The End

Hello Ubersapien Readers, no, this isn't Sven. It's Dave. I don't think he's coming back, you'd think I would be ecstatic. I'm not. He has saved us all. I say that in all seriousness. I sat in the same room as that man for six years and never once stepped back to appreciate his brilliance. I've disabled the rest of his contingency plan because I can't deal with his masterpiece fading away via posts of his sophomore years. Instead, I will give him a fitting sendoff. Here is the front page obituary of Sven Lyndon as printed in the Montpelier Times.

"If there ever was a primer for a failed conquest of the human race, TheUbersapien.blogspot.com would be it. Hollywood has mankind prevailing over aliens through disease, stolen technology, complicated treaties, and other fanciful dues ex machina. Reality truly is much stranger than fiction.

Species X, as our government named them, invaded our planet after decoding one piece of human culture. Passing over the launch codes to various nuclear arms and the location of any and all of our biological weapons, the aliens settled on The Ubersapien. Mr. Lyndon's uninformed and sociopathic ramblings were the first and only impression the aliens had of the human race. Armed to the teeth with it, they abducted Mr. Lyndon, and then attacked.

Their invasion began with a first wave, all disguised as humans. Using Mr. Lyndon's blog as a handbook for interaction, each died in a medley of horrible ways. Some poisoned themselves with barbershots, more than a dozen of them died while trying to run a mile with a keg and drinking partner over their heads. Several were turned into living bombs as the specifics of Mr. Lyndon's flashers (as worn by his friends and The Sack Artist) were not posted. The only instance of near assimilation was their use of "The Secret Manshake" at homosexual bars, but even this victory was short lived as all who found acceptance in gay bars through the Manshake were raped to death.

Then they hit us hard by attacking facebooks servers, which stirred up a fever pitch without actually damaging any of our defense infrastructure. Falsely believing every human was incapable of making new memories, they began their conquest by debriefing in front of the entire human race. With the American government knowing all of Species-X's playbook, the counterattack was merciless.

The insult to Species-X's mortal injury was the formation of the "Species-X Ex-patriots." This group was formed from a few invader's who had read the blog and saw the genius in Mr. Lyndon's writings. Filled with Mr. Lyndon's self-depriciating ire, they began systematically recruiting fringe members of thier own society, and to date, have killed over 300,000 of themselves.

What could have been the total anhilation of man kind wasn't, and it was thanks to the deeply flawed world views of what clinical psychologists would later diagnose as a deeply flawed individual."

Contingency Plan Phase One

Readers,

At this point I am still either dead or incapacitated. Having only been a week, not many of the reasons for my absence are out of the question. Hit by a car, fell off of a cruise ship, type 2 diabetes from a poorly planned attempt at an eating contest, or hell even anterograde amnesia, all of those are possibilities. I have excerpted several of my journal entries, together they tell one of my earlier tales.

April 22, 1999
Dear Journal,

Tomorrow is the 7th grade Montpelier Field trip. I have been looking forward to it since 5th grade. It may be the single greatest day in any students life, you miss school, get to ride on a coach bus for like three hours, wear regular clothes (not stupid uniforms), and of course: you are guaranteed a handjob on the bus ride back. I honestly cannot wait to feel the clammy hand of some mid-pubescent girl grabbing my genitals way too tightly. I imagine it to be euphoric.

Who will it be though? I have no idea, but ever since the trip has been going on, each guy and girl pair off for a squeezer during the ride back. It is like tradition or something. I am absolutely positive that whatever girl it is, her work on my dong will be 10 times better than my own. Tonight is like Christmas Eve and Handjob-Santa is about to wiggle his fat ass down my chimney. I honestly don't know how I'll get to sleep tonight.


April 23, 1999
Dear Journal

I guess getting a squeezer from a female classmate is perfectly acceptable, but, after finding yourself painfully alone on the bus ride back, making your own magic is some kind of taboo. This is bullshit. Every guy on that bus was getting a five finger jizzcount and I am left all by my lonesome. Lyndon Innovation demanded that I do something. I answered its call and was unfairly reprimanded... ...all the kids are calling me "Sir-Whacks-Alot".


April 28, 1999
Dear Journal,

This will all blow over, I'm sure of it. I will just wait it out. They can't remember to make fun of me forever. I'll just be the bigger man like my teacher says, and ignore them until they stop.


August 26, 1999
Dear Journal,

Today was the first day of class and guess who didn't get called "Sir-Whacks-Alot". Me... ...now they just call me "jerkoff". My grandfather was right when he told me that "being the bigger man only makes you a bigger target." I am letting Lyndon Innovation step in where modern anti-bully strategies have fallen short. With the beginning of another school year comes another woefully ineffective "Bully Prevention Week."

Instead of going through another week of useless strategies like ignoring bullying, not bullying, and tolerance, I have replaced the school's literature with some from the Lyndon household. It is called "Bully the Bully: A Bully Obliteration Program" here is a sumnation of its sections.

Chapter One: Bullies have crossed the line and no amount of good behavior will curb thier bad. It is time to make a decision
Chapter Two: Fight first, ask questions later. It is always best to assume someone is a Bully. Don't ever let the get to know you and feel you out with a couple "jab insults" before to deciding whether or not you will become their target. Action is faster and better than reaction. Better to act before getting bullied than react afterwards.
Chapter Three: Bullys are actually closeted gays so it is really important everyone get together and kick him in the nuts so he can't poke us with his boner.
Chapter Four: Bullying among females is a myth. Girls only use thier words to pick on each other, it is because they are weak and afraid to fight. Words can be ignored while fists can't. You have to give them credit for trying to imitate males, but nonetheless, female bullying does not exist.


September 10 1999
Dear Journal,

I have watched for weeks as my fellow classmates stay sharp for bullies, but nothing could compare to today. It began with indoor recess, the bully hunt had reached a fever pitch. Our teacher had slipped in a parking lot and our classroom was left unattended for about and hour. Before I knew it one student bumped into another, the student who was bumped attacked the first student (hoping to preemptively halt any bullying) and spent the rest of said hour being beat to death with multiple volumes of the Encyclopedia Brittanica. I spent the rest of the day with an understated smile on my face. Today I am a man.

Contingency Plan

May 15, 2009 To Whom it May Concern, Today is the day I begin a blog. The sun is shining, and I can smell summer in the air. I am simply thrilled to have a forum with which to share my a short lifetime of knowledge with the world. So without further adieu, I share with you my first bit of know-how: Foresight.

This is an automated post from Sven Lyndon. I wrote it some time ago when I first began the blog. Each week, I set it back another week, the idea being that should I not physically be able to post on the blog: the backup plan kicks in. If you are reading this, I am likely dead or at the very least: incapacitated. I would love to apologize for said incapacitation or death, but I won't because I am positive that it was in no way, shape, or form my fault. Sometimes you do your best and the world just shits all over it.

It is anyone's (except mine as I am either dead or incapacitated) guess how long it will be until I return to the helm of my surely magnificent blog. Odds are one of my many enemies got to me. Luckily for you, I don't believe on quitting anything regardless of the circumstances. Utilizing meticulous time management I still do every hobby, sport, or pastime I have ever started. Here is a quick rundown of my day (it is not shown on the list, but I do go to work, and it does not interfere with my activities):

5:30 am: Wake up to my "Learn Polish at Home" tapes so I can surprise my ex girlfriend who is of Polish ancestry
6:00 am: Shower as I study C++ computer programming
6:30 am: Roll sushi for breakfast
7:00 am: Trim the Banzai Tree
7:30 am: Write "BeetleBorgs" fan fiction
8:00 am: Unicycle to work
8:30 am: Update my America Online profile taking a thinly veiled jab at my ex-girlfriend whenever possible
9:00 am: Continue solving my Rubik's Cube WITHOUT instructions
9:30 am: Reorganize my pogs
10:00 am: Add "Sun In" to my hair
10:30 am: Practice my ex girlfriends favorite Nickelback song on guitar (another surprise)
11:00 am: Practice with my Yo-Yo
11:30 am: Practice walking on my hands
12:00 pm: Practice break dancing
12:30 pm: Practice beat boxing
1:00 pm: Study Japanese over lunch
1:30 pm: Whittle
2:00 pm: Leatherwork
2:30 pm: Continue brewing my own beer
3:00 pm: Continue work on my sailboat
3:30 pm: Fencing Practice
4:00 pm: Continue rehabbing a 1968 Ford Bronco
4:30 pm: Archery
5:00 pm: Continue a portrait of me and my ex girlfriend
5:30 pm: Harass people in AOL chatrooms
6:00 pm: Continue the application process for the Sega Dreamcast I won by clicking on the ad
6:30 pm: Phone Phreak a few payphones
7:00 pm: Band Practice
7:30 pm: Continue work on my Pokemon playing card deck
8:00 pm: Tend to my ex girlfriend's vegetable garden
8:30 pm: Practice Drums
9:00 pm: Listen to the cure
9:30 pm: Poke ex girlfriend on facebook
10:00 pm: Call up The Sack Artist for our nightly chat
10:30 pm: Private Time
11:00 pm: Key the shit out of the car parked outside of my Ex Girlfriends house
11:30 pm: Continue digging my fallout shelter
12:00 am: Attempt to eat 6 saltine crackers in under a minute
12:30 am: Tai Chi
1:00 am: Key that fucking car again
1:30 am: Split wood
2:00 am: Perform 20 max weight hang power cleans
2:30 am: Run 7 400 Yard Dashes
3:00 am - 5:30 am: Sleep

As you can see, I have quite a bit of free time in my schedule. But because I do not believe in quitting anything (whatever the reason, death and incapacitation included), I have transcribed my past journals. They are arranged in no specific order, but will automatically post themselves every Friday until I return (if I do return).

Incapacitatedly Your's,
Sven Lyndon