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May 31, 2004 |
Crawford, TX Assad the Unseen President Bush, seen both after and (inset) during his hilarious battle with gravity n a move pundits suspect was designed to improve the president’s poll numbers among the nation’s comedy writers, George W. Bush ate complete shit off a bike during a ride at his Texas ranch last Sunday afternoon. The president spoke for reporters while covered in several comical facial bandages and wearing an arm sling this week to address the topic of his crash, which Bush claims he participated in to prove a point about his increasingly unpopular Iraq policy.
“Even when things don’t go exactly as planned, and you hit a goddamned pothole on the road to liberation, you’ve got to climb back on that nation and ride her home,” Bush declared. Though the vaguely sexual imagery unnerved some, many felt that this was one of the most successful of the president’s many...
n a move pundits suspect was designed to improve the president’s poll numbers among the nation’s comedy writers, George W. Bush ate complete shit off a bike during a ride at his Texas ranch last Sunday afternoon. The president spoke for reporters while covered in several comical facial bandages and wearing an arm sling this week to address the topic of his crash, which Bush claims he participated in to prove a point about his increasingly unpopular Iraq policy.
“Even when things don’t go exactly as planned, and you hit a goddamned pothole on the road to liberation, you’ve got to climb back on that nation and ride her home,” Bush declared. Though the vaguely sexual imagery unnerved some, many felt that this was one of the most successful of the president’s many pathetic attempts to save face after an embarrassing mishap.
Many were reminded of the well-publicized shit-eating º the president performed off a Segway human transporter at his father’s summer home last year, happier times for a higher polling president who was then able blame technology for his clod-like behavior. Others were also reminded of a January 2002 incident in which a pretzel got the better of the president during an attempt at eating, ending with Bush’s dramatic tumble into a coffee table. Though that incident shared little in common with the president’s latest tussle with gravity, many still enjoy bringing up the story at the flimsiest pretext.
Bush claims that a rabbit darted out in front of his bike on Sunday, forcing him to heroically swerve onto a treacherous rocky outcropping to avoid going Paperboy on the adorably wayward rodent. Other witnesses claim the president ate shit on smooth pavement after removing one hand from the bicycle’s handlebars to scratch his asshole.
The president was accompanied on the ride by his personal doctor, bicycle riding coach Noel Yongstrem, a Secret Service agent, and some neighborhood kids who tagged along to make fun of the Bush’s lame bike. According to eyewitness reports, Bush’s crash elicited peals of laughter, pointing, and sarcastic clapping from everyone in the group except the unnamed Secret Service agent, who panicked and ran off into the woods, leaving the downed president to fend for himself.
Bush suffered minor abrasions to his chin, upper lip, nose, right hand and both knees in the accident, but the most serious injury was to the president’s pride, White House spokesman Trent Duffy said. Despite the spill, Bush was able to bravely ride the rest of the way home with only minor sniveling and a snotty nose.
Surprisingly, the president sustained his injuries in spite of witness reports that he was wearing a helmet and mouth guard at the time of the accident. White House doctors believe this can be explained by the fact that Bush’s helmet likely came off during the crash, since the straps had been tied in a knot under his chin due to the president’s ongoing difficulty with latches, snaps and buttons.
According to the White House, President Bush has expressed a desire to ride in cars from now on, leaving two-wheeled transportation “to kids and the Chinese.” No word yet on whether or not he’s going to keep up with the helmet and mouth guard. the commune news isn’t one to talk, since the last time we were on a bike we ended up on the COPS Greatest Hits: Wacky Tabacky video. Lil Duncan has never had a notable biking mishap that we’ve heard about, though word is she once fell off a dyke and skinned her knee.
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Wal-Mart, NetFlix join forces to wipe out small mail-order businesses
Red Sox outcurse Yankees to win World Series
Fox already canceling next year's new shows
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Senator Wins Lottery, Quits "Shitty Job" epublican Senator Judd Gregg finally ran into a big steaming pile of luck Wednesday when he matched 5 of 6 Powerball numbers and won a lottery jackpot of $853,492. Gregg immediately called Vice-President Dick Cheney to let his boss know he would not be coming into work. “It’s about friggin’ time I got some good luck,” Gregg told reporters in front of his home in his home state of New Hampshire. Gregg waved his winning ticket in the air frantically and laughed. “Eat it, taxpayers! I’m gonna be my own boss from now on!” Gregg, who chairs the Senate Budget Committee and spent more than $2 million in his last re-election campaign, did admit to some sour grapes in not winning the $340 million jackpot won by an Oregon player in the same lottery. the commune's Fall Gadget Guide t’s almost the time of year to start pretending you’re Christmas shopping while you look for swanky new shit for yourself, and the commune is there for you with our first-ever annual Fall Gadget Guide. Join commune Tech Correspondent Mitch Kroeger as he guides you through the bewildering wilderness of the new and the shiny. Bob Barker Ceases to Exist After Retiring From Television Tree Bark Face Turns Out to Be Likeness of Jesus Lookalike Vance Waxman |
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 January 21, 2002
Fortune 8Vegas is heaven for the plain Czech. "Can you believe I get fashion advice from a burst of cheerful sunflowers?" he asked me upon arriving. "We brought the outside indoors by having gallons of clean gasoline sloshing around inside a giant plexiglass dolphin," he explained, showing me around the lobby. "Jesus Christ," I thought. "No wonder these things get stuck in tuna nets." I took my leave of him while he was riveting fresh ideas to the banister. "Genius," said a little person who was pissing on the wet bar. "I feel it in my related pieces." His image fuzzed by white smoke, I took him for a pauper and gobbled him down with jalapenos.
Your mettle will be tested, when the stainless steal. Try again...
º Last Column: Fortune 7 º more columns
Vegas is heaven for the plain Czech. "Can you believe I get fashion advice from a burst of cheerful sunflowers?" he asked me upon arriving. "We brought the outside indoors by having gallons of clean gasoline sloshing around inside a giant plexiglass dolphin," he explained, showing me around the lobby. "Jesus Christ," I thought. "No wonder these things get stuck in tuna nets." I took my leave of him while he was riveting fresh ideas to the banister. "Genius," said a little person who was pissing on the wet bar. "I feel it in my related pieces." His image fuzzed by white smoke, I took him for a pauper and gobbled him down with jalapenos.
Your mettle will be tested, when the stainless steal. Try again later. º Last Column: Fortune 7º more columns
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|  November 11, 2002
Silly Attorneys, Tricks is for BricksI've got two good reasons why you should never, ever name your semi-weekly column My Friend Polio, and here they are: One, you would be seriously stepping on my toes and repercussions would be quick and deadly; and two, it's just bad karma, and let me be a brazen big-dicked example to all of you.
Things have been downright rancid lately, like I need remind you. No car, no bus or cab rides since they banned me for having a sense of humor, and if another punk kid makes fun of the basket on my bike I'm not even going to explain how it's screwed in and the screw's stripped, I'm just going to jump to the ass-beating. Then there's the lingering smell of cream of broccoli dogshit in Bricks Manor and I don't even want to mention being embarrassed by a chess-playing computer, like we live in Tron-world or something. Needless to say Omar Bricks needed some cheering up last week.
I was extremely pumped about Halloween, the one time of year you can throw rotten eggs at someone's house or dig up their septic tank and dump it into their pool and folks just laugh it off—well, most folks. Usually I eschew the costume, or have a real go at it being all philosophical and such, like one year I went as the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, but that gets dull explaining over and over. So this year dressed up as John Quincy Adams, not that I thought it was a great costume or anything, just a last minute thing—I had the outfit already to break the ice with a...
º Last Column: Deep Omar is the Chess Messiah º more columns
I've got two good reasons why you should never, ever name your semi-weekly column My Friend Polio, and here they are: One, you would be seriously stepping on my toes and repercussions would be quick and deadly; and two, it's just bad karma, and let me be a brazen big-dicked example to all of you.
Things have been downright rancid lately, like I need remind you. No car, no bus or cab rides since they banned me for having a sense of humor, and if another punk kid makes fun of the basket on my bike I'm not even going to explain how it's screwed in and the screw's stripped, I'm just going to jump to the ass-beating. Then there's the lingering smell of cream of broccoli dogshit in Bricks Manor and I don't even want to mention being embarrassed by a chess-playing computer, like we live in Tron-world or something. Needless to say Omar Bricks needed some cheering up last week.
I was extremely pumped about Halloween, the one time of year you can throw rotten eggs at someone's house or dig up their septic tank and dump it into their pool and folks just laugh it off—well, most folks. Usually I eschew the costume, or have a real go at it being all philosophical and such, like one year I went as the Heisenberg Uncertainty Principle, but that gets dull explaining over and over. So this year dressed up as John Quincy Adams, not that I thought it was a great costume or anything, just a last minute thing—I had the outfit already to break the ice with a judge in this court thing, and it didn't really work well.
First thing that really bothered me is all these dumb questions. "Who are you supposed to be?" "Oh, cool, John Quincy Adams—and what is he famous for?" "Hey, how fuckin' old are you? What are you doing trick-or-treating?" People get all uptight when you point out you're not dressed as a historian, why don't they look John Quincy Adams up in a goddamn dictionary. At least most of them get pissy and refuse to give out candy, one old lady totally passed out. I felt a little bad, but I did call an ambulance after I loaded up on candy—don't get all righteous with me, man, she had Sweet Tarts. Nobody gives those out anymore.
The tricks didn't go over any better. Nobody out there can take it like they dish it out, I swear. Everything was pretty mellow, too, in comparison to early Bricks tricks—no more calling up relatives out of the obituaries and pretending to be the deceased, there was a general consensus that wasn't funny, despite everything I thought. But there's no way to make people laugh anymore, even on Halloween. I dressed up like Spider-Man and swung through Jeff's window during his party and all I got was, "Omar, you broke my window and you're hemorrhaging." Then after that, I passed out, but after that, with stitches, I cut the brake line on the cop's car and—well, he says it's a jailable offense, I say it's not, we're supposed to meet in court next month and work it out.
Election day was actually more fun. I don't usually vote, but that doesn't mean I can't have a little fun, right? I had a box full of lost wallets I collected when I bartended for a few years and it's a blast to see how many times you can sneak in there and write-in Jimmy "SupaFly" Snuka before they realize you're the same guy. This time it was 13, but keep in mind that's only using hats, no wigs or facial hair or anything. You got to admit it would be pretty wicked to tune in during election night coverage and hear, "A surprise upset as 30% of the vote went to retired wrestler Jimmy 'SupaFly' Snuka for city comptroller."
Maybe next year. By that time I'll have all this legal trouble sorted it out. It's hard to believe but apparently it's illegal to vote more than once in this city, even when you explain to the judge you were just fucking around. º Last Column: Deep Omar is the Chess Messiahº more columns
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Quote of the Day“The day destroys the night, the night divides the day, carry the four, times the weekend, round up from seven, and: Presto! 14. Not sure what that means, I'll get back to you next album.”
-Gin OrbisonFortune 500 CookieMonkeys and live electrical wire are a bad combo for you this week. Try combing your hair with a rake—hey, maybe those jokers were right. You will quit smoking this week, and upgrade to the syringe. Don't take any shit from the crippled, elderly, or the extremely weak: pretty much anybody you can get your girlfriend to beat up. This week's lucky burritos: Refried Revenge, Chock-Full- O-Olives, The Grand Mal, Nuthin-But-Sour- Cream, El Sleeping Bag, Someone Beaned My Ass Tonight.
Try again later.Top Selling Dog Food Flavors| 1. | Kibbles 'n Christ | | 2. | Meow'd Mix | | 3. | Low Carb Horse Nuggets | | 4. | Tastes Like Ass Smells | | 5. | Upchuck Wagon | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY an anagramical poem by Skippy LeBonne 3/8/2004 Constantinople (A Spent Tin Colon)Connie bought an opal
("Abalone coupon night!")
from Constantinople.
(Flint postmen croon. A)
Dennis killed a dentist
(dissident knelt Daniel)
at noon on a weekend.
(down on one knee at a)
Eustace was the loosest
(teahouse. "Slow Cassette,")
old bag at the ball.
(sang Wallet Bloodbath.)
"Skippy LeBonne,
("Penis knob? Yelp!")
what are you on?"
("Wore tuna? Ahoy!")
Rest, wily Sergeant Cher,
(The lyrics were strange.)
these are not your nights.
(Ugh, the nearest sonority)
I swam easy, law
(was miles away.)
did not concern me.
(Did cement corn on)
Cher mutters "Oven off,
(the covers...
Connie bought an opal
("Abalone coupon night!")
from Constantinople.
(Flint postmen croon. A)
Dennis killed a dentist
(dissident knelt Daniel)
at noon on a weekend.
(down on one knee at a)
Eustace was the loosest
(teahouse. "Slow Cassette,")
old bag at the ball.
(sang Wallet Bloodbath.)
"Skippy LeBonne,
("Penis knob? Yelp!")
what are you on?"
("Wore tuna? Ahoy!")
Rest, wily Sergeant Cher,
(The lyrics were strange.)
these are not your nights.
(Ugh, the nearest sonority)
I swam easy, law
(was miles away.)
did not concern me.
(Did cement corn on)
Cher mutters "Oven off,
(the covers turn me off?)
do not wink."
(I don't know.)
"Ahem... Hulk tit bin
(I think the album,)
is full again."
(alias "Gin Flu,")
"Abscess kit, sud jug...
(just sucked big ass.)
where'd you get all this?"
(The "Swirly Eel" ad ought)
"Do we bleat out?"
(to be outlawed.)
Cher, you crazy bitch...
(Buy other chic, crazy)
It's just a dream.
(U.S. art amid jest)
End it... as...
as I tend.
(instead.)   |