Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Superdaddyman Takes on the Pink Mafia - Volume 17

It was a cold dark night in the streets of Megalopolis, as the doors to the dreaded Pink Mafia Headquarters {PMHQ} were closed to all those that would wish to do evil in this world. This of course does not include the man with no plan, who happens to have a set of keys to the fortress of evil in the sea of global warming that steadily falls all about the great city. The Caped Pervader has been busy as of late with the every day mundane that your usual brave young {shut up you!} super villain turned super hero has to contend with, but tonight he crosses the great divide between work and not work to return to his duties of defending the world from the dreaded Pink Mafia. Oh the horror of dealing with a building that has had no adult supervision for four days and looks like a slushy sandblaster had gone off in it. Fortunately for the world in general the Superdaddyman is on the case, and not politically correct super heroes from the Superfriends that simply speak weird languages and get bigger or turn to wind. No this is full out super hero warfare at it's finest.

Now of course with the elimination of Federal Holidays that keep the PMHQ population at bay, the company beneath the PMHQ is in full bore. The indoctrination devices throughout that facility {loud stereos and gangstah rap} are cranking and shaking the floor beneath the Superdaddyman's feet as he walks along and tries to deal with the massive global warming puddles throughout the carpet. Unlike those at The Sister Company {TSC} earplugs are NOT a required device upstairs in the PMHQ, and the chosen ear plugs of our hero {made by Sony, fueled by Mark Levin} is doing absolutely nothing to drown out “smack this bitch .. whack that ass .. pop that cap .. bang that ho .. etc etc” coming through the floor, and it isn't just maddening, it is incendiary. Of course there are more “soundproof” areas that can be exploited at times of great turmoil. Side trips through the offices themselves to deal with “recycle bins” and such are a real serenity booster, and then back to, “mother f*ck this” and “mother f*ck that” which seems to be de-evolving the TSC in leaps and bounds between side excursions.

During one of these side excursions our favorite super hero himself finds a rather large chunk of diamond in a pile of coal, or so he thought, as sitting right on top of the recycle bin of his arch nemesis {The Human Resources Director} was a Victoria's Secret catalog. Yes you all know it, the great emasculator, the nirvana of those with less than stellar morals, the American dream, the last bastion of all that which is good in a sea of feminist angst, the reason for killing trees and a wonderful source of leisure in an office building full of melted slush. Yes boys and girls, this is where the Superdaddyman really shines, as he takes great care to defend the fair maidens of VictoriaSecretland as well as Megalopolis, but he is up for that task on any given day. Fingers trembling from the great delight of such a novel task the Superdaddyman starts his quest to inspect this rather large version of Victoria's goodies.

The scene very quickly went from bad to worse as the horror of the moment carried out. The catalog started out rather slowly, but that is to be expected as you build on the drama of all that is right in the Victoria's Secret world. Pantsuit, pantsuit, pantsuit, winter jacket on a pantsuit, winter boots under a pantsuit, pantsuit, jeans, knee high boots under a knee length skirt, pantsuit .. HEY WAIT A MINUTE HERE! It appears that there is NO LEGS in this damn thing? How in the name of all that is good can you have a Victoria's Secret catalog without the gorgeous pairs of legs that makes a Victoria's Secret catalog worthy of receiving? Oh My God! The Superdaddyman is starting to grow steadily towards the realm of terror as he notes that there are hardly enough pages left for even the proper amount of goodies much less NO GOODIES AT ALL! Gloom and doom befall our poor super hero, as the world starts becoming a dark and scary place all round him, and why shouldn't it? The very thought of a Victoria's secret catalog with no secrets had never entered into his overworked superdaddybrain UNTIL NOW! Once you have crossed that line you may never return.

How can this be, is all that could be retained in the mind of the Superdaddyman as he moped through the rest of his duties to the wonderful sounds of “look at dis bitch .. shove dis up your .. choke on dat” and it was like one of those cartoons where the little black cloud floats over the character as he walks along. Sure there is many gigs of data back at the Superdaddylair that can be looked through during times like these but it just isn't the same. The poor weather alone is taking away the Superdaddyman's ability to do surprise business skirt inspections as he cruises the streets of Megalopolis, and now the peddler of fine low budget pornography that the Superdaddyman depends on to get him through all of this glorious global warming {obviously making it far too balmy for skirts, and God throwing all the snow down to try to cool off the planet} has failed him as well. What ever will he do if Victoria's Secret simply amplifies this “Pantsuit” trend that in the mind of the Superdaddyman could make Obamacare seem like a harmless little blip on the radar? What if this is some sort of plot to fight off the invasion of shorter skirts that the spring usually brings, to which the Superdaddyman is already well on the case to keep up on? Obviously the radical feminists are in on this, and Operation Get the Daddyman {OGD} can be the only explanation!

The poor disheartened Superdaddyman shlogged his way through the rest of his duties, and packed up the superdaddygear to carry the fight out on the other side of the street. At best he can say that he won't miss the “smack that .. do that .. beat that .. bitch said what” that was the theme music so wonderfully shared by TSC. Out in the parking lot and in the superdaddymobile the dull thumping of the bass was all that could be distinguished from the 60 miles per hour of God desperately trying to counteract the human damage to the planet. The Superdaddyman calls up one of his accomplices so that he can discuss {whine} about his new revelation on the plot to overthrow all that is good in the Victoria's Secret world. Fortunately for him, he found a very sympathetic ear in which to install the virtue {whining} about the all out assault on moral clarity in catalogs, as his accomplice reminded him that there is still Frederick's of Hollywood, and thankfully she took the time to describe what she was seeing on the online catalog from them. There is hope yet boys and girls ;8o)

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Nothing that was printed here was intended to offend anyone, and if it did, screw ya, you begged for it. If you believe that there are some measures that can be taken to change me, then please feel free to pray for me, and while you are at it yourself, because you read this far, and if you hated every minute of it, then you are an idiot, not me, or the other people who like what I have to say! .. Jeremy

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