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February 13, 2006 |
Washingon, D.C. Whit Pistol midst the controversy of insulting Danish cartoons and rioting Muslims throughout Europe and the Middle East, the U.S. has taken a firm stance against the editorial cartoon in question—not because it offends Islamic culture, but because it steals focus from the ever-popular anti-Americanism felt by Muslims worldwide.
"We will not stand for this insult to the United States," said White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan on Friday. "This administration has put far too much work into the Middle East to settle for second most-hated country in the western world."
Added McClellan, "I mean… Afghanistan? Iraq? The threats and endless implications of war in Syria and Iran… if anyone is the biggest threat to Islam, it's us."
Protests began following the pu...
midst the controversy of insulting Danish cartoons and rioting Muslims throughout Europe and the Middle East, the U.S. has taken a firm stance against the editorial cartoon in question—not because it offends Islamic culture, but because it steals focus from the ever-popular anti-Americanism felt by Muslims worldwide. "We will not stand for this insult to the United States," said White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan on Friday. "This administration has put far too much work into the Middle East to settle for second most-hated country in the western world." Added McClellan, "I mean… Afghanistan? Iraq? The threats and endless implications of war in Syria and Iran… if anyone is the biggest threat to Islam, it's us." Protests began following the publication of 12 cartoons portraying the prophet Mohammed in Denmark's Jyllands-Posten, an act prohibited in Islamic religion, and the protests have turned into violent rioting in many instances, including setting fire to a Danish embassy. The riots have spread throughout Europe, following the re-publication of the offending cartoons in other countries. As Muslim aggression turns against Denmark and the other European Union countries, the U.S. began to show clear signs of fearing second best. "You think Denmark's offensive?" President Bush said at a press conference on Thursday. "We put a Koran on the toilet, if you remember. Not us specifically, and we don't condone that kind of thing—but that's American handiwork for you. Let's try to remember whose financial and military complexes you've suicide bombed. Ain't we the Great Satan, folks?" Some scholars and media pundits, who make the real money in the field of academia, have suggested the cartoon controversy may be behind the administration's recent attacks on suspected Al-Qaeda targets, as well as the president's verbal gaff on Saturday. "You know what's stupid? Long beards," Bush said to a small group of White House visitors on Saturday. He added, "Oops," in a less-than-convincing way. Psychologists and political scientists both have tried to explain the effects of the Danish cartoon and the Muslim response, but if any academic field has gained the most from this debacle, it's the newly burgeoning area of politopsycho science. Happy to answer questions was the field's premiere and only representative, Professor Norm Chauncey of Newark University. "Clearly the president, and to a certain extent the country and its administration itself, is dealing with a sudden loss of identity as the political landscape begins to change," said Professor Chauncey, who was kind enough to buy the lattes. "As these times become more turbulent, and anti-American sentiment grows all around the world, particularly in the Middle East and Islamic cultures, we in the west have found comfort in the most reliable feature of modern life—anti-Americanism. Can you imagine how disoriented we would all be if the French stopped being pretentious overnight? What a confusing, frightening world that would be. It's the same effect when the United States is no longer the first one to trample all over the nerves of Muslims. The Danes? If they're going to start being insensitive to cultural differences, we might as well go the rest of the full mile and stop interfering in everyone's world affairs. Let's exactly how whacked out we can all be." Chauncey lectured further on the subject, but since he wouldn't throw in a biscotti, the commune doesn't see much reason to print that as well. the commune news was deeply offended by a comic strip as well, when Ziggy burned that car thief's balls on the truck's exhaust pipe to get a confession—though, come to think of it, that could have been an episode of The Shield. commune Douchebag Raoul Dunkin tries to be sensitive to the feelings of everyone, earning him his nickname "commune Douchebag."
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 December 23, 2002
The History of ChristmasThough it might surprise the ignorant, the holiday of Christmas was celebrated long before Christ came along and limp-wristed his way into the history books, or at least the history books that are available at most major motels. They didn't call it Christmas back then, since that would just be spooky, but regardless, the winter solstice was celebrated for eons before Christ laid the golden turd.
In northern lands, ancient peoples celebrated the passing of the midpoint of winter, looking ahead to longer days and the return of the light, which would remind them just how ugly their neighbors were. With the light came the melting of the snow, which rang in the springtime removal of the dead bodies of all the dumb assholes who had frozen to death over the winter. Hence the term "spring cleaning" was coined, though over time it's somehow come to mean some yuppie sponging out his microwave.
The Norse in Scandanavia celebrated Yule, a vague holiday that involved eating and went on for however damn long they wanted it to. Anyone who asked if the holiday was over yet was eaten, and as a result it often dragged on for months.
The ancient Germans didn't celebrate, since they were German, but they were scared shitless of the pagan God Oden, who they placated by never going outside. The exchange of goods in the winter months consisted of things being thrown from one house's window to the next. This usually worked fairly well but mishaps did occur,...
º Last Column: What the Hell Are Muppets? º more columns
Though it might surprise the ignorant, the holiday of Christmas was celebrated long before Christ came along and limp-wristed his way into the history books, or at least the history books that are available at most major motels. They didn't call it Christmas back then, since that would just be spooky, but regardless, the winter solstice was celebrated for eons before Christ laid the golden turd.
In northern lands, ancient peoples celebrated the passing of the midpoint of winter, looking ahead to longer days and the return of the light, which would remind them just how ugly their neighbors were. With the light came the melting of the snow, which rang in the springtime removal of the dead bodies of all the dumb assholes who had frozen to death over the winter. Hence the term "spring cleaning" was coined, though over time it's somehow come to mean some yuppie sponging out his microwave.
The Norse in Scandanavia celebrated Yule, a vague holiday that involved eating and went on for however damn long they wanted it to. Anyone who asked if the holiday was over yet was eaten, and as a result it often dragged on for months.
The ancient Germans didn't celebrate, since they were German, but they were scared shitless of the pagan God Oden, who they placated by never going outside. The exchange of goods in the winter months consisted of things being thrown from one house's window to the next. This usually worked fairly well but mishaps did occur, and most houses had at least a few frozen chickens stuck to their outside walls. The biggest problem was that if the town butcher threw his back out, the entire town would starve, since Germans don't believe in vegetables except for sauerkraut.
The Romans had their own insane version of Christmas, which basically involved everybody getting naked, fucking, and throwing up all morning. They had a few other traditions rolled in there, but mainly they were just thinly disguised excuses for fucking.
In the early days of Christianity, Easter was the only holiday, and it got so out of hand that they were afraid to add any more. The early Christians were known for having an extreme early version of Attention Deficit Disorder, and as a result the celebration of Christ's resurrection soon morphed into a mutant strain when somebody thought they said procreation and they started dressing up like rabbits, and then somebody brought a bunch of eggs because he didn't have a rabbit costume and didn't know what else to do, and then somebody else said "Fuck eggs, I like chocolate!" and the modern insane Easter was born.
In the fourth century, the church decided it was safe to make another go at it and they added a celebration for the birth of Christ. There was a slight problem in that nobody had any idea when Christ was born, and the Bible just said something about there was tallow in the Eastern bung and nobody knew what month that was supposed to mean. The problem was solved when Pope Julius I scratched his nose for a while and then declared that Christ was born on December 25th. When scholars argued that this ran counter to all available evidence, he pope-slapped them and told everyone that if they wanted to piss off Oden, that was their own prerogative. Everybody agreed it was December 25th after that.
Julius I's real motivation was a clever one. By throwing the celebration for the birth of Christ at the same time when all of the non-Christians were celebrating the winter solstice by balling their brains out, he could confuse people into thinking that they were celebrating Christianity by drinking a lot of beer and nailing everything in the house to a tree, a deception that still stands to this day.
Once the Puritans took over England, they outlawed Christmas, and anything else that people liked to do. This lasted for about ten seconds before the people rose up and kicked their gay asses out of the country. They washed up in North America, complaining constantly about being religiously persecuted, and then outlawed Christmas there, too. The problem was that the Native Americans didn't know what Christmas was, so the Puritans had to teach them how to decorate their teepees with popcorn and nuts and little ballerinas on the outside, and then tell them never to do it.
Living with the Puritans eventually drove the Native Americans to drinking, which the Puritans had taught them to do so they could tell them not to do that, either. Eventually the Puritans died out after they decided that opening their eyes was sinful and then were all eaten by bears at night. But because of them, generations of Americans grew up without traditional Christmas orgies.
Eventually Charles Dickens wrote The Christmas Carol, which he completely pulled out of his ass during a wild weeklong acid binge. NaĂŻve American readers believed that he was talking about real holiday traditions, and were pissed that none of the immigrants had told them about the fun of Christmas. Several immigrant-bashing why-didn't-you-tell-us-about-Christmas riots followed, and America's new arrivals quickly learned to make up traditions on the spot to appease the custom-starved masses.
Soon the entire country was celebrating a bastard amalgam of made-up holiday customs, believing that the Dutch or Ubangi or some goddamned people had actually strung lights up in trees and drank fermented egg snot for hundreds of years. The church was quick to remind everyone that Christ was born on Christmas, too, and they skylarked a story about three traveling salesmen giving presents to baby Jesus to make it all sort of tie together.
You might wonder how Santa Claus came into all of this, but that was all just a Coke commercial that everyone assumed was referencing an ancient tradition. To this very day, the guys at Coca-Cola are still kicking themselves that they didn't name the guy Santa Coke. Scandinavians may argue that Santa was based on their ancient myth about an elf named Jultomten who delivers presents in a goat-drawn sled, but that's just stupid. º Last Column: What the Hell Are Muppets?º more columns
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|  June 9, 2003
Ape Skills"It takes a nation of millions just to keep a shitty sitcom on the air."
My dad once told me, "Boy, it takes a smart man to get a job these days. But it takes a good man to…" At that point the dog had gotten firm hold of his throat and I couldn't understand what he was saying anymore, but it was probably something about a good man knowing when to admit he's wrong or something. That dog came out of nowhere, now that I think about it.
Dad was a grease monkey, but he preferred the term "motor-fixin' ape." That was as good as he could talk everyone into calling him anyway. He worked at the garage down the street, fixing in any broken cars they would bring in. Or not fixing them, if they were difficult or took a long time or something. He wasn't crazy. But my dad always used to say, "Son, a man with skills is a man who can…" Something. I don't remember the rest of it. I only heard the full version once or twice, usually some birds would crash into his head or a marmot would leap out of a garbage can and latch onto his goodies like a vise.
It doesn't really matter, because a man with skills is probably a good thing, is what he was meaning, and I don't have any. It's not a big downer to me at all. Some people are good at certain things, while I'm good at not being good at anything. It bothered me when I was little, then I started spending a lot of time in unventilated rooms that were just painted. Now I don't worry about anything....
º Last Column: Genuine Draft º more columns
"It takes a nation of millions just to keep a shitty sitcom on the air."
My dad once told me, "Boy, it takes a smart man to get a job these days. But it takes a good man to…" At that point the dog had gotten firm hold of his throat and I couldn't understand what he was saying anymore, but it was probably something about a good man knowing when to admit he's wrong or something. That dog came out of nowhere, now that I think about it.
Dad was a grease monkey, but he preferred the term "motor-fixin' ape." That was as good as he could talk everyone into calling him anyway. He worked at the garage down the street, fixing in any broken cars they would bring in. Or not fixing them, if they were difficult or took a long time or something. He wasn't crazy. But my dad always used to say, "Son, a man with skills is a man who can…" Something. I don't remember the rest of it. I only heard the full version once or twice, usually some birds would crash into his head or a marmot would leap out of a garbage can and latch onto his goodies like a vise.
It doesn't really matter, because a man with skills is probably a good thing, is what he was meaning, and I don't have any. It's not a big downer to me at all. Some people are good at certain things, while I'm good at not being good at anything. It bothered me when I was little, then I started spending a lot of time in unventilated rooms that were just painted. Now I don't worry about anything. Maybe age makes you wiser. Budweiser. Sure, I could go for one about now.
The best thing about not being able to do anything is that nobody calls on you to do them a favor. No one gets pissed if you can't remember who called while they were out because they know your memory is shitty. No one asks to help you move once they know you drop stuff like it's chili pepper hot and their furniture is all expensive. No one asks you to cover for them if the boss shows up because they know you're not even good at lying. So if you see the bright side, it's better not being able to do anything.
I guess that's one thing I do well, see the bright side of everything. Like when life gives you lemons and you make lemonade, then you taste and realize someone pissed in your lemonade. I'm the kind of guy who says, "Well, now I know what piss tastes like so I'll never have to wonder." Then the kids tell me I spoiled all their fun and they won't sell me anymore lemonade, even with piss in it. But that's just more money I can spend on mouthwash. Always a bright side, dudes.
But if that's one thing I do well, now I gotta worry about people bothering me to do that. "Hey, Loser—I just woke up with a hobo's dick in my mouth. What's the bright side of that?" I've created a whole new avenue of work for just me.
Sometimes I really am a dumbass. º Last Column: Genuine Draftº more columns
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Quote of the Day“The Devil finds work for idle hands. It's all part-time clerical work, but the pay is kick-ass. The Devil is no longer hiring for assembly work.”
-Ted's Big Book of BibleFortune 500 CookieThis week you'll finally get that pot to piss in, but before you start unzipping, we should warn you it's second-hand. Turn on, tune in, and drop out—you've missed too many days in that computer programming class. Look for a bright-eyed Aries to take away all your troubles when she shoots you in the throat. Lucky scams this week: Pyramid, carnival ring toss, Florida voter roll purges, and it's okay, I had a vasectomy.
Try again later.Top-Selling commune Paraphernalia| 1. | the commune's Book on Tape: Everyone's favorite verbose classic War & Peace printed in tiny type on the non-sticky side of a roll of Scotch tap | | 2. | The "I Sued the commune for Libel and All I Got Was This Lousy Mug" Mug | | 3. | "Pin the Paternity Suit on Lil Duncan's Babydaddy" Home Game | | 4. | Boris Utzov Guide of English Slang | | 5. | Ivana Folger-Balzac. Please, somebody take Ivana Folger-Balzac. | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 8/4/2003 Well how the hell are ya, America? Excuse my saucy tone, but I'm fuckin' smashed. That's right… wait, what were we talking about? Movies! Blow 'em out your ass, America! I'm fuckin' sick of movies, this week we're going to review vegetables. Cucumbers! Radishes! En… Endives! Yeah!
Alright, smartass, I'm out of vegetables. Here's your goddamn movies:
In Theaters
American Wedding
A formerly hardass franchise has gone all Friends on us, ladies and gentlemen. Hollywood's obese felines are betting you'll slap down your hard-earned pesos to watch these dirtballs get hitched, and I say screw 'em! Screw 'em and their imported water. If I wanted to see somebody stick their...
Well how the hell are ya, America? Excuse my saucy tone, but I'm fuckin' smashed. That's right… wait, what were we talking about? Movies! Blow 'em out your ass, America! I'm fuckin' sick of movies, this week we're going to review vegetables. Cucumbers! Radishes! En… Endives! Yeah!
Alright, smartass, I'm out of vegetables. Here's your goddamn movies:
In Theaters
American Wedding
A formerly hardass franchise has gone all Friends on us, ladies and gentlemen. Hollywood's obese felines are betting you'll slap down your hard-earned pesos to watch these dirtballs get hitched, and I say screw 'em! Screw 'em and their imported water. If I wanted to see somebody stick their dick in a wedding cake I would have gone to my cousin Dave's wedding last month. So let me be the first to add this movie to my list of things we're all boycotting: Pizza Hut, the boyscouts and this movie. Oh, and vegetables. Fuck vegetables. You heard it here first.
Fucking Friday
Jamie Lee Curtis and some anonymous tampon star in this triple-hashed remake of all those "Dad woke up with his teenage son's boner" movies from the 80's. Only now it's a mother and daughter sharing the misery, and it's not a onetime deal, but rather a once-a-week hassle that the family has come to know derisively as Fucking Friday. The expected faux-hilarity ensues, with daughter getting hot flashes and mom getting hot pants, blah blah blah. The bulk of the film consists of queasy sequences featuring mom being pawed by underage slobs with beer on their breath and daughter air-sickness bagging her way through routine, mechanical sex with dad, both of which I sincerely could have done without. Somebody actually found Mark Harmon buried in the wreck of the Lusitania and dug him up to co-star as the hot neighbor who may or may not have mind-switched with a two-year-old Latino boy. They must have figured Harmon had the necessary experience with catastrophes, but at least the first time around he probably got some decent seafood.
Gigli
With his latest picture, Ben Affleck proves he's whiter than any of us could have possibly imagined, despite his current marital status as a lemur clinging tenaciously to Jennifer Lopez's ass. Affleck plays Larry Gigli, a walking punchline whose constant references to "gettin' Gigli wit it" demonstrate that Affleck can't even appropriate faux-black culture from Will Smith, of all people. Thankfully, J-Lo sings a song on the soundtrack, so maximum camp value is achieved, allowing audiences to enjoy the film on an ironic level even if they like acting and music.
The Secret Lives of Dennis
Who out there among you didn't think it was too late for a Head of the Class spin-off movie? Okay, that's not many hands, but I'll assume that's because not many of you foresaw the possibility, or even recall the show from your cocaine-encrusted chest of 80's memories. For those of you that did think a spin-off was a good idea, wouldn't you have spun off a movie around rebel loner Eric or even geek chic Arvid? Okay, you guys with your hands still up are just fucking with me, go on home and quit busting my balls. As for the rest of you, were you really thinking of going to this movie? Good God man, don't you have some chores to do? Stay home and spellcheck your suicide note or something, for the love of all that is holy.
S.W.A.T.
The latest Playstation game to skip the Playstation and come straight to the theater is a loose (and I mean like the cousin that let you feel her up at the family reunion loose) sequel to the 1994 Stephen "Midget Golfer" Dorf flick S.F.W.. This is not to be confused with the Bridget "Anaconda" Fonda handjob S.W.F. (Super White Female) or the Three Stooges flick W.F.S. (Where the Fuck is Shep?). Since the original wasn't actually about anything, the producers had the leeway to build the sequel from the ground up, and to give the franchise a kick in the ass by making it a blaxploitation thrill ride. As with the original, the American public was deemed too square to be exposed to this film's title in its full glory (Some White-Ass Turkeys), but savvy filmgoers should know without being told that Samuel L. Jackson wouldn't get mixed up in another lame movie about the actual S.W.A.T. team, not after The Negotiator. Though he did still manage to walk into a door frame by not demanding that the screenwriter change his character's name from Hohmo, I can't help but think that's going to get more laughs than any of the actual jokes in the picture.
Alright, everybody out unless they want Bacardi on their pants! You got your movies, now leave Uncle Roland to drown his sorrows in a kiddie pool full of inexpensive rum. Check back in another two weeks, but if nobody answers when you knock then just dream up your own pithy comments for once. Lazy bastards.    |