Social misfit, homeless con man, interplanetary thief and intergalactic felon.
Fred Fortune is the Earthling you never want to becom
e.

Tuesday, September 30, 2008

Just Like A Broken Record

I just hate it when people tell me I sound like a broken record. They do that because they don’t want to hear the truth. Especially if it hits home for them. Man, how people will do anything to filter out the shit before it hits them.

Just like one day about a year ago (before I was snatched and then dumped by the Grays), I was telling this guy about how Earth is going to hell in a hand basket and this shithead starts squirming on his bar stool and looking the other way. But he didn’t move to another stool. Hell, no, I was buying the rounds, that’s why. The sneaky shit.

Anyway, I told him any asshole could tell the country was going to hell in a hand basket, if not the whole goddamn planet, just by going to the movies these days. Nothing but belly buttons and butt cracks and four-letter words. And everything in tones of gray and blue and black, like color is a bad thing nowadays. And when I mentioned that, the prick just squirmed and squirmed.

Then I busted his chops about TV and told him they shouldn’t be saying words like “asshole” and “dick” and “prick” and "bitch" and “knocked-up” on TV, especially not at prime time, for heaven’s sake. Kids are watching. Doesn’t anybody care about them anymore? That made him squirm even more on his stool, so much that he actually farted and then pretended that he didn’t. That’s when I moved down to the other end of the bar. Then I realized that was his way of getting rid of me. I guess he didn’t want another free shot and a beer all that bad.

Later I heard him saying to another guy (who was also paying for all the drinks) that I sounded like a broken record. That pissed me off. Pissed me right off. I thought about slugging the both of them but they were a lot bigger than me and in better shape. They haven’t been outcasts as long as I have and they even had homes. They probably have big-ass wide-screen TVs and just love prime time. They probably even love those sappy commercials that sell you pills for everything but boils on your ass. They probably go to the movies all the time. So, I just let it go.

Man, being right don’t mean shit these days.

Monday, September 29, 2008

The Truth About 2012

2012 will be nothing like Y2K, which was a lot of hype based on a lot of non-science. I'm talking about Nibiru, here. Planet X, the Dark Star offspring. This baby is hooked up to the red wire.

Nibiru will be just a faint red dot in the eastern night sky on May 15, 2009. But, by December 21, 2012, it'll be as big as the goddamn moon. Only red and menacing and headed our way.

What can you do about it? Not one damn thing. Planet X (sounds scarier) won't do shit until February 14, 2013, when it comes between Earth and the Sun. Then the polar axis el-switcheroo, big-ass quakes, monster tsunamis and all the other doomsday crap that goes along with it. Like 2/3 of Earth's population being snuffed out.

By July 1, 2014 it will be all over. Planet X will move out of our solar system to wherever another hell-bent-for-leather planet like Earth has earned a cosmic-law judgment day.

2013 will make Y2K look like a fizzled-out sparkler because that's all it ever was. Scare tactics to get us to buy a lot of unnecessary survival gear, including over-priced bottled water. Goddamn bank robbers. But no one can escape Nibiru and only 1/3 of us will live to tell about it.

Me? I live on Mars. Or, under Mars, as if were.

There it is. Nibiru, 2009 to 2014. Now you know.

Editor's Note 4-14-13: As you can clearly see, Fred Fortune's "conspiracy doo-doo" was as full of it as everyone else's. If he was here, he'd deny that. He'd just up and quote Yogi Berra and say, "It ain't over till it's over." So he would.

Sunday, September 28, 2008

Fred Fortune's Disappointing Profile

I'm Fred Fortune, so-called social misfit, homeless con man, interplanetary thief and intergalactic felon. If you can believe everything you hear, that is. The only thing they got right, in my opinion, is the fact that I'm homeless. Or should I say that I'm currently holed-up in the Mars underground. That's right, the planet Mars. Right under the goddamn Cydonia face.

The one thing I will admit to is being on the lam. In fact, I just made tracks yesterday from a previous hole-in-the-wall. In other words, when it comes to making trouble, I don't shit where I eat.

I only have a few interests and here's the short list: finger-pointing, making waves, telling it like it is, squealing and looking for a place to hide. In other words, I'm the Earthling you never want to become. So, if using the labels they gave me gets me more followers, then I'm whatever they say I am. Pricks.

OK, so a fun "Vegas-ey kind of guy" I'm not.