December 06, 2009: Commercial Christmas

LOLSCHACH's Journal: December 06, 2009:

According to children at the park, Christmas time is here. Happiness and cheers.
Lies.

Looked everywhere for meaning of Christmas. Macy's, Kohl's, Veidt-Mart. Nothing. Nothing except angry shoppers arguing over the last Tickle Me Knight Fowl. Purple Basketballs endorsed by Dr. Harlem were recently named by Sports Illustrated as the "it" gift for sports fans everywhere. All Veidt's doing. Bastard. Only comfort is in seeing his movie sitting on shelves, fully stocked and unwanted.

People can't even look LOLSCHACH in the face and wish a Merry Christmas! Instead, hear "Happy Holidays!" What holiday? Who has the power to intimidate people to wish a happy nondescript holiday? Have made list of possible suspects:

Jewish Ninjas?
Islamic Jihadists?
*Islam is a great and true religion revealed in the Holy Koran which was dictated by the angel Gabriel to the final prophet Mohammed, Blessing and Peace be upon him.*
The Meanest Man in Town?

Hurm. Must remember to investigate further.

Remember Christmas the way it used to be, the way it's supposed to be.

Sitting in front of television, watching Animated Christmas special. Green creature (Frankenstein?) attempted to steal Christmas from... can't remember who. Remember it being first case that inspired LOLSCHACH to become crime fighter. Looked forward to solving case and dishing out punishment. Ho. Ho. Ho.

Then MILFSCHACH threw a bottle of Christmas Juice at LOLSCHACH's head. Missed, broke television.

Curtains.

September 15, 2009: The Mercy of LOLSCHACH

LOLSCHACH's Journal: September 15, 2009

Tonight is the night. Cannot abide Veidt's wrong-doings any longer. Will end him tonight. No distractions. Veidt must die for the good of mankind. For the good of LOLSCHACH. Slow night, anyway.

Night has fallen. Under cover of darkness, hop gate into front yard of Cinnamon Sprinkles Manor. Why Veidt chose to name mansion such a thing, LOLSCHACH may never understand.

Approach study. Prepare to launch SCHACH-erang through window, burst into study, catch Veidt by surprise and end him with firepoker through eye-socket.

Remember there is no such thing as SCHACH-erang. Stupid idea. Use front door, instead. Veidt gave LOLSCHACH spare keys earlier this year.

Enter manor. Begin creeping down hall toward study. Hear strange noise. Unearthly. Tragic. The sound of...a grown man crying?

Peek through crack in door into study. Veidt is on knees at the feet of his life-size Patrick Swayze statue. Veidt is sobbing uncontrollably. Weeping a streaming torrent of tears into shimmering puddle, pooling at Swayze's marble toes.

Heard the news. Patrick Swayze has died this day. He is now a ghost. Like in that movie. Can't remember title. "Point Break"?

Had forgotten Veidt's everlasting emotional bond with Swayze. Has taken death hard. Veidt is weak. Defenseless. Could dispatch him now.

No. This is not LOLSCHACH's way. Have been adversaries with Veidt for decades. Ending him in such a manner would be...anticlimactic.

Besides, Veidt is suffering. Veidt's suffering pleases LOLSCHACH. Veidt is likely praying for Swayze's spirit to come to him, perhaps while he is making pottery. Hurm.

Leave Cinnamon Sprinkles Manor. Will return another night. Final showdown with Veidt has been postponed.

September 14, 2009: Veidt Sighting

LOLSCHACH's Journal: September 4, 2009:

Have been busy. No time to collect notes on congressman's health-care "Town Hell" meeting.

Have just enough time to post breaking news. Been monitoring New York Fashion Week, expecting Veidt to surface. Felt likely. Not sure why.

Unpleasant experience. Am more at home in ghettos and dive bars. Better class of people. Tend to leave fashionistas to their heroin and appletinis.

But sometimes, patience rewarded.

See here. Photographic proof.

Hiding behind assumed identity and dark glasses, true. But who else could it be? Thought he could fool LOLSCHACH by leaving off his trademark "V" cufflinks.

Hurm. LOLSCHACH is no fool.

Cool breeze last night, like icy groans of Lucifer from pit of Inferno. Reminded me of holes in overcoat. Fall approaching. Possibly time to update look? Must remember to investigate.

September 02, 2009: Veidt's Whereabouts.

LOLSCHACH's Journal: September 02, 2009:

Been a rough summer. Blake seems to have dropped off the face of the earth, rumors swirl of his daughter's affair with a Congressman or possibly working at a "gentlemen's club" in New Orleans. Whore. No clue on whereabouts of Dreiberg, possibly still at an all you can eat buffet. Went to investigate Veidt at his penthouse. Found something of interest among all of toys used for sexual pleasure. Blueprints dealing with time travel.

No, not like this.

Or this:


More like it:


No doubt Veidt has gone back in time for many reasons. Improve ticket sales of his abysmal film, introduce pederasty as an essential right in American culture, influence Baum to include him as character in OZ series. Must be stopped.

Will look for a means to investigate further.

July 7, 2009: Mutant Pug

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: July 7, 2009



What has Veidt done?

June 17, 2009: Traffic Problem

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: June 17, 2009

Was riding bus to pay a visit to one of Dreiberg's furry-loving acquaintances in Springfield, Virginia, when I saw this:



Hippie Veidt probably in league with the Japanese. Figures.

Got off the bus and commandeered a passing vehicle. Owner wasn't too happy. Owner should be grateful to be lending his automobile to an upstanding crusader of justice.

Will take shortcut to the city.



Hopefully will not run into any other problems.

June 06, 2009: Veidt Sighting?

LOLSCHACH's Journal: June 06, 2009:

Been keeping tabs on Veidt's whereabouts. Supposedly in California for a video game expo. No doubt planning a visit to San Francisco as well.Keep hopes that he could run into the Terminator while out in the "Golden State".

Received a picture from a well placed source. Possibly Veidt.


Appears to be storming a beach. How frighteningly appropriate considering the date. Will file away to investigate further.

May 21, 2009: Cake

LOLSCHACH's Journal: May 21, 2009:

Apparently word is out that Dreiberg will be released soon. That Dr. Harlem regrets incident resulting in Dreiberg's hospitalization. Will visit hospital, use powers to shorten the healing process. Soon Dreibrg will return to eating, crying, and masturbating.

Veidt aware of Dreiberg's impending return. Sent "Welcome Home" gift to apartment. Remember welcome home gift I got once. Age nine, return from school, run to greet MILFSCHACH, grabbed me and threw me through window, told me, "Get the hell out." Heh. Mother, great sense of humor, left me fond memories.

Also remember Christmas gift Veidt sends me every year. Fruitcake. Ehhh. Hate fruitcake. Hate Veidt.

Veidt's gift to Dreiberg obviously meant to promote upcoming release of godforsaken DVD. Reportedly has graphic sex scene sure Dreiberg will love it.



Must eat cake, ensure Dreiberg will never know.

May 18, 2009: Seusschach Goes Hollywood

Excerpt from "SEUSSCHACH Goes Hollywood and Other Tales", originally published October 22, 1974.

It was a dark, lonely night and Veidt’s face was quite long,
Shouting over and over, “Where did I go wrong?

“My life’s halfway through and I’ve done nothing of merit,
A nobody forever? I simply can't bear it!”

So he pondered and thought and when he was through,
He sprang to his feet, “I know just what I’ll do!

“I’ll make a movie that’s about nothing but me!
Millions will go watch it and then they will see,

“How awesome I am and that Seusschach’s a big prick!
For accuracy’s sake, I’ll add a huge glowing dick!”

And with his film’s cast in mind, Veidt ran out the door,
He’d need a crazy, a fatty, a god and a whore.

He gathered them up, but they weren’t hard to find,
He’d written the parts with his friends all in mind.

Seusschach first refused, thinking Veidt’s script was weak,
“I die at the hands of a glowing blue freak!?”

But Veidt promised Seusschach he’d be back in ‘Part 2’,
“You’re too popular to kill off! No really, it’s true!”

An extra zero on his check, Seusschach shot the scene,
Veidt shouting all the while, “You’re the next Steve McQueen!”

A year and a half later, the movie was played,
But the returns were so bad, nobody got paid!

Veidt’s movie had bombed, but he had worse things to fear,
Seusscach was outside screaming, “Open up, you queer!

“I’ve got a bat in my hands, so prepare to be trounced,
Unless you can tell me why my paycheck just bounced!”

And so he beat Veidt to death, crying, “You cheapskate! You bum!
“I knew it would flop; there were script problems from Day One!”

-----------------------------------

LOLSCHACH's Journal: May 18, 2009

Odd how the chronicles of Uncle Seusschach so closely resemble the life and times of LOLSCHACH. Suspicious. Precognition involved somehow? Must investigate Seusschach's personal life more thoroughly.

May 16, 2009: Veidt Magazine Profile

LOLSCHACH’s JOURNAL: May 16, 2009:

Gone to dentist’s office. Have brought shoplifter, along with Babysitter. Want to try using dentist’s tools to extract something from thief’s mouth: confession.

Old magazines in waiting room. Found profile/interview with Veidt in February 20 issue of New Voice Express. Puff piece. Magazine owned by Veidt. Liberal. Still, may contain insights. Will copy down intro today. Later, will copy down actual interview. If I can stand to. Ehhh.

* * *

From New Voice Express, February 20, 2009

Off to See the Wizard:

At Home with Oz the Great and Fabulous

Deb Ross Visits Munchkinland Ranch to Interview Addison Veidt

Nero didn’t actually fiddle while Rome burned. George Washington never actually chopped down that cherry tree. And Addison Veidt – superhero, supergenius, trillionaire bachelor philanthropist – is not actually an Egypt-obsessed mastermind named Ozyma—

“No need to say it,” interrupts Veidt, reaching across the table to touch my wrist. His hand is as warm as the disarming grin he allows to linger for several seconds. He’s definitely bemused – and maybe just a little weary.

He has a right to be. Half of what the public “knows” about Addison Veidt comes from a 1986 comic book that is, in Veidt’s estimation, “about 77.623% fiction, give or take.” Deeds he never did have earned him fan mail and hate mail. People have been known to call him “Adrian,” or even Ozyma… well, you know. So: Nero’s fiddle, Washington’s cherry tree.

But with a blockbuster adaptation of that seminal 1986 comic book headed to theaters, popular perceptions about Veidt are bound to become even more confused than they already are. We emailed Veidt three weeks ago, hoping he would give us a quote or two about his unusual situation. Instead, he offered to fly me across the country for an exclusive interview at his rural-getaway-cum-wayward-boys’-home, Munchkinland Ranch. Even my editor didn’t say no.

Comic-book fans may associate Veidt with the color purple, but celebrity-watchers know he’s all about green. That was, by far, the predominant color both inside and outside the limo, jet, and SUV that Veidt had sent to carry me from my office to his ranch. Somewhere over Kansas, I remarked sarcastically to the flight attendant (who wore a green uniform) about the disconnect between his employer’s famed environmental activism and his willingness to burn so much jet fuel to carry one reporter cross-country. The flight attendant looked hurt. “VeidtAir jets burn only 100% organic hydrocarbons,” he said, as if he’d rehearsed the line a hundred times, “and all our fuels are recycled from fossils. The Wizard wants us to be a green airline.”

“The Wizard.”

Munchkinland Ranch. A research base in Antarctica codenamed “Glenda.” The “Emerald City” headquarters campus. And, of course, the pseudonym Veidt hid behind, along with his mask, when he was still a costumed crime-fighter: “Oz-the-Fabulous”. He may not share his comic-book counterpart’s fascination with Egypt or Alexander the Great, but Addison Veidt certainly has a fixation of his own....

* * *

Time to stop writing. Dentist ready to see us. (Forgot to ask shoplifter about his dental insurance. Hurm.)

May 14, 2009: Film Festival

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: May 14, 2009

Was watching Unsolved Mysteries to compile list of things to investigate next weekend when Veidt called. Invited me to attend film festival this weekend, has two tickets to attend. Wanted to invite Dreiberg, who is currently incapacitated.

Declined. Do not like Veidt. Do not like Veidt's company. Especially detest any attempt for him to canoodle me in the dark abyss of the celluloid gods. Chance for hands, sweaty and sticky, hopefully from popcorn butter, to reach into my personal space.

But most of all, hate film festivals out of principle. Aggregate of independent movies filmed by conceited art students attempting to shove their misguided, ambiguous, bohemian world views down the visual gullets of equally turgid audiences desperately seeking significance in meaningless, self-righteous attempts at cinematic art.

Unique, just like everyone else. Not like big budget sell-outs they hope to be someday when not making crappy movies.

Movies always follow one of a set number of formulas. Will list here. Elucidate.

#1: A [positive adjective] look at how a young group of [minority or advocacy group] overcomes adversity in [small town or 3rd world country] and discover themselves.

#2: Boy meets girl. Boy falls in love with girl. Girl does not. Awkward silences in between. Black and white, still shots. Crappy music. Along the way, discover themselves.

#3: Family / friends struggle as character / characters pursue dream to be [unsuccessful profession, never "doctor" or "lawyer"]. Seek to find themselves.

#4: Western progress is bad. America is bad. Must go back to stone age. Discover selves.

#5: [Whiny advocacy group] struggles against [generic oppressor] to overcome [social malady] and bring awareness to [cause]. Journey allows them to discover themselves.

#6: Foreign film.

#7: In lonely [not New York], [number] friends form an unlikely relationship that will change their lives forever. Try to discover themselves.

#8: A struggling author/ artist/ journalist finds himself in a bizarre series of events. Finds himself.

#9: A sad woman / man must embrace [lofty metaphor] to overcome tragedy/ adversity, discover him/ herself.

#10: Gay cowboys eating pudding.

May 13, 2009: Royalties

LOLSCHACH's Journal: May 13, 2009:

Received royalty check from Veidt today. $4.68. Came with note as well.

"LOLLY,

With this economy, I thought the safest place for your money would be in reliable stocks and bonds. So I have purchased on your behalf 3 shares in VeidtBrand. No need to thank me!

XOXOXOXO,
Addison Veidt"

Hate him.

Go to grocery store and attempt to buy bottle of carbonated beverage and candy bar. Pimply-faced cashier tells me items cost $4.73. Try to find spare change in coat, nothing but sugar cubes and lint. Hurm. Awkward teen aged boy seems to recognize me.

"Hey, you're that Rorsc-" Throw soda bottle at him and walk out. Can't stand it. Every person over age of fifteen seems to get me confused with psychopath that starred in book written by hairy man.

No. British man.

Sigh. No. Hairy British man.
All the hairs on his chin will look up and shout, "Shave us!" And he'll whisper, "No."

Yes.

One day will repay Veidt and Hairy British man for all the unwanted attention brought upon LOLSCHACH by their libel. Until then, must go back and retrieve carbonated beverage.

May 11, 2009: Internet Fad

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: May 11, 2009:

Hate the Internet. A rabid she-wolf that devours the world so she can nurse the mangy pups nuzzled at her poison teat. But LOLSCHACH is immune to her contagion. Credit upbringing. Heh.

Went to library to use Internet. All computers occupied; a dozen diseased pups lined up and sucking away. Knew what to do. Stood behind schoolgirl. While waiting, peered over her shoulder. Saw her looking at websites on hydroelectric dams, scribbling notes in notebook marked "Science." (Possibly plotting terrorist acts? Must remember to investigate.) Within five minutes, schoolgirl left. Held her nose as she passed me. Common gang sign, seen it many times. Expresses fear of LOLSCHACH.

Sit down, do usual routine: One minute checking email. Ten minutes finding subliminal messages at Communist front HomestarRunner.com. One hour investigating murder of robotics engineer Evan Chan, still unsolved after eight years.

Suspect involvement of Anti-Robot Militia. Still no solid proof.

Finish with 30 minutes of web searches on old enemies. No news on Marduk. No news on Squid.

But Veidt had joined Twitter: http://twitter.com/AddisonVeidt

Vacuous.

Not surprising. Twitter is stage for prima donnas to parade egos before world. Emptiness disguised by sparkle of high technology. Success based on herd mentality, celebrity worship. Perfect fit for Veidt.

And useful for LOLSCHACH. By following Veidt's "Tweets," will see patterns emerge. Gaps in public image. Subconscious confessions of past crimes. Details of future ones. Weaknesses to exploit.

Admits having "miscalculated the popularity boom of Twitter by 3.5 months." Mentions fear of global warming, construction of "Ice Ray". Says he "dropped ... off" ex-Watchbuster Blake.

Hurm.

Try to add Veidt Twitter feed to sidebar of LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL. Can't. Need access to Veidt's Twitter account. Blocked. Call librarian for help. Tells me it would require "hacking Twitter." Not sure what that means. Have hacked many things, but never heard of hacking computers. Tell librarian to "hack Twitter" for me. Refuses, says illegal. Grab his pinkie, threaten to break it. Complies. Now able to view Viedt's thoughts on right-hand sidebar of LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL.

Before leaving, break librarian's pinkie. Punish him. Thought he could avoid pain by compromising his principles.

Don't tell me he didn't have a choice.

April 30, 2009: Animality

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 30, 2009

Been keeping tabs on Veidt. Always keep tabs on Veidt. Thinks he's so smart. Will slip up eventually. Then LOLSCHACH will be there to break his nose. Only a matter of time.

Caught wind of latest scheme. This could be it. Veidt working on new machine. Called the "Animality". Ray gun. Turns people into animals.


Or something like that. Probably.

Need more concrete evidence. Tap Veidt's phonelines. Narcissistic scumbag spends hour and a half discussing his plans with someone named "The Poolboy". Who is "The Poolboy" and what is his involvement in the Animality caper? Much of conversation is drowned out by static. Cheap, faulty equipment. Borrowed from Dreiberg. Must remind self to punch Dreiberg in stomach, later.


Hours pass. Maintain resolve. Patience pays off. Though conversation is muddled, single word makes it through static. "Cochschach". It's meaning is obvious. Veidt intends to use the Animality ray on LOLSCHACH, turning me into a cochroach.


Presumably that is what it would look like.

Must locate Veidt's lab. Destroy Animality ray. Wait until dark. 8pm. Veidt exits home and begins walking several blocks into sleaziest part of city. Trenchcoat collar pulled up over face. Moving at swift, awkward, paranoid pace. Doesn't want anyone to know where he's going.

Jackpot.

Maintain surveillance of Veidt. Continue to shadow him. Eventually, track Veidt to his destination...


Hurm.

August 03, 1957: Wubbulous

Excerpt from "The Wubbulous World of Dr. Seusschach", published August 03, 1957.

Veidt had an evil scheme he'd been plotting for months,
So Seusschach rushed right out to go stop him at once!

He hurried to Veidt's base at the peak of Mount Crumpet,
Veidt knew he was coming, but thought nothing of it.

Seusschach kicked the door in and found Veidt reclining,
To break all Veidt's bones is what he'd been pining!

Slowly Veidt stood up, his adversary now met,
Predictable as ever, Seusschach sounded a threat:

"You are no hero! You are only a clown!
You are a madman! A dog! You must be put down!"

And then Veidt chortled loudly, "Seusschach...You jest!
You came all the way here to put me to rest?!"

"You cannot thwart my plan. It's over! It's finished!
I did it one half hour ago...plus five minutes!"

Seusschach then felt a rage like none felt before,
A rage never induced by punk, thug or whore!

Burning up inside, he lunged fiercely at Veidt,
And so they engaged in a terrible fight!

To the balcony they fought, Veidt leading the stride,
But Seusschach was not beat; he kicked Veidt off the side!

Veidt clung to the edge, but was losing his grip,
He pouted and sobbed, yet continued to slip!

Veidt then gazed upward, crying "Save me, my foe!"
Seusschach looked back down and just whispered "No."

Veidt shrieked like a girl as he fell from the pulpit,
It was a five mile drop from the peak of Mount Crumpet!

To lose to a vagrant; Veidt had not forseen that,
But his musings were cut short by a THUD! and a SPLAT!

Seusschach was content having now saved the day,
Then he heard a DING! coming from kitchen's way!

Baked for thirty-five minutes was Veidt's "evil" plan:
A delectable cake made from real marzipan!

"Hurm", Seusschach said. "I guess I made a mistake.
But since Veidt's not around, I'll help myself to some cake."

--------------------------------
LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 27, 2009

Always enjoyed Uncle Seusschach's books as a child. LOLSCHACH's adulthood shaped by their valuable lessons: "No compromises", "Dogs get put down" and "Always OK to kill Veidt".

Morals to live by.

April 24, 2009: Vicious Cabaret

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 24, 2009:

Took rare trip to Broadway this afternoon. Seldom go anymore. Nothing to do, since Mayor McCheese cleaned up what was left of McDonald Land. See British tourists and Japanese tourists, but no smut peddlers. Smut … like Coke in glass bottles: easy to find on Internet.

Of course, Broadway still corrupt. Evil, like cockroaches, never destroyed: Flees light, only to nest deeper within walls.

Suspect that Veidt was using shell corporation to co-produce musical play Wicked. Title is plainly immoral. Possibly part of larger criminal enterprise, like Springtime for You-Know-Who. At very least, could provide insights into Veidt’s psyche. Weaknesses to exploit in future, schemes to thwart.

Whores.

At theatre, explained I was associate of Veidt, deserved free ticket for afternoon matinee. Ignored. Hurled stanchion through box-office window. Then forced to use security guards’ tasers against them. Eventually rewarded for persistence. Took seat before house lights went down.

Play was debased retelling of Wizard of Oz. Presented wicked witch as tragic heroine, mistreated for green skin.

Red herring. Her true color is color of the play’s confused morality: Grey.

At intermission, went to concession stand. Filled coat pockets with Veidt MmmushroomClouds candies while keeping eye out for thieves. Instead, caught whiff of absinthe. Childhood memory of odors from Mother’s contraband cabinet.

Whore with absinthe. Reminds me of mom.

Absinthe was illegal.

Followed advice of Toucan Sam. Led me across lobby to theatre’s bar. Pulled unsuspecting absinthe-fiend off his barstool. Flung him against shelves behind bar, showering lobby with alcohol and shattered glass. Bartender escaped, but managed to wing him with barstool from across lobby. For first time, began to understand concept of “happy hour.” Leapt over bar before absinthe-fiend could slither away. Dragged him under by sharp lapel of his checkered coat. Recognized me. Pink face turned bone white.

“Luh-luh-LOLSCHACH is ruh-real?!” he squealed. Grunted in affirmative. “I cuh-cuh-confess! I suh-suh-stole it from the Buh-Bodleian! Puh-please luh-let me go!”

Had no idea what he was confessing. Had never seen him before. Decided to keep punishing him until he dropped a clue. Pressed harder. Stopped as cartilage began to crunch.

“I huh-have it right here! In my cuh-coat!” he said. “Just luh-let me guh-go, and it’s yours!”

Absinthe fiend in no position to bargain. Punched him in neck until unconscious. Went through his coat pockets. In envelope, found piece of yellowed paper.

Stuffed it into my sugar-cube pocket. No time to investigate.

Police sirens. Must have been called to arrest absinthe-fiend. Leave him to them.

On way out fire escape, ran into a surprised Veidt. Asked him why he was trying to enter theatre by back door. Told me he was going to meet friend, not to see show. He asked me what happened. Told him bar was selling absinthe. “Oh, quelle surprise,” he replied. “Gawker says nobody touches that stuff anymore, since it became legal.”

Hurm.

Spent rest of afternoon investigating paper scrap from Bodleian. Only documented fragment of lost historical play from Shakespeare’s time. Anonymous. Distant LOLSCHACH ancestor Rolshacchio is major character.

Will write more when possible. Must go now. Nighttime performance of Wicked should have reached intermission. May still be able to catch second half.

April 08, 2009: Mission City Visit

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: April 8, 2009

Awoke to darkness. Light from window obscured by unseen object. Dreiberg blocking the window? Went outside and found ominous poster was the culprit.



Ehh. Revenge is coming. First suspicions go towards endless list of enemies planning retributive attack. Realize the concept is silly: most of them are dead. No, this is something much worse. Glowing red eyes on page and jagged metal visage only shed hint of light as to who the attacker is. Then it occurs to me.

Summer of 2007. All over the news. Personally went to investigate. No leads at that time. All makes sense now. Spend two hours going around apartment hunting for loose change, run to nearest bus station. Stupid, stupid. Why did it not occur to me sooner? Small letters under poster signed "Bay." Always thought it was clue for possible attack on San Francisco. But San Francisco attack came and went, summer of 1996. Terrorists took over Alcatraz. Threatened biological attack on San Francisco. Foiled by Ghost Rider. Two years later, mysterious posters appeared labelled "Armageddon." Also signed "Bay". World nearly ended. Major cities destroyed to the tune of Aerosmith. Strangely entertaining, yet stupid.

Then May 21, 2001. Day which will live in infamy. "Bay" attacks Pearl Harbor. Countless dollars wasted. Battleships sunk. Tears from realization of hours wasted. Must not be allowed again. Potential alien invasion must be thwarted at all costs.

Took bus to Mission City. Did not want to associate attack of 2007 with possible involvement by Veidt, due to unpleasantness of yesterday's visit. However, high level technology and government involvement is not outside Veidt's grasp. Must seek clues.



Arrive in Mission City. Recall the summer of 2007.

It is July. Mid-day. The sun sets three times in 24 hours. Suddenly, explosions rock the downtown area. Reports of strange, bio-mechanical automatons fighting in the streets. More explosions. Linkin Park music heard everywhere, source unknown. Amidst the chaos, a man tries to buy a refreshing caffeinated beverage from a Mountain Dew machine. The machine turns into a horrific steel shoggoth, its arms the dispensers of aluminum death bullets. Man does the Dew as the beverage punches through his stomach, green fizz mixed with bile and entrails. Chaos. Explosions. The sun sets again. More explosions. Somewhere, a fat boy eating Cheetos laments the deviation from this alien invasion to ones he has seen in his past. Complains of flames painted on a truck. The sun sets.

It is April. The sun screams at me like a sun full of retarded children. There are no Mountain Dew machines to be found. Crewmen are hard at work repairing the damaged buildings, perhaps preparing for the next invasion due this June 24, 2009. Production values seem much higher. The streets resonate with the sound of sweaty fat virgins living in their mothers' basements, protesting the chaotic encore. "Truck not monkey" heard between screams.

A scantily clad girl walks by. The yellow Camaro parked close by squirts motor oil as she passes. "American Woman" blasts forth from its speakers, relevantly punctuating the awkward situation. Curious, car has no driver. Modern technology is amazing, scary.



Suddenly, onlookers look down Main Street, up at the sky. A squadron of fighter jets flies directly overhead as a sleek, pink sports car comes towards us from the vanishing point.



Too stunned to speak. Had no idea Veidt owned a transforming robot.

Just then, feel something sneaking up behind me. Turn around, only to face Lovecraftian abomination breathing into my face.



"PUNY HUMAN! THIS SUMMER... TRANSFORM YOUR THIRST! ONLY IN SELECT THEATERS! BLAAAAARRRGH!" it said.

Reverted back to extreme vending machine, leaving LOLSCHACH alone. Difficult to contemplate strange message. Attempt to decipher complexities of transforming creatures is beyond LOLSCHACH's field of expertise.

Only knowledge of aliens is the illegal type. Must return home to catch a few, send them back to home planet of Mexico.

April 07, 2009: Veidt's "Boys" Folder

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 07, 2009.

Veidt. Possible homosexual. Must investigate further.

Have been investigating further since 1987. Twenty-two years. Unable to attain irrefutable evidence. Frustrating. Disheartening. No matter. Will determine nature of Veidt's sexual orientation at all costs.

It's sort of a hobby.

March 21 investigation of Veidt's office and computer files turned up potential lead: folder labeled "Boys".

Unfortunate, unexpected case of paralyzing dysentery prevented me from accessing folder at the time. No such ailment, now. Will click on folder, open it and view contents. Expect to at last achieve closure in longest unsolved case in LOLSCHACH's career.

Opening folder...

FILE 01:

...?

FILE 02:

Where...Where did he get that?

FILE 03:

No. Nonononono.

FILE 04:

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!

--------------------

Veidt's Diary: April 7, 2009

Dear Diary,

Lolschach should be in my office right about now, looking at that decoy "Boys" folder I left on my computer. I hope the security cameras get a good shot of the look on his face. It'll be sooo worth all the broken windows and furniture.

This ought to keep him off my trail for another couple of decades. Oh Lolschach, you silly goose.

Whoops! Two and a Half Men is back on! Gotta go, Diary. Write to you soon!

XXXOOOXXX

-Veidt

April 02, 2009: Veidt's Music

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 02, 2009:

Returned from Chocovania. Battle with monsters. Fun stuff. Wears one out. Normal person would rest, eat Cheetos in front of television blaring Abercrombie models attempting to sing, pleasure self, call it a night. LOLSCHACH not a normal person.

The wind howled through the empty streets begging me to join it. Could not resist. Make rounds. Happy Harry's deserted. Rumor that I'm back in town perhaps? Criminals are a superstitious and cowardly -- no, must stop. Sounding like sadistic pederast. Hurm.

Then recall last visit to Veidt's. Pissed him off. Liked that. I will go to the world's smartest man's apartment and confirm once and for all his homosexuality.

See Veidt has replaced all windows since last visit. If I ever smiled, I would now. Smash through one, satisfied by the crash of glass. Sounds like symphony to ears.

Adjust to surroundings. Veidt rearranged. No doubt did interior decorating himself. Look through new bookshelf. See CD collection. Start investigating. Ricky Martin. Melissa Etheridge. k.d. lang. George Michael. NSYNC. Then something horrible.


Queen?

Queen. Ehhh. Odd. Other CDs would confirm suspicions of Veidt. But Queen?

Remember old days. Riding in Owl Ship with Dreiberg. "We Will Rock You" blaring through speakers. Knocking around Moloch. Good times. Dreiberg always played "We Are The Champions" on return flight. Sometimes Dreiberg played "Fat Bottomed Girls". Hated that. Ironic Dreiberg would like song with "fat" in title.

Should not be surprised. Remember time when Veidt tagged along. Played "Flash Gordon" theme song at high volume. Sang along. Dreiberg had to restrain me from dropping him from altitude of 15,000 feet.

This new development brings doubt into Veidt theory. Anyone who likes Queen cannot possibly be homosexual.

Fire grapple gun through new skylight. Glass shatters down onto carpet. Like soft rain on the city's rooftops. Exit Veidt's. Go home. Put on Greatest Hits. Will rock me.

March 27, 2009: Hawaii Visit

LOLSCHACH's JOURNAL: March 27, 2009

Planned to spend the day catching youths responsible for filming bum fight videos when Dreiberg called. Said that he thought I needed much needed vacation: wanted to take Owlship to Hawaii for weekend of relaxation.

Probably wanted to make amends for awkward situation that occurred on March 23.

Vacation. Luxury for a class of people who don't worry about good and evil, crime and punishment. For LOLSCHACH, no such thing as "time off."

Reminds me of time when Moloch wasn't born-again Christian. Devised strategy to turn super-heroes into toddlers. Complicated, will not elaborate. Veidt seized opportunity, as always, to turn horrific incident into commercial profit by targeting children.

Dreiberg promises plenty of crime to be fought in Hawaii. Hurm. Not so sure.

Owlship is modestly comfortable transport. Dreiberg asks if I want to watch in-flight movie, says Veidt loaned it to him for the weekend. Long flight, he says, 10 hours. Roll film.

In-flight movie makes LOLSCHACH more nauseous than the turbulence of the Owlship. Mary-Sue characters in a celluloid playground for fangirl fantasies.  Cast of film reminds LOLSCHACH of Hot-Topic robbery foiled last week. 

What has become of vampires? LOLSCHACH remembers glory days when vampires were free of nail polish and eyeliner, feared by women, terrors of the night. Bloodsucking monsters, pale faced undead. Now, wear mascara and spend hours looking pretty. Live in girls' fantasies. Abercrombies of the night. Suck on something else, perhaps. 

Slept rest of way. Woke up in Hawaii, on island of Oahu.

Dreary place. Dreiberg lied: no crime, no evil. Sunshine all the time, blue skies. Cursory glance at population reveals asians and whites living in peace and harmony. Hispanics and blacks are endangered species, virtually nonexistant. Plenty of military personnel ensure island's safety from future Japanese bombings. 

Dreiberg decides to go out in Beach Owl costume. Mild climate good for LOLSCHACH, do not have to change clothes. Muscular barbarian with platinum blonde bikini girl points at LOLSCHACH's scarf, laughs. 

Bury the brute in sand, wait for tide to come in. Girl screams, amazed by LOLSCHACH's speed and technique. Still got it.

Hawaiians a friendly people. Walk beach and city for hours, no crime to be found. 4:10 pm: ahobo begins to jaywalk, squats in gutter and defecates. His meal of whisky and rotten sandwiches floats down the gutter, the last remnants of true scum in this town. Keep walking, see inside shops. Only crime is a $8.99 Tiki mug with "Hawaii" carved at its base: underneath, "Made in China" sticker reveals the treachery of the shopowner.

8:00 pm: Attend luau.

Native Hawaiians entice tourists with bountiful buffet showcasing typical Hawaiian fare: Mahi Mahi, crab legs, assorted vegetables, pit-roasted pig, McDonald's Chicken Nuggets, and small coconut squares that act as good laxative. Must remind Dreiberg to buy toilet paper later. 

Man blows on conch shell, signaling the start of the night's entertainment. Women wait in eager anticipation for their male dancers: tall, bronze, 6'1, muscular, broad-shouldered Hawaiian warriors.

Men eagerly await their dancers:  tall, bronze, 6'1, muscular, broad-shouldered Hawaiian warriors. Must remember never to attend another luau sponsored by Veidt International.

10:30 pm: Return to beach, see Dreiberg passed out next to fat girl in Twilight shirt with Mickey Mouse full-bodied towel complete with mouse-ears. Tell Dreiberg Hawaii no fun, nothing to do. Must go back to the city. Dreiberg complies, grudgingly. As Archie lifts off, coconut squares take effect and nature calls. It is a soothing call: the call of filth and depravity and the need for justice, swift and pure like the textured, ultra-absorbent white surface of triple ply toilet paper.