the commune, 4/4/26: You'll learn to love it or die trying

John Paul II a Shoo-In for Pope Hall of Fame

May 16, 2005

Vatican City

Junior Bacon

Former pope John Paul II's handlers insist that the deceased old man "keep a lid on it" during a recent prayer service

rand spanking-new pope Benedict XVI has surprised traditionalists this week not only by having the traditional pope throne in the Vatican replaced with an overstuffed Lay-Z-Boy recliner, but more significantly by calling for "Santo Subito," or "Immediate Sainthood" for his predecessor, the reportedly-deceased John Paul II.

Such a move would be a radical break from the Vatican's traditional 5-year waiting period between a pope's death and first chance at beatification, which is not as painful as it sounds. The waiting period has traditionally served as a time for the deceased pope's life and accomplishments to be put in perspective, to prevent voters from being swayed by the media circus surrounding the pope's death and the emotions of guilty voters who owed the pope money.

"Your Holiness, though I respect your desire to honorâ€”could someone kindly shake the pope awake, please?" argued Cardinal Vincenzo Palati to snores of disagreement from a reclined pope.

Pope John Paul II himself bent the rules by sponsoring Mother Teresa for sainthood a mere two years after her death, with the explanation that he was tired of waiting to get his hands on the collectable "Saint Mother Teresa" bobblehead doll.

Some have questioned Benedict's motives, pointing out the possibility that he hopes to accelerate the trend, eventually allowing the pope to declare himself a saint before he even dies, getting around the ever-present problem of being a saint but being too dead to enjoy it. Critics point out the many powerful incentives for pulling off such a coup, including the generous saint discount available at buffets worldwide, and the ability to commandeer civilian vehicles on demand for saintly business.

For John Paul II to be beatified, supporters will have to provide evidence of saint-like miracles performed by his former eminence during his popehood. So far, this looks to be a large hurdle.

"The pope made meatballs one time, using grade D beef," reminisced cardinal and pope friend Arturo Bennini. "It was a miracle they turned out so good."

"Well, the pope blew his nose on my shirt once," explained an awed Victor Minelli. "And the stain looked kind of like cookie monster. You know the cookie monster? So that was kind of weird. A weird miracle."

"That man was a saint," claimed a rambling Cardinal Eustace Beeter, in a 45-minute speech that none could claim had a definable point. "Just good people, that pope."

Catholic statisticians, however, question the logic behind John Paul II being inducted to the Pope Hall of Fame at all, citing the former pope's poor career stats. 4,000 conversions are traditionally considered to be the benchmark for sainthood, though John Paul II supporters argue that the former pope's 2,805 were an artificially suppressed number due to injuries and the years that the pope served in the army.

"The three most similar popes to John Paul II, according to their statistics, are Hermes the Mauve, Jonas Ricardo Popino, and 'Steamboat' McGill," explained pious nerd Walter Bumrose. "Not exactly a stellar assemblage of popehood, to be honest. Those are some real bummer popes, most of them from the dark period in the church's history when they had cash flow problems and would let anyone be pope for a day as long as they kicked in enough cash and brought their own hat."

the commune news recently celebrated our own induction into the commune News Hall of Fame, an exclusive membership honoring the very best commune news organizations. Ivan Nacutchacokov has worn a path in the sky between Iraq and Italy this month, and as a result believes he has enough frequent flyer miles for a leveraged buyout of United.

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June 23, 2003

Mail Order Bride Monopoly

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Well, first thing's first and I have to say I was very disappointed in the response to my shout-out last issue for little Asian kids to join my rock family. So far I haven't got a single kid signed up, not even any tone-deaf little Asian tykes who can lip-synch or white kids with squinty eyes. I can only think this says bad things about literacy among our nation's Asian kids. So much for the myth of Asian toddlers speaking three languages and piloting biplanes and shit. I guess I should have expected as much from a culture whose "language" is just a bunch of little drawings of houses. I like picture books just as much as the next guy, but we all know the truth: all pictures and no text means it's not a men's magazine, it's a porno.

I did get one response for somebody to be the Asian rock band family mom, I think. Whatever it was, this Asian chick showed up at my door the other night and has been living at the Bricks Manor ever since. She doesn't speak of lick of English, so she could be a Yokova's Witness or one of those gag mail-order brides Ramon Nootles keeps sending over or something, but she cooks some pretty badass duck so I haven't had reason to question the arrangement thus far. She doesn't look like she can play the tambourine, so it's possible she may have been responding to the column. Though unless one of us gets a whole hell of a lot better at charades we may never know for sure.

So anyway, Osaka and I (that's just a name I made up for her, since she wasn't wearing a name tag and all that "ra ra ra" sounds the same to me) were toilet papering Ramrod Hurley's house when the idea it me: I don't even like music. So maybe the lack of qualified Asian rock band child applicants was more of a blessing in disguise. Like they say, the Lord works in mysterious ways. Not that I buy into any of that crap, but they do have a lot of convenient ready-made quotes like that which come in handy sometimes.

The one good thing to come out of all of this, besides the awesome duck dishes, is that Osaka is way better than Foghat at Monopoly. That's not to say she's good, since she's not, which is good because I like winning. But she at least gives me the impression that I'm playing with someone who's aware the game is taking place. Foghat's one strategic decision in years of Monopoly playing was to eat the little pewter shoe, which was sly but I still won that game regardless. I brainstormed at ways to get that shoe back, but after considering my poop-sifting options I decided that if anybody wanted to be the shoe in the future, tough shit. Go buy a shoe-wearing Barbie doll or something, you big sack of weird.

It's not like the shoe could win any conceivable kind of Monopoly token battle, not when you consider how big that damned thimble would be in real life. If Foghat had eaten the racecar or the wheelbarrow or something it might be a different story, but he made the right call in eating the gayest token available.

Like I said, Osaka's better at Monopoly, but she's not going to take Donald Trump down to the mat any time soon. When we played she bought one property, built a house on it, and then just saved her money for the rest of the game. I kept trying to pantomime that she needed to buy up whole city blocks and cover them with soul-crushing cookie-cutter hotel megastructures like I was, but I guess when you're not from America the whole concept of crushing the poor with your privilege and gluttonous might is harder to grasp. It's hard to explain why it's good to take way more than you need just using shadow puppets and forming letters with your body.

Now I know how the pilgrims felt when they got off the boat and had to explain to the Indians why they were building mini-malls and hotels and all that shit. You just know there were some hilarious scenes when the pilgrims tried to start charging the Indians camping fees and all the Indians had was some beads and feather hats and bullshit to pay for it. You can bet the Indians were washing some serious pilgrim dishes that night.

Bricks out.

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August 18, 2003

The Good Books

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Did you know not all books are bad?

Yep, in case you thought that was a misprint, I confirm. Clarissa Coleman has found books that aren't half bad. Comic books!

Now, I know what you're thinking, but comic books aren't for kids anymore. They're way too expensive. The only kids who could afford comic books now are complete rich kid pricks. Like that kid from The Toy, if he hadn't spent all his money buying Richard Pryor. Or Richie Rich. But he was a comic book, so figure that out. Like a mystery in a riddle wrapped inside a taco or something.

Modern comic books are filled with real issues and topics, like swearing, and getting laid. They take away all the annoying things about "literate" books like politics and descriptions. And you know that really annoying thing book writers do where they spell the words like they sound when people say them? None of that shit, thank God. Comic books only take half the time to read, too, because they don't bore you by telling you what you would see if you walked in on the whole thing. There's a picture right there, like we're looking in through a window. Can you imagine what it would be like if some writer tried to write Superman as a book?

"Superman worried terribly about how big his butt looked in his red underwear. It was a goofy costume, but it always served him well. His bulging muscular top body was covered in a thin sheen of blue alien spandex, the last thing left over from the planet wherever he came from. His thick and meaty thighs were also draped in the velvet-like blue tights. Over his back was draped a bright red cape with a curved yellow 'S' on the back. Superman lifted his fist skyward and leapt into the air with a loud cry of, 'Up, up, and away!'"

Actually, that's not half bad. I could stand writing that a bit longer, maybe later tonight, before a cold shower.

But it just gets to my second point, that comic books have more interesting characters. None of this boring shit about a building contractor cheating on his wife with an aspiring interior decorator. Huh? Those sound like people you could meet at a gay uptown restaurant or something. All I can say is I've been to the restaurant and if I had my choice I'd rather see Superman's planet. Everybody dresses the same in both places, but there's probably cooler shit going on with the alien planet. They talk like Shakespeare there and don't scowl at you for wearing white past Labor Day or eating your salad with a knife.

All the movies coming out lately are made from comic books, too. Spider-Man, The Hulk, even Men in Black was a comic book, believe it or not. I wonder how they did the rapping in that. It just proves comic books are like books for normal people. When was the last time someone made a movie out of a book? Had to be the 19th century or something at least. Before there was TV and people had to go see a movie or read a book if they didn't want to die of boredom. They didn't have refrigerators back then. They just buried everything in the ground.

Obviously now that I'm being paid to model for that Metallichick comic book I'm a little biased on the whole thing. Still, I'm not the kind of person who can be bought for free lunches or anything, I call it like I see it. You won't see me dressed up in leather on the cover of some lame bestseller or anything. And both me and the world of books are probably both happy with it that way.

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Quote of the Day

“Yours is not to question why, yadda yadda yadda, just jump out of the goddamned plane already.”

-Corporal "D-Wipe" Heisenhouser

Fortune 500 Cookie

Let me be the first to say: Elastic Grandmacraps. You can run but you can't hide, and that's why you never got the Hide 'N Seek scholarship to Brown you had your hopes set on. Your character of Jasper the Friendly Goat will garner you the attention you've long desired this week, but will be much more of the legal variety than you had intended. This week's lucky animal cookies: dog, penguin, June bug, Oreo.

Try again later.

Top Rejected Muppets

1.	Pasta Monster
2.	Mr. Cancer Dog
3.	Turd Bird
4.	The Leaping Leper
5.	Pig Bird

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

BY Roland McShyster

12/8/2003

A hearty "Yo" to you all, America, and welcome to the umptillionth edition of Roland McShyster's Entertainment Police, now a trademarked brand and theme restaurant in three states. We've got the candy you crave yet again this week, so let's waste no time peeling back that Hollywood Band-Aid and scowling at the owie that is this week's new releases:

In Theaters

Honey
Mariah Carrey is back, stinking up the screen in this, her latest attempt to prove that brother Jim didn't get all the acting talent in that family. If I were her, I'd settle for being known as "The Singing Carrey," because after squirming through brother Jim's off-key warbling in Mule in Rouge I don't expect her to suffer much competition...