|  | 
Fox Cancels Yankees-Marlins World Series October 27, 2003 |
Los Angeles, CA Junior Bacon An empty Yankee Stadium greets the spoilsport New York and Florida teams
âOur focus group research indicates that watching the Yankees play in the World Series has the same level of audience appeal as watching the Iraqi National Guard gang-rape Mother Theresa,â explained Fox Sports head Walter Lawrie. âAnd the Mar...
fficials at the Fox network announced last week that despite record ratings for the first two rounds of baseballâs postseason, the Yankees-Marlins World Series will be cancelled due to lack of viewer interest. The announcement stunned and disappointed sports fans, who thought Fox was talking about canceling the World Cup. Executives have since issued a statement assuring the viewing public that the little-watched soccer tournament, which appeals to foreign-born Americans and small children who play soccer, will go on as scheduled. âOur focus group research indicates that watching the Yankees play in the World Series has the same level of audience appeal as watching the Iraqi National Guard gang-rape Mother Theresa,â explained Fox Sports head Walter Lawrie. âAnd the Marlinsâ name recognition ranks comfortably between one-hit wonder Jim Basnight of âSex Teenâ fame and Secretary of Commerce Don Evans. Frankly, if we hadnât made this announcement, I doubt anyone would have noticed the change.â Fox executives originally announced that the Yankees-Marlins series would be replaced with footage of the cast of Malcolm in the Middle playing catch in their backyard, interspersed with thousands of commercials for the upcoming Fox shows Skin, Arrested Development and 24. But after focus group research conducted by opening office windows and listening indicated that baseball fans would still be interested in watching a Red Sox-Cubs World Series, rules be damned, a mid-season replacement series was organized. âYankees-Marlins was underperforming in several key markets, most notably the entire United States of America,â said Fox spokesperson Lana Rauch. âWe were originally taking consolation in the notion that weâd at least get strong numbers out of New York and Miami, but it turns out fans in New York consider anything short of a four-game World Series sweep by the Yankees an unwatchable travesty, and the three Marlins fans donât live in Nielsen households. So even in those markets, the numbers stank like David Wellsâ burp-up rag.â Network executives hope a Red Sox-Cubs match up will breathe new life into the flagging World Series franchise, which lost some if its luster after last seasonâs breakout star Barry Bonds was unable to return for the 2003 season due to the failure of his supporting cast. Fox executives attempted to engineer a trade of Bonds to the Cubs after San Franciscoâs first-round exit from the playoffs, but Cubs manager Dusty Baker vetoed the trade on the grounds that the 39-year-old Bonds wasnât old enough to warrant displacing any of Bakerâs trusted veteran players. Fox had gone to great lengths in the preceding weeks to ensure a Red Sox-Cubs World Series, expected by many to be a ratings bonanza. But after succeeding in bombarding the Oakland Aâs lineup with microwave radiation in the ALDS and scheduling ALCS Game 4 during a flash flood to prevent Boston Achilles-heel John Burkett from taking the mound, Fox was ultimately thwarted by the Red Sox and Cubsâ own considerable self-destructive quirks, ending up with an albatross series slung stinky-like around their necks. Some baseball purists have decried the move, which goes beyond Foxâs usual postseason gametime juggling and bizarre scheduling decisions. But when questioned, all admitted they werenât actually watching the Yankees-Marlins series, they were just tired of waiting for The Simpsonsâ Halloween special to air. the commune news was personally rooting for a Brewers-Indians World Series, but our hopes for a hilarious drunken Navajo melee were dashed quite early in the season. Mordecai âThree Fingerâ Brown was available to pitch for the Cubs in the eighth inning of Game 6, but was barred by an umpiring crew with a poor history of making accurate balk calls on long-dead pitching spectres.
 |
Reagan celebrates 93 with annual bowel movement
Christina Aguilera announces engagement to manwhore
RIAA to hunt down individual music pirates, sodomize them
Search for Bin Laden made into fun scavenger hunt
|
Mohammed Confesses to 9/11 Attacks, Falling Down A Lot During Interrogations Castro Announces 2008 Candidacy; Clinton, Obama Drop Out of Race Conditions at Walter Reed Upgraded to Nightmarishly Clive Barker-esque Unveiling of First Black Disney Character Raises Some Concerns |
| |
| 
 May 30, 2005
The New War on PovertyIt's about time to resume the "War on Poverty" that we started in the 1960's. And when I say "we," I mean soft-hearted liberals who needed a slogan for re-election. But this time, we do the War on Poverty right. I'm talking big guns.
After all, we can't eliminate poverty, any more than we can eliminate terror. That's been my objection to the president's War on Terror all along. And before you go thinking I've gone all NPR on you guys, that doesn't mean we should give up. Let's just refocus the War on Terror. Make it the War on Terrorists, which is what it already is. Wipe them all out from the face of the earthâif you're not wit' us, you're a'gin us. And that's what we got to do with the War on Poverty: Wipe out the impoverished.
It doesn't have to be a hateful war, but we've got to get rid of them all the same. They're just going to drag us all down with them. And even if they don't, they'll still make our lives hellâasking for money, especially around the holidays, starring in documentaries that clog our independent theaters, and just generally hanging around and making us feel bad. We can't let them run our lives anymore. Wipe out the impoverished.
We can get it started it easy enoughâsince they don't have houses, we can find most of them out in the open, where they're easy to get at. Eventually, though, we'll have to take it to the next level. Hunt them down in the housing projects, in the trailer parks, even in the...
º Last Column: Queers Vote Kerry
º more columns
It's about time to resume the "War on Poverty" that we started in the 1960's. And when I say "we," I mean soft-hearted liberals who needed a slogan for re-election. But this time, we do the War on Poverty right. I'm talking big guns.
After all, we can't eliminate poverty, any more than we can eliminate terror. That's been my objection to the president's War on Terror all along. And before you go thinking I've gone all NPR on you guys, that doesn't mean we should give up. Let's just refocus the War on Terror. Make it the War on Terrorists, which is what it already is. Wipe them all out from the face of the earthâif you're not wit' us, you're a'gin us. And that's what we got to do with the War on Poverty: Wipe out the impoverished.
It doesn't have to be a hateful war, but we've got to get rid of them all the same. They're just going to drag us all down with them. And even if they don't, they'll still make our lives hellâasking for money, especially around the holidays, starring in documentaries that clog our independent theaters, and just generally hanging around and making us feel bad. We can't let them run our lives anymore. Wipe out the impoverished.
We can get it started it easy enoughâsince they don't have houses, we can find most of them out in the open, where they're easy to get at. Eventually, though, we'll have to take it to the next level. Hunt them down in the housing projects, in the trailer parks, even in the mountains, where they're bunched up together 25-to-100 per house. Sure, my soft side wants to give them all a free ride, but it's by being pushovers we've been overrun with poverty all this time.
The best part is, we don't need a new army to do it. Put the police to work doing what they were originally created for anywayâto keep the poor out of our hair. But give them their teeth back, no more of this back-alley beating crap and telling people to "move along." We start the War on Poverty, I mean really start it, and the police can finally do what they were meant to do. Round 'em up and march 'em into the nearest large body of water. Or if that's too unsanitary, maybe launch them into space. Give them a chance to colonize a planet full of moochers and layabouts.
We'll need to set firm criteria so we don't have everybody out in the streets getting shot by people riding polo ponies and everything. Set a bottomline income bracket above which everyone gets to live, and then root out the nickel-and-dimeless. I used to think a metal detector of some sort would help find whose got money and who doesn't, but anybody walking around with pocket change is probably below the minimum income bracket, or just scraping together enough to stay above it.
People say I'm full of hate to suggest such a thing. I tell them to shut up before I choke them to death. Because I'm not full of hate. I just think everybody needs to pull their own weight, or pull whatever weight they're told to pull. The world needs workers and the world needs bosses. What they don't need is people who refuse to be either. I send my money to the government each week, and it's always more than I like, so they can keep the roads in good shape for me to drive on and to keep the kids from turning out retarded. Judging by the noise on the radio and the TV, I'm not sure that last part is working out. But I know I don't send my money to the government so we can support freeloaders, the infirm, or those who can't swing a hammer or a shovel or whatever for 8-12 hours a day. Or write a column, of courseâangry columnists provide the most valuable service of all. º Last Column: Queers Vote Kerryº more columns
| 
|  March 8, 2004
I Have Caught the CIA's Latest Death VirusI am in no mood to talk, gentle readers. Fortunately I can do my column in a written fashion, although it throws me off my game not to hear my own voice ranting as I freestyle my diatribe. But my voice hurts too much to even think about talkingâsee? That just now hurt really bad. I am sick with the influenza.
At least that's what doctors tell me. I have much darker suspicions that I have been infected with the CIA's latest death virus.
Doctors, friends, and those folks at the radio call-in show are quick to doubt me, I know, but it only makes my suspicions stronger. They ask me, "Why would the CIA waste time trying to kill you?" Of course, that question has a list of answers a mile long. There's my controversial columns which someone must be reading, influencing a whole generation of hypothetical readers toward an underground revolution. Or there's what I did last year in the city of Branson, Missouri's water supply. And these two things are only at the top of the list. Frankly, who knows? They're the CIA. I don't pretend to understand their motivations, even as I make them up.
All that matters is this may well be true. As you may know, the CIA are not to be fucked with, sir, when it comes to death viruses. They invented the best of themâAIDS, syphilis, Hong Kong flu, herpes. I hear tell one of them even escaped the lab and got a talk show under the name Jenny Jones. These people are clearly the go-to folks when it comes to...
º Last Column: Work Sucks
º more columns
I am in no mood to talk, gentle readers. Fortunately I can do my column in a written fashion, although it throws me off my game not to hear my own voice ranting as I freestyle my diatribe. But my voice hurts too much to even think about talkingâsee? That just now hurt really bad. I am sick with the influenza.
At least that's what doctors tell me. I have much darker suspicions that I have been infected with the CIA's latest death virus.
Doctors, friends, and those folks at the radio call-in show are quick to doubt me, I know, but it only makes my suspicions stronger. They ask me, "Why would the CIA waste time trying to kill you?" Of course, that question has a list of answers a mile long. There's my controversial columns which someone must be reading, influencing a whole generation of hypothetical readers toward an underground revolution. Or there's what I did last year in the city of Branson, Missouri's water supply. And these two things are only at the top of the list. Frankly, who knows? They're the CIA. I don't pretend to understand their motivations, even as I make them up.
All that matters is this may well be true. As you may know, the CIA are not to be fucked with, sir, when it comes to death viruses. They invented the best of themâAIDS, syphilis, Hong Kong flu, herpes. I hear tell one of them even escaped the lab and got a talk show under the name Jenny Jones. These people are clearly the go-to folks when it comes to inventing death viruses. And if this one is their latest, it stands to reason I'm in big, contagious trouble.
The doctor was right about one thingânothing you can do but let it run its course. So I'm taking a fatalistic approach to it all, I suppose, saying what happens happens. Of course, this doesn't stop me from making our Marketing VP Sully work on a cure 24 hours a day, minus lunch. I've also cursed the name of God for letting this happen and trashed a church, but I was probably going to do that anyway.
The worst thing about any cold, even a death virus, is being sick all the time. Snotty, sore throat, always rushing to the bathroom at the drop of a hat, or something less hat-like. Everything in my office is germ-ridden and nasty. I've gotten the commune cleaning staff (a.k.a. the copywriting desk) to come in and scrub down my office every two hours, just to keep it less contagiousâalso, I admit, I'm a little curious to see how quick they catch it, to see what this death virus can really do. I've also had them empty all my jars of urine, since when they began to get in the way I had to confess I really didn't have much idea what I was saving them for.
In the even of my death, however, seeing as how this is a death virus, I believe the commune will be in good hands. I've assigned editorial duties to Sully, Mazie the Chicken, Lil Duncan, and celebrity heartthrob Leif Garrett, just to shake things up a bit. Each will have the reigning editorial duties on a certain day of the month, from first to fourth. On the event of a rare fifth Monday, responsibility for those duties will be determined by a battle to the death. Perhaps a bit extreme, but I'm damned to determine to see the creative control doesn't suffer due to my brother's meddling and the CIA's attempt to kill me.
Sure, I suppose I could get better, but you have to plan for the worst. After all, this all probably could have been avoided if I had invested in that hermetically-sealed personal bubble I planned on buying after seeing that John Travolta movie all those years ago. º Last Column: Work Sucksº more columns
|
| |
Quote of the Day“The stars at night are big and bright, deep in the heart of Texas! Except near Houston, Dallas or Fort Worth. Talk about your smog. Jesus, this song's gonna need another verse.”
-Clement B. DoogleFortune 500 CookieMama said there'd be days like this, but the bitch lied. The success or failure of this coming week hinges on your proper understanding of the word "gonad," so take our advice and go buy a dictionary now, Skippy. Order lots of Chinese food this week, but don't pick it up. This week's lucky accidents: back-flip off ladder onto hardwood floor, lip caught on drain while bathtub's full, wearing flammable jumpsuit to Great White concert, 15 car pile-up.
Try again later.Top-Selling Music Substitutes| 1. | Bass Drone 2002 Mega-Mix
DaDawg Productions | | 2. | Voices from the Shithouse
Roy D. Mercer | | 3. | This is MeĂ Then
J-Lo | | 4. | Faces of Prank-Call Death
Mickey & Marky | | 5. | Healing Your Inner Loser, Tape 3
Harold Bloomfield | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 3/7/2005 Hold the onions, America. Roland McShyster is in a "here" kind of mood and there ain't no mountain high enough to stop me from reviewing this week's new releases. Maybe Rushmore. That's a pretty tall mountain. What's that one in Korea? K12? Leave it up to the Koreans to name a mountain with numbers. The Asians have always had an inherent prejudice against people who can't do math. Maybe those two mountains, and possibly a few others to be on the safe side, could keep me from reviewing this week's batch of Hollywood's finest. But your average mountain? No way. So on to the movies:
In Theaters Now:
Be Cool
Finally, somebody has made a movie out of the legendary Peter Gabriel song about not being a dork. An inspiration to many, the song will...
Hold the onions, America. Roland McShyster is in a "here" kind of mood and there ain't no mountain high enough to stop me from reviewing this week's new releases. Maybe Rushmore. That's a pretty tall mountain. What's that one in Korea? K12? Leave it up to the Koreans to name a mountain with numbers. The Asians have always had an inherent prejudice against people who can't do math. Maybe those two mountains, and possibly a few others to be on the safe side, could keep me from reviewing this week's batch of Hollywood's finest. But your average mountain? No way. So on to the movies:
In Theaters Now:
Be Cool
Finally, somebody has made a movie out of the legendary Peter Gabriel song about not being a dork. An inspiration to many, the song will surely now find a new audience among people who don't listen to lyrics unless they're being spoken like dialogue by John Travolta. And though the song does lose something by being stretched to two-hour movie length, and the producers thoughtlessly forgot to cast Gabriel in any of the main roles, a song this important can afford to lose some juice and get a little shit-smudged and still make an impact.
Constantinople
Canoe Reeves, mute half-brother of the late Christopher Reeves (the actor-hero who inspired the world by falling off a horse), stars in Constantinople, the moviefied story of a troubled man tortured by the fact that he hasn't been able to get that insanely catchy They Might Be Giants song out of his head since 1990. Performing a trick he learned from Arnold "GoBot" Schwartzreneger, Reeves again displays his knack for choosing roles that turn his "effortless" acting style into a positive, much like the video game character he played to raves of "bare competence" in The Matrix Diaries.
This time around he's believable as an insomniac who's too tired to act or emote in any discernable way, and the results pay off big time. If you're him that is, because he probably got paid a lot of money since they didn't have to fire him for grievous non-acting during the making of the film. For the rest of us, the results only pay off if you bet some friend he couldn't go through his whole life without seeing Canoe Reeves' dongle.
Cursed
Christina "The Godfather" Ricci stars in this story of a girl who's really, really sorry for swearing, in the entertainment industry's latest slobbering attempt to prove they're really, really sorry that Janet Jackson has tits. I was initially very excited when I heard this movie was coming out, because I thought it was going to be the story of the guy who invented cursive handwriting. Now that's a story I've been dying to see, where have they been hiding this genius and when will get he finally get his due? Laugh if you want, but that shit saves some serious time. Whoever it was should have his face on the nickel, I say. Piss on Jefferson, or at least get him "movin' on up" to the dime or something.
Son of MASK
For the love of 80's nostalgia, somebody finally got around to making a feature film about the Mobile Armored Strike Kommand, the legendary 80's cartoon series of toy commercials that taught kids a Camero could fly if you just thought to open the doors while driving. MASK immortalized the 80's catchphrase "Illusion is the Ultimate Weapon," and featured cars that turned into shit, but in a way that just missed infringing upon the copyright of the Transformers. The original was actually a milestone of bastardization, mixing the Transformers and G.I. Joe in balanced proportions to horn in equally on the toy sales of each.
The new film version is a capable adaptation, though a little heavy on the product placement for my tastes. However, in this instance, a strong case could be made for the movie needing to be heavy on product placement in order to be true to the original source material. While it's inevitable that some oil company's name would end up on the gas station that turns into the MASK team's Boulder Mountain fortress, the movie drags when Bruce Sato keeps having the fortress turn back into a gas station so he can buy more of Shell's addictively delicious beef jerky. Also curious was the studio's choice to name this film Son of MASK, apparently an attempt to distance it from the outdated 80's original and its gang of illiterate (Kommand?) freedom fighters. Regardless, you could do worse picking a movie to see this weekend, and probably will.
And that's all the stink they could put on it this week, America. Hope you had the time of your life, and I hope to God that it didn't involve Patrick Swayze. Until next time, folks. You can bet real American money I'll be back here in two more weeks, reviewing my little Entertainment Policing heart out. Wild monkeys couldn't drag me away, and I'd beat the banana custard out of them if they tried.   |
