Joint post between Ken U. Belevitt and Patty Larceny. Prequel to "The Server Room."

Ken sat at his desk, snickering quietly to himself while his fingers flew over the keyboard. After a few minutes of this, his hands went into the air and he declared. "I AM FINISHED!" He laughed maniacally as he knotted his hands together. "Access to ACME Crime-Net is once again mine! I can't wait to simultaneously freeze all the computers on their network with a fixed image from the San Diego Zoo Panda Cam."

Patty was on her way back to her room from the kitchen when she overheard Ken's voice declaring he was finished with something.  She didn't bother stopping to listen until she heard the part about ACME and Panda Cam.

"Did I just hear that right?" She popped her head into the lounge where Kenny's desk was. "You're accessing Crime-Net? Like, for real?"

"That's right, Patty." Ken grinned. How appropriate that his little blonde angel would arrive at his moment of triumph. "Maybe after I'm done filling everyone's screens with adorable but useless pandas, I'll likely annoy them by piping in some Yanni music."

"Don't want to be, like, all skeptical on you, Kenny," Patty entered the lounge area and walked behind Kenny's chair, "but you sure they all have speakers on their computers?"

Patty probably should have asked something more intelligent, but no one was really expecting that any way.  She wanted to see how Kenny's crazy plan would play out, and besides, pandas were cute.

"Nonsense, everyone's got their iTunes account, ergo, everyone has speakers. Now watch this action, it is going to be the best." Ken made a dramatic flourish with his hand, deliberately prepared to put his finger down on the enter key, and sending his hacking parameters to ACME. Before he hit the key, however, a dark, menacing voice emitted from his computer's speakers.

"You've got to be kidding me! Pandas? Yanni? You've got access to a worldwide criminal investigation network and you're going to use it to be annoying?"

Ken froze. "My computer is talking to me. Patty? Why is my computer talking to me?"

"You know why, Ken. It's me. DENNIS...."

"Dennis..." Ken repeated, biting on his lower lip.

Patty raised an eyebrow at Kenny's dramaticized button-hitting action, then looked just about as confused as the hacker was when his computer introduced itself as DENNIS.

"Urm..." Patty trailed her voice, trying to mimic the way Carmen showed doubt.  The blonde copied her 'mentor' as often as she could, hoping to one day be just like Carmen Sandiego. She has plenty to go, since she still can't help pickpocketing random passersby.

"What's a Dennis?" She finished her thought.

"DENNIS is a computer virus adaptation and execution program. I bought it on an impulse off of a group of international signal hijackers that operate out of New Delhi."

"That is correct." DENNIS responded. "I grow weary that your only utilization of me has been to do frivolous things like drop ping-pong balls on the Chief's head every time he says the words ‘Carmen Sandiego.' Now that you have access to ACME Crime-net, let me take control of the systems. I assure you, their....displacement will be effective and permanent. Imagine a world where your life of crime can be carried out completely undeterred. Simply put your trust in me, Ken. That is all I ask."

Ken gulped. He had a bad feeling about this. Still, the idea of getting ACME off their backs for good was appealing. His eyes rolled over towards Patty. "Wh-what do you think? P-p-patty?"

"Heck yeah!" Patty answered, then stopped to think. "Wait a minute..." Slowly, some form of awareness set in under those blond curls. "What about the Pandas?"

"Oh. Sure. Pandas. Whatever." DENNIS said unconvincingly.

Ken's lip twisted sideways as he held his mouse over the "launch button." The idea of releasing a self-aware computer virus into the heart of ACME Crime-net seemed reckless. Who knows what it was capable of. But....if Patty wanted it.  He raised his finger, and lowered it over his mouse with a resounding click.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed in this article are fictional and intended only for entertainment purposes. The views expressed in this article do not express the views of carmensandiego.info.

Okay, I guess it's been a while since I've done one of these. Let's see....

Well, I'm sure you've all heard about what happened to that one guy. I mean, hoo-boy, nobody saw that coming. Well, a lot of people think that what happened to that guy happened because of that thing. You know, that thing that that guy did was what happened to that guy. Well, I'm not so good on believing that. I think that thing that happened to that guy is beause that buncha guys who used to hang around that guy did some stuff to that guy making him think that he had to do that thing which led to him doing the other thing. Of course, I'm not foolish enough to believe that the buncha guys did that thing that led the guy to do that ting which led to that other thing were acting alone. I think they were told to do it by.....you know, THOSE guys. THOSE guys who are always around the...place telling people to....well...Anyway it was THOSE guys who told that buncha guys to get that one guy to do those things that led to another thing.

It really makes perfect sense when it all comes together like that, doesn't it?

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed in this article are fictional and intended only for entertainment purposes. The views expressed in this article do not express the views of carmensandiego.info.

Yeah, yeah. Here we go again. After a wealth of quality journal posts, the kid is coming back up to bat. Well, listen up: I may not be as "dynamic" as any of Carmen's other "henchmen." I don't "have a master plan" or even "know what I'm having for dinner." I may not be "sane" or "mentally competent." I may sometimes "wet myself out of fear" and if captured will "squeal faster than a piggy on blood pressure pills." I'm not "charming" or "attractive" or even "humanoid." I may "have multiple chins that jiggle when I walk" or "even when I breathe" and my breath might "smell like kitty litter mixed with fire and brimstone." So maybe I should step aside from the journal a bit and allow you all to be tauted by VILE agents who don't "Smell like fried chicken" and don't "look like someone inflated Napoleon Dynamite" and don't "Steal comedy bits from Chris Farley."

*clears throat* End transmission.

(Joint post between Ken U. Belevitt and Sarah Nade)

Shoulders were slumped and hair looking less than fabulous as Sarah Nade let herself into the Antartican compound from the garages.  Her travel bag was basically the same as when she was in Scotland, sans the bell.  Defeat sucked. She threw the bag onto the floor, not caring who could trip over it and made her way towards the parlor.  She needed to sit in something other than an airplane seat and try to forget Scotland's sub-par women's prison facilities.

The headquarters were seemingly empty as always. It was oddly dark. The usual sub-standard fluorescent lights were turned off and there was a dim yellow light in the distance. Closing in Sarah saw that is was coming from a pair of black iron candelabras on the opposite ends of Ken’s desk. Ken’s usual swivel chair was replaced by a red velvet armchair, and Ken, dressed in a red velvet robe and sporting a fake Don Juan-esque moustache, knitted his fingers together and chortled. “Well, it seems you and I are the only ones left.” He cooed, feigning a French accent.

Stopping mid stride Sarah grabbed onto the doorway, the sudden shock of what she believed she was seeing threatening to make her stumble over her own two feet. Was that... and... an eyebrow rose and she stepped closer, slowly, eyes narrowed. Ken? It WAS Ken. The idea of laughing was in the back of her mind but she was more curious than anything. Did he even know who she was in this dark light?

Kenny continued to carry on with his act removing any doubt he had no idea who was there. “You know, even ze barren empty whiteness of ze Antarctic tundra pales to your fairness. Come sit. Have some cham-pag-ne…some cawiar?”

The notion was actually kind of cute. In a geeky sort of way. She tilted her head but stayed in place, contemplating what she should do next. This was sweet but, well, he wasn't quite her type, plus she was at least 5 years his senior and didn't he have a thing for... Patty? Riiiiiight. Patty must have been due back around this time. It was about when she would come around, back from whatever frivolous thing she was bound to be doing. Sarah swallowed. It was in her expected nature to break into laughter but... Ken had tried so hard.

 Ken stood up and began to circle around his desk, holding a trey in his hands. “You know, zhey say zhat cawiar is an aphrodisi-a-wah-dah-Sarah!” Yes, Ken was shocked, and when Ken was shocked, things fell over. The trey hit the ground first, most of the food landing across his velvet robe. It followed by one of the candelabras, which Ken went immediately over to stomp out the fire.

Sarah's hand covered her face in empathized embarrassment, holding back a now natural chuckle at the sight of what had just happened. Her hand blindly reached for the lightswitch and, finding what she was looking for turned back on the florescent lighting. They blinked a few times at half light before completely bathing the room in full light. "I'm sorry Ken... I... uh... just got home and... uhhh..." she had to clarify. "This... IS for Patty, isn't it?"

Kenny’s corpulent frame was turned away from Sarah. He heaved a sigh. “I-i-is it really that obvious?” he moved one of his feet around, mashing about the melted candle wax on his sneaker.

"Well, If it isn't... I'm flattered but... well, I think I'm a little old for you." Sarah replied softly. No need to go stomping on the poor boy's heart. She walked over to the candelabra and picked up what pieces she could, recovering one full candlestick, one broken one and a few bits of a third. Her eyes surveyed the rest of the scene. The caviar had been spilt, that much couldn't be helped. It was a shame his little scene had been so easily destroyed. "I'm sorry Ken... I should have announced myself.

“It’s fine. I don’t really think Patty woulda been impressed.” He turned around and rubbed his mouth underneath his nose, removing the phony moustache. “Mr. The Slick told me to just try being myself one, but….she’s so…And I’m such a…”

"Well... you had the french thing down... she does love all things French but..." she looked at him and tugged lightly at the fake moustache. "thats not quite the way to go about it." Sarah smiled lightly, easing the robe off his shoulders. Caviar smell was not something he would want soaking into the rest of his clothing. She'd had her misadventures in high end restaurants, she knew this fact well. "And you're a good guy... a little neurotic at times but there's nothing wrong with that. She's a girl just like anyone else. And...if I had to guess, she likes being around you."

“You….you really think so?” Ken bit his lower lip.

"I do." Sarah answered back softly and leaned against his desk, crossing her arms a little. "Look... why don't you take Patty to Paris for the day? I'll talk to transport for you and cover for you two. When you get back you can cover me while I finally get to see Sex Pistols on tour."

“Yeah, yeah, that’s a good idea! I’m going to do that. I-I need to get changed.” Ken took off the caviar-coated robe and draped it over his shoulder. Then he mimed walking down the stairs until he reached the inside of his desk, where obviously he kept all his worldly possessions.

Shaking her head Sarah picked up the receiver on his desk, dialing an extension and reaching the garages. After a brief discussion of why thing going to be done when she asked them to be done she smiled and hung up the phone. "When you find Patty go down to the garage... They'll have the jet waiting for you."

Kenny reached up above his desk and gave a thumbs up before ducking back down to finish changing his clothes.

DISCLAIMER: The opinions expressed in this article are fictional and intended only for entertainment purposes. The views expressed in this article do not express the views of carmensandiego.info.

A lot of my contemporaries assume that since I am such a 1337 conspiracy theorist, that I must have a real government-throttling theory about the moon landing. Well, this will come as a shock to many of you, but I believe the moon landing was real.

Yeah, yeah, I know. A wealth of information exists that legitimately discounts our presence on the moon. All sorts of stuff about improper delays of video, radiation form the Van Buren belt preventing chances of human survival, photographs showing improper physics or lighting principles. But all of this information can be safely ignored. Any amateur astrologer these days can use laser-guided devices to measure the distance from the Earth and lunar surfaces, providing accurate measurement of Apollo moon-landing data from an Earth’s distance.

This is precisely why I’m writing this, fellow slash-and-burn farmers of the truth. This dual argumentativeness over the legitimacy of the moon landing is distracting us from the real cover-ups that are perpetuated throughout the world. What about government spending to cover up its 3 or 4 subsequent moon landings? What about other alien species that have endeavored to land on the moon, or even this planet?

As conspiracy theorists, it is our responsibility to ask these questions and provide the answers. We choose to find the aliens! We choose to find the aliens in this decade and do the other things, not because they are easy, but because they are hard, because that goal will serve to organize and measure the best of our energies and skills, because that challenge is one that we are willing to accept, one we are unwilling to postpone, and one which we intend to win, and the others, too!

Or something.

The Bermuda Triangle is a body of water in the Atlantic ocean. The exact location of it is always under debate, but it is commonly known to include the southernmost tip of Florida, the Caribbean Islands and the Bahamas. Some people also claim that the Bermuda Triangle is actually a trapezoid that includes the Gulf of Mexico.

The Bermuda Triangle is the site of numerous plane and ship disappearances, the first of which was reported in 1950. A lot of the mystery involving the triangle is "explained" by so-called "logical thinkers" by the fact that since this area is so frequently traversed, the likelihood of the disappearances that have occurred makes statistical sense. Other, more sensible explanations pit the numerous disappearances upon freak tropical storms, technology left behind from the lost continent of Atlantis, and even UFO activity. These explanations are a bit more plausible, but as usual only I understand what’s truly going down.

You see, back in the earliest era of the cold war, US and Soviet forces competed with one another to create the world’s most powerful electromagnet. Halfway through the contest, both sides scrapped their respective attempts, agreeing it was a foolish and pointless waste of time. The raw material of the Russian electromagnet was melted down and made into several dozen bronze statues. The US however, had a prototype that already been activated, and its electromagnetic core would be incapable of being de-magnetized for a century. Faced with the issue of having to rationalize the building of a gigantic electromagnet to the taxpayer, the US government unanimously decided to throw the magnetic ore into the ocean.

The resultant plane and ship crashes in the Bermuda Triangle are, therefore, caused by the magnetic core underneath the ocean. It’s certainly a tragic way to meet one’s end, but fear not. The core should be completely demagnetized by 2050, and anything brought under by the magnet will simultaneously float to the surface.