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Oakland Beats Tampa BayFebruary 3, 2003 |
Oakland, California Whit Pistol Raiders fans make like their team's namesake and abscond with some primo shwag.
Meanwhile, in Tampa Bay, Florida's "Bay Area," exactly one person was arrested: a dyed-blonde Miss Thang who was baring her implants to the crowd gathered to celebrate the Buccaneers' first-ever Super Bowl championship.
Asked to comment, Oakland riot-participant Hector Ba...
n the battle of post-game celebrations, the fans in Tampa Bay have nothing on the spirited Oakland fans. Sunday night, following the Raiders' loss to the Bucs, East Oakland sizzled and burned with young rowdies demonstrating their loyalty to the hometown team by trashing and looting stores, burning cars and spinning doughnuts in intersections all up and down International Blvd. More than 80 people were arrested in the melee, most for vandalism, destroying public property, or public drunkenness.
Meanwhile, in Tampa Bay, Florida's "Bay Area," exactly one person was arrested: a dyed-blonde Miss Thang who was baring her implants to the crowd gathered to celebrate the Buccaneers' first-ever Super Bowl championship.
Asked to comment, Oakland riot-participant Hector Barbazino said, "They only had one arrest down there? Day-um, bro! And it was for what? Some bitch flashin' her titties? Oh, that ain't right, yo."
"That ain't cool at all, man," added Barbazino's cousin, Ricky Ledora. "Shee-it, they ought to come to Oaktown and see how we get down here, yo. Look at Carlos over there in the chopped Toyota, yo, his bitch LaShanté be hangin' out the sunroof all damn night, and she butt-naked, man! Butt-naked!"
"Oh, yeah, bro. Bitches be throwin' they titties on my windshield for hours, yo. Pressed titties on glass, what I'm talkin' about." Barbazino commented, as he poured lighter fluid all over a parked Subaru station wagon and set a match to it. "Word, homes. If Ray-Ray didn't had to take my ride to go pick up his baby-mama before ten, we'd still be gettin' it, them titties on glass."
The word from Tampa Bay was that, other than the breast-baring incident, not a lot of carrying-on occurred. City residents marched a few times around the three blocks of the downtown area, some of them carrying American flags and singing "God Bless America," and a few people were observed drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade from bottles hidden in brown paper bags. After an hour of this, most of the crowd dispersed and went home to watch Alias.
In Oakland, however, it was a different story. The large crowd merrily jumped on moving cars, broke windows and set fires for hours. When the mob energy began to wane, police fired tear gas, rubber bullets and wooden dowels in an attempt to further incite the crowd and egg them on to new heights of destruction throughout the night.
"Come on, you miserable bastards!" shouted Sergeant Arnie Cocklip at the crowd, as he fired his service revolver in the air. "Let's show the world how we kick heiney in Oakland. We're number friggin' one, goddamnit! Break something! Burn something down!"
Reluctantly, the worn out crowd complied with police orders and thoroughly trashed a nearby McDonald's, a Kelly-Moore paint store and the Gomes Tire and Service Center. Said one young reveler, Jose Chingamadre, "After we burned the three Chevys over on 151st, and threw bricks through the window of the day-care center there, I was ready to go home and watch Alias. But then the cops made us stay out here and keep going. Man, those dudes are like hard-asses, you know?"
Damage in Oakland was estimated at over $100,000, with the police that were present throughout the night gathering the day after to vote on which of the rioters would receive a full share, and which only half shares. "Them little slacking sonsabitches that only broke a couple windows or just missed a pedestrian while they were spinning doughnuts think they're getting a full share, they better think again. Punk-ass bitches gotta show me something special to get that," Sergeant Cocklip explained. the commune news had a sympathy riot Sunday, trashing the offices of downstairs neighbor Crochet! magazine. "Thank Christ Lil Duncan wasn't here to see this," said Stigmata Spent, after most of the crowd had finally dispersed in the dawn's light. "There wouldn't be a solid pane of glass left within two miles of here if she'd been assigned to this story."
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 January 21, 2002
The Man in the Baloney SuitThere once was a man
in a baloney suit,
Who danced on the
street corner all day.
He'd dance a jig
when the mood struck him
And then repeat it
without much delay.
Oh what a sight, with all his might
He'd spring and he'd spritz all around.
And he'd make fantastical robot sounds
Whenever his feet touched the ground.
The children all loved to dance with him
As he'd twirl and he'd beep and he'd toot.
And they'd snack the day away merrily,
On the pieces that fell from his suit.
Oh what a lark, staying out 'til dark
Watching the baloney man dance.
As our parents, from windows watched carefully
To make sure that he stayed in his pants.
The neighborhood dogs loved baloney man,
Even more so than the kids.
They'd yip and they'd yap and their paws went rap-rap
On the street while they did what they did.
Oh how they schemed, in gray-toned dreams,
That suit would be theirs to eat.
But that spry dancing man was too fast for them,
And they just nipped at the soles of his feet.
I asked my father one afternoon
Where the man got his suit made of meat.
My father told me "Baloney's not meat,
What it is I'd rather not say.
Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even try to spell it,
Don't use it to patch up your tire.
While you're at it, stay away from that baloney man.
º Last Column: Rosey Red-Ass
º more columns
There once was a man
in a baloney suit,
Who danced on the
street corner all day.
He'd dance a jig
when the mood struck him
And then repeat it
without much delay.
Oh what a sight, with all his might
He'd spring and he'd spritz all around.
And he'd make fantastical robot sounds
Whenever his feet touched the ground.
The children all loved to dance with him
As he'd twirl and he'd beep and he'd toot.
And they'd snack the day away merrily,
On the pieces that fell from his suit.
Oh what a lark, staying out 'til dark
Watching the baloney man dance.
As our parents, from windows watched carefully
To make sure that he stayed in his pants.
The neighborhood dogs loved baloney man,
Even more so than the kids.
They'd yip and they'd yap and their paws went rap-rap
On the street while they did what they did.
Oh how they schemed, in gray-toned dreams,
That suit would be theirs to eat.
But that spry dancing man was too fast for them,
And they just nipped at the soles of his feet.
I asked my father one afternoon
Where the man got his suit made of meat.
My father told me "Baloney's not meat,
What it is I'd rather not say.
Don't eat it, don't smell it, don't even try to spell it,
Don't use it to patch up your tire.
While you're at it, stay away from that baloney man.
Of him, I'm beginning to tire."
From that day on I was cast aside,
No more joyous dancing for me.
I'd watch and weep from my windowsill,
While the other kids squealed with glee.
Oh what a way to spend your days,
But now I'm older and I don't even care.
All those kids grew up and got ass cancer,
And that baloney man was ate by a bear. º Last Column: Rosey Red-Assº more columns
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|  April 28, 2003
Volume 41Dear commune:
You ever get the feeling that someone’s constantly watching you, monitoring your every move, censoring your every word? Like a cold, oppressive hand is closing around your windpipe as you speak? Like every freedom you’ve taken for granted is eroding away like a life raft made out of table salt? Like the cold bicycle seat of injustice is stuck to your ass and upper thighs? Is it just me? Am I just paranoid? Or can someone else out there feel my pain?
Sincerely,
Dabney Koonz
Bellknob, TX
Dear Dabney:
We here at the commune can most definitely relate to your feelings. If you think living under the oppressive yolk of a braindead cowboy regime with little regard for public opinion or world unity is tough, try getting a paid vacation day approved by Red Bagel or his stooge of a lapdog, Ramrod Hurley. Now try doing both at once, it’s like a double-decker club sandwich of shit. Our only reprieve is the fact that neither the powers that be in this country nor the powers that be at the commune care much for reading, so we can speak our minds as long as we don’t ever form those ideas into a slapstick cartoon with mass appeal or a country song. So, in short, Dabney: No, you’re not paranoid. The world really does have your ass in a cold metal vise.
However, we couldn’t help but notice that your letter comes to us from the fine state of Texas. So, in all likelihood you...
º Last Column: Volume 40
º more columns
Dear commune: You ever get the feeling that someone’s constantly watching you, monitoring your every move, censoring your every word? Like a cold, oppressive hand is closing around your windpipe as you speak? Like every freedom you’ve taken for granted is eroding away like a life raft made out of table salt? Like the cold bicycle seat of injustice is stuck to your ass and upper thighs? Is it just me? Am I just paranoid? Or can someone else out there feel my pain? Sincerely, Dabney Koonz
Bellknob, TXDear Dabney:
We here at the commune can most definitely relate to your feelings. If you think living under the oppressive yolk of a braindead cowboy regime with little regard for public opinion or world unity is tough, try getting a paid vacation day approved by Red Bagel or his stooge of a lapdog, Ramrod Hurley. Now try doing both at once, it’s like a double-decker club sandwich of shit. Our only reprieve is the fact that neither the powers that be in this country nor the powers that be at the commune care much for reading, so we can speak our minds as long as we don’t ever form those ideas into a slapstick cartoon with mass appeal or a country song. So, in short, Dabney: No, you’re not paranoid. The world really does have your ass in a cold metal vise.
However, we couldn’t help but notice that your letter comes to us from the fine state of Texas. So, in all likelihood you weren’t talking about the government at all, you were probably just recently married. In that case: Don’t worry, those feelings will pass in time. Eventually either you or your spouse will die, and you’ll feel a lot better. Thanks for your letter.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for all those cheetos ground into the carpet in the break room. We think we saw some dudes with turbans snacking in there the other day, swear to God. They looked a little Syrian to us, if that helps.º Last Column: Volume 40º more columns
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Quote of the Day“Christ on a bike! Did anybody else see that guy that looked just like Jesus Christ riding by on a bicycle a minute ago?”
-LeVonn MarthersFortune 500 CookieLast week was your best week; sorry we're late getting to you about that. From here on out, your life's gonna be shit on chips. Your dreams of becoming a major baseball star will be derailed this week by the fact that you couldn't hit a cow in the ass with a shovel. Stop using the term "Gay Bash," at once: it does not mean a fun party for homosexuals. This week's lucky Bings: Crosby, Chandler, Bada, cherries, the sound of a superball being shot out of an air cannon into an old woman's neck flap.
Try again later.Funniest Fake Names Read Aloud on Nightline| 1. | Tad Shitbetter | | 2. | Grant Goodeve | | 3. | Phil Shitbetter, beloved brother of Tad | | 4. | Ho Chi Minh | | 5. | Royster Culpepper Ottowa Fantastic III | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 1/21/2002 Fat chance, America! I get the distinct impression that you thought there would be no Entertainment Police this week, in observance of MLK day or what have you, but I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken! The media reviews must go on, and I think we both know that Michael Keaton would have wanted it that way. Brace your seat belts, because it's a brand new year and Hollywood's got a lot of explaining to do!
In Theaters Now:
Black Hawk Down
Man, you doze off for one quick little cat nap during the "Real World" marathon and the next thing you know, Jack Black's everywhere. It's kind of creepy, I mean who did he have to blow to get into every single movie coming out this month? Don't get me wrong,...
Fat chance, America! I get the distinct impression that you thought there would be no Entertainment Police this week, in observance of MLK day or what have you, but I'm afraid you're sorely mistaken! The media reviews must go on, and I think we both know that Michael Keaton would have wanted it that way. Brace your seat belts, because it's a brand new year and Hollywood's got a lot of explaining to do!
In Theaters Now:
Black Hawk Down
Man, you doze off for one quick little cat nap during the "Real World" marathon and the next thing you know, Jack Black's everywhere. It's kind of creepy, I mean who did he have to blow to get into every single movie coming out this month? Don't get me wrong, I like the guy and all, but this is out of hand. I wonder if they had some kind of "Sorcerer's Apprentice" episode out in Hollywood where some studio exec tried to chop up Black with an axe and then they just ended up with a whole shitload of little Jack Blacks running around. That's about the only thing that would explain it. Oh, by the way, this is a kind of touchy-feely pic about a lonely guy who nurses his pet falcon back from a seasonal affective disorder. It's probably worth it if you're into that kind of thing.
The Count in Monty's Crisco
Everyone knows there's always been a rift between the Sesame Street regulars who got to cross over into "The Muppet Show" and various Muppet films, and those who didn't. And with the box office success of the Muppet films, and the decisive trouncing of the Sesame Street cast by the cast of the Muppet Show in Muppetmania IV, many have considered the battle for supremacy all but decided. And truth be told, I raise my hand among the guilty on those counts. But then there comes a film like this that makes us all ashamed of ourselves for counting out those hungry Sesame Street puppets. Here the Count establishes himself as a top-drawer leading man and a deft physical comedian who can pop unexpectedly out of a Crisco can better than anyone in recent memory. This is a picture full of warm surprises, and lots of Crisco cans, and if your kids don't love it you should tell them they're adopted. Also starring Jack Black as the Count's human friend Monty.
Orange County
Finally the adventures of Bill the Cat and Oprah the Duck see the big screen in this live-action adaptation of everyone's favorite comic strip. Jack Black stars as Bill, and gives his best performance since his breakthrough roles in "Meet Jack Black" and "Black Spring Break".
Snow Dogs
Man, this reggae-rapping albino just won't go away, will he? Looks like his debut film "Snow Day" didn't quite make him the chick magnet he'd expected, so this time Snow is going the Tarantino route in this incredibly bizarre film about a pack of sled dogs that conspire to rob a bank. Snow is, of course, the criminal mastermind who gives them all funny nicknames, and Jack Black co-stars as the lead Husky.
Now on Video:
The Fat and the Furious
Everybody's heard of miracle weight-loss programs that are supposed to shuck off the pounds like a model escaping Charlie Sheen's condo, but then end up being about as useless as air brakes on a Daewoo. But what if all the chubby suckers who bought into these programs stood up and demanded revenge, forming a vigilante group not unlike the A-Team who travel around in a really big van? What if they plotted to round up the guys who thought a shake for breakfast and a shake for lunch sounded like a good idea, and then drown them in movie theater popcorn butter? You're damn right it would be funny.
Glass House
Punishingly slow art flick about a stone-throwing champion from Ireland who turns out to be not so tough on the inside when he falls in love with a paraplegic mother of four who was paralyzed by some asshole throwing rocks at a Pogues concert. I didn't even know throwing rocks was a real sport, but I guess it makes sense if you're from Ireland.
Rush: Hour 2
If you didn't think bloat-rock pioneers Rush had the pale Canadian cojones to release their latest concert film in two installments to maximize profits, then you probably won't believe me when I say that this whole damn tape is an hour-long jam on "Tom Sawyer" that will make you think you've had chemotherapy.
Two Can Play That Game
Possibly the worst tennis movie ever made, undermined by an almost total lack of understanding of how the game is played. I'm all for suspension of disbelief, but it's hard when two guys who are supposed to be tennis champions spend the movie wearing football helmets and hitting Frisbees back and forth with huge frozen trout. An utterly transparent attempt to cash in on the recent tennis-movie craze and ride the coat-tails of blockbusters like "The Score" and "The Royal Tennis Bums", I give this movie an "F". For foney.
What's the Worst That Could Happen
Didn't think they could make a great comedy about the Donner party? Well, you're right. Whoever told Martin Lawrence he was funny must have died before he could expose the candid-camera punch line. Thanks a lot, Mr. Jerk, whoever you are.
Television:
A brand new year and a brand new slew of shows lining up for the axe! Let me try to review them before they finish canceling them.
Imagine That (NBC)
Executive Producer Mike Myers makes a big to-do out of this parody of Ron Howard's film company Imagine Entertainment. Maybe he's going for overkill. Do you find a jabbering red-headed retard spilling food on himself and messing his pants funny? Yes, indeed. A can't miss. Except it's already canceled.
The Chamber (Fox)
In typical TV fashion, a bad movie with big stars is made into a bad series with third-rate stars. Gene Hackman and Chris O'Donnell are replaced with Mark Knopfler and DJ Jazzy Jeff in this TV adaption of the movie adaption of the John Grisham novel. Oops, they actually canceled it while I was typing this review.
Worst Monday (CBS)
An hourlong drama about a guy who's girlfriend is having her period doesn't scream huge potential to me. All in all, it was pretty good, no telling if they can keep up the quality, but I doubt it will be a concern. I would tell you how this episode ended but they canceled it while I was watching.
Video Games:
Sponging Bob (Game Boy Advance)
Creepy game where you try to go around town getting errands done without bumping
into the big fat moocher Bob. Game Boy's graphics can't match the hi-fi of an X-Box
or a Playstation 2, but the game is so frighteningly realistic you can forgive the
graphics. I actually realized I was missing $30 when I finished playing.
Final Fantasy X (PS2)
I tried to play this stupid game in my Sex Box for an hour before I found out it was a
PS2 game. What kind of company puts a competitor's trademarked letter on your
own software? Assholes like that don't deserve to have their game reviewed.
The game sucked anyway. Dude, if you want to sex up a fat Dutch woman and a
sheep at the same time, that's cool, just don't put your fetishes in my game.
Eternal Darkness (Gamecube)
Another one of those dreary and depressing black and white foreign games that all the
critics love. It's hard to kill a giant fire-breathing plant or bonk Death on the head with
a hammer when you're reading subtitles. I couldn't even finish it but I'm sure you just
wake up to find out all the weird shit was a dream, just like every other foreign game.
All right America, that's all I wrote. Run along home to the misses or the mister, or whatever the hell kind of thing you've got going on at home, I'm not here to judge your lifestyle. Sweep out the Calistoga wagon or tighten the straps on the ball gag or whatever it is that makes you people happy, and we'll be back in two short weeks with more entertainment jambalaya!   |
