Evil organizations

Throughout the course of mankind, humanity has banded together for several noble causes: Religion, politics, education, hippie sit-ins, and of course, the grandest of all goals.

World Domination.

But there are so many different organizations with this goal in mind; it can be hard to find the right one for you. So we here at Ohao have compiled a helpful guide for you to choose your fate.

S.P.E.C.T.R.E

Mission statement: Good old SPECTRE. Really, the name says it all: the SPecial Executive for Counter-intelligence, Terrorism, Revenge and Extortion. So basically, they're douche bags for hire! A group of intelligent people who could have used their intellects to better mankind...but instead decided that they'd rather A) take over the world, B) Steal as much money from the world as they can, C) Blow shit up, or D) All three! It's like a hat-trick of evil!

The Boss: Working for SPECTRE will be an exciting experience, with lots of potential for career advancement. Especially since the management is always getting reshuffled. Mainly due to piranha related firings. But the head honcho is super genius and Cat Fancier Ernst Stavro Blofeld. Seriously, with a name like that, how could he be cruel? He's a nice enough guy...although he does tend to change his appearance often, so you'll have to be on your toes.

Ignore the scar...he's sensitive

The Office: Well, this one depends. SPECTRE has many franchises around the globe, and if you're a regional manager, you can have your base of operations built however you want. Fancy a volcano layer? Done! How about a phallic space ship? Creepy, but done! Hell you can have your own island if you want. Let's see Cinnabon make that claim.

Dress Code: If you're interested in a career at SPECTRE, you'll be relieved to know that the dress code is rather lax. If you're one of the elite members of the organization, you can dress as outlandishly as you like, who knows, you might even get metal hands! And if you're in more of the henchman class, no worries, standard issue jumpsuits will make picking what to wear in the morning a breeze.

The Down Side: Well, you're probably going to have to deal with a hairy little British man who just seems to want to piss on your parade. But don't worry, you're probably going to have an incredibly awesome death that will make people reading your obituary super jealous.

The Legion of Doom

Turns out Lex Luthor is Jesus. Suck it Dan Brown

Mission Statement: The Legion of Doom has a rather simple purpose. Make the Super Friend's lives miserable. How they do it is really varied. All that really matters is that the plan is as grandiose and needlessly complex as possible. It has more chance to fail that way!

The Boss: Oh look, another bald guy. That seems to be definitive proof baldness leads to super villainy. Oh well. At least Lex Luthor isn't that bad. And the Legion is rather democratic anyway. As long as you're one of the twelve baddies on the council, there's a good chance that you'll get your voice heard. Unless your Solomon Grundy, because then no one will listen to you. Because you're stupid. And probably smell bad. Like, truck stop mens room bad.

The Office: When working for the Legion of Doom, you'll have full access to the Hall of Doom. Even though it may look like Darth Vader's head, the Hall is fully equipped with state of the art defense mechanisms that will keep you safe after your evil shenanigans draw the attention of the Super Friends. The Hall is even capable of traveling through time, so if you've ever had the ambition to go to a point in time where the Wonder Twins were children, and beat them then, you're in luck! True, it may be located in some random swamp, but the beauty on the inside is all that matters. Much like your prom date.

Employee parking in the rear

Dress Code: Remember when you were a kid and wished that you could dress anyway you wanted? You would have been an astronaut-cowboy-ninja every damn day of the week. Well working with the Legion lets you do just that. Whatever your evil persona's shtick may be, you can dress that way. Go nuts!

The Downside: Well, every week you're going to get another evil scheme, and like it or not, it's going to fail. Sorry. That's just the way things work. But at least you won't get arrested or anything. Apparently the Legion has diplomatic immunity. On the other hand, you're going to have to hang out with some pretty retarded teammates. Like a talking gorilla. And a jester. And someone who actually has problems kicking Aquaman's ass. Plus there's the fact that apparently the Legion doesn't have a lot of money. I mean, they can't even afford to give Brainiac a decent pair of pants.

Nice banana hammock Brainiac


The Foot Clan

Mission Statement: World domination. Well, I think that's what they're trying to do. Usually they're just trying to survive turtle attacks...but hey, you gotta start somewhere!

The Boss: If you decide to take a position in the Foot Clan, you will be led by famed war lord and master of ninjitsu, the Shredder. He's a strong and fearless leader, and also a handy kitchen appliance! And in some cases you will have another supervisor, the great lord Krang! Yes, Krang may be a small, pink, brainlike organism that has to live inside a be-speedoed robot, but he's still you boss.

Seriously, what's with the banana hammocks?

The Office: For the most part, standard Foot Clan members just get to hang out in abandoned warehouses and sewers waiting for those damn turtles. But you may get lucky and get to hang out in the Technodrome, a giant subterranean battle fortress complete with giant drills, large holding cells, robotic walking legs, 972 bedrooms, and a Street Fighter II arcade game (wait, what?)

Dress Code: Standard ninja garb is the regular code of dress. Black costume and hood so no one can find out your identity. And lets face it, if you routinely get your ass handed to you by mutated reptilian Renaissance painters, you'll want your anonymity.

The Downside: Well, turtles. God damn turtles. And to make it worse, they spew concentrated 80's out of their mouths the entire time you have to fight them. And they're going to kick your ass, you don't have a choice. Even if you're a black belt and are capable to killing a man with naught but your pinky, you're going to get you hand broken on a shell, and then taken out with an accidental punch from a three fingered scaly hand. And you will then need to commit Hari Kari. It's ninja law.

If you get beat by these things, you have to give up being a ninja. And life.



Cobra

Mission Statement: The goal of Cobra is relatively simple. Fuck shit up. Yeah, world domination would be nice, but Cobra is more like SPECTRE, they just want to cause some chaos and get some money. Terrorism is the name of Cobra's game. Oh, and fuck G.I. Joe. That douche.

The Boss: Cobra is headed by High Command, and elite group of evil doers that each lend their own special skill into the workings of this well-oiled machine of evil. But the head honcho is the notorious Cobra Commander, the hooded villain with the oddly high pitched voice. And he's a horrible man. How horrible? He punts puppies.

Cobra Commander seen here reenacting the bridge scene from Anchorman

The Office: Cobra's main base of operations is Cobra Island (really creative with these name huh?) an island off the coast of Mexico that has become a sovereign nation. The Island has many important areas for a member of Cobra, including a hospital and the delightfully named Terrordrome!

Dress Code: Well, depending on what level you are at, there are many different required uniforms, but for the most part, you're going to be in a blue jumpsuit with a penis shaped helmet covered in vibrant red cobra emblems. Sorry.

They're totally getting laid tonight

The Downside: You can never win. No matter how close that prize may be, one of the morons from the G.I. Joe force is going to show up and make you cry. And the worst part? You could be beaten up by a guy dressed like a gay biker. Or a guy named Snow Job. SNOW JOB! Are you serious?! Were they never twelve? Do they not know what that pun is? The government is funding a guy named Snow Job? Fuck taxes.

The French

Mission Statement: Complete and total world domination. The French will stop at nothing to devour the world and plunge us into a dark land of frog sacrifices and excruciating body odor.

The Boss: Oh hell I don't know...Napoleon? Is he still alive? Charles de Gaulle? Jacques Cousteau? You're guess is as good as mine. But I guarantee you whoever it is, they're evil.

The Office: Somehow, the French have managed to control an entire country with over 65 million people caught in their clutches! We didn't really want to do much research into what France looks like, but famed musician Frank Zappa once said "there is no hell, only France," so I'm going to guess it looks a lot like hell.

Visit Beautiful France!

The Dress Code: A baret, a wiry mustache, unpleasant chest hair, and a full suit of armor.

The typical Frenchman in his native habitat

The Downside: Are you kidding? You need to know the downside? You're French. And that's terrible.

The Guild of Calamitous Intent

Mission Statement: The Guild is the world's largest employer of supervillains. They're "the recognized leader in organized havoc" and exist solely to cause misery to super heroes and other people that the villains find necessary to "arch." There is a strict code of conduct, and a significant amount of honor making them the go to source of costumed evil.

The Boss: The Guild has many smaller functionary bosses, as it is a bureaucracy. But the head of the Guild is the enigmatic Sovereign. Unless you're in the highest order of the Guild, you will only see the Sovereign as a shrouded face on a television, but if you're blessed enough to see the true face of the Sovereign, you will be in the presence of Grammy Award winning musician David Bowie!

The Office: Members of the Guild are free to build their own bases, and make them as elaborate and random as they can. When in need the Guild also has a main facility where the Sovereign lives.

Dress Code: Similar to the Legion of Doom, members of the Guild are allowed to dress as flamboyantly as their sexuality will allow. The supervillain is allowed to design their own persona, and the costume of their henchmen. And there's no limit but your creativity, hell, you could look like this if you want:

Sexy

The Downside: Downside? There is no downside! You get to dress as insanely as possible and your leader is David Bowie! DAVID BOWIE!! The man did China Girl! And Labyrinth! He was the Goblin King!

oh. My. GOD.

So I've been thinking...

I think Chewbacca probably stinks.

Like, sear your nose hair stinks.

I mean, he's all hair, so he at least smells like a dog. And probably a wet dog. At first I thought since they are in some sort of futuristic society, maybe there's some sort of grooming that Chewie may partake in, but he doesn't look clean, he's really natty. And then there's the fact that he's so damn hairy. He's probably got bugs and fleas and such all over him. And the feces. There's probably feces stuck to his hair. He also has a really stressful job, co-pilot on a smuggler's ship, that's gotta make a guy sweat. I don't know why this popped into my head...but it did....enjoy?

Yeah, Like I could pass that up...

Man, Fuck Wikipedia

Hello my nonexistent readers! I'm bored and lonely, so I thought I'd rant to you! Lucky you! Now I know I've been away from this site for a few months...but since no one reads this, it doesn't matter. But I wanted to preach a cause to you. And no, it's not in insane rant against Ewoks, or a plead to help me win the genius grant (which you obviously didn't do, because I still don't have a god damned taser monkey), and it has nothing to do with Christopher Walken. At least not much.

...Think I'm going to Hell for this one...

But no, this rant isn't about blasphemy. It's about justice.

Recently, I've become locked in an epic struggle against an oppressive force. This monolithic organization threatens to crush all free-thinkers like myself, and I've been assaulting it on all fronts for many tireless hours. I speak of course, of Wikipedia. This juggernaut of information (citation needed) has been straddling the internet for years, dominating it like a horny Saint Bernard would a feeble Chihuahua. And I want those tables to turn. I want to be the Chihuahua to hump Wikipedia into submission!

Hump on Brave soldier! Hump on

But you may be asking yourself what the cause of this coup is. It's quite simple. Wikipedia is not allowing me to spread lies.

Now at first, that may seem like a good thing. Certainly it's a good thing to keep lies off the internet (good luck bitches) and it's obviously a good idea to stop me from succeeding in things (Walken will rule us like a king... I promise). But I think I'm in the right in this case.

It's not even like I'm trying to change anything important, which is why I thought that they might let it slide by. BUT NO! Apparently Wikipedia wants to be "factual." Pansies. The article in question, is Wikipedia's apparently sacred tome on the most noble creature to ever grace God's green Earth.

The mongoose.

Wait that's what a mongoose looks like?.... what am I thinking of?

Wikipedia has the balls to tell the world that that plural of mongoose is mongooses. Now, after researching, I found that this is indeed correct. But I can't see why. If the plural of goose is geese, why the hell isn't mongoose mongeese? It just doesn't make sense!

So I decided to tell Wikipedia the new truth. Mongeese. It's beautiful.

Picture unrelated, but totally amazing

But my initial efforts were met with confusion. Wikipedia was intially not sure what to do about my edit. I received a warning that the information I posted was not in fact true, and that I should refrain from doing it.

Fuck that. Because if I've learned anything from Teddy Roosevelt, it's that you gots to stuck it to da man.

"Keep that pimp hand strong, especially when wrestling a mother fucking bear. Which I do."
-Theodore Roosevelt, 1901

So I continued to assault Wikipedia every time they decided to cover up my lies. And after each alteration, I received a new message from Wikipedia, getting inceasily hostile, which culminated in me being banned from editing. At least for 31 hours, which may possibly be the most random and useless punishment time I've ever heard of. Now logically, once my meager incarceration is over, I'll continue my never-ending (read: as long as I'm bored) struggle against Wikipedia.

But one thing that really peeved me about the whole thing was the fact that when Wikipedia finally had enough of my bullshit and banned me, they told me that I could contest my banning if I felt it was unjust. And of course I did. But Wikipedia still felt that my cause was unworthy. And I can't tell why. So I'll let you be the judge, and I'll post my contestment verbatim:

"Dear Wikipedia. I feel that my banning is in fact unfair. All I was doing was trying to create knowledge. Beautiful knowledge. I feel that this rampant racism toward the mongoose has gone on for long enough, and am trying to change the world. These mighty mongeese deserve a better life, and I think it can start with us Wikipedia. We can give them a better chance! We can give them the recognition they deserve! So please Wikipedia, join with me, and together we can save the mighty mongeese from lives of solitude and hatred. ARE YOU WITH ME?"

They were not.

My banning remained, and I was left without a venue to protest. At least until my banning is over in like, 25 hours. Then Wikipedia will pay... and ban me again. So I urge you readers to join my cause, and edit Wikipedia as often as you can. Make that first sentence say the the plural is Mongeese! And maybe one day Wikipedia will answer our prayers, and give the mongoose the recognition it needs. Or lock the page. Whichever is fine for me.

There! That's what I thought a Mongoose was!

Overall, an odd day.

So, today I was surprised to find that I have grown a third nut!


My attempts to breed an almond that can survive in this climate, while being farmed next to the walnuts and pecans, were successful!


Another thing I found out was that I have three testes rather than just two!


They're these cute finals, see. Calc, Econ, and Chinese. I didn't think I had one for Chinese after the project. They're not hard at all, and the teachers print them out all cute. They're my adorable little exams, my testes!



What's really been bothering me is that there's another nad with the other two that wasn't there before.


I promise you, the last time I checked, Russell wasn't a part of that generation of the honorable Nad family.



The day got even stranger once I noticed that I had three balls.



But you gotta figure, that makes me only more of a man! And plus, now I can bet off the left one without a net loss!


And that was pretty much my day.

4 Ways that the Real World is Like Videogames.

If you're like me then videogames are a big percentage of your life, and most likely also like me you fear the outside world and it's strange and foreign ways. It's full of people, trees and air that hasn't been filitered! Fear not my fellow misanthropes, hermits and social rejects, the world is more like the games we play and may just be more tolerable... maybe... probably not though.

#4. Player Profiles.

Now, for anyone who's played some sort of MMO or something similar you know that every player has some sort of profile. This may be in the form of some quick stats, or a much larger page dedicated to that player and their interests. This makes playing with other human beings much easier because it eliminates all that awkward conversation getting to know that person by giving you a list of what that person already likes!

Real world counterpart:

Myspace, Facebook, and even Gaia. Now you might call all of these things their own games requiring a computer to access but phones are now being sold with Myspace connectivity standard. In fact, all you really need from some one is their name now and with a couple of short taps on your phone you already have everything you need to know about that person. It's like stalking on a lightspeed level. You don't even have to follow her home to know where she lives, you can just put her into any reputable map site and you have her address and if you use one of the less reputable sites, you may even get perfect peeping points.




Think about the implications of this, why interact with people at a party when you can easily ask a bud for their name, bring up their profile and see how you shack up against them? Wallflower? Hell no, more like research.

#3. The Railgun.

I was somewhat unsure of whether I should put this in but the sheer awesome of a railgun is to much to pass up. Probably most known from Quake, the Railgun has been seen in games like Red Faction, Battlefield 2142, Crysis and Metal Gear Solid. Like the Gauss cannon or the Rocket Launcher it has become a well know death bringer among gamers and gun-o-philes alike.

Real world counterpart:

Also called the Railgun. A railgun uses two magnetic rails, charged with opposite currents that can propel a 7 pound bullet two seven times the speed of sound (that's about 11,500 ft/s while an M16 only has a muzzle speed of about 3,000 ft/s). The projectile of a railgun goes so fast that it actually heats the air around so much that the air bursts into flames.


Now the problem with the real world railgun is that it's fucking big and they are going to put it on boats because they probably felt sorry for the Navy and decided that they deserve at least one cool thing. But if you are interested in a smaller scale Railgun you can check out this.

But you're looking at quite a bit of coin to make something you could just turn on your 360 to experience. Plus with the 360 you get that added fuzzy feeling of knowing what you just shot was a 12 year old from Omaha.

#2. Minimaps.

As gamers we have no doubt played at least one game with a minimap, they are a staple of adventure games, racing games and even some FPS. Some minimaps even come complete with a little arrow that points us in the right direction when we are lost or to gently encourage us to stop teabagging the recently deceased.

Real world counterpart:

Gps systems. This is probably closest to the racing version of the Minimap because most gps systems are used in cars or by yuppie idiots and campers. It used to be that you'd have to rely on old fashion memory to get where you were going, but not anymore! Now you can intrust in the glorious machine overlords to save your lazy ass once again and tell you where to go when you're speeding down roads, powersliding and hurling weaponized turtles out your windows.... I don't drive much.

#1. Splicing

Gene splicing, like nanobots, is a staple of the gaming industry. They are a common way to justify massive plotholes in a game or even create a plot. Done, deftly however splicing can be a welcome addition to any game, like Bioshock. Infact, if you haven't played Bioshock yet, go do it. Like, right now. It's okay I'll wait for you. Hmm hmm hm.... You're done? WASN'T IT AWSESOME!? Oh my god, I know! We'll talk about it later though, I have to do this article stuff now.

Real world counterpart:

Well, there are actually quite a few examples of gene splicing. Sadly though, none of them involve me getting radioactive spider powers, so all of those spider bites and nuclear waste baths were all for naught. What is becoming more common is something called Gene Doping. Gene Doping for all you non-thugs out there (shout out to my homies in the suburbs!) Gene Doping is a street term for inserting modified viruses into the bloodstream to create a stronger body. A noted event happened in 2006 where a German track coach was caught using a Repoxygen virus, a virus that boosts the production of oxygen carrying bloodcells.Myostatin blockers, Norepinephrine enhancers. There's a veritble orgy of body boosting tonics to choose from. Now there haven't been any known ill affects of gene doping but I think we all know what's going to happen. Victory.... Also I'm sure something like this.

Her name is Diane, she likes long walks and cuddling.

Imagine if you will a future where seedy drug dealer's pull kids off their hover sleds, lead them behind the Holoburger and sell them all manner of Bio-blow, Cellular Cocaine, Synaptic Speed! WHEN WILL THE ALLITERATION END!? WHEN I ASK YOU!? WHEN!?

With all these advancements you'd think the real world would not suck so hard... but it still does... I wonder what's on tv...

Teuthiphobia: Fear of Squid. Also known as the most rational of the phobias.

What's funny is that you probably think that's something other than a planet...

Beak, tentacles, a shell underneath skin, an organic jet, bioluminescence, shoots ink, and two eyes on each side...two evil, evil eyes.

I'm talking SQUID.

No one's had the heart to call the photographer's family yet. It's been eight years.

Squid are the cephalopod menace that live in our seas (!!!), waiting to strike. And the government knows it. We are kept in the dark so we do not provoke them and start the war before we can abandon this doomed planet. What the government knows, neither you nor I know, but today, I'm going to tell you.
The squid have already struck.
The Japanese were attacked by the second squid ever recorded on September 15, 1982. It massacred over 9000 (!!!) Japanese cities, until it was finally killed, after America had to nuke part of Japan just to kill it. Twice.
(Oh yeah. Conspiracy.)

Some of you may ask me, what evidence do you have for any of this?
Well, to you, I stand my own question.
ALIENS.
That’s all.

This original beast was named “Kraken”, a shortened term of the Japanese curse word “Krakendono.” [Roughly translated, “Kraken” is Japanese for “OH SHI--”.]

This attack left Japan crushed. Only bits and pieces of its eastern border remain. It once used to be a proud country, with a shape that it could be proud of. After the squid invasion (!!!), it no longer stood out on the globe as a symbol of democracy.
The before and after pictures are below.



The islands below afterwards are just crumbs from the squid.

Some of you may ask me, how come Japan covers up China and looks just like the US?
Well, to you, I stand my own question.
ALIENS.
That’s all.

Later, the persistent Japanese (!!!) would attempt to attack the squid in dissuading methods. They began the movie (!!!) franchise “Godzilla” [roughly, “pussy-faggot”], replacing the part of the Kraken with some lizard thing (lizards aren’t close to being as fucking weird as squid). They would also go on to take the multitudinous spawn of the Kraken, and cook them alive and EAT them, calling it calamari. [Japanese for “fuck y’all damned squid, we gon’ eat your damned children, what you damn think of THAT, bitches? FUCK yeah. Bitches.”...roughly]
These attempts to demoralize the cephalopod menace were met with failure, as they soon found out that you cannot dishearten that which has no soul (!!!). Like Brett. The bastard.

Even today, the struggle continues!
Below I have photographic evidence of a man studying a squid.




However, after spending too much time altering the photo, I found photographic evidence of a SQUID studying a MAN.


That's a monocle. Duh.

Some of you may ask me, Woody, what the hell (!!!) is wrong with you?
Well, to you, I stand my own question.
ALIENS.
That’s all.

~W

P.S. Vampyroteuthis infernalis [Latin for "Vampire Squid from Hell," not even roughly translated] is the damnest freakiest damn thing you'll ever see, if you can take it.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5ZQH2Uzpew

P.P.S. Roswell’s residents were dead long before the bomb, after the first squid attack. Some of you may ask, what bomb? I believe you know my response...

Humanitarian Plans

So, because I don't really do any work (yay psychology major!) I spend a lot of time thinking. And that's a bad thing, as we've already talked about. I have lots of ideas that don't get accomplished primarily because I don't have the money to do them. Which is probably a good thing. Because I have some insane ideas.

Fuck you, I think it's awesome

But I think I found a way to fix that situation. It's called the MacArthur Fellows Program.
You've probably heard of it as the "genius grant." It's been popularized in pop culture as some sort of magic program that gives money to people as long as their geniuses. A lot of money. For being smart.
Now, I'm not going to lie and say that I'm smart, but I am cheap and crafty. So I thought I'd look into the program and see if I could exploit it. Going into my research, I really didn't expect that much. I figured that you had to be a... y'know...genius, to get the genius grant. But apparently not. Bonus?
My research found that recipients don't have to be geniuses...hell the only real restriction is that you're a citizen in the U.S.
I shit you not.
According to the site, there's only three major criteria for getting the grant. So let's break them down.

Criteria the First (see, I'm smart): Exceptional creativity. Well that's a freebie. I have oodles of creativity. Just look at this picture

Above: Exceptional Creativity

Criteria the Second: "promise for important future advances based on a track record of significant accomplishment." Okay, this one's a little more challenging. I can easily guarantee that I'll promise future advances...it's not like I'm going to waste all my genius money on crack and hookers...that's what graduation money's for. The part that's a little harder is my "track record of significant accomplishment." Not sure if I have a track record of any accomplishment, let alone a significant one. But I'm sure I'll find a way to weasel out of that one.

Criteria the Third (or, el finito as I like to call it) : "potential for the fellowship to facilitate subsequent creative work." This one doesn't seem like it should exist. What the hell kind of creative work would money not facilitate? Even if your "creative work" was making Popsicle stick sculptures while nude, money would help. So I win this criteria too!

So that gives me two out of three... so majority rules, I get the genius grant. But now the question remains...what do I do with my meager (read: $500,000) reward? Oh...I have ideas. Grand ideas.

First off... I have an idea to better my understanding of both psychology and zoology. A taser monkey. Now, I'm sure you're wondering "what the fuck is a taser monkey?" Well hold your goddamn horses, I'm going to explain it. It's actually a very simple idea. I get a monkey and implant a chip in it's brain. This chip will be linked with a taser that will be grafted onto the monkey's hand.

Artist's rendering

But what will the chip in the monkey's brain do? Why it will send currents into the pain centers of the monkeys brain. But here's the genius of the idea. When the monkey activates the taser in his hand, the chip in his brain will stop. The monkey will thus be conditioned to taser others in order to save himself. Then, I let the monkey loose into a major metropolitan area, and hilarity ensues. Sure, it'll be a living hell for the peasants on the streets, but what do I care? I'm a genius! I'll be watching from my helicopter and giggling mercilessly.

This monkey is going to taser the shit out of you

But my second idea is vastly better. First, I need to get about thirty dead chickens. And right from the beginning, you can tell this is going to be an amazing idea. After I get my chickens, the next step is to put them in little space suits. Because chickens + space suits equals hilarity in my book

GIGGLE DAMN YOU

After I have the chickens in their space suit, I will construct a large metallic sphere, and fill it with different random electronic equipment. I will then place the chickens in the sphere, and seal it up. Once that's done, I will jettison the chicken-sphere to the moon. All of this will be done with the utmost secrecy, so no one outside my organization will know it's happening. Then, next time we send humans to the moon, they will find said chicken-sphere, and will verily flip shit. Were they some sort of space chickens, sent from another planet, but crash landed on the moon? Or are they terrestrial chickens who somehow made a space ship? Are chickens actually more intelligent than us? These are the types of questions scientists would have to ask themselves after they find my chicken sphere. So basically, this plan involves me performing a $500,000 prank on humanity with money I got under fraudulent means. If that isn't exceptional creativity, I don't know what is.

Kind of like this, but with less Dustin Hoffman...and on the moon, not the ocean...and chickens....so nothing like this actually....but there will be Samuel L Jackson

And those are my plans. They are very simple, creative, and could be accomplished with the help of the fine people at the MacArthur Fellows Program. The only hitch in my plan is getting nominated. See, there's no application or anything like that, because apparently a genius isn't allowed to recognize himself. Bastards. The way the genius grant works is that someone else nominates you anonymously. So this is where you nonexistent readers come in. I'm humbly requesting that you contact the MacArthur Foundation and get the ball rolling for me. It's probably best not to tell them of my plans...if they ask, tell them I'm going to cure cancer...or something.

So...get on that...

I really wish I could stop making these...but I can't...I just can't