Build Date: Fri Jul 19 18:20:16 2024 UTC

I am the Radiskull. I'll kill you one by one.
-- Radiskull

Reverend CyberSatan

CyberSatan ROXXX!

OK, so, only one little bio thing: Reverend Cybersatan is seriously INSANE. I mean, you should hear his fucking laugh. It's NUTSO, like the crazy laugh of someone who has seen the Void of All Purpose and has come back and is no longer afraid of any human dangers. I'm serious -- it's blood-chilling and strangely warming at the same time. This guy! This fucking guy! I love this guy.

Pigdog Journal Articles


CIA "Family Jewels" More Like "Numb Nuts"
When I first heard that the CIA was about to release several hundred pages of previously classified material that would shed light on its various operations, I laughed hard enough to scare the clown next to me into a career as a mime. I'd seen declassified material before. Most of it involved pages with vast swaths of black redaction clouding any seriously useful information. Between the blackness were little glimpses of wretched wrongness that no one in their right mind would take credit for having engineered, funded, imagined, and/or perpetrated. Somehow, the thought of the Bush/Cheney White House permitting a whole new, potentially more incriminating disgorgement from the CIA was not only implausible but utterly ridiculous.


Christmas Claims Godfather of Soul
So, the other half of Christmas was the 5 Liberty bash, which was once again off the hood. Never mind the generous loot that befell certain perceptive, lucky, and quick-witted friends of yours. The company was sublime and kept me there until sometime after three-thirty. Somehow, I just wasn't ready to go to bed.


Bring Out Your Damned!
Watching the Republican retreat from the now undeniable failure that is Iraq's current pitiful condition is nothing short of a monumental disgrace to humanity. I'm not talking about "peace with honor," which was Nixon's shorthand for "Let's get the fuck out of here and keep our mouths shut." That his progeny don't even have the grace of Richard Nixon is difficult to imagine, seeing as how Nixon was an evil sack of shit whose soul will be receiving mail in hell long after our sun has gone nova. No. The modern breed of mean-spirited, venal cowards pipe up the rhetoric born of lowly insurance defense lawyers who have their eye on making partner by making assumption of responsibility seem like faux martyrdom.


Bat Boy -- The Musical
The mountains are a horrible place to raise cows. No doubt about it. When people try, strange things happen. Like Bat Boy.


Fuck This!
It was all looking so good. The battle plan was another masterpiece, the minds out there just waiting to be manipulated towards another victory. Subtle pushes here, a few prods there, and voila!--another incompetent Democratic effort crushed on Election Day. Then came those damned teen tarts that serve as pages in Congress.


Forest Behind the Tree
The Bush Administration fired its opening salvo in the coming Congression election war yesterday. Most liberal pundits seem to have completely missed this, judging by what I have seen and read in the intervening 24 hours. The two shots were seemingly disparate, yet they are as closely connected as Karl Rove and treachery. So take notice, boyz and goilz: these mindtricks are the ones that are going to kill the Democrats at the ballot box this November if people aren’t extremely careful -- and vocal.


Brother, Can You Spare a Backbone?
In the the Thirties, America was hungry. Soup lines stretched for blocks, families were forced onto the street, and an unimaginable desperation hung over everyone who wasn't already super-rich. During those times, the common line, "Brother, can you spare a dime?" echoed from the humbled egos on Wall Street, across the Dust Bowl and out to the Pacific. The real pity is that it took a global war to bail us out from that depression.


Debbie Does Dallas - The Musical
After a gruelling two-week trip through the motorcycle heart of cowboy America, I returned to San Francisco for a welcome romp through the hilarious smut of Debbie Does Dallas -- The Musical. What a great way to get back into synch with the City and just how wonderfully bent we are here. I mean, seriously -- where else can you go to a stage musical in which the lead actor strolls onstage with his balls hanging out of his underwear?


Big Oil Completely Innocent
Buried somewhere in the relatively insignificant annals of this afternoon's secondary or tertiary news stories is a little piece about how the Federal Trade Commission has released its report that Big Oil hasn't been gouging Americans in the wake of Hurricane Katrina, or any time in the last 20 years, for that matter. There's been no market manipulation, no Enron-like scams, no nada. Big Oil has played by all the rules, succumbed to market forces, and otherwise been an upstanding capitalist citizen. Thank gawd the FTC was there to vindicate their buddies! The mind boggles as to what an actual investigation by a non-conflicted FTC might have found.


U Laugh Now, But...
People in my office chuckled a little last week when I told them I had the current winning bid for an old German u-boat that was being hawked on Ebay.


V for Vendetta: Springtime for Revolution
In the "New Deal" that has had Hollywood engaged in a pornographic submission to the whims of the Bush administration, Warner Brothers pulled V for Vendetta after the London tube bombings last summer. The film was to be relegated to the "loss" column in the annual shareholders report. More collateral damage in the War On Terror.


Bush UpChucks on Subcontinent
I would never have suspected that George Bush was a dime store Chuck Norris, waiting for the opportunity to bust a move on some random, unsuspecting foreign leader. Such has been the case as of late with the Bushwhacker's trip to the Subcontinent. Though vastly unreported in the conventional media, my well-placed sources in the Foreign Service Bureau say that Pakistani "president" Pervez Musharraf is undergoing emergency surgery this week to remove his testicles from his upper chest.


What Ludicrous Bullshit
Ooof. Man, I've been off the keys too long. There's been several attractive fruits out there, ripe for the picking and consumption, but realtime demands have kept me away from the farmer's market. Until now. Great to be back. So nice to see all of you lovely Gonzos.


Bush Brain in Critical Condition
Sometime over the last 24 hours, George Bush Jr. had a stroke. You would never be able to tell. Bush continued giving speeches and making appearances, like the one at the FBI training academy. His photo ops have rolled right along, too. But despite these appearances, the man is profoundly ill.


“This Land Is My Land” – Ha, Sucker!
Cannibalism. Seems to me that this used to be an anathema in America. But convenience and desperation have a way of assuaging our revulsion. We want what we want, when we want it and need to maintain a certain standard of life no matter what happens to us.


Real Tourists Don't Wear Black
Proving once again that one can never be too paranoid these days, Washington D.C. police succeeded in making a mountain from a molehill when they transformed a confused tourist into a "suicide bomber."


Get Up, Gonzo!
The King is dead!  Long live the King!


Cock on the Block Cops Out
Goddamn it! How could we let Bernard Kerik slip away from us like that?


Another Hit By The Supremes
That rumble I felt this morning wasn't caused by any kind of geological seismic displacement. Rather, it was the ripping wave of social change. In case you didn't feel it, or hear the resounding howl from the Castro, Greenwich Village, and Key West, the Supreme Court ruled that anti-sodomy laws are unconstitutional per a reasonable expectation of privacy.


Goose, Gander; Gander, Goose
"Revisionist history" is the big buzz term at the White House lately. Condi Rice fished this one from the post-Vietnam defeat archives and re-applied it to anyone questioning the "intelligence" reports used to justify our lighting war on Iraq. The Bushmeister has also latched onto the term, using it to conveniently silence and/or dispose of anyone who grills him on pre-war Weapons of Mass Destruction evidence. The Bush team wields this weapon like a giant claymore sword, almost as much as they used "patriotism" to browbeat any Congressional resistance to homeland security initiatives or the mobilization to Iraq. It's a classic emerging Bush-ism, clearly used for "us-or-them" effect.


Peace, or Nothing Like It
My teeth nearly fell out a few weeks ago when I heard Ariel Sharon say that he was going to begin dismantling illegal Israeli settlements in the Occupied Territories as a means of getting the Peace Process back on track. Reciprocal promises by Mahmoud Abbas to crack down on factional terror strikes seemed almost as breathtaking. Could this be the moment I so longed for since the fatal blow to a nearly-realized dream three years ago? Would the bloodshed stop and period of reconstructive optimism commence? Oh, come on-this is Israel! Of course it couldn't be that easy!


Presenting: The Madonna, Mark XII
Wow. I bow down before the queen of media spin self-promotion. She may not be able to act her way out of a speeding ticket. However, there's no denying which bitch is on top when it comes to packaging controversy for her own benefit. Just when you thought she was too old and weak for the game, out comes the Material Girl, rapping about her latte and pilates boy-scoping diva life. She won't snap America out of its war stupor and into sensibility. She'll make plenty of money pretending to, though.


Under God Or Else
About a week ago, the House of Representatives passed a measure that decrees a national day of praying and fasting to please God. At the time, I was offended by yet another wild opportunistic lurch aimed at making America a corporate theocracy. Swish in Herr Bush's exhortation that we pray to God for our troops' benefit and you've got one treacherous brew that lightens the soul while excusing the crimes. But now that our troops have gone ahead and slaughtered a van full of Iraqi children, perhaps a day of national penitence is in order. God's likely to be pissed about this.


Dixie Chicks No Rebels
Whatever happened to Grrrrrl Power? Did I fall asleep one night and wake up to tractable Southern women in their pre-Civil War form? Back in the social corsets of submission, seen and not really heard? Dangling before us like sugarplums, delicious and ripe, but lacking any real substance? Thanks to the Dixie Chicks, all these questions have been answered in a most ominous fashion.


More Lard With My Coke, Please
The Good Rev lays down the nitty-gritty on high-fat diets and their effect on the WAR ON TERRORISM!


Pack It In!
Ready to put some Ho-Fucking-Ho in the new airline travel recommendations set out by our ever-friendly and uber-paranoid Transportation Security Administration?


The Ugly Orphan
As I write this, an oil tanker containing 20 million gallons, less the roughly 2 million gallons that have already leaked out, has broken in half and sunk off the coast of Spain. There are numerous reports as to the ownership of the vessel as well as its "inspection" record in various sketchy ports of call. The ship's owners are quick to defend themselves against potential liability, Spain is jousting with Portugal over who's going to pay for the cleanup, and there are already the usual wildlife casualties of any such toxic disaster. But one thing is conspicuously missing from this whole scenario: The oil's real owner.


On Your Knees, Martha
If Martha Stewart ends up going to trial for insider trading, I'll have to have a crash transsexual operation and seek immediate employment with Bear Stearns. Since I'll be a seriously hot woman, the dicks at the firm will want me to start immediately. Who knows, maybe I'll even get down on my knees and suck a couple of sexual harassment settlements out of them before I finish my master plan. That is to commit gross insider trading or massive fraud so that I can be sent to Club Fed and have Martha as my prison bitch.


The Impotence of Being Dick
Some of you have come to think of Cheney as the Invisible Man, while others of you cannot shake the image of No Hair the Pirate. This naturally depends on whether you want to ask him questions about his Halliburton dealings or if you want to add more viscosity to his already greasy palm. While the debate rages about actual existence of Cheney's heart (say, wasn't that surgery to install rather than repair?), developments in Cheney's apocalyptic cheerleading demonstrate something that Mrs. Cheney has known for years: the li'l Dick hasn't worked since the day Richard Nixon resigned.


A Slippery Exit
So let me get this straight. U.S. oil companies, such as ChevronTexaco and ExxonMobile, have been buying Iraqi oil since 1996 under the oil-for-food program implemented by the UN so that average Iraqis would have food, medical supplies, and a semblance of infrastructure. Now, all of a sudden, those same oil companies are dropping Saddam's crude exports like a Catholic priest drops his boyfriend in the light of day. And according to our "diplomatic sources," the whole reason is because, all this time, Saddam has been skimming money off the top in the form of a surcharge per barrel.


The Love Daddy
"No, Daddy! I don't want to take any more G and let those perverts have another go at me!"


Bring Me Jango
In which the Rev waxes nostalgic about "The Star Track," and we get some valuable insights into the youthful origins of everyone's favorite Pigdog columnist.


The New American Standard
America. We like to project a certain image to the rest of the world. “Freedom” comes to mind because we brandy it so much before everyone else on the globe. This freedom includes the right to go out and take risks and make something for yourself because you had the necessary chutzpah. “The bigger the risk, the bigger the reward,” we say, and we encourage this even though some ventures will inevitably fail. Such has been the course of things throughout our history, and as a nation we generally look to the Oval Office for guidance on what risks we, as a nation, will take.


Bad House, Good Tea
The City! Its lights, its sounds, its voices. This article has nothing to do with those things, but the Rev does lay it down on a new venue for you to do those things you do.


It’s What I Live For
The Rev lays it down, once again. Kinda like Joyce Carol Oates, except he's bald and wears leather.


That's "IT"?
Since firing the SF Comical as my newspaper two years ago, I've kicked over to the Internet as my main info source for the goings on in the real world. It's really good to be able to get a balanced viewpoint from multiple sources with just a few clicks. The place I usually start is on Top Stories at Yahoo. There, the neatly subdivided sections guide me through the global morass with relative ease. Over the last year and a half, there was this item in the Business and Technology sections entitled "Ginger" or "IT".


Gimme Five on Ringo
Two down, two to go. While I weeped really hard when John Lennon's life was taken in a disgusting act of delusional desperation, I marked the passage of George Harrison with an Elton John track called "Funeral for a Friend". I imagine that when all the remembrances are finished, everyone else will reach the same question I'm at now: which one will be the last?


Market Karma
It just warms my racing heart when I see evil people get what they've so richly deserved for so long. So it was with great pleasure last week that I saw one of the most vile and greedy corporations in America get what was rightfully coming to it.


House of Cards
Now I'll admit to being somewhat hung over after dinner and a lot of drinks at some friends' house last night. But upon viewing the news of the House-passed "economic stimulus package," I had to run to the bathroom for session of deep, passionate, oral worship with my toilet.


Jeez, Take the Train
In America, there's usually two or three times a week when you think to yourself, "Now I've seen it all." Some obscene story on the news, some twisted fate in a situation you'd never be involved in, some new product pushed in an overtly sexual manner. It's always something.


Thank God, er--Allah, for the war! If it hadn't been for the Sept. 11th attacks, CNN might have succumbed to it's own pundit-heavy payroll and folded like a cheap al-Qaida tent. But thanks to AMERICA?S NEW WARTM and it's inevitable sequel, AMERICA STRIKES BACKTM, the AOL-Time Warner behemoth has one again leapt to the forefront of the media stage, albeit with questionable consequences.


CNN Goes Uncle Tom
John Lee Hooker died for your sins.


Is Not This Rave a Crackhouse?
Glowsticks, pacifiers, and Dancesafe, oh my!


Dr. Flufflay, or "How I learned to stop worrying and love the Marina"
The Good Reverend gives the lowdown on a recent laydown.


Cultural Terrorism: Homestyle
The Rev gives you the scoop on jamming the brain-radiation broadcasts and sending some bad waves back upstream.


Walk Among Us: The Blonde Clone Invasion Stops Here
What's going on in your home town? The Good Reverend gives you the scoop.


The Rev gives it to you like it is: election day blues.


Elections, The Middle East, and Sweet, Sweet Oil
The Rev lays it down on leading the Free World and spreading, uh, oil on the waters and shit.


Shootout at the Cyberbuss Corral
Reverend CyberSatan of the Cyberbuss KREW gives Pigdog Journal the SCOOP on the haps at Saturday's Cyberbuss Costume Ball. Beaujolais! Bad cops and badder guests sparred with countering and feinting and parrying and all that rot! It was the best failed event of the season.

Over.  End of Story.  Go home now.

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