Predator Drone Massacre (Cocktail)

Predator Drone Massacre (Cocktail)

From Brickipedia, the Down to Earth Encyclopaedia

The Predator Drone Massacre is a cocktail that has several variations.

Contents [hide] 

·         1. General Types

·         2. History

·         3. Preparation

·         4. External Links

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General Types [edit]

There are three general types of the cocktail:

The first type, known as the Peace Prizident, is composed of Predator Drone, Hellfire Missile, and Kill List along with other ingredients. This is the official Liberal Freedom Lovers’ Cocktail.

The second type, called the Killary Kultur, comprises Predator Drone, Hellfire Missile, and Feminist Rhetoric. This is slated to take over as the official cocktail as of January 2017.

The third type, known as the Burnie Bitters, is made from Predator Drone, Hellfire Missile, and Democratic Socialism. It is not particularly popular in official circles, despite being claimed ^{[by whom?]} to have widespread unofficial mass support, and is likely to fade away in the course of the coming months.

History [edit]

While the Predator Drone Cocktail was invented in the early 2000s, its mass popularity can be dated firmly to the accession of Barack Hussein Obama to the status of official Warmonger in Chief in Warshington in January 2008. When he celebrated his Nobel Peace Prize by toasting the peoples of Afghanistan, Pakistan and Yemen with the cocktail, it became not just extremely well known but celebrated all over the Empire. At that time it was composed of just Predator Drone and Hellfire Missile. Soon enough, it was being drunk in large amounts all over Central-South Asia, West Asia, and East Africa, from Somalia to Yemen, Iraq to Pakistan and Afghanistan, and even in Amerikastan, although at the time drinking it there was a secret activity, publicly denied. It was officially admitted only in 2016 that it had been drunk in the Homeland for many years.

By 2012, however, with the addition of the newly acknowledged ingredient Kill List, the cocktail became famous, and advertised over the media. At that point it was officially adopted as the Liberal Freedom Lovers’ Cocktail, though it had already unofficially held that status since 2008. Obama himself announced that he had made a practice of ritually drinking it every Tuesday morning in his office.

By this time the basic cocktail had been further enhanced with ingredients including double tap strikes, mangled children, wedding droning, and funeral droning. In at least 90%^[2] of the drinks served today, war crimes are a compulsory ingredient, without which the cocktail is not considered properly prepared.

It is surmised that the popularity of the cocktail will continue to grow as long as a Liberal Warmonger holds the post of Drinkmaster/mistress in Warshington.^{[citation needed]}

Preparation [edit]

Predator Drone Massacres are usually prepared in an Air Conditioned Bunker, normally sited On The Other Side Of The Planet, where specially trained Heroic Playstation Warriors mix the ingredients together in Bugsplat glasses. ^[1]

First, a Kill List is poured into the Bugsplat glass until enough of it has accumulated at the bottom to form a Target. At first, it was considered essential that this Target had to assume a particular shape or form. But today, it is generally accepted that any shape will do as long as it is brown in colour and the requirement that it be aged enough to be military is normally ignored.

Then, a Predator Drone is carefully applied to the sides of the glass, all around the target, until it is fully covered. At this point, a Hellfire is dropped into the mix from enough of a height above the Bugsplat glass to disrupt and shatter the Target. The Heroic Playstation Warrior will then typically wait and watch to see if more brown Targets accumulate around the broken Target, in which case a second Hellfire will be used to disrupt them. The more Targets are disrupted, the better the cocktail is considered to be.

The cocktail is typically drunk soaked in blood, in one gulp, along with a side dish of Heaped Propaganda. Toxicity has been reported, but not confirmed, if Heaped Propaganda is not consumed in large quantities with the drink. Symptoms of this toxicity have been claimed to include critical thinking and anti-liberal impulses. Both of these are considered to be prime markers of Acute Terrorism Syndrome, which is fatally contagious unless the sufferer is quickly eliminated.

Note: Further experimentation to add black, yellow or white Targets to the brown has been discussed, but as far as is known until now only brown and occasionally black Targets have been used, since this is considered by the Liberal Code of Honour to be essential as a step against racism.

“Black and brown are colours that are typically ignored and persecuted by Warmongers of the past,” the Liberal Freedom Lovers’ Association declared in a statement. “It’s immensely gratifying that these are the colours chosen by our Honoured Warmonger in Chief, Barack Obama, for his cocktail. We should all applaud it.”

A Nobel Prize For Mixology has been proposed  to be awarded to the best Heroic Playstation Warrior every year. The first award, of course, will be given to Obama himself. 

External Links [edit]

^[1] http://www.aljazeera.com/indepth/opinion/2011/11/201111278839153400.html

^[2] http://www.huffingtonpost.com/entry/civilian-deaths-drone-strikes_us_561fafe2e4b028dd7ea6c4ff?section=india

Rant. Just Rant.

Ok, I'm going to go on a bit of a rant here, because I'm angry. You don't have to read further if you don't want. 

I'm not by any stretch of the imagination rich. Like most other people making just about enough to keep their heads above water, I invest as much of my surplus earnings as I possibly can spare in safe government schemes which 

1. Offer a guaranteed rate of interest and

2. Are not subject to the vagaries of the capitalist enterprise. 

There are few such ways of investing, and I'm actually stuck with three:

1. Bank deposits which return almost no interest at all. 

2. Life Insurance Corporation of India policies, which are essentially untouchable as far as access to funds is concerned until the policies mature and

3. A post office recurrent deposit scheme which all these years has been returning 8.6% interest.

The post office and life insurance policy investments are, as of now, tax deductible.

Now, our beloved Hindunazis have in the recent past imposed a service tax on everything - and kept it creeping up steadily, from 12.3% through 14.5% and on – until we're paying a service tax of 15% on all goods, all services - everything. Whether you're rich or poor, to access the same service, even to pay rent, you'll pay a 15% tax. On top of that they haven't raised the income tax exemption limit and tried to impose an additional tax on government employee provident funds.

What do they do with all this tax money? Well, someone has to pay for Modi's endless trips abroad, haven't they?

Right, but these taxes aren't apparently enough. So now they're reducing the interest rates they're paying on everything - the post office deposit interest has been cut from 8.6% to 7%. This means that, in sum, earnings on savings are being cut at the same rate at which expenses are being penalised.

You can’t stop spending, because you need food and transport, clothes and water and hopefully a roof over your head. But you can’t save either, because if you do, you might as well be putting the money in a box under the floorboards for all the good it’ll do you.

I’m expecting income tax exemption to be removed from these savings schemes any day, if they haven't been already. So called "eminent economists" have been demanding that for two decades now anyway.

The obvious idea is to compel people to invest in the stock market, which will make the capitalists very happy, because currently only a fraction of 1% of Indians trust the share bazaar. And then when that crashes, as it inevitably will, from market manipulation or other reasons, it will take all those savings with it.

And then whose fault will it be?

You'll bet the Modi worshippers won't take any responsibility. They've cheered all the tax increases, and apparently the more the taxes go up the happier they are. It’s like they don’t live in the same universe as the rest of us.

Actually, they don’t. That's because they're either brain-dead idiots parroting a line, or paid trolls, or both.

Rant over. For now. 

The Scam

From the desk of Mr Brain Obasanje, First Secretary, National Bank of Bisaria:

Dere Sir

Pardon my indignation at having contacted you at first notice without warning, but I was told by one of your compatriots in this country about you, and that you were highly reliable and honest fellow who could help me.

Please permit I will introduct myself. I am Mr Brain Obasanje, First Secretary, National Bank of Bisaria, and I have important business proposition for you.

Some years ago, during civil war in my country, there was a crash in Karibu province. Everyone thought it was fighter plane of regime, but my brother was in air force and he tell me that there was no fighter plane crash. So some time ago, during my leave, I went to crash site. It was in jungle, but with great difficulty I reached it. In the jungle I find deep hole in ground with wreckage at bottom. It is, I found, foreign plane, maybe, not Bisarian, but I do not know much about plane so cannot say which country. All I can say is it was plane like I have never see before, though it was all smashed up. In wreckage I also found very heavy box, which when I cut open a bit I saw gold colour of metal bricks inside.

I have now bringed gold box back to the capital here, Keke, and deposited it with security company in a safe deposit box. Nobody but me knows about this gold, I assure you. I am the only fellow who knows about it. But it is not safe for me to use this gold here in this country, because there are too many criminal and greedy official poeple. I want to send it abroad to someone who can be trusted, who can help me invest it in his country.

So here is my business propoposition – I want you to accept the box in your country, and to help me sell the contents and invest the proceeds in your country. In return I will be prepared to offer you 20%  of the amount, while 75% will be for me and 5% for incidental expenses.

Plese to note that I am trusting you fully with this and that I expect you will be keeping details fully confidential. If interested contact me by return email.

Mr Brain Obasanje.

Letter from Captain Farvo Ejer to Mr Brain Obasanje:

Dear Mr Obasanje,

I was pleasantly surprised to receive your letter, since I am very interested in the history of aviation and especially in unidentified air crashes and accidents. Your story interests me very keenly. I am, of course, prepared to help you with your transaction in every way I can, but in return I wish to know all the details of your visit to the crash site and everything you found there.

I am grateful to whichever unnamed compatriot of mine was in Bisaria and mentioned my name to you, because otherwise I would not be privy to these fascinating details. Thank you so much in advance.

I am impressed by your honesty and integrity. Few people would be willing to trust a stranger with their hard-found gold, and more so would be concerned with saving it from rapacious corrupt officials. I congratulate you, Mr Brain Obasanje.

Captain Farvo Ejer

People’s Democratic Republic of Durakistan.

Letter from Mr Brain Obasanje to Captain Farvo Ejer:

Dear Captain Farvo

I am very happy to read from you. Your message is very welcome. I will at once contact security company to inform them that you will soon be contacting them with instruction to send the box to you. The do not know what is in the box. I have written in documentation that it is family luggage and heirlooms. Please remember that matter is completely confidential. I am trusting you in this.

The security company contact details are as aftermention:

New Security Associates

Central Impala Avenue

 Keke 20160318

Republic of Bisaria.

If want you can come to Bisaria to collect direct or you can contact company at email securityassociates@mugu.com . Please let me know which you prefer.

-Mr Brain Obasanje.

Letter from Captain Farvo Ejer to Mr Brain Obasanje:

Dear Brain,

Do you mind if I call you by your first name? If we’re going to be partners, it’s rather ridiculous to keep on a formal basis, isn’t it? I’ve actually never come across anyone called Brain before. Did your parents know you would turn out to be someone of scintillating intelligence? Certainly, nobody stupid would have had your foresight, and thought to check up on the crash.

I will be contacting the security company, but in the meantime, Brain, I would like to remind you of what I said – I want you to tell me everything about the crash site, leaving out not the slightest detail – not the smallest, teensiest one, you follow me, Brain? In the next email you send me, I expect every detail. Please don’t omit anything, however insignificant. Is that clear, my friend Brain?

Your friend, Farvo.

 Letter from Mr Brain Obasanje to Captain Farvo Ejer:

Dera Farvo

I am very glad to be reading from you as usual. I am also very glad that you have comtacted the security company, they will tell you how to proceed in full detail.

I am going to tell you now about the trip to the crash site.

This crash was not far from N’Tiloap city, in heavy rain forest. I took plane to N’Tiloap – it was very bad flight, air hostesses did not give me acohol though I asked – and when I got there it was raining. But I am very brave and hard-working fellow, so rain did not stop me. I took rental car to the village of Faw ‘Ndeer near the forest and from there walked. I had description of direction of crash from villagers, though no map. But it was direct west of Faw ‘Ndeer. Faw ‘Ndeer is very dirty place, by the way, with people brewing bad homemade liquor in iron drums and selling it in N’Tiloap and Keke. Government doing its best to stop this liquor trade because it harms revenue from official imported whisky and beer, but still going on. Also this liquor tasteslike raw surgical spirit mix with crushed garlic. You would not like.

Anyway,  from there I reached forest and parking car by roadside I started walking into the jungle. This was in the morning, about 11, because I may be brave fellow but I am not mad and I not want to be in forest alone after night. Forest at first not thick, but later many vines and also bad insects, mosquitoes and leeches. I walked maybe three hours, three and half hours before I see that trees are broken and burned, forest has not covered all damage yet. So I follow broken trees to where breaking is maximum, and I find deep hole in ground. All around is broken silver metal, and I know Bisarian Air Force planes coloured yellow and green, not silver. So I know it was not air force plane.

In bottpm of hole I see lot of metal, broken engine parts. Looked like huge corkscrew, not what I think engine of a plane would look like. I did not see any bodies but of course wild animals and insect would have eaten them by now. I was look for any information on whose plane it might be. Did not look big enough for passenger plane and also I did not see seats like on passenger plane. Maybe if was passenger plane there might have been some good whiskey that air hostesses did not give to passengers. But looking near corkscrew engine I found box, it was small and heavy and as I say I saw gold inside. I carried it back out of the forest and it was night when I come out. I was just on time to stop boys from Faw ‘Ndeer from stealing my car.

That is story. Please to tell me what security company said. Faster we get this done, better for everyone.

Your friend,  Brain.

Letter from Captain Farvo Ejer to Mr Brain Obasanje:

Dear Brain,

Thank you so much for your information. I believe I would like a look at the crash site myself. Therefore I am arriving in Bisaria by the first available flight, which will be reaching Keke at 9 pm the day after tomorrow. I hope you can meet me at the airport. Just hold a placard with my name on it so that I know who you are.

Since I will be in Bisaria, I can visit the security company personally and take the box away with me. That will avoid all the complications of sending it overseas along with the expenses of doing that.  Every bit of money saved is the more for you and me, right? Also, I’ll be bringing along with me a list of businesses in which you can invest in Durakistan. I believe you’ll find that unicorn-farming brings great returns, but of course the choice is yours.

See you very soon.

Farvo.

Letter from Captain Farvo Ejer to the Great Mother SinkarKamade:

Respected Great Mother

Greetings and humble salutations.

It gives me great pleasure to be able to report that my long quest has finally met with success, and I’ve managed to locate the wreckage of Scout Craft XZ13. As you will no doubt recall, this vessel disappeared on a vital reconnaissance mission over the planet Sol III several cycles ago, and from that time onwards I have been on this planet trying to locate it before the local dominant species  - known as "human" - found it and thus learnt of our existence, not to speak of the secrets of its technology.

I would crave your indulgence enough to write, first, a few words about this species, which will be necessary to fully appreciate my account of what happened. It is a bipedal mammalian vertebrate of the ape family, with an apparently infinite capacity for violence, which it uses against not only the defenceless flora and fauna of the planet but also against less aggressive members of its own race in vicious internecine fits of slaughter known as “wars.” Even when not engaged in mass extermination of their own species, its members routinely attempt to cheat, rob, steal and otherwise take advantage of each other in every way they can. Competition, virtually without any rules of conduct, seems to be preferred to cooperation where the vast majority of these simians are concerned.

Obviously, you will realise how important it was to keep our technology away from these "human" primitives.

Having searched high and low for reliable information, all I came up with was a mass of ridiculous claptrap about gods who came down from the sky, little green men, and the like. I even spent a considerable amount of time hunting fruitlessly along likely parts of the planet where it was possible the scout craft might have crashed, but came up with nothing. I was, I must say, on the verge of giving up. It would have been a bitter pill for me, because I have never, ever, been defeated before. But there is always a first time.

And then, on the primitive communications network called the “internet” these native simians use, I received a message.

It was an obvious scam, of a kind meant to extract money from a potential victim by false pretences. In this case, the scammer claimed to be offering me a share of some amount of gold he had in his possession – these apes, for some reason, value that soft, heavy and useless metal. The idea was that I would advance him money to further his scheme to share the gold with me – whereupon he would take the money and disappear.

A fairly simpleminded scam, targeting the simpleminded. I would have passed it by without a second thought.

However, this particular scammer also wrote something very interesting. He claimed to have discovered the gold in the wreckage of an unknown aircraft which had crashed in the forest during one of these “wars” these apes so love. What was interesting was that the time and place of this crash corresponded fairly closely to the last known position of Scout Craft XZ13.

It seemed to me that the scammer, who called himself “Brain Obasanje” – “Brain” being an obvious misspelling of “Brian”, a not uncommon name among these creatures – actually had come across the crash, and was using its details to add verisimilitude to his “gold” story. I therefore wrote back to him, promising him help in his scheme, and asking for details of the crash.

What he wrote in response convinced me that he had actually found the wreckage; in particular, he mentioned, in passing, a “corkscrew” that formed part of the engine. This, of course, is the main component of the Nimmerlen Drive, which is now obsolete but which the XZ13 was still using.

I therefore at once made preparations to visit the primitive tribal entity (known as a “country”) where this wreckage had been found, and informed “Brain Obasanje” that he should meet me at the airport. As expected, he was there, with a couple of “assistants” who were very large and overly muscled. His plan, obviously, was to abduct me as soon as we had left the airport, rob me and probably hold me for ransom.

I am, Great Mother, not one to jump to conclusions, so I allowed them to make the first move. I, in fact, waited until we were out on the highway and the one who called himself “Brain” took out a knife and held it to my throat. And then?

And then I merely stopped pretending to be human, and showed them what I really look like.

You should’ve heard the screams, Great Mother. You should’ve heard the screams.

I kept Brain Obasanje alive long enough to force him to take me to the wreckage. And then I drank him dry.

In my defence, it’d been a long time since I’d fed.

Anyway, I’ve located the wreckage, and removed all the sensitive technology. I have also found the recordings the Scout Craft made before it crashed. I am sending them along with this message. I think they’ll be of much interest to our Hive Defenders.

I am remaining on this planet for the time being, to await your instructions.

Your obedient servant,

-       Farvo Ejer.

Letter from the Great Mother SinkarKamade to Captain Farvo Ejer:

We have made the decision, taking into account the information you have provided.  We are unanimous: these apes are too dangerous to be trusted.

You will, accordingly, prepare for the invasion at once.

The first wave will land tomorrow.

Copyright B Purkayastha 2016

Word Of The Day No. 9

Iffering.

Noun.

Definition: An offering made on a conditional basis, that is, one which is only valid if the condition attached to it is first fulfilled.

Synonyms: Demand, extortion, daylight robbery, politics.

Etymology: From if, and offering.

Example: "Nice little business you have there - I'm iffering you the chance to keep it nice, for just a little weekly fee."

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Red Star Over Syria

Superzero

First off, I did this for a guest cartoon on the excellent Canadian webcomic Lunarbaboon by Chris Grady.

As you'll probably note if you click on that link up there, the family in panels one and three is my version of the family in Grady's comic. 

Now, about the superheroes.

I used to be tired of superheroes.

I used to be tired of (usually) over-wealthy dilettantes who (nearly always) support the ruling class and the status quo. I used to wonder why they all seemed either American or influenced by America. 

Well, you'll be glad to know I'm no longer tired of them. Indeed, I think they need all the help they can get, poor things.

Why?

Well, take a look at your usual superhero. He's always un- or under-employed (where would a full-time worker ever find time for heroing around, huh?) and has to have some way of entertaining himself. Well, Spiderman has the TV remote, but I'm talkin' about the rest of them. I doubt Batman or Superman or what's his name, Iron Man, stoops to the hoi polloi's television addiction. That's so plebeian, right? So they kind of need excitement. What would they do if there was no heroing about?

I'll tell you. Curl up and die of boredom, that's what. They need heroing to stay alive, guys. Can you imagine how it is for them? Huh? 

And you lot think all they're good for is movies and comics. You ought to be ashamed of yourselves.

That's not the only way they're to be pitied, either. You know how really, really big and strong and damaging those supervillains are, don't you? Of course you do.

I of course do not include this guy among their ranks. He is not a villain, you. He's your lord and master, and if you worship him in time he'll eat you last:

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Ph'nglui mglw'nafh Cthulhu R'lyeh wgah'nagl fhtagn! Iä! Iä!

Ahem! Where was I?

Oh yes. Well, now, since those bad old supervillains are so damaging - worse than Saddam Hussein and Osama bin Laden and Vladimir Putin put together, worse even than me - the poor superheroes must expend an enormous amount of effort to defeat them. Truly tremendous, yo. You  don't know how much damage they have to wreak on the city in order to save it.

Don't believe me? Talk to the people whose flats and offices they wreck. Ask them about the last time they were saved by a superhero and how long it took to out their lives back together. Ask them about their insurance premiums. I dare you.

What? They said they'd rather be robbed and oppressed by the supervillains than saved by a superhero?!?? I'm shocked! Shocked, I tell you!

"These supervillains would only take some of our money, and leave our lives and houses alone," one said when interviewed. "I tell ye, these superheroes are much worse. They'll destroy everythin', and then they say we ought to worship them because they stand for freedom an' liberty. Freedom an' liberty, when they've taken the roofs away from above our heads? That's rich, that is."

"I'll bet they're in league with the insurance companies," another complained bitterly. "Each time they bust up something, the companies raise premiums for everyone. Most of us aren't even bothering to stay in houses any longer - after paying the premiums we can't afford to anyway."

"And at least," a third added bitterly, "they can't destroy a cardboard and polythene shack in an alley. Yet."

Well, then, you see the problem. Even the people they save don't appreciate it. Ingrates!

These ingrates, in fact, are such utter and totally ungrateful that they demand compensation from the superheroes for all the damage they are compelled to do in order to defeat the supervillains. So far, of course, these champions of freedom haven't paid anything, but just imagine that the dread day might come when they might be ordered by lily-livered courts to do so? How can they do it if they aren't rich?

Huh?

Why aren't you weeping yet? Are you in league with the supervillains? Are you a supervillain? Huh?

Flea Man is on his way to suck you dry, or give you bubonic plague.

Tell me which you prefer, so he can do the other one.