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6/28/26   
The truth - we're full of it
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War Probably DeclaredMarch 17, 2003
Kuwait City, Kuwait
Junior Bacon
Probably war imagined to look something like this, if you pretend the football is a grenade and the sock is an Iraqi weapons facility.
L
ast-minute attempts at peaceful resolutions having likely failed, the United States presumably entered into war with Iraq again Monday, March 17 at some undisclosed time in the day. Though the information has yet to be verified, it is supported by popular opinion, with degrees of variation on the exact time and date, March 17 being the earliest estimation and March 19 the latest.

The hypothetical war came after months of accusations from the Bush administration that Iraqi president Saddam Hussein was harboring biological weapons and had the potential to create weapons of mass destruction. The debate deteriorated in recent months into press bytes back and forth between the countries as Bush attempted to curry favor with the U.N. and receive backing for military action in accor...Read more...


Red Sox outcurse Yankees to win World Series

$27 million Halliburton meals included extra tater tots

I'm telling you, Wanda don't live here, G

Ukraine's Yuschenko falls for Yanukovych's old poison apple trick



October 27, 2003

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commune Story

I've never been forthcoming about the commune's history, I freely admit. As far as I was concerned, how we got here isn't an issue. I prefer not to dwell on the past, unless we're talking about the time-traveling carpetbaggers who foiled the Bay of Pigs invasion. When it comes to the commune, where it came from is better off unknown, like the creation of hot dogs. Until recently, that is. With the death of my father Duke Bagel, and the impending legal action by my brother for control of the commune, it's quite clear I need to establish why the commune is mine, no matter what paper and lawyers say.

Unfortunately, this involves the unpleasant history between me and my father, which is the major reason I've not discussed the commune openly with many people before now. It is true my father owned the commune, legally, the original commune and therefore the name and likenesses. To an extent. Father was a wealthynaire, the exact figure of his wealth unknown to virtually everybody. Who knew there was so much money to be made in smoked buffalo meat? Well, my father did. It was no mere accident he began selling the delicious product just before the animal was declared endangered. It was a risky illegal venture, sure, but there's no money to be made in playing it safe, he always used to say.

I was not a blood relation to Duke Bagel, which is to say Duke himself did not give birth to me. I was adopted, a nasty a-word right up there with abortion and Agnes...Read more...


º Last Column: Boys, You're All Pretty
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January 21, 2002

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The Man in the Baloney Suit

There once was a man
in a baloney suit,
Who danced on the
street corner all day.
He'd dance a jig
when the mood struck him
And then repeat it
without much delay.
Oh what a sight, with all his might
He'd spring and he'd spritz all around.
And he'd make fantastical robot sounds
Whenever his feet touched the ground.

The children all loved to dance with him
As he'd twirl and he'd beep and he'd toot.
And they'd snack the day away merrily,
On the pieces that fell from his suit.
Oh what a lark, staying out 'til dark
Watching the baloney man dance.
As our parents, from windows watched carefully
To make sure that he stayed in his pants.

The neighborhood dogs loved baloney man,
Even more so than the kids.
They'd yip and they'd yap and their paws went rap-rap
On the street while they did what they did.
Oh how they schemed, in gray-toned dreams,
That suit would be theirs to eat.
But that spry dancing man was too fast for them,
And they just nipped at the soles of his feet.

I asked my father one afternoon
Where the man got his suit made of meat.
My father told me "Baloney's not meat,
What it is I'd rather not say.
Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even try to spell it,
Don't use it to patch up your tire.
While you're at it, stay away from that baloney man. Read more...


º Last Column: Rosey Red-Ass
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Quote of the Day
“There's more than one way to skin a cat. But only one reason: cat skin tacos.”

-Emil the Lonely Chef
Fortune 500 Cookie
You will become unbearably wealthy this week, and pen a beautifully-written suicide note. Donkey meat tastes just like chicken, but don't leave the hooves on unless you want your dinner guests seriously freaking out on you. This week's lucky swear words: fafuck, dickfish, shatly, bitcheese, cashit, cabbageass, shitch.


Try again later.
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Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Howie Dudat
3/28/2005
Space Gods
"Captain’s Diary. SpaceDate: 4000," the captain wrote aloud. "We have encountered a large, non-moving planet blocking our way to Spring Break on Crabula 17. Mister Yusogai, navigator, suggests we go around. And he would, the pussy. I, Captain Basil J. Ashram, have never lost a stare-down, and I don’t see anything in my DayPlanner about starting today."

"There are no signs of intelligent life on the planet, captain," explained Mister Dickey, the science officer. "Or… oh, wait. Sorry, captain. I had the sensors pointed at our ship. I’ll try that again."

"Beam me down, Mister Chips!" the captain demanded.

"Captain, for the last time, we don’t have beaming technology," explained the technician, Chin. "What you saw was a commercial."
Read more...

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