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 September 16, 2011 |
President Obama, seen here with self-polling numbers beginning to tick upward at the thought of some delicious rhubarb pie
Poll experts, and not the fun kind who strip, say this revelation comes at a crucial time for the president, who has not even officially accepted his party's nomination for re-election yet. With his self-approval showing startlingly low numbers, it leaves a second term for President Obama in doubt.
The latest statistical information comes from a CNN poll on how well the president was addressing the nation's problems. Among all voters, regardless of age, gender, race, political leanings, and being the president or not, O...
little more than a year away from the next presidential election, and with a trio of Republican contenders searching for signs of weakness, the president received more bad news when his approval rating among adult male Obamas hit an all-time low.
Poll experts, and not the fun kind who strip, say this revelation comes at a crucial time for the president, who has not even officially accepted his party's nomination for re-election yet. With his self-approval showing startlingly low numbers, it leaves a second term for President Obama in doubt.
The latest statistical information comes from a CNN poll on how well the president was addressing the nation's problems. Among all voters, regardless of age, gender, race, political leanings, and being the president or not, Obama continued to a challenging 46% approval rating; but among the important demographic of Barack Obamas, a key vote to win in 2012, Obama's once-solid 98% approval rating dipped drastically, all the way to 71%.
"Oh, brother, sometimes I don't think you know what you're doing at all," the president could be heard saying under his breath as he filled out the poll.
While overall Obama approval ratings remained steady among under-14 Obamas and adult female Obamas, holding at a steady 99% and 65%, respectively, the plunge in presidential self-approval is a number that needs significant gains if Obama hopes to get his own vote during the next election. There have yet to be any strong Democratic contenders to oppose the president, but with numbers consistently declining as the nation struggles to avoid further unemployment and the threat of a deeper recession, there is always a chance a third-party candidate or moderate Republican could steal the Obama vote away from the president.
Speaking candidly off the record, a private source within the president told reporters, "I don't know about this guy anymore. In 2008 everything looked so good, and I had a lot of hopes he could deliver on all those promises he made. Christ, it's almost the end of 2011 and what have we gotten for all our hard work? At some point it can't be Bush's fault anymore, and the president has to step up and be his own man, claim responsibility for the state of things. Where did our health care go? I thought we were going to protect Social Security and benefits? Is he caving on everything in his platform or can he just not stand up to the opposition?"
Added the confidential Obama source, "I don't know about this jobs bill thing either. Kind of looks like throwing good money after bad. I thought it might work last week, then I saw those poll numbers… damn, maybe I'm just kidding myself."
Our poll expert Jimmy Cusper, and no, I won't stop saying "poll expert," notes that a dip in the approval rating doesn't spell the end for the Obama campaign. There's more than enough time to make up those numbers in the next 13 months before the election.
"As they say in Washington, as goes the president, so goes the nation. Right now Obama's having a tough time of it, and you can't blame him—he talks a good game about what he's going to do to turn things around for the economy, improve social programs and reduce the budget, but when it comes time to put up or shut-up, it seems like he's getting nothing done. To him, at least. But it's time to stop playing nice guy, to put the focus on the Republicans and their lack of answers, to call their bluffs, and to really push some big agendas through in D.C. to make up for all the lackluster business of the past three years. It's hard, but not impossible. He just has to go to work and show himself he's not just talking out of his presidential ass."
Some good news for the president is that presidential self-approval ratings typically get a boost in late December and around New Year's, when family gatherings and a few days off from being leader of the free world help improve the way things look. Obama also suffered an uncommon fall in his self-approval rating this year when he turned 50 last month.
"You've got to look at things from the perspective of your average President Obama," Cusper suggested. "He just turned fifty years old and what does he have to show for himself? A dead-end job where none of his party supports him and the news would rather cover Sarah Palin's farts. By the way, did you see that coverage? Sounds like a duck with an accent. It might not be a landslide for Obama next year, but if he keeps pushing and does his best work, reminds himself why he won the people's hearts in the first place, he just may capture his self-demographic next year. He also stands to receive his biggest boost yet in numbers around the time of the Democratic Convention of 2012. All those balloons and people holding signs with your picture on it can't help but make you feel better."
They're still frightening numbers for the president in comparison to recent history. Even when his presidential approval rating hit an all-time low of 32% among voters, predecessor President George W. Bush's self-approval record never dropped below its standard 110% rating. Of course, a lot of those were taken right after naptime, about 3:15 p.m. the commune news does not approve of this message—now that message telling us how to maintain a 3-day erection, that's the kind of message we approve of. Ivan Nacutchacokov is still working these shores of Triple A, until Emil's mom gets the credit card paid off and can send him overseas. Doesn't matter where. Canada is overseas, if you fly the plane right.
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No rule against dog running in Kentucky Derby
Terrorists been quiet lately… too quiet
California hacker convention hacked by jocks loaded with Coors
NASCAR accepts hard liquor revenue; drivers accept hard liquor
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Pope Swears God Will Punish Drug Dealers With Poor-Quality Shit Vintage Dell to Grace Smithsonian's New What the Fuck Were We Thinking? Wing Isaac Hayes Recognized on Bad Mother’s Day 'Paris Hilton Autopsy' Sculpture Signed to Three-Picture Deal |
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 December 24, 2001
Why Not Have Two Christmases?Ladies and genitalmen, I am filled up to my ears with Christmas cheer! And, to a lesser extent, liquid opium. Each year around this time I am amazed and bewildered when the same ol' jingle bellsy, silent nightish, away-in-a-mangeresque feeling creeps back in like Rudolph guiding Santa's sleigh flying low under radar. In some ways, when it comes to Christmas, I'm just a big kid, and I mean in a good way, not like the rudenik teenagers making fun of me as I shop for suits in the children's wear section of Sears refer to me as a big kid.
Which prompts the question, why is Christmas celebrated only once a year?
Around this time, as people's thoughts turn to the needs of their fellow man, and his live-in girlfriend, as children stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed with their sloppy noses pushed up against toy store windows with wonder until the fire hoses are turned on them, as children hang their stockings or those of dad's mistress by the fireplace with hopes of sugar hill gangs and such in their head, some people become a little misty-eyed and get a lump in their throat wondering, why can't Christmas be every day of the year?
Well, that's moronic, it would lose all meaning to have it happen every day of the year. Such a preposterous notion clearly is the work of someone who has little or no foresight or clue as to how the world actually works and makes me want to grab said person or persons and shake them until one of us has a stroke. No,...
º Last Column: There is No "I" in "Camp Songs"
º more columns
Ladies and genitalmen, I am filled up to my ears with Christmas cheer! And, to a lesser extent, liquid opium. Each year around this time I am amazed and bewildered when the same ol' jingle bellsy, silent nightish, away-in-a-mangeresque feeling creeps back in like Rudolph guiding Santa's sleigh flying low under radar. In some ways, when it comes to Christmas, I'm just a big kid, and I mean in a good way, not like the rudenik teenagers making fun of me as I shop for suits in the children's wear section of Sears refer to me as a big kid.
Which prompts the question, why is Christmas celebrated only once a year?
Around this time, as people's thoughts turn to the needs of their fellow man, and his live-in girlfriend, as children stand wide-eyed and open-mouthed with their sloppy noses pushed up against toy store windows with wonder until the fire hoses are turned on them, as children hang their stockings or those of dad's mistress by the fireplace with hopes of sugar hill gangs and such in their head, some people become a little misty-eyed and get a lump in their throat wondering, why can't Christmas be every day of the year?
Well, that's moronic, it would lose all meaning to have it happen every day of the year. Such a preposterous notion clearly is the work of someone who has little or no foresight or clue as to how the world actually works and makes me want to grab said person or persons and shake them until one of us has a stroke. No, that's ridiculous, we need a way to preserve how special Christmas is and yet still not have to wait a whole other year for it to occur. So I've come up with the perfect solution: Two Christmases!
Obviously the key ingredient is spacing it out properly. Having Christmas in November would steal all the joy out of the original Christmas in December, and we'd be eating enough turkey to slip into a seasonal winter coma from all the L-triptophane. Likewise, if we put it in January it would begin to grow on your nerves. Sure, I like the idea of getting a second chance to buy a better gift for some loved one based on how poorly they reacted to the first, but the logical answer here is to space the second Christmas out far enough to really appreciate it.
The clear answer for me is July. When in July? I was getting to that, you needn't be so pushy.
I say July 4th, good people. What about the Fourth of July, you ask? What about it?
Let's celebrate Christmas in the middle of summer, feelin' hot! Hot! Hot! A shorts-and-tank-top Christmas, a Jimmy Buffett-by-the-fireplace Christmas, a tequila-and-ribs-for-Santa Christmas. Let's start new traditions, I say. Let fireworks light the way for Santa! The kids can hang their wet swimsuits on the porch for Santa to fill up with presents; whimsical and practical.
New Christmas specials for a new holiday. It's A Christmas Sunburn, Charlie Brown!, Perry Como Live From Rio de Janiero. Bing Crosby's Dreaming of A Sweltering, Fuzzy Christmas. Sure, most of those people are dead already, I don't keep up on new celebrity but surely someone could fill their fossilized shoes.
Christmas is way too special to be just once a year. And people say Christmas is about the birth of Jesus and the celebration of his life, but I say Christmas is more than that: It's big, glossy, commercialized and holds little to no religious meaning. Why limit that to only once a year? º Last Column: There is No "I" in "Camp Songs"º more columns
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|  March 15, 2004
Volume 60Dear commune:
Why won’t the commune publish my columns? Sure, I may not be popular like Emil Zender, or possess the mouth-wateringly luscious honeydews of an Ella Dipthong, but I’m okay in the sack. At least I imagine, I’ve never done it with myself. Not for lack of trying. But anyway, what about the columns? You guys got the picture I sent, right? It’s not me, but she’s pretty goodlooking, no? I’d look at that picture while pretending to read a column, for sure. I don’t know what the problem is; I’m beginning to think the commune is a prejudiced organization. Prejudiced against the Calvin Hotbarns of the world, that is. You guys probably could have got away with it if you’d been careful enough to run the occasional column by one of the other Calvin Hotbarns out there, just for appearances, but you cocky fucks had to go and rub our faces in it by publishing your all-Calvin-Hotbarn-free content all the time. You guys suck. I wouldn’t read your site even if it was publishing my columns. But I bet a lot of people would. So you should probably still run them some time.
Love,
Calvin Hotbarn
Roadthroat, VT
Dear Calvin:
In order for the commune to run a column, it needs to be a bit more fleshed out than a sheet of carbon paper scribbled with "Big opening" "Witty anecdote" and "Some shit about the trade deficit." We here at the commune have enough on our hands without having to do your...
º Last Column: Volume 59
º more columns
Dear commune: Why won’t the commune publish my columns? Sure, I may not be popular like Emil Zender, or possess the mouth-wateringly luscious honeydews of an Ella Dipthong, but I’m okay in the sack. At least I imagine, I’ve never done it with myself. Not for lack of trying. But anyway, what about the columns? You guys got the picture I sent, right? It’s not me, but she’s pretty goodlooking, no? I’d look at that picture while pretending to read a column, for sure. I don’t know what the problem is; I’m beginning to think the commune is a prejudiced organization. Prejudiced against the Calvin Hotbarns of the world, that is. You guys probably could have got away with it if you’d been careful enough to run the occasional column by one of the other Calvin Hotbarns out there, just for appearances, but you cocky fucks had to go and rub our faces in it by publishing your all-Calvin-Hotbarn-free content all the time. You guys suck. I wouldn’t read your site even if it was publishing my columns. But I bet a lot of people would. So you should probably still run them some time. Love, Calvin Hotbarn
Roadthroat, VTDear Calvin:
In order for the commune to run a column, it needs to be a bit more fleshed out than a sheet of carbon paper scribbled with "Big opening" "Witty anecdote" and "Some shit about the trade deficit." We here at the commune have enough on our hands without having to do your goddamned job for you, dickweave.
the commune
Dear commune: Hey, you commune guys got any ideas what I can do with my Rob? By that you know I mean the R.O.B. (Robotic Operating Buddy) from my old Nintendo Entertainment System. I got one of the first ones to come out, when I was a kid, and back then instead of a light gun and Duck Hunt or whatever they gave you this little robot that helped you play the games. Maybe they hadn’t invented the light gun yet and were worried about complaints if kids were shooting TVs with real guns or something, or maybe they had to straighten out some kind of ducks’ rights lawsuit or something first. But whatever the reason, mine came with this robot thing that moves a gyroscope from one place to one other place. It’s pretty sweet for playing Gyromite or Stack-Up, but I don’t think those Nintendo guys were looking too far into the future when they planned like zero additional functionality for this thing. It’s not really any good for any other games or anything. I thought it might be able to help me with my taxes, because I’m shit at that stuff and robots are hella smart. But not this joker, he just plays with that goddamned gyroscope all day. Then I thought maybe he could answer yes/no questions like a Ouija board using the gyroscope, but he’s shit at that too and I think now I’ve pissed off the undead. I’m about out of ideas, what do you guys think? Todd A. Preston
Whiteman, GADear Todd:
It seems you’ve clearly failed to learn the lesson of the 80’s, Todd. Undocumented migrant workers will always be cheaper than robots, and they even continue to work after cataclysmic final battles with Voltron or the neighbor’s lahsa apso. Even if they’re no good at Nintendo, you can make up your own games like backyard wrestling, pitting one worker against another. And unlike your Robotic Operating Buddy, migrant workers often come with their own gun. Happy gaming!
the commune
Dear the commune: What’s the deal with Three Dog Night? Scratch that, what the hell IS a Three Dog Night? Or is this just one of them "chicken and the egg" pair-a-cocks that just fucks up your brain to think about it? Peace out. Stuart Harbury
Whittle, TXDear Stuart:
Beats the shit out of us. But we did find out from a used car dealer that the expression "cold enough to freeze the balls off a brass monkey" comes from the Civil War. Weird, huh? Who knew they were drinking that shit back then?
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for leaving you at the altar like that. If you couldn’t read the obvious hints that we didn’t really want to get married, written in lemon juice on our personal stationary and hidden around the house, then you’re in for a lifetime of disappointment and hurt feelings. Buy yourself a clue, and a toaster, girl.º Last Column: Volume 59º more columns
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Quote of the Day“The true measure of a man is four inches, four and a quarter. That's flaccid. No joke.”
-Samuel "Big" JohnsonFortune 500 CookieTry to remember every dog has his day, and Tuesday, it's yours, Rags. Looks like you being selected as Oprah's Book of the Month wasn't the last bad thing that'll happen to you. You still haven't taken down the Christmas decorations? Son of a bitch.
Try again later.Top Enduring 2004 Election Scandals| 1. | Bush didn't really win; they forgot to count the comatose vote | | 2. | Identical twins voted twice, ignoring "1 Face, 1 Vote" principle | | 3. | Every 13th vote discarded as "unlucky" | | 4. | Too many precincts used antiquated paper ballots | | 5. | Too many precincts used newfangled electric voting machines | | 6. | 10,000 Florida voters cast ballots for dead man: John Kerry | | 7. | Too many military absentee ballots were marked for Bush: Now that's just stupid | | 8. | No paper trail for southern state "applause-o-meter" polling technique | | 9. | Oh sweet Jesus, Bush really won! | | 10. | Eskimos kept away from polls by sheer geography | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 6/24/2002 Well hey, America! Who'd have thought you'd be back for part two of our entertainmentalicious Summer Preview? I mean, what are the chances of that? I'm not a gambling man, but if I were I'd have to bet the odds were close to 100-7-245-9. Needless to say, I'm damned impressed. I looks like you've held up your end of the bargain, so I'm going to do my best to make this EP the policiest yet. This month we're taking a gander at the ass-half of the summer movie releases and asking the age-old question: where's the manager with those ticket refunds?
In Theaters
Austin Powers in Goldmember
Everybody knows Mike Meyers is a sharp guy, but does anyone really think he can make a spoof of Jerry...
Well hey, America! Who'd have thought you'd be back for part two of our entertainmentalicious Summer Preview? I mean, what are the chances of that? I'm not a gambling man, but if I were I'd have to bet the odds were close to 100-7-245-9. Needless to say, I'm damned impressed. I looks like you've held up your end of the bargain, so I'm going to do my best to make this EP the policiest yet. This month we're taking a gander at the ass-half of the summer movie releases and asking the age-old question: where's the manager with those ticket refunds?
In Theaters
Austin Powers in Goldmember
Everybody knows Mike Meyers is a sharp guy, but does anyone really think he can make a spoof of Jerry Seinfeld's American Express commercials work for 90 minutes? Sure, there's a lot of Superman material to be mined there, but once you get past the "Invisible Man boinking Wonder Woman" joke I think it's going to get old fast.
The Crocodile Hunter: The Main Course
Now here's a concept we can all get behind: that inbred Aussie redneck finally gets his ass eaten by alligators. Or crocodiles, whatever. I don't think anyone's going to argue about snout shape when they're being thrashed around in the water with their nuts in a croc's vice-like grip. This is a film idea that was about as overdue as Britney Does the Bad News Bears. Not to mention it's got a great soundtrack that includes Men at Work's cover of Crocodile Rock and that hilarious parody song Who Let the Ducks Out? that you've been hearing about on the net.
K-19: The Widowmaker
I hate to be the bearer of shitty news, but it looks like James Belushi and that fuckin' dog are back again. This time the twist on the franchise is that the dog's got some kind of hyper space-rabies and has acquired a taste for blood, so Belushi's got to track him down (surely stepping in shit along the way) and cut the dog's heart out with a pen knife before burning it in a crematorium, blah blah blah. This trend-aping is supposed to scare us, but I'm about as scared as I was when I first saw the cover for M.C. Hammer's The Funky Headhunter album. Which is to say, pretty scared, but not for the right reasons.
Like Mike
Kidflick that probably sounded like a better deal before Tyson started head-butting people's fists and getting his ass handed to him on a regular basis. Regardless, bedwetting rap sensation Little Misogynist displays some charisma in his acting debut as a pint-size boxer who learns he can suddenly hang with the big boys when he discovers that all of his punches fall at crotch-level.
Men in Black Tubes
Hey, it worked as a Madonna video, so why not drag it out onto the silver screen and let the general non-MTV-watching public poke it with a stick, eh? That's what I'm imagining the producers thought to themselves as they sat around a martini breakfast at some swanky Hollywood gyp joint and tossed around ideas like midgets at an Arkansas bowling alley. Apparently this is one of the ideas that stuck, probably only because the rest of the producers were afraid to admit they'd never seen the video. Anyway, the final product turned out pretty arty, and no one can doubt that the Maternal Girl looks good in a wetsuit made out of plastic six-pack holder rings, but the plot lost me when they were whipping the little Chicano guy out in the rain.
Milo & Stitch
Lovers of all-animal films like Woofers the Cross-Country Dog and Barnyard Porno Volume 3 have been waiting thirteen long years for a sequel to the dark coming-of-age tale Milo & Otis, the undisputed king of the kitten-chucking genre of films. If any of them were betting that 2002 would be their year, then somebody owes them a handjob because Milo the cat is coming out of string-batting retirement for one more turn on the merry-go-round called Hollywood. Diehard fans will be happy to hear that wooden-acting little dog Otis isn't back for the sequel, thanks to his being eaten by a hippo on the set of a shampoo commercial back in the original film's heyday. He's been replaced by a Vietnamese pot-bellied pig named Stitch, who starts out the movie cute, in an ugly-little-pig kind of way, but by the end of the movie has eaten himself into some kind of belly-dragging nightmare destined to be left behind on a family camping trip. Surely the DeNiro of animal actors, Stitch goes all the way for this thinly-veiled Elvis bio-parable, with Milo lending a purring dignity as Stitch's backwoods huckster of a personal manager.
Minority Depot
Bad as it was, NBC's liberal-pleasing sitcom at least served a purpose when it was on TV. With a cast representing every racial group on the planet, plus one ignorant, backwoods, racist, sexist and certifiably ugly white dude, the show at least managed to clam up the social critics who argue that there aren't enough Korean weightlifting champion women on network sitcoms. But there is such a thing as throwing a dog too many bones, as will be evidenced when this turkey sucks its way over to the silver screen this summer. And a note to the Hollywood bigwigs in charge of this one: if you think you can pass off Tom Cruise as ugly, you've obviously never been to Pennsylvania.
The Powerpuff Girls
A trio of New Jersey High School broads discover that a whole new world opens up to them when they spend their Sweet 16 birthday loot on breast enlargement surgery. Teaches the powerful lesson to young girls everywhere that money can't buy you love, but it can buy you a nice rack and a lifetime of popularity and marriage proposals, not to mention a sweet gig as a trophy wife. I tell you, chicks have the life.
Rain of Fire
Jesus Christ, somebody want to tell me who pissed off Prince so bad? Last time I checked he was a soft-spoken boogie machine with a flair for offensive asswear, now I turn around and he's some kind of Hollywood angel of death? I thought I was going to get some hot, half-naked dancing mulattos, not Nine Inch Nails, The Movie. I don't want to start any rumors, but I think somebody must have keyed his little red corvette something awful.
Road to Perdition
There are about three people on the planet who think you can make a Road… picture without Bob Hope and Bing Crosby, and apparently Tom Hanks is one of them. And whoever thought the snore-inducing berg of Perdition, Florida was an exotic locale on par with Bali, Hong Kong and Zanzibar needs to have his dentures rinsed off. Hanks and Paul Newman do their best to keep the laughs coming as a couple of numb-nutted mafia hitmen, but this series was old back when Bob Hope still had that "new guy" smell.
Stuart Little 2
Talk about timing. Everybody's been waiting since they were five for that lying little duck to get what's coming to him, and it looks like the sky's about to fall on Stuart Little. We all love to see a little comeuppance dished out to some hothead who never learned the lesson of The Boy Who Cried Wolverine, but I'll personally be in line just to see how far the technology of duck-bashing has come since the Daffy-blasting days of my youth.
Whew, America, I think that's about that. I hope your summer is full of big-screen thrills and painless sprints to the restrooms during the dull scenes. Check back in a month and who knows what you'll find in this spot? I'm serious, I'm not even sure myself. But if I know Hollywood, they'll keep churning out the review fodder and we should get along fine. One more thing America: I don't know if Jennifer Connelly is going to get naked in The Hulk, so you can stop emailing me about it any time now. What am I supposed to be, her girlfriend slash confidant or something? Just because you roll with the commune doesn't always mean everybody takes your calls all the time, or even if you're a commune writer pretending to be from E! Online. See you next time!   |
