the commune, 4/12/26: You'll learn to love it or die trying

Bulshitzkizu Takes Gold at Whiter Olympics

February 27, 2006

Torino, Italy

Junior Bacon

Yet another white athlete is lavishly rewarded for bizarre alpine behavior

ulshitzkizu, the Eastern European principality best known for its unjust laws and shoddy exports, shocked no one this week by taking home a record twelve gold medals, despite never having even been visited by a black person in the nation's entire 314-year history.

The 2006 Whiter Olympics continued as expected all week, par for the course for an event designed expressly to reward behaviors no self- respecting black person would be caught dead engaging in, like running your fool ass around out in the cold as if you haven't got any sense at all.

"The Winter Olympics were invented in 1964 as a way for whites to make up for losing all their medals to black athletes in the summer games," explained Olympic racism expert Tyrone Blackula. "They had to make up a bunch of sports black people had never heard of, like hockey, and other events where, by the very color of their skin, black athletes would be at a disadvantage, like Naked Snow Hiding."

The thinly-disguised ruse came to a head in 1988, when pressure from the 2/3rds of the world that isn't even invited to the Whiter Olympics forced the token inclusion of the Jamaican bobsled team during the Calgary games. Predictably, the Jamaican team was unfairly penalized for attempting to push their bobsled up the run in record time, a perfectly reasonable misunderstanding of the event's rules for anyone not born in Norway.

Bulshitzkizu neighbor Upper Scamistan also took gold medals this week in curling and other white man cold-weather hobbies too silly to name. Experts on white people agree that U.S. is likewise heavily favored in the upcoming ice farming competitions and the always popular 400-meter skin bleach.

Network executives for NBC have been bitching and moaning all week about the poor ratings for their cherished little white sports love-in, which has rated even lower than reruns of old black-and-white television shows like Leave it to Beaver. Or, as they would be more accurately known, old white-and-white television shows. The Olympic ratings have suffered due in no small part to the network's staunch refusal to dye any of their preciously white Olympic snow brown to make audiences of color more comfortable with the proceedings.

Though it hardly qualifies as news, no black athletes have yet been spotted in Torino, the closest being American downhill skier Bode Miller, who once accidentally kissed a black chick in the dark at a party. Though event organizers are said to have been divided over the decision to invite the racially-mixed United States to the Olympic Games, arrangements were made to ensure that the only American entrants would be from the black-free states of Minnesota and Vermont.

In a desperate last-ditch effort to boost ratings, NBC has begun to refer to Australians as the "honorary black people" of the 2006 Olympics, due to their poor showing and the arid climate of their home land. But word on the street is that the network originally wanted to save that designation for Chechnya, had the embattled Russian province been able to take a break from getting screwed over long enough to field their own Olympic team.

the commune news is going to get around to pretending to watch the Winter Olympics some time this year, we swear. Shabozz Wertham is the commune's resident expert on blackness, which is a huge upgrade from our previous expert, Nordic hip-hop fan Ivan Nauctchacokov.

Virgins overwhelmingly have girlfriends at schools in other states

New Orleans to hurricane Katrina: "Show us your tits!"

Late Dr. Atkins was big fat liar

Constipation Drug Pulled; Results Not Shitty Enough

October 27, 2003

Test Drive

Contrary to popular belief and a lucrative office pool, Omar Bricks will one day again own a car. Maybe not today, maybe not tomorrow, but one day and for the rest of my goddamned life, even if I have to stick a wheel up Henry Ford's ass and ride him to work like a unicycle. It will come to pass.

Seeking to end the Curse of the Bricksmobile once and for all, I set out this weekend intending to play the field and test drive a few of the many suitors for the title of Next Bricks Ride.

At first I was really excited to test out one of those new electric cars, thinking that would be a blast in the pants. But of course that turned out to be a crock, turns out just because it's electric doesn't mean it can defy gravity like those slot cars we had when we were kids. You know the ones I'm talking about, they would race up the wall and back down, unless of course you took the very top piece of the track out, in which case they would race up the track and knock a picture frame off the wall, leaving a bitchin' electric burn mark on the wall like Frankenstein's undershorts. And the best part was you could do it again, after you found out where the car ricocheted behind the toilet in the bathroom. That was my favorite toy when I was a kid, and I spent countless hours figuring out the different angles you could put the track at to get the car to shoot toward a friend who was swinging a whiffle ball bat, or to see if you could smoke one by the mailman's head. Tyco...

º Last Column: Surprise Brothers and the Blackout Marathon
º more columns

March 28, 2005

The Best Conspiracy Ever

º Last Column: A Blemished Reputation
º more columns

I'm happier than a pig still wearing his bacon this week. It looks like, at last, all the years of persistent digging have finally gotten me in the exact hole I've been looking for. I'm now on the trail of a conspiracy so big, so deep, so all-encompassing, that I'm surprised it hasn't been made into a major motion picture yet. When they do, now they'll have to cast the Red Bagel partâ€”I'm in that deep.

It's okay to talk about it, and not only because nobody in the government reads the commune. I am using a pseudonym so clever and ingenious, not only will they never connect it with the Red Bagel you know and love, but I'm also thinking of making it my legal name when I'm done with all this conspiracy unraveling.

Seriously, readers, this conspiracy has it all. The close-knit group of international corporations, aliens, copyright infringement, and the genocide of a species that doesn't even exist yet, but will in the future. This is a crunchy conspiracy, sir. And I'm in it up to my neck. Lucky me!

My efforts in disguise have been commendable, if I may say so myself. Instead of my white riverboat gambler attire, I've been wearing a black suit that fits like it's been tailor-madeâ€”all part of the disguise, I assure you, I haven't gone over to the black suit-wearing side. I also shaved my beard, and have put a fake beard on in its place. Going around beardless was quite like going around naked. I have also created a characterâ€”name withheld, for nowâ€”and made up a backstory for him. My guy is a divorced father of three, who pays child support, but receives alimony from his ex-wife, Paulina Porizkova. I had to look it up how to spell it, just in case anyone asks me. I also had an affair with Tawny Kitaen that ended badly, but my character doesn't like to talk about that unless he's drunk.

It's real exciting. This conspiracy puts all the others to shame. This one involves a leather-clad assassinâ€”a female leather-clad assassin. Can you boast that, Watergate scandal? How about you, Vince Foster cover-up? I didn't think so.

I think what I like best about this conspiracy is how damned exciting it is. Too many of these conspiracies I've been involved with have been pretty humdrum. A few loose pages signed over a table, or soft-spoken agreements between the heads of world powers and the corporate oligarchy. Sure, it sounds exciting when you're reading documents, but when you're actively involved, all you can think about is when are you going to be able to get home and play some video games. Not this conspiracy! I've been shot at twice already! It kicks major ass. People finally want me dead, and I don't think it's because I was wearing the wrong colors in gang territory, like Rascal suggested. He also suggested that's why my lemonade stand empire failed.

I worry sometimes this conspiracy is way too big for me to unravel all by my lonesome, especially since my informant, Deep Cock (never let your informants pick their own nicknames, I remind you), is still on the fence about whether he wants to stop it or would rather write a comic book graphic novel about it. I may end up tapping the commune Conspiracy-Busters reserve, which is mostly just Ivan Nacutchacokov, Ted Ted, and photographer Junior Bacon. Still, right now, it's kind of like "my little conspiracy," and I'd hate to lose that, for the whole thing to become a full-blown web of intrigue, something where everybody and his mother's involved. I mean, it is that way, but only on their side right now. I'm not sure I want to share the conspiracy-busting glory just yet.

Ah, what the hell am I groaning about? I should just enjoy it while it lasts.

º Last Column: A Blemished Reputation
º more columns

Milestones

1749: At this site, in 1749, nothing happened.

Now Hiring

Bag Man. Some kind of illegal-parcel-delivering hobo needed to transport sensitive packages and sleep in our dumpster. Five years dumpster-sleeping experience required. Keeping your big mouth shut skills a plus.

Top Nonsensical Curses

1.	Motherbumper Fannyfuck
2.	Shitwheeler
3.	Short-Handled Ass Tank
4.	Mop-Handle Michelangelo
5.	PelÃ©!

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

BY Roland McShyster

10/14/2002

Come quick, America, you've got to see this. Okay, well, maybe not, but the quicker we get to the movie reviews the quicker Roland McShyster can get back to the high-powered binoculars he picked up for a dollar at a yard sale. These things are great, who knew there was so much going on outside? If you don't already have a pair, I'd highly recommend them. Actually, they're probably pretty expensive, but if you ever find a freshly divorced woman selling all of her ex's stuff for a dollar at a yard sale then I say go for it. I also picked up this incredible swordâ€¦ I mean, what am I going to do with a sword, right? But at the same time, a sword for a dollar? Don't tell me you'd pass that up. Plus, it looks pretty sharp on the wall and cuts french bread like you wouldn't believe.

Okay, let's get to the movies before the aerobics class down the street lets out, deal? On to the movies!

In Theaters

Abandon Katie Holmes

Wasn't this a video game first? I seem to remember something like that, one of those wish-fulfillment first-person PC games, like you ditch Katie Holmes while on a hiking trip in Yosemite and some nature freak cuts her head off and blames it on a talking field mouse. A strange game, but undeniably fun. The movie is okay, though I think they could have come up with some more interesting scenarios than leaving Katie at the mall or the hair salon. I know they were trying not to just duplicate the levels from the game, but Death Valley and Heritage, USA still would have been fun to see.

Brown Sugar

Technological advances have certainly improved the quality of our lives over the last several years, doing away with tedious non-electronic pets and allowing us to have phone sex while we drive. But sometimes you really have to wonder about the downside to all of this progress, especially when it only takes them about two days to turn a cell phone commercial into a feature film. They must have been getting some promising Nelson scores from that commercial where Ving Rhames steals the little girl's milk, because before we could turn around to see who's got their hands in our pockets they've brought it to the big screen. Yeah, I know it's cute when little kids who used to play doctor are still friends as adults and they end up getting naked and playing "slutty stewardess and domineering airline pilot" or whatever, but please. If they were going to make a whole movie out of a dumb commercial they at least could have done the one with Donald Trump and that big Wendy's muppet, now that could have been a fun buddy cop picture.

My Big Fat Geek Website

Am I the only one our there who wishes independent films would just go away? Sure, it's great to have fresh ideas bleeding into the mix from the fringes of our culture, but honest to God, usually there's a good reason these guys aren't as well known as Spielberg or the guy who directed Goonies. This gem, which some 28 year-old Kinko's employee wiped on his sleeve and decided to keep, illustrates my point perfectly. It's too long, it has more inside jokes than a conversation with Charlie Manson, and it commits the fatal flaw of assuming anybody gives a hot goddamn about some sci-fi obsessed film nerd who works at a copy shop. There's a reason you're not popular in real life, guy, and it isn't the lack of major studio backing.

The Trainspotter

Buckle up your seat belt, loosely, and slouch your way through a two-hour adventure with the world's first heroin-addicted action hero. It's no well-kept secret that Hollywood has been swinging from the heels this year, trying to breathe new life into the tired action movie genre with startling new innovations, like replacing semi-charismatic fifty year-old meatheads with semi-charismatic twenty year-old meatheads in the starring roles. But a few studios are going even further balls-out over the top, taking a blind-assed stab at substituting an even more motley assortment of wannabe heroes for the ripped Neanderthals of years gone by. Some, like Ben Damon's dentist in The Bourne Dentist, work in a quirky kind of way, while others fall flat on their ill-conceived asses. Which end does The Trainspotter come out of? Try to picture an 84-pound pasty white guy girl-slapping a heavily tattooed Rastafarian bouncer in any kind of convincing way and you tell me.

White Oldtimer

It turns out that Eddie Murphy isn't the only fading 80's star who can strap on a couple tons of latex make-up and play a hilarious old person. Did anybody expect that Michelle Pfeiffer would be the next to machete her way through that path in the Hollywood jungle? No chance, and I give her serious points for seizing the element of surprise. The movie itself is a freeze-dried hunk of alien scat, with a twice-baked plot revolving around one of the girls from B*Witched running around and asking a hound dog and a bulldozer if they're her mother, but Pfeiffer is hilarious as the gassy old curmudgeon who gives the girl advice in her dreams and pulls his own finger. Hopefully for the sequel they'll trim the fat and just have Pfeiffer play several more funny old people.

Well, that's what they're calling a column these days folks. Pretty scary eh? If you want to file a complaint with the Surgeon General or whoever, I wouldn't hold it against you. But when you think about it, really it's all relative like reverse-inflation. Columns aren't what they used to be, sure, but have you turned on the radio lately? Good Goofy Christ, what happened to music? Compared to that kick in the nuts, this column is practically the Bible. So, you know, it's healthy to keep that in mind. If Western Civilization is on a fast track to decline, at least here at the commune we're taking the stairs. Catch up with you again in a few weeks, America!