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Church Clarifies "No Sex With Kids" Stance April 15, 2002 |
Archdeacon Mavis Plum is totally shocked. Really. n the face of countless allegations of sexual misconduct among its priests, including criminal charges of child molestation and the popularity of the high-profile âCatholic Priests Gone Wildâ DVD series, the Roman Catholic Church has issued a new public statement clarifying its position on grown men having sex with little kids. And the answer may surprise you: Theyâre against it.
âI donât know where people got the idea that the church is all about buggering little kids, maybe we should start covering that a bit more in Sunday school,â said Archdeacon Mavis Plum in a recent interview. âMaybe a new commandment would help, something catchy like âThou shall not pork a preschooler.â It would certainly help with public relations.â
Other members of th...
n the face of countless allegations of sexual misconduct among its priests, including criminal charges of child molestation and the popularity of the high-profile âCatholic Priests Gone Wildâ DVD series, the Roman Catholic Church has issued a new public statement clarifying its position on grown men having sex with little kids. And the answer may surprise you: Theyâre against it. âI donât know where people got the idea that the church is all about buggering little kids, maybe we should start covering that a bit more in Sunday school,â said Archdeacon Mavis Plum in a recent interview. âMaybe a new commandment would help, something catchy like âThou shall not pork a preschooler.â It would certainly help with public relations.â Other members of the church seemed more surprised by the announcement. âWhat?â questioned Rev. Phil Binder, shuffling an issue of Tiger Beat magazine under some papers on his desk. âSince when? What the hell else would you want to be a priest for, the dental plan? Shit.â Binder cut the interview short as he hurriedly dialed his telephone. âThese recent allegations really have shocked the church community,â insisted Mavis. âI mean, who would expect that men, deprived of normal sexual outlets for a lifetime, would eventually turn to the nearest moist orifice for satisfaction? I mean, prisoners, maybe. Guys living in Wyoming, sure. Have you seen the women there? Yikes. But men of God? Itâs long been assumed that the power of the holy spirit would give them the strength to overcome the inevitable pull of a young altar boyâs beautiful, untainted anus. But I guess not. The devil must really have gotten into those boys, to seduce priests like that. Itâs amazing. It buggers the mind. Boggles.â Concerned parents nationwide were relieved by the announcement. Sandy Maynard of Des Plains, IA summed up the reactions of many. âI just sighed a big, relieved sigh. Itâs stressful, trying to balance eternal damnation on one hand and having your kids ass-rammed on the other. Nobody wants to piss off God by not being involved in the church, you know? But to tell you the truth, I always thought those church sleepovers were a little weird. When I was a kid, Iâm pretty sure the body of Christ you accepted during communion didnât involve throbbing man-meat.â The announcement is only the first step in a plan to change the publicâs perception of the Catholic Church as a NAMBLA meeting with wine. This week, motivational posters featuring popular cartoon characters and slogans like âPlay it straightâdonât penetrate,â âAbstinence now: Miles of underage rectums in heavenâ and âWhen in doubt, donât whip it outâ will be distributed to churches nationwide in an effort to help priests with the transition to a sodomy-free church experience. When asked how the church could have overlooked what must have been obvious signs of altar boy mistreatment over the years, Archdeacon Plum muttered something about not running a daycare center while frowning at the screen of his Game Boy. Bishop Theodore Rexall would not return the communeâs calls regarding the same question, or our questions about if heâs the one who can move diagonally or if thatâs a Rook. the commune news hasnât been to church in years, and have that to thank for our rock-solid sexual identity. Kendra Beuttle was until recently a meter reader for Con Ed, but was hired onto the commune staff in accordance with our new âDodge the Electric Billâ policy for 2002.
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 December 20, 2004
The Election of the Twenty-First CenturyActing Editor's Note: Given that Red Bagel has refused to step outside his office since the November election, and has even stopped sliding articles to us under the door, we have opted to run a previous column of his in this slot. Here is some of Red's on-the-ball coverage of the 2000 presidential race, and we hope it seems as insightful now as it did back when it first ran in the commune then.
George W. Bush will never be president, and I'll tell you why.
For one, and let's call this exhibit A, sir: He's the son of another president, and people didn't like that president all that much. America learned its lesson from John Adams and John Quincy Adams, as well as the two Roosevelts. Having your son be president just doesn't work, it reminds people too much of the king system. The one bright side of electing idiot after idiot is we know we're working our way through the gene pool. Why go back for a dip in the shallow end? We tried the Bush lineage, no geniuses there. Even if the "bad president" gene skips a generation, you think we'd give another Bush four years to prove it? Not happening.
For two, exhibit B, and I don't quite know how to say this delicately: He's a bit monkey-looking. Just a wee bit, with the ears and the beedy eyes, and that big region between his nose and lip. And I swear I've seen him scratch his head with his foot. It was only once, but I did see it.
And third: Al Gore's got way too...
º Last Column: The Quick Guide to Conspiracies º more columns
Acting Editor's Note: Given that Red Bagel has refused to step outside his office since the November election, and has even stopped sliding articles to us under the door, we have opted to run a previous column of his in this slot. Here is some of Red's on-the-ball coverage of the 2000 presidential race, and we hope it seems as insightful now as it did back when it first ran in the commune then.
George W. Bush will never be president, and I'll tell you why.
For one, and let's call this exhibit A, sir: He's the son of another president, and people didn't like that president all that much. America learned its lesson from John Adams and John Quincy Adams, as well as the two Roosevelts. Having your son be president just doesn't work, it reminds people too much of the king system. The one bright side of electing idiot after idiot is we know we're working our way through the gene pool. Why go back for a dip in the shallow end? We tried the Bush lineage, no geniuses there. Even if the "bad president" gene skips a generation, you think we'd give another Bush four years to prove it? Not happening.
For two, exhibit B, and I don't quite know how to say this delicately: He's a bit monkey-looking. Just a wee bit, with the ears and the beedy eyes, and that big region between his nose and lip. And I swear I've seen him scratch his head with his foot. It was only once, but I did see it.
And third: Al Gore's got way too much personality to beat. The guy's on fire. Ever since he announced he was running for the White House he's been like a tornado of energy, a stunning speech on this hand, polemic debate on the next. People will be saying the W stands for "Who?"
Even if Bush could put together a solid platform and explain it in our English language, the people wouldn't be likely to elect him, since he stands for everything they disagree with. His far-right agenda, his insistence on pushing religion into the public sphere, his ludicrous Reaganesque chasing of a "Star Wars" missile defense program, he's clearly far behind on all real threats facing the nation. It's 2000 already, people have learned the lessons of right-wing Republicanism, they aren't about to repeat the scenario that drove them so deep into recession we had to elect a poontang-pursuing president like Bill Clinton to get us out of it.
No, sir, the real race this year will be between Gore and Nader. I know the numbers don't quite back me up on this yet, but I'm convinced all polling information is done five years before it's presented to the public, so just wait for the figures to catch up. Ralph Nader and his invincible Green Party have gotten the word out about his campaign, and his no-holds-barred approach to the issues that concern people, like the environment and national health care, are clearly in line with the nation's general status as leaning to the far left. The people are finding heart in Nader's message of tackling the corporate welfare system and policing the out-of-control business world. The real question, come November, is Gore or Nader the one to make corporations responsible for their actions?
A tough battle, but I think the Clinton "dynasty" will manage to succeed once again. Even liberal America isn't quite ready for the Nader revolution just yet. Gore will have a term to start setting things right, in his subtle but entrancing way, but come 2004, if he wants to hold the White House for another term, until Hillary is ready for her run, he will have to accommodate the vast legion of Naderites in some way. A Nader vice-presidency? I won't say anything to get me too far ahead of myself. Let's just see how it plays out. I'm safer making predictions about that Matrix sequel they're working on, which all my inside sources guarantee will be the movie to end all movies. º Last Column: The Quick Guide to Conspiraciesº more columns
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|  June 24, 2002
I Have Been Dragged by a Car for Three DaysJust when things are going pretty good for you again, just when they start to look up again after you've been down and out for the count, at your lowest and just starting to get back on your feet again, it's the same ol' story: Hit by a car and dragged for three days solid.
If you want to argue technical details, sure, the car was not in motion every minute of every hour of those three days, and the complete time, I estimate, was closer to 70 hours than 72, but who's going to argue the details after you've been dragged for three days straight by an automobile? Me, that's who. Details are nature's prison guards.
It started out innocently enough, leaving work Thursday night and stepping out into moving traffic. Little could I guess, though I probably could have seen if I'd bothered to check the oncoming traffic first, there was some speeding car with a driver of drunken magnitude. I was struck, but only clipped, fortunately. Then I was dragged through the streets for three days.
Three days is not a lot of time for most things. If I performed surgery three days in a row, few would consider me a surgeon. Yet in the matter of being dragged by a car, I think three days is enough time to consider me an expert. Yes, if it's not so brazen, I now consider myself an expert on being dragged by a car. I could receive stipends to speak at universities on the topic of being dragged by a car. In fact, I may.
I'm pretty sure the drunk...
º Last Column: I Have a Wicked Bassist in Lee º more columns
Just when things are going pretty good for you again, just when they start to look up again after you've been down and out for the count, at your lowest and just starting to get back on your feet again, it's the same ol' story: Hit by a car and dragged for three days solid.
If you want to argue technical details, sure, the car was not in motion every minute of every hour of those three days, and the complete time, I estimate, was closer to 70 hours than 72, but who's going to argue the details after you've been dragged for three days straight by an automobile? Me, that's who. Details are nature's prison guards.
It started out innocently enough, leaving work Thursday night and stepping out into moving traffic. Little could I guess, though I probably could have seen if I'd bothered to check the oncoming traffic first, there was some speeding car with a driver of drunken magnitude. I was struck, but only clipped, fortunately. Then I was dragged through the streets for three days.
Three days is not a lot of time for most things. If I performed surgery three days in a row, few would consider me a surgeon. Yet in the matter of being dragged by a car, I think three days is enough time to consider me an expert. Yes, if it's not so brazen, I now consider myself an expert on being dragged by a car. I could receive stipends to speak at universities on the topic of being dragged by a car. In fact, I may.
I'm pretty sure the drunk driver had no idea I was snagged on something, I presume the fender, of his car. At worst I would like to think maybe he caught lights flashing off the fender and assumed he was being pursued by cops, and if he hadn't been in fear of being arrested he would've stopped to see what was making all those sparks and screaming noises at the rear of his car.
As I said, he stopped for gas a few times, and I suppose he missed me, as I'm of small stature and frequently rolled up under his car. I would've tried to free myself but it was hard to stay conscious, given the extreme pain I was in as well as the lack of sleep. If I had to pick one, probably the pain was the biggest factor.
Soon I realized that it was either free myself or die. I could not endure more than another 300 hours, I'm guessing, without surrendering to the agony. Thinking quickly, mostly remembering old episodes of MacGyver, I managed to grab ahold of the carburetor and, with the help of a lighter, fashioned a crude blowtorch. It was at this point the fender naturally gave way and I rolled off the road into a ditch.
In that ditch I lay for hours. Bloodied, broken, and very pissed off. I was found by a deaf-mute woman who threw me on her back, me being a short and uncumbersome load, and carried me to a local hospital. I found myself in Tupelo, Mississippi, in the most miserable pain I've been in all my life, as well as quite surprised I had gone so little distance in the span of three days. Even not driving constantly the drunken driver should have gotten further than that. As best I can figure the drunken driver must have turned and circled back the other way quite a number of times, or failing that, he had been driving very slow most of the journey. I say it certainly didn't feel like he was driving very slow but it does seem the most logical answer, since I'm recovered enough to be conscious this Monday morning and I'm still alive.
Is there a lesson to be learned from all this? No. None at all. The best lesson you can hope to salvage is that a so-called "walk" sign is not really a guarantee you'll get to the other side of the street. I suggest the government work on improving that right away. Until then, I have demoral. º Last Column: I Have a Wicked Bassist in Leeº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Immature poets imitate; mature poets steal. They have to, because let's face itâyou're never going to support yourself as a fucking poet, cheech.”
-B.S. EliodeFortune 500 CookieExpect a big upturn in your finances when a bag of silver dollars dropped from a skyscraper nearly kills you. People flock to your show when The New York Times calls you "Stomp for people who wish Stomp would just fucking die already." The court case is decided this week and you now legally have bragging rights. Lucky meat substitutes: Soy, tofu, tofurkey, a McDonald's hamburger.
Try again later.Top 5 Reasons Facebook is Losing Users| 1. | My fucking parents are on Facebook | | 2. | Cockbook siphoning away gay users | | 3. | Fickle masses already moving on to next David Fincher movie craze, Pogs | | 4. | Tiny fraction of Zuckerberg karma coming back on the installment plan | | 5. | Facebook is retarded | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Winston C. Mars 10/13/2003 Radiation Plantation"Radiation Plantation,"
I spoke the information.
"Scott?"
Scott blew snot on a pink carnation.
"Ready the gammaram,
and prepare for floatation."
"Aye aye, captain,"
he replied as he spied a crustacean.
So at last we'd found it,
in the deepest of space!
This holiest of grails,
the prey in our chaseâŚ
Who'd have believed it!
Real, and true?
Nobody! But you were all wrong! And screw you!
Pausing to blink in the thick radiation,
I surveyed the scene with a keen adulation.
The orange peaks protruding from a backdrop so drabâ
"Scott, now goddammit! Don't kick that space crab!"
Christ! On the cusp of a...
"Radiation Plantation,"
I spoke the information.
"Scott?"
Scott blew snot on a pink carnation.
"Ready the gammaram,
and prepare for floatation."
"Aye aye, captain,"
he replied as he spied a crustacean.
So at last we'd found it,
in the deepest of space!
This holiest of grails,
the prey in our chaseâŚ
Who'd have believed it!
Real, and true?
Nobody! But you were all wrong! And screw you!
Pausing to blink in the thick radiation,
I surveyed the scene with a keen adulation.
The orange peaks protruding from a backdrop so drabâ
"Scott, now goddammit! Don't kick that space crab!"
Christ! On the cusp of a discovery so vast
it would make the wheel itself seem half-assed,
I was cursed with a first mate so wantonly inept
that I put down my somascope and wantonly wept!
No good! No use! Might as well pack it in!
My half-life had been wasted, chucked in the waste bin.
Twenty long years been spent in pursuitâŚ
Now the ass of my dreams was being kicked with a boot!
The free energy here could boggle the brain,
with atomic atoms and radiant rain.
It could power a nation and make a man rich.
"Scott, stop rolling around in that space ditch!"
It's useless, it's hopeless! It's patently absurd!
There he is throwing rocks at a space bird!
A competent crewman would be my salvation.
Oh, I picked the wrong weekend to ask for visitation!
"What is it now Scott? Can't you see I'm distraught?
With no way to prove that I was here or not?
The mission's a failure, no one will believe
that I ever found this place. Now let's us just leave!"
"You found me a present, well yippie and woo-hoo.
Wait, this is the space shell of a radiant shrew!
It's only found here⌠our failure undone!
Oh what a genius I have for a son!"   |