Milosevic Sports New Mustache For Trial

ormer Yugoslav President Slobodan Milosevic showed up for the first day of his war crimes trial in The Hague, Netherlands with a fierce determination to prove his innocence against the charges—and with a hot new look.

Milosevic's new mustache was reportedly recommended by his legal advisors, in an effort to change his appearance from the Slobodan Milosevic that has been seen all over the news, a visage people around the world have come to know and hate for the charges against him. Legal advisors believed a mustache would make Milosevic look more distinguished and lovable, like America's Wilford Brimley.

Yuri Nokostimov, a part of Milosevic's legal team, was quoted as saying, "Uh… it isn't quite what I had in mind. It's, er, definitely a… change. Big change."

Valta Krikosec, another legal consultant aiding in Milosevic's defense, added, "I'm sure it will have an effect on the jury."

Milosevic is charged with 66 counts, including crimes against humanity for actions in Croatia and Kosovo and genocide in Bosnia. The former Yugoslav President's efforts to cleanse Croatia, Bosnia, and Kosovo of ethnic Albanians has led to his being labeled the biggest war criminal since the Nuremberg Trials.

Milosevic has called the trial illegal and said he is not guilty of the charges. He has never killed a person, only Kosovars [ethnic Albanians] and enemies of Yugoslavia.

Though considered less than respectful to the judge and those involved in the trial since its inception, Milosevic arrived Thursday and promptly greeted Judge Richard May with an open-handed salute. May didn't appear impressed with Milosevic's effort.

"He looks different with that mustache, that's for sure," said Co-Prosecutor Dirk Ryneveld. "Something is very familiar about it instantly."

"I know!" exclaimed Co-Prosecutor Geoffrey Nice. "Charlie Chaplin has a mustache just like that."

Prosecutors stated that until 1999, 800,000 Kosovo Albanians were forced to flee their homes due to actions of Serb troops acting under Milosevic. At the end of the statement, Milosevic made a farting noise from his defense table and chuckled loudly, applauding himself.

If found guilty, Milosevic could face a life imprisonment. When asked for his opinion on the trial, President Bush said, "I would not want to be in Slobobobobadan Milosevic's place. He is fat and old and his mustache looks stupid."

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My balls are jingling with the hopes of enterprise, readers. Christmas time is the time for expansion! You know what that means—merger. Merger, merger, merger!

Of course, I realize I don't have any money, which is to say none of the business' private money, and even on my own considerable wealth I may lack the necessary fundage to merge with another business. Or another successful business at least, heh, which is to say a successful business since the commune is generally considered a complete failure. But that is only as you base the financial prospects as a mark of success. I think the commune contributes immeasurably to society even if it doesn't turn a dime of profit, so that's only a partial failure in my book.

But I don't have to worry about money around this, the most "wonderful" time of the year. That's right, bitch—it's Christmas! Hot frozen egg nog on a stick! Say a little Christmas prayer for me!

How could you not love Christmas? People give you things for free and you don't even have to have incriminating pictures of them. It's the bomb, yuletide bomb. My biggest respect, or at least false respect, is held for that big rube of Christmas crackers, Santa Claus! Yow! Line me up for a free gift, sir, thank you very much.

Now everybody knows there's not really a Santa, hopefully you're all old enough you don't need a conspiratologist to tell you so. No, not a real Santa, but it's a proven fact someone else has probably proved that the post office takes all those letters to Santa and delivers them to the richest 1% of the nation. Yahoo! That's how all the presents get under the tree.

And I, for one, am not planning on being left out. You may have seen on the news ten years ago when a mysterious stranger purchased the world's biggest stocking for a record auction price—guess who. And "Santa" is legally obligated to fill every bare inch of the thing, so that was well worth the investment after two or three Christmases. Five, if you're a big financial details sort of asshole, but I don't care what Gay or anyone else says, it is not "a big fat smelly sock you went into hock to buy." It is a pure gold magnet. And unlike the one I bought from that prospector, this one actually works.

But a freakishly large stocking bought from the man with the world's largest foot is only part of my plan for world domination (the friendly kind, I mean). My next plan is a big whopping merger. To guarantee that's what I'm getting this Christmas, I spent all my time writing Christmas letters to Santa ever since the end of Thanksgiving. Which is to say I've paid the commune staff overtime and freed many reporters from their reporting obligations to handwrite letters to Santa since we all know they have machines that prove you photocopied, and that pisses them off. I'm getting a merger, that's for damn sure.

Microsoft, Wal-Mart, News Corp., I'm not too picky. And don't think I'm too greedy either. If I was I'd be asking for a complete hostile takeover, mine of theirs, and that's not what I want. I just want a friendly merger. I want our two brands to be compatible, forced compatibility if necessary, and for our brand loyalties to extend to the other's customers. I want Wal-Mart shopped everywhere reading the commune by this time next year, and hopefully by the same date commune fans will be shopping at Wal-Mart instead of simply living there.

The nation's wealthiest men can certainly spare that, considering I've been such a good boy. Besides, I'm technically in the top 2% of the nation's wealthiest people, so I'm sure with a little hedging they would like to have some new blood on their stodgy old list. But either way I'm dead set on getting that merger, if for no other reasons than it will shut my brother Gay up about the company never turning a profit. So by the start of next year, look for the wealthiest commune yet! Or should I say the Amazon.commune?

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I was an avid comic collector when I was younger. Which means I was a kid who stole.

I loved comics, and couldn't keep my hands off them. At least that's what the judge said. In my defense, I only borrowed them so I could read them, bag them, and keep them for a long time to see if they went up in value. That was a lousy defense. I never should have defended myself. But I was only 10, I don't know what the court was thinking. And they called me the idiot.

That's why I love to watch comic book movies. And why the movie theater always throws me out for not having a ticket. There's a lot of comic book movies coming out this year. I'm already gathering ticket stubs to get into see the big ones. Like the new Batman movie. And there's also a Fantastic Four movie. I think Cinderella Man was a comic book character, too, but I'm not gay, so I didn't read it. Not that I wasn't tempted, mind you.

When I was a kid I wanted to be in the Fantastic Four. My biggest problem, besides having no super-powers, was that I never knew which one I wanted to kill and take the place of. Probably the girl. Not that I hate women, 'cause I don't, but it would be real awkward hanging out with a married guy, his wife, and someone else. I'd be like a fourth wheel. Maybe that could be my power—all my married friends and the guy they hang out with say I'm good at it.

If I could have any super-power in the world, that would be a tough choice. I think it would be the power to make people forget I borrowed money from them. 'Cause that's something I need all the time. We'd corner this super-villain in a bank vault, me and the rest of the Fantastic Four, who I now lead, and I could just borrow all the money from him. Tell him I'm late with the rent or something, or my mom needs hangnail surgery. Some cool story. Then, he defeats the rest of them and asks for the money back, and I'm all like, "Dude, I paid that back to you weeks ago." And he gets real mad, but he believes it, and has no choice but to go to jail. I haven't worked all of it out, but I think I'm on the right track.

I could be called the Borrower. It's better than Thieving Asshole, and I think that's taken already anyway.

I wouldn't want any of the other Fantastic Four's powers. The Thing is all made of rocks. Dude, have you ever been hit with a rock? That shit hurts. So whenever he punches anyone it's like someone threw a rock at his hand. Great idea, Eisenstein. And there's the Invisible Chick… so what, big deal. I go to parties and people already can't see me there. Got that power. Then there's the Human Blowtorch. He uses his power to burn all his clothes off. I've tried that before, trust me, it's a dead end street. You just end up having to buy more clothes and neighbors file a complaint with the police department.

Then there's Dr. Fantastic, who has the greatest powers in that team. He can stretch over and pick things up. Can you imagine that? Throw the remote control out the window, who needs it? No more are the chips out of reach… ever! I wonder if that feels like work, to stretch real far. I hope not.

If I had that power… well, let's just say I've solved the problem that's always bothered mankind. No more waiting for the commercial to go to the bathroom. Sweet.

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