Update on the Man Eating Bat Terrorist

Dateline Des Moines, IA
13August2009

In an unprecedented move, Rentacop forces moved in on the Hoyt Sherman Place Wednesday evening. Recently becoming a stronghold for Terrorist Bats (undoubtedly trained in Al Qaeda camps), the first real offensive has been considered a victory for Rentacop forces.

After disturbances last weekend, and early Wednesday morning, recon forces were sent in to assess the situation.

"Upon entering the facility all was quiet," Mike Lovell said. "And after a recon of the upper levels was almost complete, all hell broke loose." Mike was commenting anonymously, as he isn't cleared as a spokesman for his particular not-to-be-named security company, NPI Security.

"Complacency almost got us killed. We were wrapping up the mission, and had let our guard down when it all happened. But we were determined to not let such an incident occur again."

Wednesday evening, more disturbances rocked the Hoyt Sherman place. In an effort to quell further terrorist activities and to keep unrest from spreading through the community, the Rentacop Special Strike Forces were dispatched to bring the situation under control.

"I wasn't able to be there for the operation," Lovell commented, still maintaining his anonymity. "I was scheduled for bed rest until midnight. I left it to my Operations commander and patrol leader to perform the snatch and grab, which eventually led to the death of the terrorist bat."

The following is the anonymous Lovell's expert take on the events of the operation, based on 2nd hand information from the participants:

Entry was made at the rear of the compound. After clearing the main level, Rentacop officers proceeded upstairs. In a location code named the "Mirror Room", the bat terrorist made his presence known. A mime-like firefight broke out, as the bat strafed the officers, and they swung flashlights and flailed arms at it, while ducking and dodging the repeated swoops.

The Rentacops retreated back downstairs to regroup. These were obviously high level Bat Terorrists, given their ability to strike fear almost instantly into such hardened Rentacops. Definitely not your run of the mill bats. Maneaters for sure. After a few moments, channeling Lovell's strategically superior mind (WWMD is always the question to ask yourself when in the fight of your life)while he slept, a plan was hatched.

Tablecloths were procured by each officer, and one by one, rooms that had been re-cleared were closed off. Soon the Rentacops found themselves staring pure hell-born terror in its beady little blind eyes in the last room. This would be the final battle to wrest control of Hoyt Sherman Place, helping to secure the secret rumors of Chicken Boy from possible internet notoriety.

With enhanced aerial sonar capabilities and a 10-12 inch wingspan, the Bat Terrorist attempted to navigate the room and confuse the strike force, but within moments found its technology foiled by the radar mixing surface of stealth tablecloths. One stealth tablecloth was deployed, taking the terrorist out of the air. The second one was deployed, creating a blanketing effect on the terrorist bat for easy capture. A ground fight ensued, and finally in perfect Rentacop fashion, Commander Cook laid down the rules with a well placed heal.

We're not saying that the terrorist died for his cause, and we're not saying he was or was not captured. Spokespersons at GITMO have refused all comment. The Obama Administration has also been eerily quiet on the matter. We're still further investigating this manner through other named anonymous sources, but have yet to confirm this story. As a quality news organization, we wanted to make sure you heard it here first. We'll sort the facts from the fiction later, as the story develops, most likely into a really big whopper of a tale.

Update From The Colonel- July2009

Early on 03July2009, General Mook and his support staff (aka "the family") left the Mookified Compound for a period of nearly two weeks. I suspect it was political in nature, as the General is secretly petrified of dealing with the hard issues. As the only senior officer left, I was charged with providing security for the entire compound. With only periodic and minimal resupply from Captain Stew's Mobile Support Platoon during this time, my training would be put to the test. Lacking the General's presence, surely the enemy would come full charge.

Daytime incursions proved few and far between, allowing for some rest between combat patrols and operations. Nighttime however was a different story altogether. Unmanned aerial drones (the military jingo for "flies") had strafed and reconnoitered the compound on multiple occasions, keeping my forces unnerved and on edge. Rules of engagement were strict in that we were not allowed to counter anything other than direct attacks. The night of the "friendly fire incident" occurring was only an inevitable matter of time.

An unidentified personnel entered The Compound without prior notfication coming into our comm station. As he breached the perimeter, in the dark I only made out the silhouette of an intruder. I was the only one on guard duty at the time as our current threat level was listed as low. I had made the approach to the breach point too quickly, and the intruder stumbled over me, injuring my front paw. Not thinking of the Purple Heart that I would be rewarded, my true valor and combat soldier instincts came to the surface. With my cat-like reflexes, I used a jiu-jitsu leg sweep to take down our invader. My standard weapons not on hand I was forced to resort to hand to hand combat. I quickly pounced on my enemy assailant, climbing my way up the length of his body to finish him off. I began to apply the judo ear bite, but before I cinched in the finishing death blow, my good paw felt a slight difference in his ear. Recognizing this telltale sign of identification, I released the intruder.

Captain Stew, like most rear echelon brass, thought he was doing me a favor by showing up unnanounced with intentions of fresh chow. I had to explain to him (also read: chew his ass) the reason for protocol deeming forwarding communication prior to arrival. He was visibly shaken from his brush with certain death at my hands, but a good dressing down was definitely in order. Next time he'll know that he better arrive AFTER letting me know, or he may not be so lucky...

The Godfather Sends A Message!

going back to an earlier post about meeting up with the Godfather: Here

He has fired back....It's a great comment, so please read and....enjoy. The Godfather is watching you right now....and if you gotta problem with that you can see him at www.theslowbleed.com, or by clicking here

Here's his comment, if you're too lazy to click back to the original:

According to recordings, here is what was actually said during the lunch in question…

Godfather: Why did you go to St. Augustine, FL? Why didn't you come to me first?
Mookie: What do you want of me? Tell me anything, but do what I beg you to do.
Godfather: What is that?
[Mookie gets up and whispers in the Don's ear]
Godfather: That I cannot do.
Mookie: I'll give you anything you ask.
Godfather: We've known each other for many months but this is the first time you've ever come to me for counsel or for help. I can't remember the last time you invited me to your house for a cup of coffee, even though you are a fellow blogger. But, let's be frank here. You never wanted my friendship and you were afraid to be in my debt.
Mookie: I didn't want to get into trouble.
Godfather: I understand. You found paradise in the northern part of America. You had a good readership, made a good living, the police protected you and there were search engines and you didn't need a friend like me. But, now you come to me and you say "Godfather, give me web traffic." But you don't ask with respect. You don't offer friendship. You don't even think to call me Godfather. Instead, you come into my house and eat my ribs.
Mookie: I ask you for justice.
Godfather: That is not justice; your wife is also eating ribs.
Mookie: Let them suffer then. As she suffers. How much shall I pay you?
Godfather: Mookie. Mookie. What have I ever done to make you to treat me so disrespectfully? If you had come to me in friendship then your blog site would not be suffering this very day. And if by chance an honest man like yourself should make enemies then they would become my enemies. And then, they would fear you.
Mookie: Be my friend... Godfather.
[kisses Godfather's ring]
Godfather: Good. Someday, and that day may never come, I'll call upon you to do a service for me; an additional link to my blog perhaps. But, until that day, accept this justice as a gift.
Mookie: Grazie, Godfather.
Godfather: Bene.

Pre-Florida Meeting

And so it was, I had the pleasure, upon landing in Florida, of meeting our fellow blogger, The Godfather, from theslowbleed.com

Being a Godfather, of course he met with my wife and I at the Italian version of Applebees, Tony Roma's. WE had a good conversation over a midafternoon meal, before my wife and I departed in our rental to go to St Augustine for my sister's wedding. The first thing I noticed about The Godfather, is that he didn't look like he does in his little comment picture on the blogs. In truth, for those who are curious, here is the "real" Godfather's picture:



As a responsible blogger who feels the need to expose the truth in less than newsworthy headlines, I felt it necessary to make sure you all knew exactly who the Godfather is, so you'll know him when you see him. You'll also need to take note about what he ordered. The Ribs!!!! And not only the ribs, but with a wink and a nod to the waitress. Being such a great investigative force, and having seen fictional and nonfictional mob accounts, I knew what his real meal was. Ribs!! Yes, and not just your normal restuarant prepared ribs, but judging by the size, I'd say he ate the ribs of his enemy's newborn child. He was clearly sending me a message. I was on his turf, and we didn't want me to mistake his friendliness for weakness. That if I crossed him, the next meal on his plate would be my kid's ribs. Interestingly enough, my wife also ordered the ribs. I can't help but think my wife ingested the ribs of the Godfather's nemesis, in some sort of way of making her an unknowing accomplice, thus buying our silence.

Of course, now having met this man, and exposing the truth behind him, I will be out on the lamb. For he will come for me, albeit too late, as he has been outed!