The second drop from Red Flag Publishing is now being hustled in pamphlet style. Available now for a limited time exclusively at the top secret and very exclusive comics buying club known as IndyPlanet. Click Here To Buy a Copy

Red Flags vol. 2 brings with it three complete and shocking tales told in an anthology of traditional comic book genres- funny animal, crime and zombies. Sure to send waves of pleasure down your spine as you witness it's forbidden contents! History, propaganda and censorship, identity and reality, religion and ignorance, perversion and faith- NOTHING is off limits! Contents may be shocking and disturbing unless you are "hip to what's up on the scene."

New takes on horror comics: RED FLAGS. Consider this your last warning!



$3.99 • 32 pages • Heavy stock • 100% satisfaction assured • No refunds
WARNING: Possession of this book may be a crime in some states,
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A Long Overdue Explanation

Guess who finally
checked in?
Uploaded by Biff Humble

Editor's Note:
Biff had planned to make an appearance at the Wizard World Chicago convention, but was unavoidably ... ahhh ... detained when trying to reenter the country. While he "vacationed" in Tijuana, Joe Willy and I (James Hitchcock) attended the convention in his stead. Biff did send along the following note:

Dear Readers:

The emails have been pouring in, asking where I've been, and what I've been doing. While I don't normally feel obliged to explain myself to anyone, in this circumstance, I decided to break my silence.
You see, a good friend of mine in the radio business (who will remain nameless, but I will henceforth refer to as R.L.) and I were traveling through Southeast Asia doing research for my new college psychology textbook titled, The Three Feminine Personality Types: Bitches, Dykes, and Hoes.
One evening, having completed my research before R.L. (who is meticulous about traveling every path during an investigation), I was sitting in the waiting room of a local service establishment. I was browsing through the pile of magazines, looking for an issue of Asian Mail-Order Brides that I hadn't already read, when I came across a comic book.

But not just any comic book. This was no cape-and-underpants jaunt, but a voyage into the psyche of an artist coming to grips with his deeply religious upbringing, and his discovery that all might not be as he was led to believe.

Red Flag Publishing
Presents Matjaz Bertoncelj's
Eppur Si Muove (And so it Moves)

My first reaction was, "Man, this is dark." My second reaction was, "Man, this is funny!" My third reaction was, "Man this is FUCKING GREAT!!!"

Imagine The Inquisition, with soft, furry animals. You can't? Matjaz Bertoncelj can. And he has created a religo/socio/politcal masterpiece titled "Eppur si Muove" (And So It Moves) to do it.

I decided right then and there to put my academic research on hiatus and track down this artist. R.L. and I set off following the trail that this comic book had traveled to land in the waiting room at Girly To Go. The hostess there said it had been left behind in a room by a client who exited rather quickly after asking for a double dip when only having paid for a single. She said she thought the gentleman was Japanese, and was able to locate a credit card receipt from Hakodate, Hokkaido, Japan.

After making sure our luggage was free of prescription medications other than our own, we clambered aboard the first airliner to Japan. Within 24 hours, we were canvassing every comic book shop in the city of Hakodate. Luck was with us, in the sixth store in little over a mile, the clerk spoke a bit of broken English, and told us he had bought the book from a Russian tourist who was down on his luck and trying to raise bail money for his traveling partner. He wouldn't tell us any more than that, so while R.L. distracted him with a search for a particular X-rated anime book, I rifled his file cabinet, and found a Xerox of a Mordovian drivers' license with an address in Saransk. Close enough to Russia, I thought.

The hero of our story, Lupus

I won't trouble you with our journey from Hakodate to Saransk, but suffice it to say there is NO direct route, and no cheap way to get there ... and the price one cab driver charged was more than even R.L. would pay - and he's usually up for anything that involves a dirt road and a 1950s Volga.

So, tired, dirty, and in R.L.'s case slightly worn, we reached Saransk, only to discover that English-speaking comic book store clerks were about as common as hot water from the hotel bathtub tap. After a week of pantomiming and speaking VERY LOUDLY, we found a clerk less surly than the others, who pulled out an atlas, and pointed out Skofja Loka on a map of Slovenia.

The route from Mordovia to Slovenia proved the previous leg of our journey to be the easy one, but after $1,500 in bribes, a case and a half of vodka and the promise to smuggle a barrel of caviar with us on the return trip, we arrived in picturesque town of Skofja Loka. Located at the confluence of two rivers and with an imposing castle looming over it, I fully expected to see Julie Andrews break into song in the middle of the street at any moment.

The people of Skofja Loka were a refreshing change over the previous locales through which our journey had taken us. Helpful and friendly to a fault, they would have made it an enjoyable vacation, simply wandering the steep, winding and slightly mysterious streets lined with quaint 16th century buildings - but I was a man on a mission.

I stopped everyone I met on the street to ask if they knew this artist. Finally, famished, we stopped for lunch at a stone-walled wine cellar, the gostilna-galerija Plevna on Spodnji trg (the Lontrg/Lower Square) in the historic Kašča, or granary building.

Every hero must have
a trusty sidekick

I had set the comic on the edge of the table while I perused the list of Slovene wines, when the waiter exclaimed, "You know of Matjaz??" I very nearly knocked the carafe of mountain spring water from the table in my fervor to find what this man know of Bertoncelj. When I finally calmed down enough to be intelligible, I explained that I was, in fact, searching for the artist.

The waiter immediately took me upstairs to a gallery hung with the hauntingly dark visions of painter France Mihelič, who was born nearby, and introduced me to the curator. A lithesome young Slovene of full lips, hazel eyes and wild brunette hair, I would probably set immediately to work on gaining admittance to the valley created by the two cream-colored peaks straining beneath her white silk blouse, but I was too excited to be this close to finding the subject of my quest. I will never again say her name, "Irena," without seeing her beautiful face.

With the waiter interpreting, the Slavic goddess soon understood the object of my search, and offered to take me to him. We walked for nearly an hour in the waning afternoon sun, through narrow shadowed streets and alleys, checking the darkest corner of each bar and pub and saloon we passed. When we finally reached a point that I was sure I would never find my way back, we stopped in a little hole-in-the wall bar, where she led me to the rearmost booth, which was occupied by a man, dressed in black, with his head on the table.

"Matti! Matti!" Irena said, striking him about the head and shoulders. He stirred, and lifted his head, and for the first time I stared into the eyes of a genius.

Even a story about
the Inquisition needs
a little T & A

Irena made the introductions, and then, as Matjaz was fluent in English (perhaps nearly as fluent as he was in his native tongue at that moment, considering the level of his intoxication), scurried off to wherever it is curvaceous Slavic goddesses go in the evening, leaving me alone with Bertoncelj.

I showed him my dog-eared copy of his book, the book that had led me so far to find him, and told him I was a comic book publisher from the U.S. I told him just how important it was that his work reach an American audience. I told him that my publishing company was just the right company to do it.

And, because he was drunk, I talked him into signing a contract that paid nothing up front.

Hey, business is business.

So, I hope you enjoy the brilliant work of Matjaz Bertoncelj that we are presenting, in downloadble form, on our website. Please check it out, and read the free sample pages from the first episode. We think you will be as blown away as we were.

Biff is Back!!!

Guess who finally
checked in?
Uploaded by Biff Humble

Editor's Note:
Dear Readers,
I received the following note and manuscript in a crumpled DHL envelope this morning:

Dear R.F. Peons:

I have tried to remain incognito and let you jokers run things while I was doing research for my new college psychology textbook, The Three Feminine Personality Types. But I can no longer stand to watch you pussy-up my column! Do NOT, I repeat, DO NOT under any circumstances post any more of your namby-pamby limp-writsted liberal advice on MY BLOG! Enclosed is an entry for What Would Biff Say?

Below is a commentary which is to be posted immediately on Alfalfa Was Right.

Oh, by the way, my shit better be where I left it when I return,and keep your damn hands of Darla!

Biff


Capitalism = Feudalism + Lies

- an economic model by Biff Humble

How blatant is the noble-capitalists'
disregard for us peasants that
they named their private equity firm
after the hound guarding the gates of hell?

It took a while for the news to reach me about U.S. automotive giant Chrysler being acquired by Cerberus Capital Management, a private equity firm. (click here for a great one-paragraph explanation of private equity buyouts)

This is not the largest private equity buyout - if you look close at the numbers you realize Daimler actually paid Cerberus to take the company off its hands - but it was still a landmark, as the New York Times headline read: Cerberus goes where no firm has gone before. And, it connects the logical circle I drew nearly 20 years ago from feudalism to capitalism and back.

At the close of the 18th Century, a number of problems were beginning to make apparent the limits of financial success available through the current economic model, Feudalism.

The First Problem (in two parts):

(A) In Feudalism, responsibility for productivity lies squarely on the shoulders of the owners of capital and the means of production - the nobility.

Hmmmm, should I starve
my peasants, or beat them?

The peasant does as little work as possible, since any additional effort only enriches his feudal lord. The lord has several recourses available to improve productivity, among them: withholding food, or physical punishment. Both motivational methods are self-limiting. Withholding food will quickly lead to starvation, and reduced productivity. Beating peasants also has a diminishing return in that the physical damage serves to further reduce productivity. So the nobility walks the fine line between too much and not enough pressure to ensure maximum productivity.

The peasant, on the other hand, does everything in his power to save energy and time to create items he can barter, thereby cutting the lord out of the transaction. Creating the concept of taxation attacked this problem, but is ineffective and costly to administer, and adds to the resentment of (B).

(B) The nobility, living in great castles and mansions, become a visible target for the revolutionary wrath of the peasants, whose lives are sliding deeper and deeper into squalor each generation as they are forced to subsidize the nobles' parasitic lifestyle.


The Solution:

Step 1: (A) Transfer the responsibility for productivity from the owners of capital and the means of production onto the backs of the worker. Industrialization forces the serfs into the cities, where they no longer are assured of "three hots and a cot" as they were on the farm.

The Lie:
"There is no more nobility, and all men are created equal (although some were created with much more capital - the result of generations of their noble ancestors fleecing the peasants). Now each has the ability to better himself, through hard work and saving money. If one simply works hard enough, and saves enough, one can become the "new" nobility - the rich capitalist."

The Truth:
If you manipulate the economy to keep a certain number of people jobless, it puts pressure on those who do work to be productive. "If you don't work hard enough, we will fire you, and you and your family will starve."

Step 1: (B) Create the concept of "Democratic Government" to redirect the wrath of the peasants from the nobility to a group of themselves. Transfer the right of taxation from the nobility to the "government."

The Lie:
"You will now govern yourselves. You each have a vote in who leads you, and if anyone fails in the duty to lead, he can simply be voted out of office. This 'government' will protect you and provide for you as the nobles once did, but in order to do so, must collect taxes."

The Truth:
The "new" system of government relieves the pressure of revolt through an escape valve called 'elections.' But, since the new governmental system is still beholden to capital for its continued existence, those with big purses maintain control via puppet strings. "Government-funded programs" use capital from taxation to benefit businesses - so the noble-capitalist continues to siphon off the peasants' capital without appearing to do so.


The Second Problem:

Much of the financial risk of doing business still lies with the owners of capital and the means of production.

No longer able to squeeze the peasants harder when more money is needed, the noble-turned-capitalist is betting on his business success to continue subsidizing his parasitic lifestyle After all, if a company goes belly-up, the workers can look for work elsewhere, but the noble-capitalist has lost his capital - his only means of earning a living.

The Solution:

Step 2: Transfer the financial risk of doing business from the owners of capital and the means of production onto the backs of the worker.

The Lie:
"You can now own the companies for which you work." Noble-capitalists sell ownership "shares" of their companies on the open market, for a price even a peasant can afford.

Please sir, may
I have a share?

The Truth:
While the peasants now feel like they have an ownership stake, the noble-capitalist maintains enough ownership that the peasants' stake remains voiceless in matters of management. The peasant now has financial risk without the ability to control the success or failure of the company he "owns." If the business fails, the noble-capitalists' investment is no longer completely on the hook, and the loss of capital is now spread to the peasant, thereby lessening the risk to the noble capitalist.

The Third Problem (in two parts):

(A) The noble-capitalist does no "work"; he is a completely unproductive member of society, yet he still earns "income." So, unlike the peasant, who offers productivity in return for his pay, the money paid to the noble-capitalist simply is siphoned off without any benefit to the company.

(B) The noble-capitalist wishes to maintain the lifestyle of his noble forebears, but two factors limit his income: He has turned the authority of taxation over to the "government," preventing him from simply squeezing the peasants for more money; and he has turned partial "ownership" of his business over to the workers, and must pay them "dividends" to continue the believability of the lie that they are owners.

(A) and (B), along with the noble-capitalists' continued aversion to investing his own capital in his business, leave him with a situation where, over a period of generations, he must bring in more and more peasant capital to continue the growth of his business to support his own lifestyle.

Finally, we reach a point where peasants notice they collectively own a large enough stake in the company to actually demand a voice in its management. They band together in shareholder groups that, united, create a voting block that threatens the noble-capitalists' free hand in wringing maximum profit at the expense of his workers and consumers, and the environment. Add to this equation that the "government" - a creation of the noble-capitalist to reduce his risk to revolution - begins to realize that it has two masters - the noble capital, and the peasant voter - and sometimes acts in ways to benefit the latter over the former. This leads to governmental regulation of the business and finance operations of "publicly-held" companies, further limiting the noble-capitalists' free hand.

The Solution:
Step 3: Taking a page from the peasant shareholders' notebook, the noble-capitalists simply band together to take the companies out of the peasant-shareholders' hands through acquisition by "Private Equity." While this does increase the financial risk of the noble-capitalist, it effectively transfers the means of production out of peasants' hands and back into the hands of the feudal lords - and it moves the business and financial operations out of sight of the workers and that ungrateful child of the noble-capitalist, "government."

As a plus, the means of production is now vastly larger, more productive, and more profitable thanks to the use of generations of peasant capital. This ripe capital fruit can be harvested by the new private equity owner, who then resells the company back to the public market.

The Lie:

"Fuck you, we don't need to lie anymore. We now own the company you fuckers built with your labor and capital, and we will do with it whatever the fuck we please. And, by the way, you may now again address me as 'your highness.'"

A Tertiary Point (Or, There is a Shortcut):

Shortcut #1: Borrow someone else's money, spend it in irresponsible ways which, while providing short term profits lead to long term losses. Take the profits, then leave the investors with the losses.

A writer at Slate.com seems to think there is an upside to this in "Why Economic Bubbles are good"

In essence, the author says economic bubbles are good, because, while initial investors lose their shirts, those that come later can take advantage of the infrastructure created from those shirts. It's the financial equivalent of two people picking up their drycleaning: Person #1 dropped off a dozen Hugo Boss dress shirts, and paid in advance. Person #2 dropped off a tattered JC Penney oxford. When they pick up their orders, Person #1 is told, "I'm sorry, we've lost your shirts. No refunds." Person #2 is presented with his tattered oxford, and 12 Hugo Boss shirts, and only charged for his tattered oxford. After all, the 12 Hugo Boss shirts have already been paid for. It seems to be a zero-sum game ...

... unless you are playing it. Take the sub-prime mortgage industry: The noble-capitalists took advantage of a real estate market bubble, lied to peasants to sell them mortgages they could not afford, and borrowed capital from peasants to finance the mortgages. And when the bubble burst and the foreclosures started, the noble capitalists simply declared bankruptcy, and walked away with the cash they earned from selling the mortgages. The peasants were left holding the bag - on both ends: the mortgagees are kicked out of their homes, and the investors watched their investments disappear down the same capitalist rathole from which all the "wealth generation" on Wall Street emerges.

Shortcut #2: Declare bankruptcy and hand the company, lock, stock, and barrel, over to the creditors (the noble-capitalists), eliminating peasant shareholders' equity in one fell swoop.

Delta Airlines explains how, as it comes out of bankruptcy, it reissues "NEW" shares. Because it went bankrupt, the company is now owned by its creditors, who will sell the "new" shares and pocket the profits. The old shareholders are left holding the bag, and that bag is full of a lot of completely worthless "shares" of ownership in the company. So, who really owned the company in the first place? Why do creditors get a spot in line ahead of the "owners" who invested in good faith? Hell, even the company management (which led it into bankruptcy) gets a spot in line in front of the "owners."

Same for Northwest Airlines here

So, like the old song says, "Meet the new boss; same as the old boss."

-Biff Humble
May 21, 2007
from a bar in
Karst, Slovenia
BUY OUR BOOKS

Work Begins on new RF Anthology!

Where in the World
is Biff Humble?
Uploaded by James Hitchcock

Dear Readers,
While we search for Biff, our editorial director has offered to step into Biff's shoes, and do some of the marketing and promotions for our next publication. Pencils are beginning to come back from the artists working on Red Flags Anthology (Watch for upcoming announcements on our new collaborators) so James dug through Biff's desk, and found the following notes on the project that Biff had scribbled on a series of cocktail napkins:

A new Anthology
From Red Flag Publishing!

The book employs a variety of genre to explore Druckerian cautionary tales in comics format, borrowing heavily from the vintage EC Comics storytelling style.

For anyone not familiar, economist Peter Drucker described human progress not as a linear upward trajectory, but instead, a series of steep upward slopes toward plateaus, each ending at a wall that demarcated some limit in social or technological knowledge.

A wall-shattering discovery, Drucker said, brings about societal and technological progress on a cataclysmic scale, so completely changing the world that the generation at the beginning can no more imagine what life will be like for the next generation than the next generation can imagine what life was like for the previous.

Indeed, the shattering of the wall leaves far behind those who did not recognize or heed the RED FLAGS of the impending change.

So, what is to become of those of us who are born within the period of the current cataclysmic shift in the dissemination of knowledge? How are we to discern the RED FLAGS indicating there is a freight train bearing down upon us? And, even if we see the train coming, to which side of the tracks do we step? Can we look to where we have stepped before to avoid danger?

Drucker argues that the changes he describes are so complete and world-altering, that looking to the past for solutions is futile.

So, does that mean the old axiom, "Those who fail to learn from history are doomed to repeat it" is no longer valid?

Or was it ever? It assumes that everyone learns the same lesson from history - the one WE want them to learn. Yet, time and again, those who've studied what are accepted as the facts of history have come away with vastly different lessons from it.

A cocktail napkin
found in Biff's blazer

What about the effect of Point of View on our understanding of what truly are the facts? As they say, "History is written by the victors."

And finally, what happens when the facts no longer exist in tangible form? We are rapidly approaching a time when our collections of facts are stored as a string of ones and zeros, rather than on countless pieces of paper bound into millions of books. Will that allow the victors to constantly rewrite history?

I see some big friggin' RED FLAGS out there, waving like crazy.

I'm not sure I can figure out what to do about them.

I love fresh-caught crabs

Where in the World
is Biff Humble?
Uploaded by James Hitchcock

Dear Readers,
While we search for Biff, our editorial director has offered to step into Biff's shoes, and promises to answer your questions with as much humor and insight as our fearless publisher ...

Crabs are easy to find
in New Jersey

Dear Biff

I am from the midwest, and will be vactioning out east this spring, and I was wondering if you can tell me where I can catch crabs in New Jersey?

Signed,

Matt, from Battle Creek


Dear Matt,

My friend Joe Willy called a friend who lives in Mt. Laurel, New Jersey, and he says, "On just about any street corner."

I'm not sure what this means, but Joe assures me it's very funny.

I hope this helps,

James


We are at day 45 of Biff Watch, and our most recent reader sighting was near the Horn of Africa.

We are still asking our loyal readers to keep an eye out for Biff. He should be easy to spot: he's over six feet tall, late 40s, prematurely grey hair usually greased back, and prone to smoke a pipe. His personal hygiene tends to slip when he's off on one of his trips, so he may be sporting several days' beard growth.

If you see him, please snap a photo or get some video, and send it to jehitch@redflagpublishing.com, along with information as to where and when it was shot, so we can track him down.

Please, we need your help. The really scary guy in sunglasses and a black sedan came back and he said,

"Tell dat Daisy boozehound he's in da dutch wit Shy. Da big man don't care dat Biff's on a nut, he wants his vig for them Gs Biff put down on da bangtails, and if Biff don't cough up the cabbage soon," he'd be "back with Roscoe, and dey'd start spittin' metal." And, he said, "Chin-time was done; even tho day useta drink from da same bottle when day was in da bit, bizness was bizness," and Biff "better be heeled next time I sees him, or he'll end up aired out in a Chicago overcoat," and that he "didn't care what schmoes went on da trip wit him."

At least that's what I think he said, I was writing as fast as I could, and when I asked the guy to repeat himself, he said,

"Ya dumb as well as queer, palooka? I gots no time ta bump guns wit you, jus' give Biff the message, or your tits'll be in da wringer, too."

I have not idea what any of that means, but I think it has something to do with Biff being gay, or something.

Thanks,
James Hitchcock
Editorial Director
Red Flag Publishing

Oh, and PLEASE ... BUY OUR BOOKS!

Biff Watch, Day 35

Where in the World
is Biff Humble?
Uploaded by James Hitchcock

Our readers have a rather peculiar sense of humor ...


Dear readers,

Since I posted the entry "Red Flag Publishing needs your help! We can't find our publisher, Biff Humble," we have been flooded with reports of Biff sightings.

Some of them are serious, and some of them, -ahem- let's say, not so serious. Unfortunately, those that were not so serious were most likely to include photos:

I said, "he may be sporting
several days' beard growth"
Not, "He looks like
a homeless John Huston."

Our first photo, from a reader in Boston, appears to be a really old guy who resembles what movie director John Huston might look like were he living on the street for several years and eating rats. This is definitely not Biff, by about 30 years and a thousand lice.

Remember, I said Biff "has been gone for more than three weeks," not "he's been living on the streets most of his life."

Biff is not an old
English fart, either

Second on the list is one sent by a UK reader. Bad news: Biff is also not some Brit plonker who looks like his idea of a brilliant Saturday night is a six-hour solo piss-up capped by wanking his willie whilst looking at PR glossies of the Queen Mum taped to the loo wall, and fantasizing that he's busting his knackers in her arse.

Another Brit wanker

Our next entry, from the Commonwealth of Virginia, is nothing but the image of Sir Walter Raleigh from a tobacco tin.

Come on, show some ingenuity, people.

Not Biff, either, but getting closer

From a reader in Kuwait, we have this wonderful example of ... I'm guessing not active military, but maybe a reservist?

While too fat, and a bit too old to be Biff, at least this is a more likely place to find him. But, while Biff does seem to have an affinity for war zones, any place that does not allow alcohol quickly falls from the list of likely locales where he might be found.

Frosty the Biffman

These next two from Midwestern U.S. readers, are really disappointing.

Come on.

The "Biff Clause" in our
publishing contracts

How much effort did you expend for these entries?

15.026 seconds on a Google image search???

The holidays are over. Pack away your holly berries 'till next year.

Biff on a cold morning?

Our last entry this week is from a reader in Georgia who either completely misunderstood the assignment, or was watching The Squid Billies while reading my post, and missed an important part of the search.

I said, Biff is "prone to smoke a pipe," not ...

Uhhhhhh, well maybe this reader is actually the most brilliant one of the group (sort of like saying he's the brightest Special Ed student), because Darla just leaned over my shoulder and said, of the bunch, this photo most closely resembles Biff - at least on a cold morning.

So, we are now a month into our Biff Watch (I hear Fox News is working up a logo), and we are no further ahead, thanks to our smartass readers.

Again, we are asking you to keep an eye out for Biff. He should be easy to spot: he's over six feet tall, late 40s, prematurely grey hair usually greased back, and prone to smoke a pipe. His personal hygiene tends to slip when he's off on one of his trips, so he may be sporting several days' beard growth.

If you see him, please snap a photo or get some video, and send it to jehitch@redflagpublishing.com, along with information as to where and when it was shot, so we can track him down.

Please, we need your help. Our computer nerd has hacked the password to the Cayman Islands bank account, but this really scary guy in sunglasses and a black sedan keeps dropping by to ask for Biff, and he's really creeping me out.

Thanks,
James Hitchcock
Editorial Director
Red Flag Publishing

Biff is Missing!

Where in the World is Biff Humble?
Originally uploaded by James Hitchcock

There's trouble in Rivertown!

Dear readers,

Red Flag Publishing needs your help! We can't find our publisher, Biff Humble.

Now, we have grown used to Biff's tendency to disappear for a week or two at a time, but he's been gone for more than three weeks. Plus, he disappeared under somewhat mysterious circumstances (even by Biff's rather peculiar standards).

He was last seen by Darla celebrating New Year's Eve at L'Ambassade in the Patong suburb of Phuket, Thailand. She has told us that when she met him there, he was drinking tequila shots - and apparently had been for quite some time - with a famous photojournalist friend (whom has asked we not mention his name) that he had worked with in Central America in the '80s.

Darla tells us she struck up a conversation with Biff's friend, and, at some point, they decided to go to dinner together. They left Biff with instructions to meet them back at the bar before midnight to ring in the New Year.

Darla reports that she and the photojournalist returned to the bar about 11 p.m., but Biff was nowhere to be found. In asking around the bar, they found a waitress who remembered seeing Biff talking with another man whom the waitress described as "fat and ugly, but with a good voice" who was accompanied by two young Asian women in British schoolgirl outfits. The waitress said she saw them leaving the bar together.

Darla knows Biff as well (probably better) than we do, so she didn't worry about pursuing the matter. After all, with Biff, some things are better left alone. She continued to celebrate the evening with the photojournalist, figuring they would hook up with Biff in the morning.

But, the next morning, Biff did not answer his hotel room door when Darla knocked. When she finally convinced the hotel manager to open the door, they realized there was a problem. She reports that the room contained nothing but the discarded schoolgirl outfits, a couple empty pill vials, and a broken 35mm camera. All of Biff's belongings were gone.

Darla and Biff's friend set off to search every bar, back room, and bordello between Phuket and Bankok, but found no trace of Biff. Several ladies remembered seeing Biff, but no one had a clue where he might have gone.

So, we are asking our readers to keep an eye out for Biff. He should be easy to spot: he's over six feet tall, late 40s, prematurely grey hair usually greased back, and prone to smoke a pipe. His personal hygiene tends to slip when he's off on one of his trips, so he may be sporting several days' beard growth.

If you see him, please snap a photo or get some video, and send it to jehitch@redflagpublishing.com, along with information as to where and when it was shot, so we can track him down.

Please, we need your help. The bills are piling up, and he's the only one who knows the password to the Cayman Islands bank account.

Thanks,
James Hitchcock
Editorial Director
Red Flag Publishing