I have a bone to pick with you, commune. It’s about time someone
stood up and stated the obvious: the commune’s mascot, Poopey Chalupa, is
a shameful and offensive stereotype that cheapens, exploits and degrades
the fine heritage of the people of Mexico. And if you’re reading this out
loud, you’d best be sure to pronounce that “Mey-heeco” to avoid further
damage to these fine people.
Shame on you, commune: this kind of
schoolyard tomfoolery is beneath you and frankly I expected more from
the publication that has brought us the wit and wisdom of Tom Turkel’s
“Home Town” for more than 20 years. You may consider this formal notice
of the cancellation of my subscription.
Beth Romerlaud
Pierce Mountain, Delaware
Dear Beth:
The commune shares your outrage at the exploitation of helpless
minorities, unless they’re on our payroll. No one here will soon forget
the intolerance and hatred bred by shows like Taxi and Perfect
Strangers in years past, and we have no interest in breeding further
misconceptions, or rabbits. However, we regret to inform you that Poopey
Chalupa does not work here; in actuality he is the mascot for El Común,
the newsletter of the annual Mexico City street bazaar. Have you seen
our mascot, lady? We’d kill to get that cute little sombrero-wearing
rascal.
Furthermore, Tom Turkel’s “Home Town” has never appeared on the
commune, and it never will; not so long as he keeps putting on airs
like he’s better than everyone and has a special need for medical and
dental coverage.
Lastly: though we don’t sell subscriptions to the
commune, we’d be happy to cancel yours and send a bill immediately.
Thanks for your letter, and we’ll be sending a box of rabbits to help
ease your liberal guilt. Feel free to keep them as pets or eat them or
whatever bizarre kinds of shit you people do.
the commune
Dear commune:
Yeah, I’ve got a question for you. If all that we see or seem is but a
dream within a dream, then why the hell won’t my Chevy start? Normally
when I have a dream it’s something like I’ve got a chicken head where
my penis is supposed to be or my mother-in-law is trying to give my dog
an enema. Never anything about a blown head gasket or scored pistons.
What gives?
John John Fridley
Elmwood, Texas
Dear John John:
Like most teenage English majors, it appears that you’ve confused poetry
with reality. If life were truly a dream within a dream, your letter
would have been from the commune’s ex-girlfriend, confessing that she
really did steal the commune’s CDs and the commune’s Notre Dame
sweatshirt. There is an upside, however: that bird that’s been following
you around isn’t really a nagging reminder of your lost love, it just
wants some of the beef jerky in your pocket.
the commune
Dear commune:
I’m dick and tired of hearing the stereotype that all men are obsessed
with sex and that they can’t help but think about tit every ten seconds.
Sure, some guys may be certified hooter hounds, but that doesn’t mean the
chest of us are just helpless dogs, salivating at the taut of glimpsing
naked female flesh. It’s unfair to hump us in with that fist group, when
we as a sex have cum so far. I’m a head-blooded American male, boner of a
healthy sex drive, but I ride myself on being capable of suck things as
intelligent thought and higher brainal function, and I think moist men
are, ass well.
I thrust that we’re in agreement on this topless.
Kent Boobner
Knobjob, New York
Dear Kent:
You have a good point there, Kent. Good fuck with your crusade, and
spank you for riding.
the commune
Editor's Note:
the commune news would like to issue a warm greeting to our new scab
tiny-type writers, even though it feels kind of weird to issue a warm
greeting to yourself. But what the hell, they pay better than Stride
Rite.
Milestones
the commune's scratch 'n sniff look at last year's office potluck
Opportunities
Pants a Capitalist
Free Virus Baggies
Take a Kitten, Please
the commune book selections
the commune's Bear in Rearview
the commune's Big Book of Duke
Faces of the commune
the commune 100: Leaders and Revolutionaries
the commune 100: Traitors and Noodledicks
FAQ Shwartz |
Site Map's Somewhere in the Glovebox |
Search In Vain |
Contract Ick
Privacy Police |
Terms of Gary Busey |
Reprints & Persimmons |
Press Eject Now
Volume 6
We're not sure how you found out about our top-secret initiation
ceremony, but we're not happy knowing we have a leak among our
collective.
Volume 5
This is our most recent mission statement, and it hangs proudly
on the door of our New York offices: “I don’t see any bright ideas
coming from you, Mr. Bigshot with the fat mouth and all.”
Volume 4
Whoa, I think you totally mis-read us, Greg. Obviously
the commune respects everyone in the world and their lifestyle
choices, especially homosexuals.
Volume 3
Yes, Virginia, there is a Satan.
He knows when you're sleeping he knows when you've
been bad or good. And soon he'll be coming to your house!
Merry Christmas!
Volume 2
We treat you like a queen and it's never good enough. Fuck this
insane bullshit. You're afraid to be loved.
Volume 1
Also, we do not manufacture TVs. We are a website. You must have purchased your
television elsewhere.