| Loves That Woman ';
$dunkin='2005/0328/';
$dunkintitle='Highway to Hell';
$edit='2003/1222/';
$fanmail='2005/0516/';
$fanmailtitle='Volume 63';
$finger='2005/0822/';
$fingertitle='To Hell With This Desk';
$fortune='2002/020121/';
$goocher='2005/0711/';
$goochertitle='Gwar of the Worlds';
$hanes='2005/0704/';
$hanestitle='Pink is Not for Men';
$hartwig='2005/0606/';
$hartwigtitle='Parade';
$hooper='2005/0228/';
$hoopertitle='Vernon Hooper’s Fifth Syphilis';
$hurley='2005/0404/';
$hurleytitle='Time of Healing';
$kroeger='2005/0822/';
$kroegertitle='Charity Case';
$loser='2005/0822/';
$losertitle='Lost Leavings';
$ned='2003/0818/';
$nedtitle='Cyantology';
$pickle='2002/020513/';
$pickletitle='State of the Art';
$poet='2005/0704/';
$police='2005/0822/';
$polio='2005/0822/';
$poliotitle='WEASELS-B-GON';
$rent='2005/0829/';
$renttitle='For the Last Time Deidrebane, Those Aren’t the Feds';
$reynolds='2005/0425/';
$reynoldstitle='A Series of Unfortunate Evans';
$hartwig='2004/1206/';
$hartwigtitle='O Captain!';
$sickhead='2004/0419/';
$sickheadtitle='The Legendary Spot of Coco Hobari McSteve';
$ted='2005/0530/';
$tedtitle='The New War on Poverty';
$vanslyke='2005/0606/';
$vanslyketitle='Health Food is Full of Shit';
$zender='2005/0425/';
$zendertitle='The Sixth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting';
?> | 
Clinton Administration Trashed White HouseJune 24, 2002 |
Washington, D.C. Ansel Evans 1700 Pennsylvania Ave: An address that changes all the rules
"When we got here, this place looked like a cross between Animal House and The Money Pit," stated Barr, flaunting his knowledge of house-themed comedy films.
According to the GAO report, Bush administration staffers found a veritable house of horrors upon moving into the White House ...
n investigative arm of Congress known only by the shadowy moniker of the General Accounting Office released a report on Tuesday detailing the extensive damage found by the Bush administration upon moving into the White House following Clinton's presidency. The report was requested by Rep. Bob Barr of Georgia, who found a badly decomposed mackerel in his suitcase after a recent round of bi-partisan prankery in the House and was as pissed as a Kennedy on St. Patrick's Day.
"When we got here, this place looked like a cross between Animal House and The Money Pit," stated Barr, flaunting his knowledge of house-themed comedy films.
According to the GAO report, Bush administration staffers found a veritable house of horrors upon moving into the White House in January of 2001. Drawers were glued shut, toilets were plugged with cement, and a life-sized wax statue of former president Gerald Ford was found in a compromising position in the Lincoln Bedroom.
Additionally, White House phones with speed-dial buttons marked with innocuous titles like "Pentagon" and "Chinese Food" were programmed to dial 1-900 sex numbers and a dildo wholesaler in Texas. One couch was horribly burnt, another was found floating in the pool and a large block of very old cheese was found beneath a dresser in the Blue Room.
Apparently, vandals had also damaged keyboards by removing all of the "W" keys and had burned a dirty limerick into the carpet of the Vermeil Room as the Clinton administration moved out of the White House last year. An unknown party also made off with a large presidential seal and the presidential mini-fridge, the investigative arm of Congress said on Tuesday.
But the General Accounting Office stopped short of making its own estimate of the extent of the damage reported by aides of Republican President Bush after they moved into the White House a year and a half ago, instead giving the White House a vague "shithole" rating.
It was not clear how much of the reported damage was intentional, or who was responsible for writing lyrics to songs by The Doors on multiple walls in neon-colored markers. It's difficult to assess how much of the repair money would have had to be spent anyway as part of the usual nightmarish presidential transition, the GAO said.
"Who the fuck knows, man?" GAO staffer Larry Worthram said of the damages. "They should just be happy the damn place is still standing, you know? I heard about some wild shit going on here, you know what I'm sayin'? Good times, man, good times. And it's all cool, you know, but I for one wouldn't try to reuse any of the bedding in there. But that's just me."
The report noted Bush administration estimates that it had cost some $14,000 to get West Wing of the White House and adjacent Eisenhower Executive Office Building into shape and to remove the smell of stale gym socks and leftover pizza after the Bush team moved in.
Barr requested the report from the GAO last year after he heard the touching story of a female Bush staffer who was injured when she tripped over a beer bong while the new administration was moving in on Jan. 20, 2001.
"Apparently those Clinton boys were a real group of party guys, some real fun lovers," Barr said of the report. "Assholes." Clinton's office in New York had no comment on the GAO document or Barr's big, blubbery butt.
The GAO recommended a "check-out" process for departing presidential staff in the future that includes detailed cleaning instructions and a 30-point checklist involving the mandatory cleaning of mini-blinds and conditions under which the departing president will be charged for carpet cleaning expenses. The checklist will have to be filled out in triplicate and signed by the departing president, under penalty of forfeiture of the White House security deposit.
The GAO report also noted that there had been damage observed during previous presidential transitions. Two people told the GAO that the damage Clinton's team found in 1993, when Bush's father had just moved out, was even worse than in 2001, and that they'd never seen so many used condoms in their whole entire lives. the commune news loves a parade, too, but that's not why we bought the huge inflatable Woody Woodpecker. Lil Duncan is the commune's White House correspondent and she blames it all on going to a high school that showed the video for Love in an Elevator in Sex Ed class.
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UN: Iran can keep nukes, but only if kept in Amsterdam
Reagan celebrates 93 with annual bowel movement
White men dominate science positions, all non-sports positions
Condoleezza Rice refuses to answer Iraq question, takes the physical challenge
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Chief Justice Rehnquist: Dead as Disco at 80 he world sighed a mournful “Oh” upon hearing of the death of Chief Justice William Rehnquist, who led the U.S. Supreme Court for 19 years and formed the holy conservative trinity of the court. Rehnquist is the second justice to retire from the Supreme Court this year, and never to be outdone, Rehnquist chose the more dramatic exit method of death in office.
The Chief Justice announced his diagnosis of thyroid cancer last year and his refusal to retire from the Supreme Court, angering liberals and conservatives alike by his reluctance to make the playing field more interesting. Never one to quit, Rehnquist had suffered greatly in recent months from radiation for his cancer treatment and a tracheotomy, actually performed by an over-anxious boyscout on a visit to the nation’s capitol. Kansas City Royals Win Little League World Series n the midst of one of the most embarrassing seasons in baseball history, the lowly Kansas City Royals saved some face this week, defeating the defending champions from Willemstad, Curacao in a stunning upset to claim their first Little League World Series title. Kansas City took the game 7-6 on first baseman Matt Stairs’ takeout of Curacao catcher Willie Rifaela during a collision at the plate in the bottom of the 11th inning. Rifaela held onto the ball, but Stairs was ruled safe since Rifaela flew off the playing field at the moment of impact. “Willie gave it a hell of an effort,” praised Curacao manager Vernon Isabella. “Especially considering he was outweighed by nearly 200 pounds in the collision. If he hadn’t come out of his shoes like that when the American hit him, I think we could have held on to win the game.” Merck: “Crazy-Ass Brazil Giving AIDS Drugs to People With No Money” Poison Probe Reveals 90% of Packaged Foods Actually Dog Food |
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 November 10, 2003
Volume 55Dear commune:
I had to write after reading the letter from "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia." My 14-year-old daughter developed an Internet relationship with a now 21-year-old man when she was 10. By the time she was 12, he was drawing her into a deeply dysfunctional relationship. Unbeknownst to her, he was a mental patient who was obsessed with suicide and self-mutilation. "Brokenhearted Mom" needs to act quickly before the same thing happens to her daughter.
Wiser in Worcester
Dear Wiser:
the commune was touched by your touching letter and hilarious name. Someone has probably pointed this out to you previously, but did you realize your name also doubles as a descriptive phrase? That’s too much. It could even do triple-duty as a ham radio handle. Man, how funny to be you.
In regards to your letter, at first we here at the commune thought it might have been misdirected, given that we’ve never published a letter from "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia." Believe us, we’d remember a name like that. The fact that your letter wasn’t addressed to us and was found out in the hallway inside a sack of stolen credit card applications also raised a few eyebrows. But by the time we got to the end of your letter, we realized you had the right place and the universe was just getting your letter to us by an unconventional means of delivery.
We can only guess that "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia" wrote to...
º Last Column: Volume 54
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Dear commune: I had to write after reading the letter from "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia." My 14-year-old daughter developed an Internet relationship with a now 21-year-old man when she was 10. By the time she was 12, he was drawing her into a deeply dysfunctional relationship. Unbeknownst to her, he was a mental patient who was obsessed with suicide and self-mutilation. "Brokenhearted Mom" needs to act quickly before the same thing happens to her daughter. Wiser in WorcesterDear Wiser:
the commune was touched by your touching letter and hilarious name. Someone has probably pointed this out to you previously, but did you realize your name also doubles as a descriptive phrase? That’s too much. It could even do triple-duty as a ham radio handle. Man, how funny to be you.
In regards to your letter, at first we here at the commune thought it might have been misdirected, given that we’ve never published a letter from "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia." Believe us, we’d remember a name like that. The fact that your letter wasn’t addressed to us and was found out in the hallway inside a sack of stolen credit card applications also raised a few eyebrows. But by the time we got to the end of your letter, we realized you had the right place and the universe was just getting your letter to us by an unconventional means of delivery.
We can only guess that "Brokenhearted Mom in Virginia" wrote to you directly, and you wanted to share your response with the world so all might benefit, either that or there was a chocolate smudge on the envelope covering her return address. No worries, as that happens to us all the time, only sometimes it’s not chocolate.
Lastly, though we think your advice to "Heartbroken Mom" is sound and responsible, we must stress that commune reporter Bludney Pludd isn’t really as dangerous as he seems over the Internet. Don’t worry, we get this kind of stuff all the time, no need to be embarrassed. But we assure you that "Brokenhearted’s" daughter is in no more danger than any of the other 12-year-olds Pludd’s been dating, unless of course she’s allergic to roller-skating. Like they say, you’re only as old as you feel, and trust us when we say Bludney Pludd feels about ten years old to everyone he meets.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for any broken hearts or promises resulting from Bludney Pludd not taking your daughter to the Jr. High prom. Bludney is a busy young man with many responsibilities and EverQuest meetings every Friday evening.º Last Column: Volume 54º more columns
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|  December 22, 2003
Old Lame Sign"May old acquaintances be forgot, and their money remain all mine."
My favorite holiday is coming up quick: New Year's Day! I like that they put it at the end of every year, so I know right when it is.
Some people say they love Thanksgiving, but I say, what for? I can eat turkey and fall into a coma sleep any time of the year, thanks to my extra-sensitive allergies. When can you go out and totally shit-faced drunk? Not every day.
As for Christmas, I say, phooey! Which is little kiddish for "Fuck this, fat man!" I never got one thing in my life for Christmas that I wanted, except maybe the year I wished my dad would get off my back and he disappeared forever. No telling what happened there. Needless to say, I tried to make my Christmas wishes as detailed as possible after that.
No, New Year's is the time for me. There's the refreshing feeling, as all old mistakes and the old news gives way to the newness, a blank canvas is set up for the next year. It's like a big douche for the entire world. I wonder, if you were actually doing it, where you would stick a douche to do the whole world? I've heard the asshole of the world was Texas, but that might have just been what that guy from Arkansas was saying when he was mad after those Texans kicked our asses. I should probably find a globe. The whole thing is starting to turn me on, in a weird way.
Sometimes if you go out on St. Patrick's Day, my other favorite...
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"May old acquaintances be forgot, and their money remain all mine."
My favorite holiday is coming up quick: New Year's Day! I like that they put it at the end of every year, so I know right when it is.
Some people say they love Thanksgiving, but I say, what for? I can eat turkey and fall into a coma sleep any time of the year, thanks to my extra-sensitive allergies. When can you go out and totally shit-faced drunk? Not every day.
As for Christmas, I say, phooey! Which is little kiddish for "Fuck this, fat man!" I never got one thing in my life for Christmas that I wanted, except maybe the year I wished my dad would get off my back and he disappeared forever. No telling what happened there. Needless to say, I tried to make my Christmas wishes as detailed as possible after that.
No, New Year's is the time for me. There's the refreshing feeling, as all old mistakes and the old news gives way to the newness, a blank canvas is set up for the next year. It's like a big douche for the entire world. I wonder, if you were actually doing it, where you would stick a douche to do the whole world? I've heard the asshole of the world was Texas, but that might have just been what that guy from Arkansas was saying when he was mad after those Texans kicked our asses. I should probably find a globe. The whole thing is starting to turn me on, in a weird way.
Sometimes if you go out on St. Patrick's Day, my other favorite holiday, they give you little green hats. For fucking free! I usually slip out the back so I don't have to return it when I leave at night. Or the next three or four days, whenever. But it's totally sharp, you can wear it to high-class social parties and stuff. I assume. One day I might know. Either way it's funny just to put it on and stand in front of the mirror and pretend kids are after your cereal and you have to destroy them with magic powers. I tried to pitch that show to a network guy years ago, but he claimed it was already in development.
They should give you free stuff on New Year's Eve. It would be the best holiday ever, hands down, because all Christmas has over anyone is they give you stuff for free. Easter tried to cop, giving out eggs. Yeah, thanks. Like I can't get eggs. Nobody likes hard-boiled eggs, man, that's why the rabbit gives them away. Tons of people turn down hard-boiled eggs for breakfast, they start to pile up. Maybe that's a Bible story and I just don't know the significance. Jesus got pelted with hard-boiled eggs by the Greeks or whoever and turned them all chocolate and had the last laugh. "Now who's the asshole?" That's probably something Jesus would say.
Free food doesn't make for much of a holiday, though. If you hang out at the right shelters they give you free food on every holiday, but you got to be faster than some of these frostbitten bums to get it. And they have free beer nuts and pretzels at a lot of bars on New Year's. They hand out condoms, but I don't need gag gifts. Hey, fuck you, I know I'm not getting laid tonight. Why do I have to have that thing staring at me in the morning when I wake up on the curb out front? Adding insult to injury. Occasionally injury to injury, too, if you try to put those things on while a cop is watching you. I was just testing to see if it glowed or anything, officer. Chill out.
And Happy New Year. º Last Column: Pure Garbageº more columns
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Quote of the Day“We didn't land on Plymouth Rock… we landed just beside it, and then the damn thing rolled onto us. Needless to say, we didn't step in bird shit either. Just standing in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
-Professor Milton XFortune 500 CookieIt's official: You've made the Ambassador's shit list. It's funny you can never find a gun when you really need one. Try thinking outside the box this week… in fact, general consensus is you shouldn't be wearing a box everywhere in the first place. Suck a lemon; make lemonade.
Try again later.Top Upcoming Bourne Sequels| 1. | The Bourne Pregnancy | | 2. | The Bourne Insolvency | | 3. | The Bourne Cat Fancy | | 4. | The Bourne Schenectady | | 5. | The Bourne Macaroni and Cheez | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Orson Welch 9/15/2003 Hello commune readers, and welcome to mile three of the Orson Welch movie-review marathon. Can we make it to the finish line? Nobody knows, and even fewer care, but still we trek bravely onward. Not even the howls of derisive mockery, nor the constant flood of hateful emails can get us down. Nor being refused entry to the commune's main offices for not "feeling like a nut" and then returning to our mother's car to find it literally wallpapered with parking tickets, as if parking on top of the median is on par with a serious act of terrorism. Nay, commune readers, we shant be dissuaded, so stop trying to dissuade us… meaning yourselves… okay, meaning me. Quit fucking with me. I'm just trying to do my job here, and your precious idiot-savant Roland McShyster isn't back yet, so just step...
Hello commune readers, and welcome to mile three of the Orson Welch movie-review marathon. Can we make it to the finish line? Nobody knows, and even fewer care, but still we trek bravely onward. Not even the howls of derisive mockery, nor the constant flood of hateful emails can get us down. Nor being refused entry to the commune's main offices for not "feeling like a nut" and then returning to our mother's car to find it literally wallpapered with parking tickets, as if parking on top of the median is on par with a serious act of terrorism. Nay, commune readers, we shant be dissuaded, so stop trying to dissuade us… meaning yourselves… okay, meaning me. Quit fucking with me. I'm just trying to do my job here, and your precious idiot-savant Roland McShyster isn't back yet, so just step off my jock and let's be civil about this, okay? Great. Now for the movies.
In Theaters
Cabin Fever
According to the note Roland McShyster left on my windshield, Cabin Fever is "The taxi-cab industry's winningly botched attempt at creating a new cultural fad, making kids think it's cool to take a cab absolutely everywhere, even to cross the street to get a newspaper." Right. I can see why you people love this guy so much. Morons.
In actuality, Cabin Fever is a bastardized cross between The Blair Witch Project and 28 Days Later, two bastards who certainly didn't need to cross-breed. Look, any time a movie's selling point is "at least it didn't cost much to make," you know you're in trouble. See Robert Rodriguez, below.
Matchstick Men
So Ted Griffin wakes up one morning, and realizes "Oh shit, I wrote Ravenous!" Thank God nobody noticed. But just to be on the safe side, he hurries up and writes Best Laid Plans and Ocean's Eleven to cover his tracks. Good move. Keep 'em laughing about that Ted Nugent's shirt joke and nobody will bother to ask where exactly you came from. And now you can stop padding your resume by pointing out that your grandma was in Jazz Mad back in 1928. Bonus.
But then Ted finally breaks down and listens to his brother Nick's stupid idea for a movie called Matchbox Men about some little tiny guys who drive those die-cast toy cars, which he's been going on about for years. And in a moment of fraternal weakness, Ted actually agrees to co-write the movie with his brother, on the condition that they drop the stupid slot-car angle. Bad move. I mean, good that they dropped the slot cars, bad that they wrote the movie at all. How either of these guys is related to Ridley Scott is anybody's guess, but he must've got too comfortable thinking people had finally forgotten about Legend and he could safely squeak out another turd here. Look for all these guys to do some great work in the near future to try and cover up this burnt spot on the rug.
Once Upon a Time in Mexico
Here's an interesting question: How do you follow up a movie that's famous for being made on a shoestring budget of $7,000 you earned by selling your body to science? If you're Robert Rodriguez and the movie is 1992's El Mariachi, you spend another $7,000 on a mediocre sequel and save the rest of your Hollywood budget to secretly make a bizarre spy movie starring your neighbor's kids. Hollywood caught on, of course, and as punishment made Rodriguez direct The Faculty in 1998, even sneaking Bebe Neuwirth into the cast as a not-so-subtle "fuck you" to Rodriguez. The director got the last laugh however, when his spy movie hit a Teletubbied nerve and Spy Kids was a hit, spawning two sequels. And as the final cumshot in Hollywood's marmalade, Rodriguez has made another El Mariachi sequel, yet again for $7,000, and has spent the rest of the budget fixing up his house. Now I'm not saying you should go see the movie, but you've got to admire those balls.
Secondhand Lions
Okay, first off: Contrary to the message Roland McShyster has been leaving on various office voice mails, this picture is not a pathetic biopic of pathetic film critic Jeffrey Lyons. Though, admittedly, it would probably have been better if it were. Instead, it's a piece of hilarious shit that tries to pass off the anthropologically old Robert Duvall and Michael Caine as endearing elderly gay curmudgeons charged with raising a precocious young tyke played with Haley Joel Osment. Thanks to the combined age and lifeless performance of his co-stars, I think it's safe to say that Osment is, yet again, seeing dead people. About as likeable as someone else's anal cavity, Secondhand Lions will leave you wanting more, more reasons to live and for the love of God keep 'em coming fast.
Underworld
Here's a "chicken-or-the-egg?" riddle for you: Did the fact that Len Wiseman is engaged to Kate Beckinsale get the former prop-lackey his first real gig, writing and directing the bad rubber-werewolf opus Underworld? Or was it Wiseman's involvement that dragged actress Beckinsale into the project and Ike Turnered her into accepting the lead role? If the later is true, we can only imagine what Wiseman talks Beckinsale into in bed, good gravy! The formerly sort of respectable cockney chick-flick queen takes a running broad jump into poop with this ill-advised comic book romp, based on somebody's stoned idea of what a comic book about Halloween would be like. Cross The Matrix with Dark City and Bram Stoker's Dracula, then have somebody with a serious head injury try to tell you about all three of them at once, and you'll have something close to Underworld. Only that would be better since it probably wouldn't take two hours or cost eight bucks. The choice is yours.
That's all we've got to sink our fangs into this week, commune readers. Here's hoping you find something tangy to suck on until next issue's column. Until then, I'll be keeping my fingertips peeled bringing you the sad, sad best Hollywood has to offer. Take care!    |
