The Cult of Sternberg

My last post received more comments than the one about back in the days when I was working with the Elvis band. Of course, Stewart is very decent and even took a bullet for me back when Donald Rumsfeld was masquerading as the Super-Skrull, but I believe that he has become a puppet master. No, not like Donald Sutherland. A REAL puppet master. Just months ago, there might be one comment on his blog; the other day, I went to comment and found that 46 people had already commented before me! The only possible way that this man is able to write seemingly nonstop and yet still comment to every single post made to him has to be this: Stewart has broken through the fifth wall and the multiverse has spilled from his very loins. The Stewart from the Kree-Skrull War may not be the same one as the infommercial Stewart who sells abdominizers and hunting knives. Until I can be certain of this, I shall remain alert with my ally Steve McQueen, who the "good" Stewart miniaturized, thus faking the actor's death, and presented to me after our battle with Luthor and Brainiac. Yours in paranoia, Wayne

The John Agar Hypno-Cube

Stewart Sternberg seems to be forcing people to write stories whether they want to or not. This needs to be stopped, or at the very least, curtailed. I haven't taken my John Agar Hypno-Cube off my shelf since the Kree-Skrull War, but something needs to be done. Who's with me? Using my superhero name, I remain yours truly, The Scarlet Corgi of 1966, forever trapped in time. No thanks to Stewart, even though he hasn't caused time to be broken as of yet.