Attention Rioters:

The terror alert level has been raised to Garfield Orange.

Somewhere in New Jersey, AOL News reports on a family still in shock after an artillery shell crashed through the roof and landed on their pet cat. The feline was definitely not feelin’ fine, and had to be euthanized. At first, a stunned media reported it as an accidental misfire. Later, the White House issued a statement declaring “a laser guided missile successfully eliminated a high-ranking member of the al-Catta terror network. We regret any structural damage that was sustained.”

To find out what was really going on, Hollywood Riot once again tapped into the presidential phone line. What follows is a transcript of the conversation we overheard:

W: “The pussy will not control us. We’re not going to rest until every member of al-Catta is brought to justice.”

Condi Rice: “Right. PETCO has plenty of helmets in stock to protect civilian cats, so should we go with Operation Nine Lives or Operation Curtains On al-Catta’s Kittens?”

W: “C.O.C.K? I ain’t a kitten killer. Nah, I hate that plan. C.O.C.K. sucks. Go with the Nine Lives one, and it better work. Your last few Operations have been real disappointments. Those polar bears turned out to be lousy scapegoats. You’ve seen the way these al-Catta toy with their enemies, batting them around for hours before the inevitable end. Torture, Condi. We cannot allow torture on American soil. Save that business for Gitmo, or Cat Island, or wherever the hell we’re sending these fleabags.”

Condi Rice: “Cat Island. But sir, can a feline’s claws really even be considered weapons of mass destruction? I think we might have to start thinking the unthinkable and think about… coming clean. I mean, I told you not to push that button at the Jersey base…”

W: “Enough about the button pushing! You know I got a problem. They’re just so… shiny. Trust me, the public will believe it- after all, this evil enemy is committing genocide.”

Condi Rice: “Against who?”

W: “Bald eagles.”

Condi Rice: “Huh. Well, Americans do love the bald eagle.”

W: “Course they do, Condi. Course they do. Now, let’s get ready to give Taliban Tabby a little Shock & Claw. Release the hounds!”

This was followed by several minutes of cackling laughter from both sides.

Naturally, we suspected Bush of lying. So we dug deeper. The CIA quickly complied with our request and sent us these shocking still images from a suspected al-Catta training camp video. According to the CIA, they depict an al-Catta trainee torturing a baby bald eagle. (Warning: Very graphic.)

While we’re not convinced lobbing bombs into residential areas is the best way to get rid of al-Catta, we also can’t stand by as they torture baby bald eagles. And to the little girl in New Jersey who lost her beloved pet, you should learn to pick better friends. Why not switch things up and adopt a poodle? Unlike dead terrorist scum cats, all dogs really do go to heaven.

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In shocking news today, Wal-Mart has decided to get tough with their gun sale policies.

[Wal-Mart sells guns? Really? Where, next to Grand Theft Auto III?]

These bomb-proof new policies include such innovations as storing really poor-quality black and white video of Wal-Mart shoppers in case police ever need it, refusing to sell people who’ve previously killed someone with a Wal-Mart gun another Wal-Mart gun, and keeping an Excel spreadsheet (and maybe even a pie chart) detailing how many of the guns they sold were linked to crimes.

Well, hell, that should solve everything!

But just in case these new gestapo techniques don’t do the trick, Wal-Mart is also instituting several other tough new policies…

10 Other “Tough” New Gun Policies at Wal-Mart:

1. You must be wearing a shirt to purchase a gun. Sleeves continue to be optional, of course.

2. You must be wearing shoes to purchase a gun. (This is good advice in general)

3. You have to promise you’re not going to do anything bad with your new gun. Promise must involve a pinkie swear.

4. You must be at least 10 years old (5 in Mississippi, Alabama, Louisiana, Georgia, and Florida.)

5. If you’re under 10 (or 5) years old, you must have a really good reason for wanting a gun. Shooting your brother is not a good reason.

6. If you’re wearing a ski mask, we’ll need to see some I.D.

7. We reserve the right to downgrade you from an automatic to a semi-automatic weapon if you appear to be insane or are talking to yourself in line.

8. We’d rather you not shoot your new gun in the store.

9. You cannot combine your gun coupon with any other coupon (except on BOGO days).

10. If you have mental problems or are otherwise unstable, we recommend a shotgun — it’s easier to shoot.

Wal-Mart: We’re Tough on Guns!

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Walk outside on a sunny day. Feel those warm rays tickling your arm hairs. Feel ‘em? Every second of every day, an enormous generator in space called the “sun” beams to Earth 100 billion times the amount of energy contained in one Nagasaki-sized bomb. That’s every second. No cables. No utility companies. Fucking free and wireless. Energy! It’s everywhere, this stuff, yet we are terrible at harnessing it. Much like the current food crisis that’s happening around the globe, it’s less about supply and more about getting the goods to the people. There is plenty of food to go around. The cost of energy (gas) that it takes to get the food to these poor countries is what helps drive prices so high.

OUTER SPACE … WHERE ENERGY ABOUNDS

I’ve mentioned the sun, and we are tipping our toes into that pond, but adding solar panels to your summer cottage isn’t really taking full advantage of the situation. One idea that will go no further than this blog is to construct an array of solar panels on every pointless rock in the system. Under the plan, we would turn both Venus and Mercury into giant solar panel planets. Who would mind, the impact craters? We’d leave Mars mostly intact, because we’ll probably have to live there one day.

Then again, if we get really desperate there are always gamma ray bursts we could try and… bottle. According to Bad Astronomy, these cosmic explosions last for a few seconds, but during that time they release more energy than our sun will in its entire life. All of that energy… just shootin’ through space without a single iPod or Blu Ray player in sight. What a waste. Selfish bursts.

CAPTAIN PLANET…

Remember that one guy who put a wind sock on his house? I think his name was Jerry. He was proud to keep tabs on breeze strength and direction, and more than happy to share his extensive knowledge of such topics with you. Wind was his life. I like to imagine that he went on to invent the Flying Electrical Generator. (Wired reports on one that works a bit better here.) Pretty sweet contraption. Who wouldn’t want 600 of these beauties flying proudly over your town? Suck it wind sock!

The key to all this wind business lies in the world’s jet streams. These gallant gusts zoom around the globe with nary a care, generating more than enough energy to melt every Prius on Earth in the blink of an eye. I don’t want to hear about “technical hurdles” either. With a little bit of politicking and fund raising, NASA can afford to get a couple of these flying electrical deals into the troposphere. Wait a minute! That skyscraper in Dubai is halfway there already. When it’s done, we can just push the damn things off the roof. Suck it NASA!

…OR CAPTAIN CAVEMAN?

Energy is really big business. The problem is that this business (as in most cases) overshadows, complicates, or all-in-all silences beneficial progress that may take away from the bottom line. For about half a million years (or more), we have relied on the same basic energy model: burnin’ stuff. Dried timber is OK, but oil and coal seem to work the best. This is all fine and good, but you can only get so much power out of a dead plant. Enough to heat your cave, cook your mammoth meat, and (pushing the envelope) send a few men to the moon. Beyond that, burning dead plants for power really sucks. It’s expensive, finite, smells bad, kills people, and is soooo B.C. If we ever hope to colonize the galaxy (Dick Cheney, I’m glowering at you), let alone solve our energy needs here on Earth, we have to be more creative.

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Make no mistake. Free citizens of the world are losing a war and we don’t even realize it. Obviously, that means I’m not talking about the war in Iraq. Or Afghanistan. Or the one on Drugs. We hear enough about those three lost causes. I’m talking about our battle with a heartless, soulless, gutless enemy that is incapable of compassionate reason (although they still have a better human rights record than the Chinese.) Even the simple pleasures of an English breakfast are beyond the comprehensive powers of this enemy. I’m talking about WWWW, baby. The World Wide Web War. Humans and robots, eyes to sight receptacles, struggling for planetary domination. That is one stark vision of the future that seems dangerously close to coming true.

It all begins innocently enough. These bastards (pictured above) have been floating around for years. They’re called CAPTCHA’s, which stands for Completely Automated Turing Test To Tell Computers and Humans Apart. Not sure where the team that assembled this acronym of evil got that extra P from, or why they forgot to add the other three T’s, but mistakes like that indicate only one thing: a human presence. Still, why did people feel the need to create a defensive measure against robots? Isn’t it wrong to profile them through these methods? It almost seems like we are… frightened. We should be. There are more “bots” on the internet than there are “users,” which is why annoying safeguards like the CAPTCHA system are necessary.

The robot majority are tenacious metadata gleaners. Metadata, the source of all human power on the internet, is what these robots crave. They methodically scan our emails and websites, plucking information and storing it away. While we sleep, they gather and compile and spider out in every direction. For what nefarious purpose? Some claim these trolling bots are selling the information to advertisers and the such. What would a robot need money for, you ask? That’s the problem. NOBODY KNOWS.

Until now.

Meet RepRap, the Self-Replicating 3D Printing Robot of the Future.

I theorize that these internet bots are actually investing in real-life robots like RepRap. This gizmo is a 3D printer that, according to Slashdot, can even replicate itself! The technical workings of a 3D printer are simple enough for a child to master. A user can instruct RepRap to recreate (from one’s own computer model) a small object via various layering and gluing techniques. Wow, layering and gluing. Why would we need robots for that? Well, think of the last time you glued anything together. Kindergarten? How’d that masterpiece turn out? Don’t feel bad, RepRap has never been held back by substandard public education arts programs. His robot speed and accuracy comes naturally- so just imagine if when Mr. Perfect starts replicating himself exponentially (like all the Sci-Fi books predict.) Unlike the crappy “Thanksgiving 1986″ paper-mâché turkey you mangled together, the RepRap makes things Mommy and Daddy might actually have a need for…. such as liquid-tight martini glasses and polybicarbonate whiskey shooters. In the end, parents will gladly turn their schoolchildren in for a chance to raise and love a real gluing and layering powerhouse. Make no mistake….

The War of the World Wide Web starts with a CAPTCHA and ends with total annihilation.

(On a side note: Turns out, the RepRap can create anything that the Chinese specialize in, which means we can start producing our own fake novelty teeth once more. The Chinese and their lead poisoning days are numbered. Phew! I’ll take robot overlords over Chinese overlords any day. Robots just seem… warmer.)

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Cat shit to be exact! That will be $100, please.

A London coffee shop is selling Indonesian jungle cat shit coffee for $100 a shot. No shit kidding! The rare (for seemingly good reason) coffee beans are grown in, and harvested from, the feces of an elusive jungle cat.

Delicious!

I suppose as long as you label it “rare” or “gourmet” and price it at $100 a shit shot, some idiot with a red Porsche is gonna drink it just because he can.

Ha! Well, if that’s the case… I have two dogs — I bet I could grow some “rare” or “gourmet” tea leaves in my backyard. But it will cost you. If any of you crazy Londoners want to hop the pond, I’ll whip you up some dog shit tea for $200 a cup. Not bad, considering dog shit is far superior to cat feces (smell a litter box lately?).

In the meantime, if you can’t afford jungle cat dung espresso, just head to Starbucks for the next best thing. Their coffee may not be grown in feces, but it sure tastes like shit!

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