over soon, as long as the Soviets and Chinese stayed out of it.

But there a BIG problem! After World War II, the United Nations included as part of its Charter that member states should not use Strategic Talents in war. The spineless wimps at the United Nations were afraid that a superhuman arms race would happen, with everyone trying to make strategic talents, the same way everyone was trying to make atomic bombs.

Since no superpowered people could fight each other, like they did during the last war, this war was going to take a long time to end. So President Truman secretly sent a few Strategic Talents in, hoping they would find out that the Commies were using Strategic Talents, so America could send Mr. USA and the Liberty Patrol in to fight them. After all, if they we Commies breaking the rules, so could America!

SPYGOD led the mission because he'd been doing secret work in the Soviet Union, and had a good idea how to keep things quiet. But a bad thing happened. The Strategic Talents were ambushed and captured, and sent to a prison camp.

The Commies put them in special chains so they couldn't break free, and hurt them to try to make them tell what their secret plans were. None of the brave American superheroes would tell them the truth, so the Commies hurt them and used them for fun.

Soon there was only one hero left, and that was SPYGOD. He broke free, burned down the camp, and got away, but by then the Commies were almost all the way down the peninsula. Even worse than that, the Chinese and Soviets had complained to the United Nations that America was using Strategic Talents against people who had none. Now the North Koreans would have to use superpowered soldiers to make it an even fight!

America knew that the North Koreans didn't have many superpowered soldiers, because Japan had killed a lot of them during World War II. This meant that they would have to get them from the Soviets and the Chinese. And once the Soviets and Chinese sent their Strategic Talents, ordinary forces wouldn't be too far behind.

President Truman knew this could lead to another World War. He had to stop this from happening. So he went to the United Nations and told them that the Commies were lying. He said that America had been using Strategic Talents in Korea, but that the Commies had done it first. He used information that SPYGOD had gathered while behind enemy lines to prove it.

But President Truman made the Commies an offer. He said that he would pull out all Strategic Talents, and not allow them to return, if the Commies would make the same promise. This would mean the Commies would have to admit they'd been lying, so they refused. So America sent in Mr. USA and the Liberty Patrol, and the Commies sent their superpowered soldiers in to fight them.

The war took another eight years to end. This is because neither side wanted to do as much damage as they could. They were afraid that if they fought too hard, and went too far, someone might use atomic weaponry. So a lot of Strategic Talents on both sides were killed or seriously wounded, and the fast, back and forth advances of the first years of the war turned into the same kind of trench warfare that happened in World War I. 

An Armistice was signed in 1958. This meant that the war was still going on because neither side wanted to admit defeat, but that no one was going to fight it, anymore. After the signing, President Eisenhower promised the American people that America would never be the first to use superpowered people in a war, but that we would keep them "in reserve" just in case someone else did.


This is why the Liberty Patrol was disbanded. This is why we have The COMPANY. This is also why Vietnam took so long and was never won. Ask your parents about that.


(ED NOTE: Wow, way to sound jingoistic there, Bob. Could we make this a lot less history-channelish and a lot funnier? This page is in dire need of Operation Snark Bomb.)

!@#$ You, "ED" - Bob

(You're fired, Bob. - ED)

(SPYGOD is listening to Chalkhills and Children (XTC) and having some soju and cheju cider)