the commune, 7/20/26: You'll learn to love it or die trying

Schiavo Case a Victory for Pro-Death Advocates

March 28, 2005

Pinellas Park, FL

Whit Pistol

Anti-death protestors hold vigil outside the hospice where Terri Schiavo resides, directing their prayers to some merchandise from Mel Gibson's The Passion of the Christ.

taunch pro-death advocates applauded court refusals to reconnect Terri Shiavo's feeding tube over the weekend. The court hearings were seen as last-ditch legal efforts by Schiavo's parents and pro-life groups to keep the brain-damaged woman alive, but judges of the state court of Clearwater, Florida bizarrely sided with science over politics and religion, to the lament of fans of life everywhere.

Terri Schiavo has been in a persistent vegetative state since 1990, when prolonged blood loss to the brain brought on by heart failure induced her current condition. The case has become a focus for pro-life and anti-life groups, as Schiavo's husband, based on alleged comments made by Schiavo before her condition started, wants his wife's feeding tube removed, and her parents want her to live a long, long time. While most medical specialists have concluded Schiavo will never recover, doctors who put their religion convictions ahead of flimsy scientific evidence have come to bat for the parents, saying Schiavo demonstrates some degree of awareness of her environment. The woman's feeding tube was removed March 18, the only means for pro-death advocates to euthanize patients under current laws.

The Schindlers, Schiavo's parents and the key speakers on the pro-life side of the debate, have brought aboard anti-abortion-rights activist Randall Terry, who, since Schiavo cannot speak now on her own behalf, argues the woman must be fought for like a big fetus, despite claims by her husband, who knew her before the tragedy, that she would not want to be kept alive in such a state. The Schindlers have accused all judges who have sided with husband Michael Schiavo of being part of a "crusade to kill" his daughter.

Governor Jeb Bush, brother of the country's most legal president ever, has in the past interceded on the Schindlers' behalf to reconnect Schiavo's feeding tube on one of the many occasions it's been disconnected, but legal efforts by the Governor have so far failed to pass muster with the Florida Senate. Though he has not taken more direct, controversial action as of press time to keep Schiavo alive, Bush's sentiments are clearly pro-life.

"I've consistently said I can't go beyond what my powers are and I'm not going to do it. There are 90,000 abortions that take place in this state every year. That troubles me more than I can ever describe," said the Governor, finding a comparison where few would dare. Bush also negatively compared the decision of Judge George Greer not to reverse his decision, based on the testimony of a doctor affiliated with the Schindlers, to court decisions to review death penalty cases.

On the pro-death side, representatives for Michael Schiavo pleaded with the media and legislators to not involve themselves in the family's most painful ordeals for the sake of political or religious agendas, and for the love of God, quit calling them "pro-death advocates." The media responded by splashing the story, covered from multiple angles, on page one of every national newspaper and running constant updates in between television shows. Politicians responded by making resentful speeches and making deals in the House and Senate over the woman's future. When asked if anyone in Congress planned on interceding to bring soldiers home from Iraq, Afghanistan, or other dangerous locations overseas, most Congressmen said it didn't seem like any of their business.

the commune news would like to declare an official "do not resuscitate" order in case we're ever the focus of a national media blitzkrieg. Many of us in the office agree News Editor Ramrod Hurley should never have been suscitated in the first place, let alone resuscitated.

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November 24, 2003

I May Have Started a Gangland War

º Last Column: My Wife as a G-Dawg
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What a difference a day makes. Wednesday I was living the good life, the best my life has ever been, Thursday I may be responsible for the death of dozens, and my oatmeal was cold.

I keep telling myself tomorrow is another chance for a good day, that I can wake up earlier and spend more time cooking the oatmeal, but nothing can bring those dead men back to life. Or, if there is, I probably can't afford it. I'll just have to live with their deaths on my head, or get a second job to afford the re-animator machine, and I'm not about to do that.

The head of the crime family I'm currently accessory to, Yogi, took me along to a inter-mafia event of some sort. I'm not sure exactly what was to be moved, drugs, guns, or illicit footwear, but I know the relationship was on thin ice as it was. And mob people are in general too fat to stay on thin ice for a very long time, no offense to you and your murderous ilk if you're mobbed up. But Rok Finger was the extra helping of love handles that cracked the ice here.

My comments are not entirely important here, but suffice to say they bruised a lot of feelings and led to name-calling and bullet-firing. So insignificant, really, they don't bear repeating. But I would suggest if you're going to get worked up over a difference of opinion on Johnny Mathis being a better crooner than Frank Sinatra, maybe you're the one with the problem, and the state shouldn't issue you a gun permit. Then again, I guess if you're in the business of buying and selling arms you probably have ways around the permit thing.

It's a nightmare, good people. A few crass words, some of them my own, admittedly, and a couple of slaps later and all of a sudden I'm surrounded by dead bodiesâ€”not in a good way either. Yogi said I'm not to blame, except for I started the flow of blood, but don't take it too hard, Joe Cool. A war with the New Jersey family was coming for some time, he told me. Still, I felt awful.

I tried to fix everything in the best way I know howâ€”a nice letter to the newspaper. I used all the names of their family, tried to ingratiate myself with liberal use of the word "goomba," and told them how fond I was of The Sopranos. There was no way I could know, but apparently this only made matters worse. It was then things went from bloody to The Shining bloody.

It's not the loss of life that bothers meâ€”mobsters are little better than sick curs, and a few less of them isn't going to do anything but make the world a better place. It's the social faux pas that really bothers me. I've always been an elegant and graceful character, that's the illusion I've sustained in my mind, and with all these death threats and contracts on my life it's getting harder and harder to block out the reality.

I would like to make this all better somehow. I've offered to meet with the new head of the family, Mario, since Giovanni got whacked by Yogis clown-o-gram plot. But he insists I come alone, and it's something I refuse to do, as it's a long walk and I have no ride there. With enough talk I might convince him Camembert doesn't count as company, and we'll finally be able to work out this little death feud. The last thing I need is another death feud after the last one nearly got me killed.

º Last Column: My Wife as a G-Dawg
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July 11, 2005

Genius, Inc.

º Last Column: The Omar Bricks Perpetual Motion Miracle
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After last installment's adventures with the Omar Bricks Perpetual Motion Machine (an electric water distiller covered on all sides by throbbing punch-balloons) and the resulting disastrous core meltdown that destroyed the southern quarter of my neighbor Hamms' house last week, I realized the error in my recent thinking. True inventors don't set out to make the world a better place. True inventors set out to make the world give them a lot of money. So I decided that free energy for all (and especially for me and select close friends) could wait, since I can't waste any more time or brainpower on inventions that don't make a shitload of money really fast.

Answer? Last week I formed Genius, Inc., a think tank that consists of yours truly and my loyal secretary and bodyguard, Foghat. It's an idea factory, really, a new kind of company that doesn't play by the old rules, in business or in badminton. It's like Apple without all the gayness attached.

And let me tell you, it's been a busy couple of weeks. Omar Bricks is the first to admit that, while brilliant, not all of our early products have been entirely successful in the marketplace. Among the long string of inventions that the world was not ready for include the Live Mouse Computer Mouse, the Freeway Parasail and my pride and joy, BreathWreckers gum (available in Onion & Garlic, Cigarette, and Whiskey Double flavors).

But failure is the mother-in-law of success, or however the bar-napkin quote goes, and in time the world finally caught up to Genius, Inc., leaving us with our first truly marketable product. SpamHat.

Genius, Inc.'s first product release to extend beyond the convenience store down the block from Bricks Manor is going to be SpamHat 8.0. It's really the first version, but people like to feel like they're buying some advanced version that's had all the bugs and bullshit worked out, hence the 8.0 at the end. Eight's a good number, since most things have been perfected by their eighth time around the block, except of course the Rocky movies.

SpamHat does exactly what you'd think; it filters out the sun's harmful rays and prevents you from getting hat cancer. Originally I was going to make an electric hat that filtered out junk email, but that turned out to be a real pain in the ass so I just kept the name and tossed all the computer bullshit and the '87 Ford windshield wipers I had bolted on, and we were ready to go.

There's also a piece of Spam sewn inside the hat, to keep your head cool. I mainly added this so I could keep the bitchin' name without getting involved in any false-advertising lawsuits, but then I came to realize it was actually pretty useful for head-cooling, attracting wildlife, and as an emergency snack. A safety note for bald dudes though: don't leave SpamHat in the freezer too long or else the Spam will bond to your scalp when you put the hat on and you're gonna be wearing it for a while. I'm also working on SpamHat Remover for such instances, but it involves pissing in a tube attached to the hat and I probably won't have FDA approval for that until late next year.

Next step is the marketing campaign and saturating the region with television commercials for SpamHat, which will commence as soon as I'm done training Foghat to hold a goddamned video camera straight. I swear, sometimes I think that dog expects me to do all the work. Bricks out.

º Last Column: The Omar Bricks Perpetual Motion Miracle
º more columns

Quote of the Day

“Even the smallest man among us can accomplish truly great things. And when it's over, it takes less beer for him to get drunk. That is truly great.”

-Leonard Rutland, Professional Drinking Fisherman

Fortune 500 Cookie

What are you keeping that scab for? Throw that thing away already, for Christ's sake. Too many cooks spoil the broth, and so does putting sun-dried mayonnaise in it. Remember when dad told you you'd one day do something great? You will this weekâ€”remember he said that, that is.

Try again later.

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North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

BY Roland McShyster

10/1/2001

Welcome back to Entertainment Police, gents and gentiles, I hope you came hungry for some fresh whinin' and opinin'. We've got a new batch of movies for you to ogle and unlike the last batch, we promise these won't turn out to be Gremlins. But before we get to that, let's take a moment for America's favorite back-and-forth: Ask Roland!

Q. I recently watched the film "Hannibal" and have to admit that I was troubled by the pigs who eat people. I live next-door to a pig farm and ever since I saw that movie, I am afraid of those pigs. Sometimes, at night, I can see them looking at me through the fence with their greedy little pig eyes, and I can only imagine that they're thinking that I'd be good to eat with some scrambled eggs and biscuits. Roland, can you set the record...