April 28, 2009: Disney

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 28, 2009

Went to movie theater again today. Not interested in seeing anything. Only place I can pour melted butter onto sugar cubes for free. While pouring butter, look up at big screen TV in lobby playing trailers. See teaser for latest Walt Disney animated feature film.


Disgusting. Woman contemplates having oral sex with small green amphibian. It is LOLSCHACH's understanding that kissing is what "oral sex" is. Wouldn't know. Avoid all things sexual. Whatever the case, it is sick and it is wrong. Have already dealt with furries and their bestiality-related cravings. Now impressionable children are being brainwashed into believing such heinous and immoral acts are acceptible?

No. Disney has crossed the line.

Tremendous shame. Seeing former bastion of wholesome family entertainment corrupted in such a fashion. Woman comitting unspeakable acts upon helpless animal is African American. Horrible. Racist. Recall days when Walt Disney was above such things. Treated African American characters with dignity. Respect.



Recall other Disney animated film made a few years back. "Mulan". About Oriental woman. Cross-dresser. Possible lesbian. Tremendously inappropriate and offensive portrayal of Orientals in general. Again reminded of better times, when Disney were above such ignorant generalizations.


Oddly, Disney has yet to make animated film focusing strictly on Jewish cast. Have not seen Jewish character in Disney animation since 1930s.


Simpler times. Better times.

Awareness of Disney's intent on corrupting children across the globe spurs me into action. Toss sugar cubes aside. Drink butter straight from tap. Am kicked out of movie theater. Hijack plane. Arrive in Hollywood. Busy day.

Turns out Walt Disney died in 1966. Hurm.

Resolve to exhume corpse and rough it up some. Locate Disney's grave. Had heard rumors he had been cryogenically frozen to be revived at later date. Preposterous. Dig up coffin.

Empty...?

Perhaps rumors warrant investigation. Begin closing coffin. Feel something strange; hidden in fabric lining. Pull it out. Framed picture.


Mystery thickens.

April 10, 2009: Springfield

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 10, 2009:

Awoken early this morning by heavy panting. Look around and see Dreiberg in my apartment. Instantly awaken, pull on face, sure that he has been masturbating while watching me in my sleep. Consorting with Veidt too much? Anything is possible after horrible April 07 incident.

Lunge at him, "Daniel, what are you doing?" Through heavy breathing he explains that he had just walked up the stairs to greet me. Disturbing how instantly I can turn on only friend.

But then I recall this, and realize that LOLSCHACH has no friends. Just acquaintances. Dreiberg further explains himself. Apparent donut eating festival today, he wishes to participate in eating contest. Not surprised. I agree to go, no plans for the day. Will get my exercise.

Fly in his ship, sleep more after letting guard down. Land at 11:00 AM. Get off ship and walk into fair. Pass man fatter than Dreiberg, looking me over as if I were a smoked turkey leg. "Worst. Costume. Ever." Hurm.

Dreiberg unable to stop me as my fist sinks in man's stomach like quicksand. After feeling apathetic, now looking forward to festival. Pass entrance gates, evaluate my surroundings. Can't help it. Dreiberg asks me if I could just have fun for once. Fun? Having barrels. Heh.


Walk past stoner listening to Satanic rock music, slurring that he's "blotto." Then two older homosexual men. The elder one smells like formaldehyde. Do not wish to investigate further. Pass young brute. Immediately tells me to eat his shorts. Leave him tied up with his shorts stuffed in his mouth to silence him.



This town is full of donuts and delinquents. A feast for Dreiberg and LOLSCHACH.

Dreiberg goes to attempt to fill his bottomless hole with jelly filled donuts, fritters, and chocolate sprinkles. Good. Cannot stop me now. Crack knuckles. Prepare to bring Armageddon to this open pit of hell.

Then approached by small boy with one of his four fingers shoved up his nose.

"My boogers are spicy!"

Hurm. Child clearly retarded. Yet no one makes jerky of him. Perhaps this town is not as immoral as previously thought. Sit down and listen to boy talk while he begins to eat box of crayons.

Hours later, Dreiberg returns to me. His stomach swollen with fried dough and sprinkles smeared over his face. Lost contest. Figures. Dreiberg, impotent even at eating contest. Attempt to make him feel better by punching the winner, instead get strangled. "Why you little .... zebra faced.... I'll teach you to punch....me..."

Ship comes. Breaks up ruckus. Dreiberg quiet on flight home, obviously disappointed in his showing. LOLSCHACH quiet as well. Bruised larynx.

March 20, 2009: Merchandising

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: March 20, 2009

Receive check for $7.75 from Veidt International. Hurm. Royalty check for likeness rights. A monthly reminder of poor decision made during inexperienced youth. Stupid. Will regret forever. Check not even enough to buy lunch at Quizno's.

1985. Approached by Adrian Veidt.

Smooth talker. Intellectual. Always hated his kind. Hated them slightly less, then.

Veidt exploits that weakness. Tells me Drieberg and other Watchmen are signing likeness rights to him. Merchandising is lucrative. All other masked heroes doing it. Won't make LOLSCHACH any less feared by criminal scum.

Three months later. Walk down girl's aisle at local Toys 'r' Us. Find this:

Sold likeness to Hasbro. Going to kill Veidt. Going to kill him and chop him up and grind him up and feed him to Bubastis.

Go home. Try to simmer down. Turn on TV. Saturday morning. Nothing but cartoons on. Cartoons in which military officers dressed in homoerotic uniforms do battle with so-called "terrorists". Terrorist schemes involve etching face of leader onto moon with giant laser and challenging heroes to game of football to determine ownership of America. Ridiculous tripe. Cannot abide it. Miss Space Ghost & Dino Boy.

NBC Saturday morning line-up disappoints. Change channel to ABC. See this:

Words fail me. Veidt also sold likeness to Filmation. Saturday morning Watchmen animated series is crime in and of itself. Drieberg does not like to "party down". Activities involved in "partying" too strenuous and similar to exercise. Will not comment on misinterpreted relationship between Comedian and Silk Spectre. Veidt presented as "crime solving superstar".

Molten, volcanic rage surges through entire body. Cannot fathom level of roaring, primal hatred anymore concentrated than that which I feel now.

Then I see this:

Should never have sold likeness to Veidt. Veidt sells likeness to comic book companies. Companies take idea of bearded hobo-writer-wizard, combine with LOLSCHACH's likeness. Written as middle aged neurotic in dystopian 1985 world. Was younger then. Stupid. Had grade school vision of the world, needed the money. Regrets.

Remainder of 1985 no more than chaotic blur in furthest reaches of brain.

It is 2009. Veidt still lives. No choice. Need $7.75 each month. Grappling hooks and beans and sugar cubes and Oreos and pork chop sandwiches cost money. Crime fighting is charity. Hurm.

Watchmen merchandise from 1980s continue to haunt me. Cartoon Network subsidiary, Boomerang, currently rerunning animated series. Just played episode in which "nutty" LOLSCHACH defeats sinister terrorist Moloch the Malevolent with pie to face. Episode ends with public service announcement. LOLSCHACH tells children never to fight; solve all differences through civilized dialogue or parental intervention. Ehhh.

Go outside and punch first child I see in stomach.

March 19, 2009: Gotham City

LOLSCHACH's Journal: March 19, 2009

Spent day pounding poorly bred miscreants into ground like stake through heart of vampire. Exhausting work. Needed quick energy boost. Grabbed Snickers bar from nearby vending machine.

Took first bite. Tasted something that was not peanut, nugat, caramel or chocolate. It was cockroach. Called telephone number on back of wrapper to report dissatisfaction. Fifty-seven rings. No answer.

Will not let such corporate irresponsibility slide without reprisal. Left for Mars, Incorporated headquarters in Gotham City.

Arrive in Gotham after sundown. Streets are littered with used syringes and used condoms. The people reek of fecal matter and all surfaces are sticky to the touch. Unpleasant location. Makes stomach turn. Must solve Snickers case quickly.

Arrive at Mars corporate offices within the hour. Fire grappling hook and scale building. Reach rooftop: approached by large, scowling man dressed in bat costume. Man glowers at me. Says that Gotham City is out of my jurisdiction.

Entire world is LOLSCHACH's jurisdiction.

Unhinged man in costume disagrees, screams "My parents are deeeaaaad!" and strikes me with the swiftness of small, winged rodent.

Recover quickly and counter with crowbar. Bat-man dodges and reaches into neon yellow fanny-pack. Pulls out aresol can of "Bat-crowbar repellent". Sprays crowbar. Crowbar dissolves. Punches LOLSCHACH in kidneys.

Slightly winded. Look up at adversary. He is dancing a variation of the "watusi". Considering theme, he likely refers to it as "batusi". Hurm.

Reminds me of 1985, Saturday morning "Watchmen" cartoon in which LOLSCHACH juggled pies and was "nutty". Hate that show. Received minimal residuals. Never signing away likeness again.

Memory of technicolor monstrosity fuels LOLSCHACH with renewed vigor. Tell the Bat-man that his parents are standing behind him, holding Christmas presents. Foolish, caped man-child falls for ruse. Turns around. I take off scarf, wrap it around Bat-man's throat. Bat-man struggles. Reaches into fanny pack for can of "Bat-scarf repellent". Used elbow, knocked it from his hands.

Minutes pass.

Bat-man eventually crumbles into heap of thumb-sucking unconsciousness. Likely dreaming of dead parents. Dreaming they will one day return. They are rotting in pine box six feet beneath soil. Never coming back.

Grab grappling hook line and repel down side of building. Reach festering, grimey sidewalk. Remember that I needed to infiltrate Mars offices for replacement candy bar.

Too tired.

Go home.

Just a candy bar.