Back From the Dead....and Unreasonsably Spiteful

Oye loyal minions,

If you're reading this right now, The Baron is pleased.

If not The Baron is vomiting 4-8 helpings of Kentucky Bourbon into his bathtub and shrieking at the cat to stop judging him....more so.

The Baron figured he'd let you in on the secret of his mysterious multi month absence.

You see, The Baron was searching for the elusive Northwest Passage in a large junk rigged scow manned by Asian lady sailors and several talking dogs.

The passage you ask? Exquisite.

The company? Accommodating....hehehe, oh my were they accommodating for such small frames.....

The Dogs? Hilarious at first and then increasingly tiresome...The Baron can only listen to so many red rocket jokes before he gets erect....err sick of it.

The Baron has been driving a lot because of his new responsibilities and thus has developed some new insanely heated dislikes. Today he would like to talk to you about a special topic...fucking assmasters looking for a parking space during rush hour.

Picture this, you're driving home trying to make a series of mind bendingly poorly timed stop lights. If you make this next signal, you'll be home in 5 minutes. If you miss it, the frustratingly dick-fucked Boston traffic system will grind you into a shit soaked ball extruding you some 30 minutes later.

You're 200 feet away, the light has 20 seconds more to go, you're going to make...A fucking korean piece of shit coupe slides lazily out of the supermarket parking lot and accelerates to 7 miles an hour. You slam on the brakes and begin veering from side to side like an edgy NASCAR driver during a decapitation related warning flag.

You can see the fuckbag within scanning the curb, vainly searching for a parking spot after having driven less than 20 feet from their point of origination. Your teeth sink into the steering wheel in a murderous flap. The cloak of civility you've pulled over the savage ape within begins to slip.

The light turns red.

Feces spray from your engorged, multicolored corn into a waiting palm. You wildly swing the vehicle around the doddering cumbag and hurl the stink log through the open driver's side window surely infecting the occupant with Hep A in the process.

Because of your high fiber diet, the lawyers consider this assault with a deadly weapon. Your corn experiences 8-10 years of back filling as you sob.

See what The Baron means? These people are a fucking menace and should be drowned in their shitty 1984 civics and VW rabbits.

What say you?

The Baron Ate Mexican Food Twice Yesterday : A Turlet Elegy

So for whatever ill conceived reason The Baron ate Mexican food for both lunch and dinner yesterday.

The work turlet therefore faced severe reprisals in the early AM of May 24th. May the god of poop-chairs have mercy on its soul.

Here is an artist's depiction of this morning's atrocities.

The police and their property represents the handicapped turlet.

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Ahoy Baronites

The Baron realizes that it has been a long, long time since his last post, and for that he is truly defiant, sexy and contemptuous.

So what if The Baron has had a ton of shit to do?

So what if The Baron needs to post more often?

The Baron has been busy impregnating a planet of vaguely oriental looking college girls, but he's back now to make an announcement.

Alright, so The Baron is only going to get busier from here on out. But the box must go on.

As such the current no postings for a month or two format is being replaced by a comic once every few weeks as The Baron sees fit.

This will be the schedule for the forseeable future.

As such enjoy this comic you contemptible assmasters...

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The Baron Explains Your Astrological Sign: Part 1: Ares, Taurus, Gemini and Cancer

Astrology is the study of how inaccurate suppositions about the solar system impact the daily lives of inconsequential, moist bags of flesh and their immortal lord The Baron. Let him start off by saying that if you believe in this shit you should be dragged into the street and shot before you can breed. Feeble minded retards (sorry actually mentally handicapped folks, The Baron knows you're smarter than that) talk about astrology like it isn't just a way for gypsies to steal the cash that you probably shouldn't have anyway. In reality, this science is far, far stupider. We're talking dick in the toaster oven stupid. Anyone who even jokingly asks "what's your sign" is just trying to let you know that they're not interested in sex, unless your vagina / weiner contains hot coils that can cook a mean bagel.

Aries Zodiac Sign
March 21 – April 19
Element: Fire
Quality: Cardinal
Ruling Planet: Mars
Symbol: Ram
Keywords: Assertive, Competitive, Independent, Energetic, Impulsive

What the fuck is an Ares for starters? The Baron heard it was some sort of Ram, which is in essence just a goat that's a huge asshole. Let's have a look at these keywords:

Assertive (means you're a dick or a bitch).

Competitive (you feel entitled to shit, and it leads to your dick/bitch-ness).

Independent (you don't think the rules apply to you and exert a terrible burden on decent society, you should be raped with a pickle jar).

Energetic (you don't know when to shut the fuck up and get off your fucking cell phone).

Impulsive (you spend all of your money on stupid shit, probably ipads and rap CD's and then when the economy collapses you expect a hand out from responsible people, rather than starving in silence).

Taurus Zodiac Sign
April 20 - May 20
Element: Earth
Quality: Fixed
Ruling Planet: Venus
Symbol: Bull
Keywords: Stable, Sensual, Determined, Stubborn, Affectionate

Bulls are cool right? Strong, terrifyingly agile, confused by waving sheets. Ah yes, there's the kicker, Bulls are stupid as ever living fuck. You could literally talk a bull into anything. Ram that woodchipper head first and blindfolded? Sure! Hmm, an odd mix of keywords too:

Stable (you've got four legs or at least act like you do, that's one better than a tripod).

Sensual (How exactly, with the horns? P.S. The Baron really wants to see how that would work).

Determined (you don't know when to quit and have fucked up your entire life with the dogged claim that you never back down from a challenge, even evading child support payments).

Stubborn (Another word for determined, assholingly determined).

Affectionate (Anyone ever met a bull before? Mother fuckers will kill the shit out of you. The only thing they get affectionate with is mounts meant to look like a lady cow and cowboy Jim's gloved hand).

Gemini Zodiac Sign
May 21 - June 21
Element: Air
Quality: Mutable
Ruling Planet: Mercury
Symbol: Twins
Keywords: Communicative, Intelligent, Fickle, Restless, Curious

Gemini means twin right? So you must be two people? That's probably just a nice way of saying you're fat. What a stupid planet to be associated with too. A scorching hot little speck floating in the sun's bird bath. Keywords:

Communicative (read talkative, you always arrive at the worst possible time and start telling long winded stories that are supposed to be funny but fall flatter than an anorexic teenager's tits).

Intelligent (just because you can talk for a long time doesn't mean you're smart, they probably meant, bright-eyed, you know like healthy livestock?)

Fickle (this one means you're a good for nothing skatter brained shitdick who can never commit to weekend plans and is consistently 30 minutes late with some lame ass excuse about the bus).

Restless (Stop rocking in the fucking chair....ok now stop tapping on the desk....No, don't jiggle your keys you dumb fuck!).

Curious (this is just another word for nosy, keep your beak out of The Baron's business!!).

Cancer Zodiac Sign
June 22 - July 22
Element: Water
Quality: Cardinal
Ruling Planet: Moon
Symbol: Crab
Keywords: Shy, Cautious, Homebody, Protective, Moody

Holy shit cancer? So how long you got to live? Haha, oh The Baron sees, cancer actually means Crab(s). Is that any better? Keywords:

Shy (spineless shit-wit, will never make a decision for yourself).

Cautious (you make sure to steal food from the common fridge under the cover of darkness. The roomates will be oblivious unless they hear the rasp of fingernails on your bug infested flannigan.)

Homebody (this one isn't even an adjective you assmaster).

Protective (of what, your ipod? Trust me, with those crabs as your symbol you're definitely not going to be protecting a mate)

Moody (who wouldn't be, what with a crotch full of miniature dick lobsters snipping away at your sack, and or flaps 'n' doo-dads?).

Insufferable Train Conversations part 2

Greeting Baronites, this is The Baron speaking.

The Baron knows its been a while since we last talked and he wants you to know that he still despises each an every one of you. The Baron has been extremely busy with his harem, namely, The Baroness found out about said slut corral and his eminence has been hiding in the basement of his chalet in the Urals ever since.

Seriously though, The Baron heard a conversation on the train today that made him vomit vast curtains of bilious mucus all over the baby carriage in front of him.

Here's the discourse in question:

Insufferable wench: ....we'll see whether Chase calls tonite.

Insufferable friend: "Why wouldn't he call?"

IW: Well, he likes to sleep around with other ladies, you know, try his luck on a Friday night.

IF: "He sounds like a jerk."

IW: "No, Chase is a great guy, he just has a short attention span and gets distracted by every new, shiny thing. I'm just happy to be one of those shiny things."

WHOA!! FREEZE FRAME!!! There's really no point in going any further. Ok, let The Baron point out a few things he was able to deduce from the conversation to this point. Mind you The Baron had yet to see the woman in question.

1. IW is fat, not circus fat, but just enough to be disgusting.

2. Also she has a moon-shaped, freckly face.

3. She is between 28 and 35.

4. Chase is the biggest douchebag in the history of the world.

5. Chase is blonde, with a perpetual 5 o'clock shadow.

6. He fancies himself a ladies man.

7. But he's the wrong kind of ladies man. E.g. he goes after big dumpy sows and ugly chicks.

8. IW's friend is fed up with IW's shit and actually wishes her specific harm.

9. IW has the IQ of a block of sandal wood, but the aroma of cheap deodorant and sweaty feet.

Well, how do you think The Baron did? If you answered, I bet she was a charming, young, attractive woman, report to the Rapeosaur Pit for re-education.

Holy shit was The Baron ever dead on!!

Big, fat, messy, freckles out the wazoo, voice that could nag the dead. The Baron could literally hear commuters eyes rolling.

Baron Wannabe Spotted in China

God, this guy is doing it all wrong.

Supposed to say, By the Power of Grey Skull!

The Baron's Amendment Passed!

HAHAHAHHAHAAHHAA

The Baron's amendment to the health care bill passed unnoticed last night!

Amendment 3603 or "Peak a Boo Growler Surprise Day" snuck into the legislation and was passed by a vote of 219-212.

PBGS day festivities will include:

"Mandatory thong wearage for all comely lasses of legal age"

"Periodic pick up the sheet of notebook paper from in front of The Baron's throne ceremonies"

and "190 million dollars to support The Baron's healthy appetite for fine, ballroom dancing shoes."

Yeah, you read that last one right.

The Baron has a soft spot for ballroom dancing.......

Nah! Just kidding. The 190 million dollars is to resurrect the Second Bass Mobile and turn it into a time machine that runs on garbage...also it can fly.

The Baron's Thriller Novel : Part 11

Previously on the Coppenhagen Corrolary:

Roy Gimbel, heir to a massive tampon and brassiere empire is framed for a murder he did not commit the very day his father is found dead of a mysterious ailment in his office. Following a harrowing encounter with an anal probe at the Swiss Poliz HQ, Roy narrowly escaped what would have proved a fatal sodomizing with a terrifying new hemolytic agent. In his haste, Roy reached out to a powerful enemy, in Theodora Grandville, proprietress of the Grandville Lady Solutions. Seizing on Roy's offer to combine their feminine empire, Lady Grandville offers Roy the use of her plane to escape to Russia and a source of funds to help him clear his good name and claim his birthright.

Meanwhile, Ally Rivera a top agent in the FBI is taken off the Mosaic case and placed in charge of solving the murder of agent Corkwald, a deadly cold war assassin and field operative, killed by fatal hemolysis following brutal ass insertion. Ally quickly finds herself on the trail of a mysterious duo of terrifying ex-Soviet Intelligence agents, the Duvonoski brothers. Through a harrowing investigation and the death of a heroically mustached agent, it is revealed that these siblings share a bizarre genetic trait...their blood contains a potent hemolytic toxin deadly to other individuals. After a close call with one of the brothers, Ally joins the pursuit of Roy Gimbel, a man who seems inextricably linked to the bizarre murders and the terrifying poison blood of the Duvonoskis.

************

The Grandville Estate, Eastern Switzerland, 7AM.

Ally pulled into the the vast gravel driveway of the Grandville mansion and slowly maneuvered the car nearer to the structure. The loose rock crunched beneath the tires causing in what seemed like a deafening cacophony to agent Rivera's frazzled nerves. Ally's skin began to glisten as small, salty droplets collected at the crack of her sculpted ass.

A fleet of more than a dozen police vehicles idled outside the gates, waiting for her signal. They would race in, surround the compound and capture Roy Gimbel, alive if possible. But first she had to find him.

The sun sat low in the eastern sky, dimly illuminating the frosty gardens and statuary. Ally's hands gripped tightly to the wheel. She eased the car to a stop just outside of a towering set of doors, not even the main ones, and waited.

A rusted out shit box sat just beyond the nose of Ally's car. She could tell without looking that it was a Ford Escort. So this was the deteriorating vehicle Gimbel had been seen fleeing in. There were a number of bullet holes in the rear of the vehicle.

"Hmm, no report of gunfire in the report. Maybe this happened en route...?"

There was no telling where Gimbel was in this massive edifice, or even if he was here at all. The local constabulary would not allow a search warrant to be execute against lady Grandville; the woman's donations were responsible for bankrolling most of the town after all. So this was a stakeout, the most tedious of all law enforcement maneuvers. Officers had died sitting in their patrol vehicles on similar assignments from a combination of boredom, and leg clots throwing emboli into their brains.

Ally settled back and tried to make herself comfortable. The fabric of the seat practically sang as her taut buttocks raked across the fabric ridges.

"This could take a while" She muttered.

Exactly 3 seconds later, Roy Gimbel burst from the side door of the building and began striding towards the outbuildings.

"Holy shit!" Ally choked, fumbling for the radio.

She was about to call in the Cavalry when a second more distant figure caught her attention. A man was lurking at the treeline, following Roy from a distance, tracking him like a wolf. Ally set the radio down and picked up her binoculars.

She focused in on the distant figure and nearly yelped when the image sharpened.

"Jesus fuck!"

The angular face of Vasili Duvonoski screamed in her mind. This was the man who had tried and failed to kill her outside the Elk's Shaft, the man she had mortally wounded. He moved with animal cunning and no sign of disability. Were the Duvonoski's twins? Had Vasili died in some alley and his brother come to replace him? It was the only explanation that made sense. This simply could not be the man she had shot less than 18 hours previously.

She was forced from her reflection as Roy broke into a run. He had spotted the lurker as well and was tearing for the hangar at the edge of the property.

Ally sprang from her vehicle and began the pursuit. She brushed roughly through an opening in a low hedge row. The radio caught and tore free in the dense foliage.

"Shit!"

There was no time to retrieve the item, Vasili or Alexi or whoever that man was was gaining on Roy in long steady strides. This man was fast as a leopard.

With a shrill whine, a sleek jet pulled from the far side of the hanger and rolled towards the open runway. Gimbel veered in the direction of the plane.

"I can't let him reach that jet or he's gone for good!" Ally thought.

The lurker had a similar plan it seemed and Ally had no idea what he would do to Roy if he caught up first.

Ally's smooth, recently shaved legs, ached for oxygen and she sprinted after the fleeing Gimbel. He was not 30 yards from the jet now. He shot panicked glances over his shoulder at the lurker and seemed to find new energy reserves as he covered the final few feet.

Ally cursed under her breath as Roy reached the retracting stairs and bounded into the jet. The engines spooled with a deafening shriek and the stair began to rise and fold back into the fuselage.

The lurker reached the stairs just in time and roughly jerked at the receding hand rails. The plane began to roll slowly forwards. This bull of a man wrenched with all of his considerable strength and managed to bring the staircase back to earth.

He leaped up the stairs 3 at a time. Ally heard a high pitched scream from within the jet. With a final few strides she grabbed the stairs. Drawing her weapon she clambered up into the darkened interior of the aircraft.

The lurker was standing above Roy holding a large, curved knife. A bloody slash glared from Roy's cheek. He seemed frozen in terror contemplating the man who was about to kill him.

"Hold it right there asshole!" Ally bellowed.

The man pivoted his head on a column of ropey neck muscles and met Ally's gaze. He smiled slightly, then turned his vast bulk to face her. He turned the knife in his hand and took a step forward.

"One more step and I'll blow your brains out freak!"

The lurker smiled again and took another step.

A sharp report tore through the cabin. The lurker shuddered and glanced to the spreading, purple stain on his left, upper chest. He snarled and lunged at Ally.

Four more shots sounded. The man's chest was a mess of blood and torn flesh. He examined his wounds, grinned and slumped to the floor with a great thump.

"Who the fuck was that?" Roy stammered.

"I'm not completely sure. It doesn't matter though, you're coming with me."

"I'm not leaving this plane you crazy bitch, everyone out there is trying to kill me!"

"That doesn't concern me. You're wanted for a three murders that we know of. Ally clipped, leveling her pistol at Roy's chest.

"Of and who's we? The fucking butt-raping Swiss Poliz again?"

"No Mr.Gimbel, I'm agent Rivera with the FBI and I'm taking you in if it kills me."

"It just may miss Rivera." Came a man's voice from the front of the jet.

Ally spun her weapon around, but it was quickly knocked away with a sharp kick. Ally found herself eye to eye with a lithe looking man. His piercing blue eyes seemed able to assess the situation in a single glance. He pointed a large caliber pistol directly at Ally's beautiful mocha face.

"Please, have a seat agent, you're not going anywhere."

"Who the hell are you?" Roy and Ally blurted in unison.

"I work for Lady Grandville and she says Gimbel is under her protection. That makes him my responsibility."

"Oh thank god!." Roy yelled.

"So what, are you going to kill me?" Ally asked.

"We'll just have to wait and see won't we? Now sit the fuck down!" The man indicated a chair with his pistol.

Ally reviewed all the contingencies in her mind and could see no alternative. The way this man held his weapon belied decades of experience. There was nothing she could do that wouldn't end with a bullet to the chest.

Defeated, Ally slumped into a chair.

He threw a pair of handcuffs to Roy with a casual underhand toss.

"Lock her to the seat Mr. Gimbel."

Roy jumped up, grabbed the shackles from the floor and obliged. Ally noticed that he was very gentle when tightening the rings, almost apologetic.

"Good, now help me get this body off the jet."

The men struggled with the hefty remains of the lurker. They finally moved him to the stairs and roughly shoved the body out of the aircraft. Ally watched as the limp corpse rolled to the tarmac. The engines roared to life and the stairs retracted with a mechanical whir.

The plane accelerated in a continuous powerful spurt and leaped from the runway. The pilot made a quick 180 degree bank and swept back over the hangar.

Ally craned her neck scanning the ground for the lurker. She quickly spotted him, and felt an intense wave of nausea. He had risen to one knee and was glaring at the departing jet.

"Oh shit...that man's still alive?" Roy uttered in disbelief. "Don't tell me there's two of them."

"What do you mean by that?" Ally asked, her voice wavering.

"I could have sworn I killed this big ass-probing bastard at the poliz station and then he chased me down and shot up my car."

"And I could have sworn I killed that man on the tarmac....twice in fact."

Their gazes met, in a moment of confusion bordering on panic.

"What the fuck is going on." Roy mumbled.

Remember Conversion Vans?

Back when The Baron was a young duke, a sensational new vehicle craze swept through western New York state (but not new york city, because that place is full of assmasters, that's right RB, JF and DS, The Baron is referring to you!).

That craze was conversion vans.

You may remember seeing these road boats in a variety of places including cheap, utilitarian camp grounds, county fairs, walmart and fishy smelling lakes that people felt compelled to swim in for some reason.

These noble behemoths reigned for a period of exactly 10 years (1978-1988) until they were usurped by minivans. The Baron cries hot tears when he ponders the the demise of conversion van and recalls a yesteryear full of hope, contentment and sweaty perverts.

So come with The Baron as he walks down memory lane and reviews the 4 main types of conversion van and their varied and often sordid owners.

1. The Pederast's Paradise

This rusted out hulk can be found lurking at any large, public place with numerous exit routes, ample parking and shadowed view points. You've definitely seen one of these vans in your lifetime (probably in a suppressed childhood memory). They were invariably made by Ford and nearly all sported the classic dusty white paint job. They were driven by the discerning pedophile who realized that to operate on the fringes of society, he would have to live on the fringes of society in a triple purpose rolling home / dungeon / pedo-perch.

2. The Rolling Romp Pad

The Baron bets little Preston was pretty pleased with himself when dad handed over the keys to his aging lexus sedan, but Preston was a dull, dull boy. The real winner in the highschool car grab was young Travis who inherited a slightly rusted Starcraft vanliner from his parents. Do you know why gentle reader? Because Preston was stuck trying to plow miss school spirit in a cramped space the size of a kitchen counter in plain view of any passerby, while Travis could park, draw the curtains, walk back through the 2 rows of captain chairs and violate Peggy pigtails on a queen sized matress.

3. The Das Drugs.

Every highschool student and junky dropout shitweasel has a similar dilemma. Where to consume illegal intoxicants without being ganked by "the man"? Fortunately, the chevy van star was invented for just such purposes. Simply drive your rolling party wagon deep into the woods, throw open the double doors, pump some tunes and commence addling your brain and destroying your liver. You'll be safe from the police / parents, snugly surrounded by bears, cougars and Jason Vorhees in the all concealing forest.

4. The Second Bass Mobile.

Perhaps the most venerated conversion van of all time, The Second Bass Mobile represents everything that is good in this world. Boasting quadraphonic sound, a waterbed and now a strobe light, TSBM is a god among vans. It can serve any of the above purposes while simultaneously blowing your insignificant mind with defiant rock ballads from the 1970's. Do you dare say hello to The Second Bass Mobile? The Baron did once, and it showed him the true meaning of righteousness!

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