Musings from a Cobra Commander
Here goes. I’m not sure how this whole blog thing works, but my therapist, Dr. Mindbender, said it could help me vent my frustrations. Apparently it’s therapeutic.
My name is Cobra Commander. I am the supreme ruler of COBRA, “a ruthless, terrorist organization determined to rule the world”. At least that’s how the Joes put it anyway. We really aren’t ruthless at all. Sure we’re a terrorist organization but who isn’t this day in age? The job market is thriving and there is an awful high demand for those in my line of work. COBRA is as legitimate a corporation as Enron or Halliburton or Blackwater. The truth is that the Bush Administration has really hurt COBRA. Since 2001 we have lost nearly 30% of our work force, had to cut benefits for part-time employees, and we no longer have the annual COBRA picnic at the Terrordrome. Times are tough. Thankfully my trustful business associates, Xamot and Tomax, of COBRA’s dummy-front corporation, Extensive Enterprises, have been understanding. They should be. Without illegal arms dealing all their company has is home phone and dial-up internet service. I mean come on guys, get with the times.
Morale is also down, which was expected. We did just cancel the dental plan. And believe you me when I say that some of those Stratovipers could use a checkup. Even The Baroness is down in the dumps lately. We don’t talk much these days and she never comes around. I think I made things really awkward when I confessed my true love to her. Then I made things even more awkward by saying how awkward it was. Never acknowledge the awkwardness. I just don’t understand why she denies her true feelings. I mean it so obvi. I’m the supreme ruler of COBRA, she’s the only woman around that’s not related to that inbreed Zartan. We work late hours all the time, and international terrorism is sexy as hell. And did I mention that I’m the SUPREME MOTHERFUCKING RULER OF COBRA!? Hellz yeah! Anyway. I’m sick of her flashing her shit around like she’s, well hot shit. I’ll just keep her busy. After all, I’m still her boss. She has to do what I say. Take tonight for instance: I’ve got this investor in town from Scotland, James McCullen Destro XXIV somethingorother. He’s loaded and thinking about investing in COBRA; not to mention ugly as sin. His head is metal. Metal! I might wear a faceplate but at least I can take it off. Destro’s head is vacuum-sealed up in there, like the metal casing around the eraser of a number two pencil. Regardless of his deformities, I think this Destro cat could be a valuable asssssset to COBRA. I told the Baroness to do whatever is necessary to make sure that by the end of the day we have Destro’s full support. And his money. Baroness is an obedient lackey, she’ll do what’s good for COBRA. Whatever that entails. I told her to get Destro’s money by any means necessary. Any means necessary. Even if that means she has to jump old chrome dome’s bones, which would be uber gross.
As soon as this Destro dude is a done deal COBRA is going to strike and strike hard. This time, G.I. Joe won’t be able to stop us. COBRA!!!
-Cobra Commander