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2/23/26   
We just don't make 'em like we used to
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Russell Crowe Receives Oscar Nod for Role in Ben Gay Commercial

March 4, 2002
Hollywood, California
Ramrod Hurley
Russell Crowe, wishing he was birthing a sheep
I
n a move destined to boil the blood of the fourteen Americans who still associate the Oscars with outstanding achievement in film, the Motion Picture Academy of Arts and Sciences announced Tuesday that it has added a supplemental Best Actor nomination to the field for this year's awards.

The additional nomination was given to Australian actor Russell Crowe for his performance in a 30-second Ben Gay commercial from 1991, which featured Crowe touting the virtues of the medicated ointment from a locker room after a taxing squash workout.

Reaction has been swift and fast from film critics and movie buffs alike, who suggest that the Academy's butt-kissing of Crowe has reached an unprecedented level now that they have run out of film performances for which to nominate ...Read more...


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April 28, 2003

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Sierra Mist

I for one miss the good old days when you could go to the store and know what the hell you were buying. Back then, there were two brands of everything: the kind you bought and the kind your no-class neighbors from Philly would buy because they didn't know any better. They'd save two cents and end up with garbage bags that were water soluble and dog food that was made from lawn clippings.

In those days, it was always easy to tell which brand was which. The good stuff had some smiling white guy with a butchwax haircut on the box. Nice. The other one always had a genie or some shit on it, a laughing monkey. And the crap products always had dead give-away names like Chintz or Uncle Otto's Screwjob.

Nowadays, you don't know what to buy. There are over 800 different kinds of crackers alone. I just want something to put in my mouth, I don't know if I want it stone-ground or not. And half the boxes have Catdog on them, whatever the hell that is. I don't know if that's the modern-day equivalent of the laughing monkey or not. They should've at least kept the butchwax guy on the good crackers, so we'd at least be able to tell what a Catdog means.

You can forget about buying cereal, too, unless you fancy pulling out your eyeballs through your own ass right there in the grocery aisle. Half the boxes aren't even cereal, they're boobytraps filled with leprechauns and all kinds of silly horseshit. At least the bad ones are easy to avoid, as I've never...Read more...


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October 27, 2003

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Cursing the Fates

Few things in life are more annoying than sports fans who think they're cursed. That is unless they think they're individually cursed, which can be hilarious. If all their breakfast cereal turns into locusts or they gain weight no matter what they eat, I can listen to that stuff all day. But nobody can stand listening to some sorry loser complaining that the Curse of Cheops kept his sad-sack team from winning the big one, and how the gimpy harem of mama's boys deserved better. In ancient times, men were killed for less, usually by fans of more-successful teams.

Baseball fans in Chicago and Boston have gone to great lengths to lament and preserve their teams' curses, and the commune staff has not been spared their pain. This very column is an effort to try and end the "Curse of the commune," which involves having to hear commune reporter and former Cubs pitcher Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown explain the Curse of the Cubs every time somebody makes a comment about baseball, goats, mummies, bears or Chicago-style deep dish pizza.

The Curse of the Cubs, also known at "The Billy Goat Curse" and "Loser's Excuse #42" dates back to the World Series of 1945. Local Chicago tavern owner William "Billy Goat" Sianis wanted to take his goat to see World Series game four, ostensibly because he couldn't find a babysitter. His real reasons were thankfully kept private.

Sianas had been the owner of the Lincoln Tavern for years, and one day a goat fell...Read more...


º Last Column: Can You Hear Me Now? The History of Sonar
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Milestones
1921: Underground rumor begins that Lil Duncan, to be born in 50 years, will like the kinky stuff.
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Deaf Mute. Duties include standing around, accepting blame for assorted office mishaps, and listening to Ramrod Hurley's stories about the one time he went fishing. Antidepressant prescription a plus.
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BY Jordan Artwell
1/30/2006
Fraternity of Pigs
The animals of the Gaswell farm decided to do away with people entirely. No more oppression of the whip, the sustaining of an entire system of government with the single purpose of raising and selling crops for the benefit of the human. The whole thing was done away with, Farmer John, and his lovely daughter, were murdered in their beds (in his daughter's case, six traveling salesman had to be done in as well). The time of the whip and yolk was gone, the old pig had told them. Now was a time of equality.

Sure, that was all well and good when it happened, three hours ago. But the realistic concerns of a world market that needed crops and animals who needed feed made things infinitely more complicated. Should the animals just eat the crops as they grew in the field? Not a very...Read more...

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