Return to Zender

Hello, friends, and welcome to my dream. My name is Emil Zender and it is my mission in life to reunite the commune, to bring back together what fire hath torn asunder. What's the commune, you ask? Is it possible you have not lived before today? If it is, click on Archives up above immediately, read every last word, and then return. We'll be waiting for you.

As the non-clueless among you already know, the world's finest online newsmagazette came to a fiery end but a few short years ago, after their palatial Flatbush, New Jersey office building burnt to the ground mid-way through 2007. Urban legend has it that columnist Omar Bricks burnt the building down by setting potatoes on fire and shooting them indiscriminately off the roof using a propane-fueled potato cannon. That urban legend was likely begun by Bricks' own column stating this fact, and the videos of this event he later posted on YouTube.

Either way, after the building burnt down and the commune folded, its staff scattered to the four winds like dandelion spores farted out of God's mustache. For the first couple of years I figured this was just the way of life, everything must die, for each thing a season, turn turn turn. But recently I've realized that is bullshit, and have decided to take it upon myself to reform the commune or herniate myself trying. I vow to track down every last commune employee, dead or alive, and whine at them until they help me. You heard it here first.

My dream is that the commune will ride once again, if at all possible functioning out of my very home. I've literally had this dream hundreds of times. Now before any naysayers get word of this and try to debunk my bona fides, I will freely admit that it is not my house alone. The deed is indeed in my mother's name. But the entire basement level is my sovereign domain, not to be intruded upon even by my mother or her boyfriends. True, they do sometimes invade regardless, when the satellite goes out and they want to watch my wisely redundant cable TV service, or when my mom's main boyfriend Doug wants to have sex in my bathroom. This is because my fuzzy toilet seat cover is quite a bit nicer than theirs upstairs, mostly because I don't have a lot of sex on it.

Anyhow, as you've probably noticed, the commune's downstairs neighbors at Crochet! Magazine have persevered and thrived, moving to swank new digs in Asslatch, New Jersey, and continuing to publish their fine periodical. I've been a loyal subscriber for years, if only because their magazine smelled kind of like the commune offices due to their close proximity. That unique cocktail of aromas, one part Boris Utzov's Russian bologna, one part the smell of plastic burning, one part Rok Finger, was an intoxicating brew that made up for the fact that I don't know anything about crocheting. True, their current editions smell nothing at all of the commune, and are much the poorer for this. But I keep up my subscription purely for the memories, thrice-removed as they may be.

A special thank you to the folks at Hipsoda.com for providing me with this space to re-launch the site. As you're surely aware, Hipsoda.com was able to archive the contents of the commune in its entirety shortly before the devastating fire, and God bless them for that. I don't know the site's owners well, but I imagine them to be intense commune fans second in their devotion only to yours truly. In the one conversation I've had with these fine gentlemen, they claimed to have archived the site to use as evidence in an upcoming lawsuit. But I'm a commune fan, I know sarcasm when I hear it. The thought has crossed my mind that they may just be allowing me this space in the hopes that I will succeed in tracking down the commune's far-flung prodigal sons and daughters, making the serving of subpoenas all the easier. Actually this thought crossed my mind shortly after one of Hipsoda.com's owners told me this is exactly why they were providing me with this space. But, once again: sarcasm.

Sarcasm, you are a wily bitch.

Stay tuned to this space for much, much more.

Zincerely,

Emil Zender

The National commune Enthusiasts Club
Salutations, truth-hungry nation. I'm happier than a pig in excrement that the commune has gone back to a weekly schedule, and that I'm writing a correspondence for them for the first time in more than a year! Oh, speaking of the pig/excrement... (3/26/07)

The Seventh commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
I am the proud president and founder of the commune Enthusiasts Club, you all know this, but last week I was also the host of the grandest commune Enthusiasts Club meeting of all time. In addition to our usual roster, about 10 and counting, we also... (11/28/05)

The Sixth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
I really should consider changing the titles of these columns. The cEC (commune Enthusiasts Club, for all of you acronym-watchers!) has had way more than six meetings as of the time of this writing. About 125, according to my notes. Of course, only... (4/25/05)

The Fifth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
First off, my hearty congratulations for the commune's many recent successes. Sharp new look with the purple redesign—the new "Meet the Staff" page is excellent! And huge fans like us couldn't be happier with the return to a weekly schedule. Also,... (1/31/05)

The Fourth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
Faithful voyeurs, or as I like to call you, "reserve" commune Enthusiasts Club members, I'm thrilled to report the summer picnic of our little group was a resounding, unqualified success. As unqualified as Raoul Dunkin applying for a job in a... (9/6/04)