he Al-Qaeda jig was upped last week when the Texas Transportation Institute dropped their yearly bombshell with the release the Urban Mobility Report, showing that traffic has gone from bad to shitty everywhere nationwide in the last five years. Though the Texas A&M study lists the usual scapegoats of poor urban planning and American aversion to public transportation as the culprits, real Americans willing to talk to commune reporters while stuck in traffic put the blame squarely at the feet of the rogue terrorist network Al-Qaeda, which has been linked in recent years to everything from the 9/11 attacks to the heartbreaking cancellation of some of this reporter’s favorite television programs.

“Man, I was sitting in traffic the other day for like two hours,� bitched Seattle motorist Clyde Williams, while sitting in traffic. “And no shit, there was an Arab dude sitting in the car in front of me. They’re everywhere. Motherfucker was playing that easy-listening station on the radio like he didn’t know his windows was down, too. I hate that shit.�

Fresh off the successfully disastrous hijacking of a Russian elementary school and complete concealment of their very involvement months ago, Al-Qaeda has again set its sights on our friendly shores, though not covertly enough to fool shrewd American motorists. While going car to car during a recent traffic jam in Seattle, this reporter sampled a broad cross-section of American frustration with Al-Qaeda’s insidious infrastructure-stalling tactics.

“Oh yeah, I see that all the time,� agreed motorist Dale Harvey, after this reporter suggested Al-Qaeda might be behind the I-5 backup he’d been stuck in for the last forty-five minutes. “There’s always some terrorist assfuck driving slow in the left-hand lane or leaving his turn signal on for miles. Women, too. They say Al-Qaeda doesn’t ever use women, but then how do you explain all these awful women drivers? I think those bastards leave all the driving up to their terrorist wives. They’ve probably got camps out in the desert, teaching them to change lanes randomly and slow way down to rubberneck at accidents.�

“Can Chinese guys be Al-Quada?� added Harvey, in question. “Because those guys drive for shit too. Might be something worth looking into there. Maybe they’re branching out or outsourcing to the Orient. Tricky bastards.�

While not as dramatic as blowing up a bridge or nuking Chattanooga, Al-Qaeda’s efforts to delay and annoy average Americans have had a significant effect in recent years, according to the Texas study. Over 3.5 billion hours were lost to traffic jams nationwide last year, a number so large as to be meaningless unless put into context: That’s like watching Lawrence of Arabia five or six times.

“I wouldn’t put it past ‘em,� confided motorist and housewife Darlene Pickering, gesturing to the wall of cars blocking her route home from spinning class. “Didn’t they set off that hurricane over in Florida? And now this. We should stop giving the terrorists drivers’ licenses, if this is how they’re going to repay us.�

During the course of interviewing inconvenienced motorists, it became clear that Al-Qaeda has failed to hide its nefarious scheming from average Americans, or at least average Americans stuck in traffic. The terrorist network may have erred in giving Americans too much time to unravel their twisted dealings while killing time during traffic jams.

“I think about that shit sometimes,� mused Harvey. “Like how come Arby’s never has that ‘5 for $5’ deal any more? They think we wouldn’t notice that? Shit. Man, I hope some terrorist fuck didn’t set his old beater on fire up ahead in the breakdown lane, ‘cuz I gotta piss bad.�

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In the movies, whenever a guy's driving a convertible there's always some honeyed blonde sitting in the passenger seat in a tennis outfit or something, without fail. I'm serious, you start to think the girl comes with the car or maybe they just hang out on street corners waiting for some random guy in a convertible to pull up. A pretty sweet gig if you can get it, that is unless you get picked up by the guy from that Outrun game and you're destined to fly out of the car and tumble up the road again and again.

I decided to check out this theory by test-driving a convertible last weekend, and I'll be damned if it didn't sort of work, except the blonde was a seven-foot-tall transvestite from Yugoslavia. If you've ever wondered what kind of person just hops into a stranger's car uninvited, well there's your answer.

To be honest I didn't get to know Unga all that well since after about thirty seconds she saw some guy on the sidewalk who owed her money, and she leapt out of the moving car at a full tackle. If they ever need to update the dictionary picture illustrating the word "surprise," they don't need to search any further than the look on that dude's face when Unga broadsided him at forty-five miles an hour. To be honest I don't know what picture they're using now, but unless it's the silhouette of that chick's dong from The Crying Game, it could probably stand an update.

After that there was a minor hassle at the dealership when I returned the car with a mariachi band in the back seat. You'd think I'd be charging them for that kind of shit, since trust me it's not easy getting a mariachi band delivered in the city at that time of day. Those guys could have done a lot for the dealership's business, since they knew how to play "Slow Ride" and everything.

Mainly I think they were just pissed because I ditched the dealership lackey they sent to tag along for the ride, as if I'm the one who made the car too small for a mariachi band, a seven-foot-tall Eastern European drag queen and an asthmatic dealership goon to fit in all at once. I even went out of my way to tell them which block we let him off at, though nobody could recall if he rolled to the left or the right.

Needless to say, the Omar Bricks car search continues. In the last week I've weeded out quite a few of the pretenders from the field, and am currently leaning towards either a truck, a dune buggy, or a really big truck with a dune buggy in the back. I figure this would be the best of both worlds, because good luck to the cop trying to give me a speeding ticket when the truck's on cruise control and I'm dune buggying out the back in the opposite direction. I don't think even Burt Reynolds ever thought of that one.

You can tell they don't design many of these cars with Omar Bricks in mind, because none of them indicate your speed in reverse. And that's just bullshit. You think you can shine the law just because you're driving with one arm wrapped around the passenger seat and your head craned way around to the back window? Well good, but you still need the proper instrumentation to give your story detail later.

I actually got turned down for a test drive at one dealership the other day, because the dude was freaked out by the shirt I was wearing from the commune's third annual Blood Drive. That's what seemed to bother him anyway, the thought of handing over the car keys to some guy wearing a shirt that said BLOOD DRIVE in big red letters. And truth be told, there was some blood on the shirt, but I explained to the guy that was old blood from the charitable Blood Drive, not evidence of some bloody test drive from earlier in the day, so no worries. Come to think of it, he did kind of act weirded out after I asked if the Malibu could pull a sleigh, so maybe it was just the whole situation that smelled like a lawsuit to him. I can't blame the guy really, I probably wouldn't have turned over my keys to a dude with windshield glass in his hair, either.

Besides, if I decide I really need to test-drive a Chevy I can always go back next week dressed as the Tin Man or Charles Manson or something, the costume stores always have some bitchin' sales after Halloween is over. Bricks out.

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As if I needed another kick in the teeth right now… VH-1 does their top whatever list of all the child stars and I don't even make the top 10.

I was as excited as a dude getting a birthday hummer when I saw the news headlines, "VH-1 Names Coleman No. 1 Child Star." I thought, damn right! It's about time I got the recognition. But it turns out they were talking about that OTHER Coleman, Gary Coleman. And I got no beef with him—he's the Nike of child stars, I'll agree.

If we're just talking about show popularity, Q-rating, that sort of thing, yeah, he's the number one. It's not my fault if my show never reached that kind of popularity—we had lousy writers. Diff'rent Strokes was Shakespeare compared to Who's Your Daddy? Not for any lack of trying on my part. So, what the hell, I'll give it to him.

But not putting me in the top 10 was just plain insulting. It proves once again I've pissed off all the entertainment high order, like the number-picking people at VH-1. How can you keep Clarissa Coleman out of the top 10? Not number 2, they couldn't give me that. Macaulay Culkin… he hasn't even done any big work in years. Neither have I, maybe, but I'm still out there trying. And the Olsen twins… multi-million dollar little harpies. Screw 'em. I'm the real child star. Just because they saved their money they were able to parlay that fortune into video tapes. Yeah, if I were financing my own video tapes and shit I'd be able to stay on top all those years, too. Just because I blew mine on drugs and toys I get the shaft.

We all know what the real reason is. It's for that interview I did in that German magazine last year, Der Fucht, where I compared VH-1 to M-TV's castrated brother. You have to understand the situation: I was told that article would never appear in English. That's the only reason I did it. Who knew VH-1 read German?

Number 29 they give me. That's just an insult. Why even put me in there at all?

My sister Cassandra suggested maybe they thought the top 10 was Coleman-heavy already, what with Arnold taking the top spot. I suppose that's a reasonable suggestion… but to mess around with the hard truth about child stars just to make it look like there's no Coleman bias… that's as wrong as purposely screwing me out of it because I said VH-1 had no nuts. Nice job, VH-1. I thought you were supposed to be the mature music-lovers' network? Real mature.

They're just mad at me because they know I'm cooking up the biggest comeback plans yet, between my screenplay that's in the works and that new comic book deal I'm working out. I'm not supposed to say anything about it, but I figure there's no harm in telling my legion of fans who keep up through the commune. You're not going to sabotage the deal, right? Plus, I've still got Ho's!, even if they're wanting to cut back my part a little. We shoot a few more episodes in August, and I think we've got a real good chance at coming in to replace whatever crap the WB is playing now. Plus, I'm working on an ultra-secret new show on the WB, which can come in and replace Ho's! when they cancel it once and for all.

So take that, VH-1. Clarissa Coleman isn't so insecure she needs a nutless network like yours to tell me I'm big. And I'm going to be bigger than anyone in that long list, once my comeback is complete. There are many roads to the top of Everest, and I'm taking them all.

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