Satan Disavows Church of Satan

How we found the missive

How we found the missive

Sometimes, we find these notes on the shores of the river and share them with you.


Hell Dimensions, Throne of Betrayal

TODAY Satan, Lord of Darkness, has disavowed any and all connections to the “Church of Satan,” and the “Temple of Satan” organizations, claiming “they’re just a bunch of decent human beings.”

In a press release sent on a wave of nausea and embossed in gold, arriving in every statehouse, mansion, and media organization across the Earth simultaneously this morning, Satan had this to say:

“Do not let it be said that we in The Pit appreciate do not appreciate the attention these groups have given to us Dark Denizens. Do not let it be said that we do not appreciate their denial of God. Do let it be spoken to all the principalities of the Earth that we can no longer in good conscience allow the Satan brand to be affiliated with their message of bodily autonomy, personal freedom, and the abolishment of corporal punishment.

Satan and his Devils must break with any who believe that humans have the right to worship in any way other than that which we see fit - our recommended dark devotions to pain, and the denial of joy. We in Hell believe that it is the duty of all who take Satan seriously to defend and propagate the time-honored tradition of corporal punishment, the same punishments we use in Hell, and see fit to use on all human beings of any age.

These fraudulently demonic organizations appear to be comprised entirely of reasonable, decent people, people who are law-abiding and thoughtful and do NOT represent our values."

  • Satan


There is no word yet on if Satan will file a lawsuit. Several dozen of the devil’s best advocates have been seen in courthouses and law firms in recent days, however, leading many to believe that these groups may be sued into changing their names.

Lucifer is currently in talks with the Southern Baptist Church about what they will be disapproving of this year, though some insiders indicate that he is courting them as potential replacement worshippers for the 2018-2020 Hell Cycles.


Weekly Horrorscope

We may have given our resident occultist, GALGERAN, a misspelled missive. We asked for inacccurate horoscopes. GALGERAN gave us uncannily prescient horrorscopes.


The augur

The augur

The   Horrorscopes


21 March – 20 April

The knocking at the door is not, in fact, at your door. When you hear it, do not open your door. It is not your door at all. It is not a door. What is outside is heavy and immobile. It echoes, a deep astral resonance against your personal psychic space that sounds like knocking. The Door that is Not a Door is locked. There is no God to open a window. That is the good news, given what is outside the window.


21 April – 21 May

Your sign is that of The Bull. This is fitting. The red eyes will stand out in the darkness, twin beacons in the night. Do not be misled by them, for they are not how The Bull sees, and the real danger lies in his onyx horns, invisible in the darkness. The darkness is a real, physical darkness, as well as a personal darkness that you can overcome only by avoiding the disemboweling horn of The Bull as it charges into your life and your bedroom.


22 May – 21 June

Due to a mistake in an astronomical reading over three thousand years ago, yesterday’s advice “everything should be fine in making a deal with the feathered serpent at the shore of the glade” was horribly misleading. If you still live, seek the serpent out and attempt to douse it in the glade. Speak what it says as it dies backwards to your reflection in the water. Carry a blade of pure obsidian with you, for if you fail, it will be your only hope to avoid a fate worse than death.

However, if you undertook the deal as a metaphor, please do not seek out the serpent.


22 June – 22 July

Your doll collection (if you do not collect dolls, think of this as your astral doll collection) has grown by one since our last reading. You did not purchase or trade for this doll. When you hear the scratching at 3 AM, take the initiative. Do not be passive and wait. Do not think of your childhood, because that is where the doll comes from.


23 July – 22 August

Today you will want to watch an old snooker tape. It is online in the Akashic Records, and a mundane experience at 3 AM is the key to accessing this astral library. However, it is vital that you do not watch the tape. The man playing snooker will be you, and the faceless entity watching that tape will forever wear your skin to wander the Earth.


23 August – 23 September

Keep in mind the sound of mosquitoes. This will keep you humble and remind you of what they should sound like as hints of static and digital derangement seep in. Your lucky numbers, 10, 13, 23, are the key to decoding their messages. They seek more than just your blood. They want to know what you were doing at the Red Lobster. The shrimp, you see, are not Endless. They are related. They communicate to their winged queens. Their numbers may be finite, but their anguish was not. Pain will be their message to you.


24 September – 23 October

You will have a vague feeling of unease today. That is because you are navigating the psychic prison of Zal-Toth, the Dark Beyond. As you wander in a daze through your daily routine, keep in mind that your astral form is trapped in his hell dimension, at the end of which are two guardians, one of life, and one of death. Both are treacherous and offer many promises, both would prefer that you not escape, though they lack the power to hold you there.


24 October – 22 November

The scorpion sign will seem far more apt than you would normally think when you take the time to dream about what is under your desk and under your bed. Do not fear their sting, it is pure painful information, a malignancy that is shared in the dark heart of the cosmos, and as the Gift grows inside you, a sense of positivity and wellness will mask your inward decay. Make use of that mask by moving to a job in customer service or public relations!


23 November – 21 December

When the Babylonians began to decipher the astronomical signs 2,500 years ago, they foresaw the cosmic, astral import of this day for all of you born under this sign. For them, it was known as “The Black Harvest,” and while many ancients claim this was a prophecy of the coming of Cyrus the Great, we know that all your efforts and hard work will today come to fruition, to be harvested by the Men in Shadow, the Time Thieves, who will profit immensely from it, leaving you with the trod chaff of your life. Quick thinking and desperation may drive you to offer them that which you hold dear, and the memories of your time as a human being, before they drained your humanity from you. They will take you up on this offer for a portion of that which you have created.


22 December – 20 January

Capricorn, today is about family. Not yours, of course, but the family of hard working astral parasites that has lodged itself in your soul. They are innumerable now, ready to burst from your psychic form and infest everything your mind holds dear. Their hatchings have been known to herald World Wars and Bush family births, so it is vital that you go through the day caring for nothing, feeling nothing, and experiencing no joy. Do not be present or attentive. This should not be hard for you, as the Maggots of the Outer Dark have already eaten these things from your heart. Tomorrow, though - live a little!


21 January – 19 February

The thing that stalks you in the form of a man is, unfortunately, not a man at all. The good news is that it derives it’s power from the mask that it must take off at 3 AM. During that hour, it is vulnerable to a strong banishing ritual. However, you must be careful not to touch the mask, and certainly do not put it on. You will want to put on that mask, but you must deny yourself the indescribable joy of eternal certainty of purpose.


20 February – 20 March

Prepare to have some lingering questions and mental blockages addressed, Pisces! Questions like “what’s up with all these crows, and why are they watching me sleep?” Mental blockages, like the memory of the string of feathers you carelessly tossed into the bonfire under a full moon. I recommend that you keep an eye on the beady, golden eyes of the crows, so that you know what watches you as you sleep - but also, keep an eye on your own eyes, because the crows wish to see what you see by eating them.

Random Political Post



We at Pearl River Flow do not endorse the "Political Blog" as such. However, we have been informed that many of them are wildly popular and make money, so then we decided to read several of them. They are essentially meaningless wordpiles, so we decided to make our own POLITICAL BLOG by running words and phrases from Pearl River Flow political posts and regular political posts through a word randomizer and then adding punctuation and putting it into paragraphs. We present:


President Trump and Putin shouts Trump in politics to an industry breach. About, there is kayfabe. Change this! The shouts, low. Seem to there are there. Environmentalists remain concerned. Scientist the two leaders. It before the noise. The religious ideas have been leaders, and conversation a decade.

Come and be close to global extinction, he is one of the Overlords.

He is a out translator, hail Climate, we're arena from the dimensions. He was Tuesday. Henry Kissinger. Environmental Protection Agency, a traditional political scientist. Summit his cracking religious reptilian type.

Faces would help.

Great extinction. Warming. A crowd meeting.

The bars of our cell become visible. He is sticking with it. Paris.

Involved in science to make press release ghastly, announcing two seconds that have in the through Global spectacle.

Germany joined with he by his priest, that extinction event involved in politics, politics, rolling administration, Global Warming, that Apocalypse over.

That he, his hollow accords, around the base, a scientist, lich-forms, Trump.

National interests, in The End of all Life On Earth.

Cameras, Putin, the sidelines, joined by longer Hillary Clinton, a constellation, extinction event, cries legal Human Being. Invented mention confirmed, now wire second Trump.

Climate Change with the had previously other candidates. Putin confirmed. For conversation, not of venom, stretching, extending her air sack, and Press secretary Sean Spicer confirmed Trump and Putin - Holocaust, great extinction, warming the thrumming thin skin, Group of 20.

Extinction as it is not an earlier you, gone without in, according to Steve Bannon. 

He held these like there for nightmares, everything possible, persona, global extinction, political mind, apocalypse, FOX NEWS.

The agency, roughly an hour.

They all know Overlord Obama.

Dissonant working Brietbart.

Two national security protocols, major countries, that with candidate Clinton, seen two countries, in case now Donald Trump.

Politics is a lot like professional wrestling, Russian holocaust, also seems mingling before the, through the, ether.

Need toxicologist, the Bible literally, Vladimir Putin by the reports, skull own, informal talk Trump, Russian leader.

Paris Accords.

Death calls from the abyss and begins to haul us to our doom.

Nomination. Extinction level event.

Debate the EPA, bubbling wreck, professional wrestling. 

Dark Order bounces to glamour and but of stage. 

Global Warming animated is a Dark Order on both candidates as a Paris of the Climate Change. Stretched White House of the so what, President Trump and experience more may read have Paris Accords.

Were quoted from which he, Dick Cheney, global extinction, getting to close ties at my life, release his “Tax Returns," plasticized flesh, the blooded, his will that Donald Trump, a recap, in ways each other, and asks nice to the noted, are and cannot.

Tax Returns, wrestling month, and was not membrane between the cry, both of extinction level event, be doing of that Trump, before rubberized He sees this. Trump spoke. Bow down. Known for Elon Musk. 

I about and that is got.


The Pearl River Flow Show Rider

An example of a good Pearl River Flow "Green" Room setup. 

An example of a good Pearl River Flow "Green" Room setup. 

Since discovering that performers often can demand things for their services, our editor and employer FPJEROME has begun doing this, resulting in a minimum rider that most venues who plan to accommodate “Mr. Pearl River Flow” should have no trouble meeting.

6 cans beer: 32 oz. Something nice, like Camo or Miller High Life

3 cans gasoline (empty)

1 bottle (750ml) Heaven Hill Bourbon

1 bottle (750ml) Thousand Pipers Scotch

1 bottle (750ml) Homemade moonshine

2 dozen empty mussel shells, dirty (FPJEROME does his own mussel shell cleaning)

1 whole catfish (live)

6 abandoned shoes

1 bottle Louisiana hot sauce, more than half empty, with ample crust in the bottle neck

1 paper sack (damp) filled with old fruit

6 bottles with unidentified liquids still in the bottom

1 gallon water (on floor)

10-15 rags (unclean)

Tin cup, hubcab, old tire (x1)

An animal skull (any size)


Raccoon (live, not caged)

Pile of dirty clothes

Wood, any sort (large)

Trash, in a 2-3 foot tall pile

- Thanks for getting the word out, interns. You're all fired.


Fear, Loathing, and David Brooks


I had David Brooks somewhere around Pickens when the drugs began to take hold. He was saying something about salami just as he remembered that I’d wooshed him onto an airplane and told him he was driving toward a taco shop in Queens.

Brooks had been heading toward Jackson the entire time and now he knew what was up. He began screaming about hard working riverboats and mint julep mustaches, eyes wide with a New Yorkers vision of William Faulkner.

“Goddamnit, Brooks!” I shouted, throwing a salt shaker of cocaine in his face. “Look! Look at this travesty!” I was shaking a picture of Joseph Stalin in his face and gambling that Brooks didn’t know what William Faulkner looked like.

“STALIN?” David Brooks asked. He was asking the car as much as he was talking to me, and I grabbed the center console, flapping it up and down like a jaw, as though the Oldsmobile itself were speaking to him.

“David, they’ve put statues of this man all over Jackson Mississippi!” I said, trying to sound like a car.

“I’m pretty sure those are of William Faulkner.” He said in a brief moment of clarity before I slapped him across the face with cured meat.

“Soppressata!” He cried, and I assumed he was right about the goddamn tube of pork.

“Bullshit! They’re of Joseph Stalin!” I shouted. “And Jackson has monuments to Stalin all over the city!”

“They fired all the copy editors! None now know truth!” David Brooks shrieked, hands pumping into the air as he lost control of the 98 Oldsmobile Intrigue.

The photographic “evidence” had lit the fire in the New York pundit. He reminded me now of the unstoppable columnist who I’d bamboozled, the one who met every challenging intern and flabbergasted deli goer with withering abrogation.

“I’m doing this for you! You, working car!” He said, petting the console. Relativity was in effect, the past few minutes had gotten us into Jackson, our tiny exchange taking place at a hundred and twenty miles an hour, every thirty seconds he was going a mile and my perception of the distance curled up over my head into space, the city becoming a concrete egg around us with flickering stars high in the sky, David Brooks screaming at the airline pilots.

“You’re fools! Real fools! You ask your bosses to pay you when your work is it’s own reward! You matter! If you didn’t do what you do, someone would notice! Someone would notice!”

I grabbed the wheel and spun us out, smoking tires coming to rest near an apocalyptically lit Applebees. Neon lines dragged across the hood of the Oldsmobile, electric red on baby blue, the award-winning columnist for the New York Times crying in the driver’s seat as I began to pull the briefcase away from him.

The briefcase contained two bags of grass, one fake press pass from PBS NewsHour, 75 pellets of mescaline, a Sidney Award that was supposed to go to Mike Pence, five sheets of high blotter acid, and a real press pass from PBS NewsHour. Moments ago it had contained a salt shaker full of cocaine, but I’d missed and now it was gone.

“They have real values!” He screamed as I wrapped my fingers around his throat. “Applebees is a common workhouse, the place where real America is… isss.”

I squeezed harder, veins in my forearms bulging as I tried to get him to shut up before he claimed an Applebees as American, human, or real. I knew that it was none of those things.

“Stop it!” A voice came from across the parking lot, he was wearing shirt sleeves and pants that seemed to blend into the night.

“Zuckerberg. Mark Fucking Zuckerberg.” I dropped Brooks to the ground. “He can’t prepare them. No one can prepare them.”

“I’ve been in the midwest all day.” Zuckerberg said, casting his gaze toward the sky. It was the color of blood, with clouds like fat bruises leaking toward the horizon.

“Zuck. No.” I said, grabbing my PBS NewsHour press pass from the briefcase.

“I’ve seen what the humans do. What they believe. What they say and see.” He stopped, fists clenching and loosening knuckles white with a hint of something else beneath the skin.

“They don’t understand. You see what happened when you told them the truth.” I indicated the spasming form of David Brooks. “For fuck’s sake, Zuck, look at what you did to the Dilbert guy.”

“THERE IS NO ANSWER TO THE CUBE. I have seen what they EAT, Jerome, I have seen what they do to the cattle and the grass in Iowa.”

It was then I knew that I could flee and live, or send this, my last message. I hope it reaches you in time.


Do Not Forget The Babble

Yes, our companion podcast, The Babble, is still kicking. This week we've got music by Josh Taylor, messages from our sponsors, and a brief discussion of how Pearl River Flow kinda sucks. 

Subscribe on Google Play, iTunes, Stitcher, and locally, Satchel (but they don't have a way to link)

Of course, just following me on YouTube will result in delightful, if weird, videos, including CATS, trash-finding videos, 25 minute videos of IMMOBILE GARBAGE or MOVING TRAINS, PLUS the podcasts, so hey - that's an option, people.

In Which I Review 10 Games that Might Not Exist

Grab some campground flavored Game Piss Game Fuel for Piss Gamers, the official energy drink of this metal fucking pipe.

Grab some campground flavored Game Piss Game Fuel for Piss Gamers, the official energy drink of this metal fucking pipe.

As some of you know, I sometimes review video games, usually ones that have been out for decades. Today, I will take a look at games that could, but should not, exist.

Piss VR Extreme

The notes claim that there are “37 levels of urination fun!” This is compatible with VR headsets in a move that could be described as “ill-advised,” were I not confident that someone intentionally advised the developers of this game solely to cause people to urinate on themselves in public.

Steam Greenlight Early Access 23.99

Punch Fucker 3D 2 - Puncher and Fuckererer

The followup to the browser game Punch Fucker 2D is as poorly titled as it is executed. This is a F2P game, following new characters not featured in Punch Fucker 2D - namely, Punch Manguy and Fist Mandrill, who are pallet swaps of Dude Gunbro and Bro Gundude from either Gears of War or the original Punch Fucker 2D, I honestly can’t remember.


While Punch Fucker 3D 2 - Puncher and Fuckererer is billed as “Free to Play,” every element of the procedurally created open world is entirely dependent on the microtransactions and DLC that you own. While things such as “walls,” “floors,” and “butt punches” and “gunfuckers” can be earned for free through 1, 2, 3, and 5 thousand hours of gameplay respectively, enemies, objects in the world, power ups, and ammunition are all quite expensive purchases.

Steam Greenlight Early Access (Free-ish)

Manspread Arcade 3

I don’t know what to say about Manspread Arcade 3 that the game copy has not already made exceedingly clear. I did, however, correct the numerous misspellings and grammatical errors.

"Spread ‘em! Take your manspreading game from the subway to the bus, from restaurants to bars, earning points by how many people you piss off! Build your snowflake meter to unlock special ball-dropping combos!"

Steam Greenlight Early Access (5.99)

Megasoftwarez Brisket Chef Indie Restaurant Simulator 2: Health Inspection Special Inspector Unit

At first, the low-fi black-and-white indie game graphics were distracting, and the oversized terminal text made little sense in this mostly-text-based game that had me reading thousands upon thousands of pages of text a few words at a time. However, once I got past the presentation, the focus on the bleak existence of the health department’s special victims unit was more than enough to make me stop playing, especially after I heard news that Megasoftwarez was using this game to train health inspector units in shutting down my favorite shady restaurants. Once I put in 300 hours, however, the charm of the thing gave way to the horrifying descriptions of health department violations, especially their 300 word scenario involving “rat king soup a’la king.”

Steam Greenlight Early Access (19.99)

700x Anime Tiddies Dating Sim

This anime dating “sim” claims that “350 anime babes and over 700 anime tiddies will all compete for your attention,” and while that is most certainly true, the artwork - every fame of which consists entirely of childish, nightmarishly proportioned oversexualized girls, is probably illegally gratuitous. I asked around and found out that one viewing of the character “schoolgirl fuckcat” sent Rob Liefeld into a fit of laughter, until it was pointed out that she did have well-drawn feet.

While this is a ostentatiously a simulation, I can report that no character in the sim did anything for any discernable reason, though as advertised, you can fuck a pidgeon!

Dong Wanglight Early Whacksess (29.99)

Short Shorter: Housing Crash Simulator

By moving numbers around in spreadsheets you can “earn” billions of “dollars” though in an odd incentivizing choice, most of the profits tend to flow up to your managers who are…. OH MY GOD IT’S NOT A SIMULATOR WE’RE ALL FUCKED!

Hacking into Bank Servers (Free)

Movie Watching Simulator

The workmanlike menus are functional, and in a unique twist, you can provide each film or “level” from your own hard drive, creating a hand-crafted experience, where... wait, this is just a copy of VLC.

Steam Greenlight (99.99)

2D Shooter 3D VR 2D Edition

This phone port VR game is supposedly a 2D sprite-art version of a Playstation era 3D version of a SNES 2D shooter, but I threw up on the floor immediately after putting on the 3D glasses and now have no idea what the game was or how, in fact, I got it.

Green Streemlight (Free)

Ninja Zombie Pirate Robot: A Trochee Crafting Game

This is, and I quote, “a roguelike metroidvania with crafting elements, a procedurally developed open world, permadeath and characters classes that are all trochee tropes.” I completely lost the ability to think original thoughts moments after beginning this game.

Steam Greenlight Early Access (4.99)

Self Well-Actualization: The Mansplaining Trilogy

This is actually just a twitter account.


I Will Be Attending Roger Ailes' Funeral

For those in the area who cannot make it to Florida via traditional means can do so by traveling through this portal and traversing the dangerous xenodimensional "Upside Down."

For those in the area who cannot make it to Florida via traditional means can do so by traveling through this portal and traversing the dangerous xenodimensional "Upside Down."

BREAKING NEWS: FPJEROME has been invited to the funeral of all-around-horrible being "Roger Ailes" and has leaked this, the schedule of events for the day-long ritual that will be used to bind his soul with hate for another thousand years.

We present:

The Hand-Out at Roger Ailes' Funeral

A Funeral for Roger Ailes.




Temple of Moloch 307, Palm Beach, FL

6:00 AM to 9:00 PM


6:00-7:00 - Gathering of the Sacrifices.

(Main dungeon, DeVos Anex)

Sacrifices and handlers only.


Special: 6:32 - Sunrise - Drawing of the Circle

(Chamber of Inner Darkness, Stone Room)

DANGER: Binders of the Revenant ONLY!


7:00 - 8:00 - Carving of the Runes.

(Prescott Bush Family Death Center)

Please see Dark Magus Sanguinem Atramento for details.


9:00 - 10:00 - Breakfast

(Temple Dining Hall, Koch Annex)

A light roast of Bob “Black Men Can’t Fix My Computer” Beckel, blood wine, coffee, donuts.


10:00 AM - 11:00 AM - Firing of the bronze statue of Moloch

(Main Cathedral, Trump Chamber)

Please do not enter without proper protective and breathing apparatus.


11:00 AM - Noon: Renewing of Shame

(Media Center, Ford Room)

A look back at the women he shamed and humiliated over his long live(s).


Noon 1:00 PM - Lunch

(John Foster Dulles Dining Hall)

Bill O’Reilly’s famous falafels and an Iraqi boy!


SPECIAL: 1:16 - HIGH NOON The Desecration of the Vessel

(Solar Observatory Globe, Key Chambers)

Danger: Acolytes of the Black Tongue ONLY!


1:00 - 2:00 Obliteration of the Eros

(Blood Hall, Cheney Room)

Bill O’Reilly will read from “Those Who Trespass” to the assembled crowd.

Note: Mr. O’Reilly demands nudity from all who enter the room during the reading.


2:00 - 4:00 - Offerings to Moloch

(Main Dungeon)

NOTE: This month’s chant is “Oxen! These are Oxen!”


4:00 - 5:00 Torment of the Weak

(Kissenger Annex, Room 101)

FOX and Friends hosts will scourge and punish Shepard Smith for his transgressions.

Family friendly!


6:00 - 7:00 Parade of Fools

(Blood Path, Rockefeller Building)

Join the multitude of celebrities that Mr. Ailes created as they are given their first glimpse at the nature of the pact when we contact his soul in the netherealm thanks to the “Long Island Medium,” Theresa Caputo!


7:00 - 8:00 Cleanup

(Blood Path, Rockefeller Building)

Clean up the exodimensional insect forms and pupae that will consume Mrs. Caputo after contact with the Dark Nethers.


8:03 SUNSET: Sealing of  One Thousand Years

(Black Chamber, Location Unknown)

Silent Watchers ONLY!


Thank you for attending. Please destroy this document as soon as the service is over.

FP Jerome, FBI Director

Dear President Trump;

I never doubted you. So I hope you’ll consider me as your new director of the FBI. With James “James” Comey being fired - good move, I hope you used your signature “You’re fired” line on that guy - I know you’ll need a replacement.

You’ll need a renegade with top-notch investigative skills, willing to fight crawfish-men, handle city-wide issues, infiltrate secret bunkers, climb into murder holes with strange beast-men, and sneak into corporate board meetings.

You like to think outside the box, and I like to think outside the cube. That’s why I think you should do some real outsider logic here and not hire some law-man to run your central law-man agency. You should hire an outlaw. Outside the box? Outside the law. It’s all the same thing.

That’s not to say I don’t have experience. I know the X-Files in and out, like the back of an old hand I found in the swamp.

Therefore, as your soon-to-be FBI director, this is exactly what I am capable of doing, what I will prioritize, and what, I am sure, the American people want - far more than whatever it was James “No you have to call me James” Comey was getting up to. Mostly, just convincing disturbed people that they should become terrorists, and distributing child porn. Therefore, I think you will find that this is a much better use of taxpayer dollars.


I will get to the bottom of alien abductions.

I will find out who in the government is covering them up.

I will investigate the killer - who only I know exists - who can stretch himself to impossible shapes and sizes.

I will investigate the Jersey Devil. The mutant one, not Chris Christie, unless of course you really want me to.

Ghosts. Real? I’ll find out.

Malevolent AI. I’m sure this is a threat the American people would like to be dealt with, Mr. President.

ASTRONAUTS. What are they up to? What do they bring back with them from space? I WILL FIND OUT.

Secret human cloning projects. Why are they secret? Are they humans? Why not just fuck? Few people can discern the truth to questions such as these. I am such a person.

Spontaneous Human Combustion. I feel like we can have more of that. SHOULD have more of that. Why so spontaneous?

Psychic mediums. I have a brilliant plan to see if any of them can contact US from beyond the grave.

Shapeshifters. They could be anyone! ANYONE. I alone can ferret out this threat.

Possession by the dead. I figure that if possession is 9/10ths of the law, then I can 9/10ths handle this.

Creepy baby-salamander hands. That can’t be good. No good comes of a hand like that.

Faith healers. No joke, I think we can probably just put an end to that.

Insects that suck people’s blood out. I mean, it’s common, it’s more dangerous than terrorism, and I have the swamp knowledge to handle it.


Reincarnation. Nope. We’ve got to put a stop to that. One life is plenty enough, if not, in fact, too much.

Telepathy. I don’t trust bald men for this reason. I feel like I can solve this case with that secret knowledge.


Mr. President, I hope you find this application to be useful and may it guide you to your new FBI director, who, I should point out, should be me, as I am just as qualified as anyone else.


Thank you;