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April 4, 2005 |
Messier, Idaho Sloe Lorenzo Alleged disaster perpetrator Bert Woodland, who includes among his array of cruel pranks an all-kazoo version of âStairway to Heaven.â or a third year in a row, a young Messier, Idaho, boy has continued to miss the point entirely concerning his April Foolâs Day pranks. The boyâs jests are described as âcruel and maliciousâ by Messier police and have resulted in the wrongful arrest of six individuals and the hospitalization of two with severe injuries.
Identified by a spiteful member of the police department as Messier Elementary sixth-grader Bert Woodland, the boy has perpetrated another spree of April Foolâs jokes this past Friday, unleashing more terror on a town that had hoped it had seen the last of unfunny, âjust plain meanâ practical jokes. Two of Fridayâs five harshest April Foolâs incidents have already been traced back to Woodland, and police believe they will eventually tie all ...
or a third year in a row, a young Messier, Idaho, boy has continued to miss the point entirely concerning his April Foolâs Day pranks. The boyâs jests are described as âcruel and maliciousâ by Messier police and have resulted in the wrongful arrest of six individuals and the hospitalization of two with severe injuries.
Identified by a spiteful member of the police department as Messier Elementary sixth-grader Bert Woodland, the boy has perpetrated another spree of April Foolâs jokes this past Friday, unleashing more terror on a town that had hoped it had seen the last of unfunny, âjust plain meanâ practical jokes. Two of Fridayâs five harshest April Foolâs incidents have already been traced back to Woodland, and police believe they will eventually tie all of the crimes back to the little prick.
Among the more destructive of Fridayâs pranks was the non-lethal firing of a handgun within a hospital emergency room, greasing the ladder of a local fire engine (resulting in the injury of a fireman at the scene of a blaze), and the mailing of a cowheart to the parents or a girl who had been missing for five months. Even the townspeople of Messier, Idaho, who claim to have really warped senses of humor agree thereâs funny and then thereâs just abusing people.
Police had similar run-ins with Woodlandâs unfunny assaults on the innocent on two previous April Foolâs Days, the most severe incident being last yearâs burying alive of Woodlandâs brother, Cory. While the parents refused to press charges against their own son, it did raise police awareness that the pranksterâs sense of humor was not getting better and earned him the universal designation of âsick fuckâ from everyone in Messier.
âThat little shit put a rattlesnake in my mailbox,â said elderly neighbor Huntz Vohlman. âNot a plastic one, a live rattlesnake. If I hadnât heard the sound it would have caught me when it lunged out to bite. Iâm telling you, thatâs not normal. I havenât been out of my house on the first of April for the last two years.â
Vohlmanâs fear was generally shared by everyone in Messier. Principal of Messier Elementary Arlene Fredericks cancelled school when all the teachers threatened not to come on the dreaded âA-Day,â petrified by Woodlandâs potential destruction.
Substitute teacher Martin Kohl: âLast year I showed up and didnât even know it was April Foolâs. But I found out soon enough. The kid tossed a quarter stick of dynamite at meânot a firecracker, you hear, but a real partial stick of dynamite. The doctors couldnât even reattach my right index finger. Whenâs someone going to explain humor to this kid?â
University of Idaho Child Psychologist Will Raymond studied Woodland last year following his second April Foolâs arrest.
âYoung Bert has obviously misinterpreted the spirit of the holiday,â said Raymond. âIn modern times, April the first is a day when we all try to lighten up a bit, stop taking ourselves so seriously, and make a game out of embarrassing our friends and neighborsâthose weâre fond of. Instead, Bert uses it as an excuse to lash out with his insidious wit and damage others, either emotionally or physically, or sometimes both. He is, I believe, a purely anti-social personality with just enough a sense of morality to need an excuseâlike April Foolâs Dayâto ignite his malicious behavior. At first I believed he had a rich history of emotional abuse which he concealed with his terror. Later on I found out he was just an asshole.â
Raymond declined an invitation to study the boy again, since after last yearâs visit Woodland posted his image on a website for registered sex offenders; Raymond also suspects the boyâs the reason heâs been getting amorous letters from the Idaho State Menâs Penitentiary. the commune news celebrated April Foolâs Day the way we always have: Raising our eyebrows and offering a sort of bored smile when someone makes an idiotic joke and tells us the date. Bludney Pludd is our favorite April Fool, all year âround.
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Media Plugs CIA Leak ne the most potentially controversial stories in recent years was successfully nipped in the bud by the Bush White House and its ever-faithful assistant, the national news media, as the ongoing story of former Cheney Chief of Staff Lewis Libbys indictment, the first of a sitting White House official in history, was relegated to page 3 by bored news directors and other major Republican-driven news stories. Libby, called Scooter by his many enemies, is the first and likely only casualty of the under-covered story of a White House leak, in which the identity of a working CIA operative, conveniently the wife of Bush opponent Joseph Wilson. Wilsons wife Valerie Plame was outed as a spy by a conservative columnist, and his source was traced back to the White House. While liberals hoped the 22-month investigation by Special Counsel Patrick Fitzgerald would reveal the dirty tactic came from a source as high as presidential counselor Karl Rove, the most the Democrats could succeed with was a guy named Scooter. And the victory itself was short-lived. French Protestors Politely Riot urious French protestors continued to riot over the weekend, gently overturning traffic cones and unleashing salvos of pithy wit at assembled riot police across some of the roughest neighborhoods in all of Paris. The riots began the previous week in the Seine-Saint-Denis suburb northeast of Paris, sparked by what officials believe was a disagreement over food. Those incorrigible police buffoons know nothing of fine chocolate! said impassioned teenage rioter Jean Touloc, only in French. The urbane French police were overwhelmed almost before the rioting even began, requiring the French Army to be brought in last week. The army surrendered four hours later, and plans were being drawn up for a transitional government when some joker switched out the treaty-signing pen with a novelty model that laughs electronically when you try to write with it. The rioters, perhaps correctly believing that they were not being taken seriously, stepped up their boisterous chants of We beg to differ! and their disorderly milling-about. Serial Killers Neighbor: He just wouldnt shut up about serial killing. R.C. Car Enthusiasts Angered by Latest Mars Mission Snub |
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 September 15, 2003
Nickname At Your Own RiskWell it must be September, since the weather's cooling off, the pennant races are heating up, and Manny Ramirez just missed a crucial series against the Yankees because of a serious case of jock itch. You've got to love Manny though. Have you seen that guy's shoes? Vegas doesn't have that many sequins. I'd get myself a pair if I didn't think a house would fall on my head as soon as I put them on.
You know what else? Mascots in sports have never made much sense to me.
Who in their right mind goes to a baseball game to see some illegal immigrant in a chicken suit poop out baseballs along the third base line? That's just sick. And I think mascots are a bad idea too.
Name a single pro-baseball mascot you wouldn't mind having in the crosshairs of a deer rifle, just one. No, I'm not talking about cheerleaders, you sick bastard. I'm talking about the giant Muppets with some guy trapped inside making minimum wage.
And these mascots have a much more checkered history than you'd think. Take for instance the story of the Schenectady River Goats' former mascot, Trotsky the Home-Run Bear. I was at one of their games back in the 70's that I'll never forget. Trotsky comes out in the third inning, like he always had, to shoot t-shirts into the crowd using a makeshift air cannon that looks like a shoulder-fired rocket launcher. Basically a big long tube that shoots rolled up t-shirts into the stands like mortar rounds.
Trotsky...
º Last Column: Mornin' Ralph, Mornin' Sam º more columns
Well it must be September, since the weather's cooling off, the pennant races are heating up, and Manny Ramirez just missed a crucial series against the Yankees because of a serious case of jock itch. You've got to love Manny though. Have you seen that guy's shoes? Vegas doesn't have that many sequins. I'd get myself a pair if I didn't think a house would fall on my head as soon as I put them on.
You know what else? Mascots in sports have never made much sense to me.
Who in their right mind goes to a baseball game to see some illegal immigrant in a chicken suit poop out baseballs along the third base line? That's just sick. And I think mascots are a bad idea too.
Name a single pro-baseball mascot you wouldn't mind having in the crosshairs of a deer rifle, just one. No, I'm not talking about cheerleaders, you sick bastard. I'm talking about the giant Muppets with some guy trapped inside making minimum wage.
And these mascots have a much more checkered history than you'd think. Take for instance the story of the Schenectady River Goats' former mascot, Trotsky the Home-Run Bear. I was at one of their games back in the 70's that I'll never forget. Trotsky comes out in the third inning, like he always had, to shoot t-shirts into the crowd using a makeshift air cannon that looks like a shoulder-fired rocket launcher. Basically a big long tube that shoots rolled up t-shirts into the stands like mortar rounds.
Trotsky comes out, and the crowd goes nuts, clamoring for a cheap-ass River Goats t-shirt as they always do. Only this time the bear's walking out kinda slow, and he doesn't do any cartwheels or any of his usual crowd-pleasing antics. Instead, when he gets out to the outfield, he drops one end of the t-shirt gun to the ground, waves a sad little wave to the crowd, sticks the barrel in his oversized mascot bear mouth and pulls the trigger. I swear to God, it was pandemonium. Little kids were screaming all over the stadium as this giant bear is laying spread-eagle on the field, with a smoking t-shirt hanging out of his mouth. It was horrible. They had to cover him with a River Goats souvenir tarp and almost canceled the seventh-inning ice cream race. I guess Trotsky took the River Goats' eight-game losing streak more seriously than anybody had realized.
Baseball nicknames these days don't make any sense to me either. Take Randy Johnson, for example. Hey, if you want to call a seven-foot-tall redneck with an attitude "The Big Eunuch," I guess that's your right, it just never made sense to me. I'd rather be killed for religion or true love or something, but that's just me. You want some genetic freak with cleats turning your head into a wiffle ball, I suppose that's your God-given right as a numbskull.
Same thing with "Hammerin'" Hank Aaron. If you've got the balls to make fun of some guy's drinking problem, I only hope for your sake he's not twice as big as you and frequently armed with a big wooden stick. Jesus.
I'm also fascinated by the famous players who are so devoid of personality that they don't even get nicknames. Like Tony Gwynn, they loved that guy down in San Diego, but what was his nickname? "The Hitting Weeble"? "Black Math"? That has no kind of ring to it. What about Barry "They Don't Pay Me To Have a Personality" Bonds? "The Legend of Boring"? That guy has the personality of my bank manager. He could suck the fun out of a pillow fight. However, my favorite has to be Alex Rodriguez. And don't give me that A-Rod crap. That's not a nickname, that's a car part. This guy's the Tiger Woods of baseball, and they're both the Jehovah's Witnesses of sports.
We need to start giving baseball players nicknames like monster trucks, spice things up a bit. Seeing a thrilling bottom-of-the-ninth showdown between "The Devastator" and "HOMOPHOBIA" could only be good for the sport, I think. º Last Column: Mornin' Ralph, Mornin' Samº more columns
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|  April 23, 2007
Famous Like AmosLike every other American Idol fan, I was sorry to see Sanjaya Malakar go from the blockbuster TV talent show last week. I have to believe anybody with that many A's in his name is destined to be a star, so if it doesn't happen here and now, it'll happen some other time, some other place. Maybe in Bollywood. Mad props to Sanjaya for keeping it going as long as he did. All of us brothers with more looks than talent know what it's like to coast on pre-teen chick love.
I'm not a big Simon Cowell fan anyway. Simon and me go way back. I blew away the competition on American Idol back in the second season auditions, but Simon managed to rig everything against me. I didn't even make it to the show because the prick made some argument about the video from the security camera not being "network quality." I did a cover so ass-blasting amazing of "Hot Blooded" that Foreigner took out a court order that forbid me from ever singing it again, 'cause it made them look like chumps. Simon kept me out of the contest by voting against me, because he was the only judge. I don't know where Paula and Randy were, I guess they were probably in their hotel rooms. Security wasn't understanding enough to let me climb up on their balconies and audition for them, 'cause that dick Simon had me thrown out.
I've been destined to be huge star since I was conceived, and I'm not just talking about the porn industry. I'm talking a cross-media star of unstoppable magnetism...
º Last Column: Grand Canyon º more columns
Like every other American Idol fan, I was sorry to see Sanjaya Malakar go from the blockbuster TV talent show last week. I have to believe anybody with that many A's in his name is destined to be a star, so if it doesn't happen here and now, it'll happen some other time, some other place. Maybe in Bollywood. Mad props to Sanjaya for keeping it going as long as he did. All of us brothers with more looks than talent know what it's like to coast on pre-teen chick love. I'm not a big Simon Cowell fan anyway. Simon and me go way back. I blew away the competition on American Idol back in the second season auditions, but Simon managed to rig everything against me. I didn't even make it to the show because the prick made some argument about the video from the security camera not being "network quality." I did a cover so ass-blasting amazing of "Hot Blooded" that Foreigner took out a court order that forbid me from ever singing it again, 'cause it made them look like chumps. Simon kept me out of the contest by voting against me, because he was the only judge. I don't know where Paula and Randy were, I guess they were probably in their hotel rooms. Security wasn't understanding enough to let me climb up on their balconies and audition for them, 'cause that dick Simon had me thrown out. I've been destined to be huge star since I was conceived, and I'm not just talking about the porn industry. I'm talking a cross-media star of unstoppable magnetism and Q-rating power, like Jamie Foxx. You remember him, he was famous a couple of years ago. But mine is the kind of fame that is like a big cosmic secret that only I know aboutâright now. Soon it's going to be busting out of every galactic orifice there is. Guys will go to see my movie because I'll be running around shirtless in it, shooting terrorists, and girls will snuggle me under their arms on the way to school on the cover of their Trapper Keepers. I'll be shirtless there, too. I'm assuming that anti-shirtless Alamo Cruise legislation will be overturned by then. When I'm super-famous, I'll have to dress the part, and I'm already way ahead on that front. I have an extensive collection of baseball caps and sunglasses. Some I bought even before I did my American Idol audition, just because I liked them. Like my "Mega-Ninja" hat, or the one that says "Hard Cock Inspector"âimagine being a lady and seeing that coming at you. You know it's a police detective and he's got an extra-hard cock for you. But they probably don't let you wear something like that in Scotland Yard because they make you were those stupid Sherlock Holmes hats, but I think Scotland sucks anyway and don't want to go there when I'm famous. If I get into a fight with the Pavarottis, too, I'll know how to handle myself. A lot of celebrities like to kick Pavarotti ass because they want to keep their pictures from being taken, but I don't care about that. I just want to kick a lot of ass to show I'm from the streets. But after I kick all the Pavarotti ass, I'll let them take pictures of me. I'll even sign their tits, if they want me to. If they aren't girls, I suppose I'll have to sign something else, but that's going to cost them. Shit. Why didn't Simon just let me go on the show and let the fans choose me? This "getting famous without really doing anything" would have been so much easier. Maybe I can change my name to Alamo Hilton. º Last Column: Grand Canyonº more columns
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Quote of the Day“If you can't stand the heat, turn down the goddamned heater.”
-Cheri S. TrumanFortune 500 CookieYou will find great happiness in wok. Be on the lookout for signs, they may guide you to riches or prevent you from driving on the railroad tracks. A large dog will determine your fate. Remember: Just a dab heals dry skin, but larger quantities can lube an entire baby. Lucky numbers: 0, 0, 0, 6.
Try again later.Top Ways to Kill Chickens| 1. | Pop Rocks & Coke | | 2. | Confuse to Death | | 3. | Country Music Depression Suicide | | 4. | Foreign War | | 5. | PETA Lecture | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Orson Welch 4/25/2005 Less than a month now until the final Star Wars movie comes out. And I'm more excited than anyone. You know what this means: After May, and the ensuing hooplah dies, no more Star Wars movies—ever! No more insidious dialogue, no more melodramatic characters, no more dragging respectable actors into the mired mythos of his Grand Delusional Majesty, George Lucas. I'm tingling all over! But until that fateful day, and the impending review when it comes to DVD, let's take a look at Hollywood's lower-scale drivel.
Now on DVD:
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
The first unfortunate event was author Lemony Snicket (if that is your real name) wrote a book and titled it with his own pen name. The second, the Harry...
Less than a month now until the final Star Wars movie comes out. And I'm more excited than anyone. You know what this means: After May, and the ensuing hooplah dies, no more Star Wars movies—ever! No more insidious dialogue, no more melodramatic characters, no more dragging respectable actors into the mired mythos of his Grand Delusional Majesty, George Lucas. I'm tingling all over! But until that fateful day, and the impending review when it comes to DVD, let's take a look at Hollywood's lower-scale drivel.
Now on DVD:
Lemony Snicket's A Series of Unfortunate Events
The first unfortunate event was author Lemony Snicket (if that is your real name) wrote a book and titled it with his own pen name. The second, the Harry Potter books made a commercially successful transition to film. The third, a Hollywood drug-addict/studio genius put two and two together and decided to make the Snicket books a film franchise. And fourth, and worst of all, they cast Jim Carrey. Carrey plays three of the characters, but all are basically the same character he's played in The Mask, Dumb and Dumber, Ace Ventura, and the repulsive film adaptation of The Grinch Who Stole Christmas, which in retrospect now seems delightfully subtle. So⌠Star Wars dies, but the insufferable film franchises are already lining up to take its place.
Blade: Trinity
Wesley Snipes' brooding vampire (half-vampire, I know, don't send me letters, you pathetic fanboys) teams up with Van Wilder in something pulled right from my nightmares. There was apparently trouble during production, because Snipes felt his character was losing focus in the film to the newer characters. I say they could have solved this problem by writing a script for the movie, but there I go again with my outlandish anti-Hollywood ideas. There are probably trinities out there I like less than this one, but none come to mind. Some Blade fans will probably be longing for the cohesive storytelling of The Matrix trilogy after seeing this one.
The Phantom of the Opera
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHH! They're⌠singing! And it's all choreographed dancing! It's truly, devastatingly frightening. A Broadway musical by Andrew Lloyd Weber lumbering to life⌠it's enough to make George Romero piss his pants. In fact, I've soiled my own just thinking about it.
National Treasure
A lovely, pleasant surprise—a film so damned bad you could mock it down to each and every single frame. Nicolas Cage is a historian (ha!) whose family has been assigned the task of protecting the secret gold of our forefathers (ha ha!) which can be found by a map written on the Constitution (ha ha ha!). The studio wanted to make a film of The Da Vinci Code, but since the author wanted money to adapt the laughable book, they made their own laughable rip-off, which should hold us over until the real laughable adaptation finally gets made. This is yet another Cage/Jerry Bruckheimer collaboration, which lends further credence to my theory that Jerry Bruckheimer hates Nicolas Cage and wants to destroy his career. See The Rock, Con Air, and Gone in 60 Seconds for more proof. But whatever you do, don't see this.
I'm going to go wait in line for tickets now, dressed as Yoda. It's not a line for Star Wars tickets, but I've found that whenever I wait in line dressing as Yoda makes it much more comfortable. His robes are very soft and soothing.   |