| 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';
?> | 
 March 31, 2003 |
President Bush celebrates his victory after months of lobbying Academy voters
In a tearful acceptance speech marked by his endearing broken English, the president thanked God, his campaign contributors, Big Oil, Tammy Wynette, God "and anyone who's ever had a dream."
After a heart-rending string of several moments when Bush forgot why he was at the podium, the president ended his speech with a salute to the...
I>Operation Enduring Freedom, President Bush's fantasy about one dyslexic man-boy's quest to liberate Iraq from the tyranny of a dangerous criminal mastermind, claimed four Oscars last Sunday, including best adapted screenplay. The script was adapted from his father George Herbert Walker Bush's record-grossing Operation Desert Storm, which took home nine Academy Awards in 1991, including Best Special Effects and Best Costumes.
In a tearful acceptance speech marked by his endearing broken English, the president thanked God, his campaign contributors, Big Oil, Tammy Wynette, God "and anyone who's ever had a dream."
After a heart-rending string of several moments when Bush forgot why he was at the podium, the president ended his speech with a salute to the father, the son and the holy thing before wandering away from the podium muttering about bombing Turkey.
Iraq was clearly the subject on everyone's mind for the night, as many of the award winners made remarkable antiwar statements and peppered their acceptance speeches with deeply moving commentary.
"At times like this we need to honor the real heroes," gushed a teary-eyed Best Actress Nicole Kidman. "The men and women who keep this country great by playing soldiers in major motion pictures, reminding us what it's like to die for your country, or the country where you make money. People like Josh Hartnett. I wish he were here tonight, to celebrate with us."
Hartnett, who was in the men's room getting a blowjob at the time of the speech, took the honor in stride. "Nah man, I'm not a hero. When we were out filming in Bosnia, the catering people were the real heros. Those bagel sandwiches were awesome."
After Kidman's moving speech, host Steve Martin lightened the mood by announcing that Hartnett would be starring this summer in Pearl Harbor II: America Bombs the Sand People with Bruce Willis and John Leguizamo.
Director Steven Spielberg, on hand in case any spare Oscars went unclaimed, raised the consciousness of the room when he spoke out against Saddam Hussein's use of human shields in the early stages of the war. "America has no choice but to remove from power a leader who would put thousands of innocent people in harm's way by not putting all of his tanks and things out in the desert where we can blow them up easy like last time. He gives us no choice but to attack and kill civilians so that we might liberate them." Spielberg's comments were met with loud applause from an audience that contained suspiciously few survivors from the United States' bombing of Hiroshima and Nagasaki in 1945.
Best Documentary Film winner Michael Moore drew angry boos from the fickle crowd for his anti-war statements, leading some to speculate that the audience wasn't actually listening to the words and was just cheering for the general attractiveness of the speakers.
Best Supporting Actress Catherine Zeta-Jones also spoke out against the war in her brief acceptance speech:
"Fuck you all, I'm pregnant."
In a surprise humanitarian move, Miramax head Harvey Weinstein announced that all of Miramax's eighteen Oscar-winning films will be re-released to the theaters this month, in an effort to help Americans cope with the stresses of war. the commune news will refer all future questions of journalistic integrity to a boombox playing Bobby Brown's seminal 1988 hit My Prerogative. Ivana Folger-Balzac has recently leapfrogged over taxes and is soon to overtake death on the list of unpleasant things in life that cannot be avoided.
 |
U.S. responds to potential "laser pointer" terrorists with army of ushers
 Obama to Change Spelling of Name to oBAMa for Maximum Impact
commune Apologizes for Calling Quvenzhané Wallis a Cunt, We Meant Keisha Knight Pulliam
Oliver Stone arrested for drug possession, knowing too much
|
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.” Congress Lobbied for More Material to Complete Brando Memorial Impotent Landslide in China Kills Only Micro-Fraction of Glorious Population |
| |
| 
 January 20, 2003
Volume 34Dear commune:
The commune's support of Bush's war on Iraq is absurd, unconscionable, indefensible, illogical, unforgivable, indigestible, uncharacteristic, reprehensible, unpardonable, unfathomable, incestual, reversible, unilateral, pink-assed unicycle bullshit. How can your organization support such an obviously wrong-headed military action that is nothing more than a thinly disguised play for cheaper oil mixed with revenge for the attempted assassination of George Bush Sr. in Kuwait in 1993? Frankly, I expected more from the commune. I'm not sure why, but I did.
Sincerely,
Gromer P. Slyde
Velmont, NM
Dear Gromer:
As fun as it was to receive your letter and the accompanying diagrams, we're sorry to say it was merely the product of an honest misunderstanding. When we said that the commune supports "Bush's War," we meant Bush's war on the English language. Not the one with Iraq. We should have been more clear, as we of all people know it's easy to get Bush's many personal vendettas mixed up. We'd also like to make it clear at this time that we were not referring to Bush's wars on the environment, terrorism, the popular vote, business ethics, the poor, the U.N., the international community, snack foods, that goofy fucker over in North Korea or Chinese finger traps. Thanks.
the...
º Last Column: Volume 33
º more columns
Dear commune: The commune's support of Bush's war on Iraq is absurd, unconscionable, indefensible, illogical, unforgivable, indigestible, uncharacteristic, reprehensible, unpardonable, unfathomable, incestual, reversible, unilateral, pink-assed unicycle bullshit. How can your organization support such an obviously wrong-headed military action that is nothing more than a thinly disguised play for cheaper oil mixed with revenge for the attempted assassination of George Bush Sr. in Kuwait in 1993? Frankly, I expected more from the commune. I'm not sure why, but I did. Sincerely, Gromer P. Slyde
Velmont, NMDear Gromer:
As fun as it was to receive your letter and the accompanying diagrams, we're sorry to say it was merely the product of an honest misunderstanding. When we said that the commune supports "Bush's War," we meant Bush's war on the English language. Not the one with Iraq. We should have been more clear, as we of all people know it's easy to get Bush's many personal vendettas mixed up. We'd also like to make it clear at this time that we were not referring to Bush's wars on the environment, terrorism, the popular vote, business ethics, the poor, the U.N., the international community, snack foods, that goofy fucker over in North Korea or Chinese finger traps. Thanks.
the commune
Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for the decline in McDonalds' profits, we merely suggested that the McRatburger may not be 100% kosher.º Last Column: Volume 33º more columns
| 
|  September 30, 2002
Just a Minor Setback in the Raoul Dunkin StorySalutations to you, commune reader, assuming you're reading these columns and not merely gazing at the pretty colors while waiting for your Girls Gone Wild video clip to download. Forgive my gruff manner, but the Raoul Dunkin story has taken a swerve and crash lately, and I'm not in the best of moods.
In life you like to feel like you're constantly moving forward, and not backwards. Sometimes it's necessary to take a step backward, then two steps forward, like some kind of insidious conga line of the damned. Let's just say that I'm back in that conga line, stuck in the back with my paws on Sampson L. Hartwig's dusty hips and with Boner Cunningham's Vaseline-coated palms sliding up and down me in a sickly fashion. Back at the commune—neither above nor below hell, just slightly to the left.
A recent court ruling decided that maybe I could pay a judgment debt to the commune and Red Bagel in particular by returning to work here, and I suppose it's fair; or if not fair, un-appealable. I've gotten over arguing with my lawyer and blaming him for everything gone wrong in my life and I'm here to make peace with it all, and introduce myself to you. Not that you haven't had an introduction already, thanks to my friends at the commune; not a day goes by where I don't hear, "Hey! It's Palace Limp-Dick Raoul Dunkin!" or some other witty greeting on the street. Mine will be a little more personal.
I started off at the commune in the...
º Last Column: Volume 33
º more columns
Salutations to you, commune reader, assuming you're reading these columns and not merely gazing at the pretty colors while waiting for your Girls Gone Wild video clip to download. Forgive my gruff manner, but the Raoul Dunkin story has taken a swerve and crash lately, and I'm not in the best of moods. In life you like to feel like you're constantly moving forward, and not backwards. Sometimes it's necessary to take a step backward, then two steps forward, like some kind of insidious conga line of the damned. Let's just say that I'm back in that conga line, stuck in the back with my paws on Sampson L. Hartwig's dusty hips and with Boner Cunningham's Vaseline-coated palms sliding up and down me in a sickly fashion. Back at the commune—neither above nor below hell, just slightly to the left. A recent court ruling decided that maybe I could pay a judgment debt to the commune and Red Bagel in particular by returning to work here, and I suppose it's fair; or if not fair, un-appealable. I've gotten over arguing with my lawyer and blaming him for everything gone wrong in my life and I'm here to make peace with it all, and introduce myself to you. Not that you haven't had an introduction already, thanks to my friends at the commune; not a day goes by where I don't hear, "Hey! It's Palace Limp-Dick Raoul Dunkin!" or some other witty greeting on the street. Mine will be a little more personal. I started off at the commune in the beginning of its web birth. I was the first to point out to Red Bagel that a black background and black text make the stories more difficult to read. My thanks was a dirty scowl and a desk drawer full of cooked noodles, which would have been more of a disappointment if I weren't so happy to receive the desk at the time. In short, I helped make the commune what it is today. If you hate me, I don't blame you, I hate myself for it. And since I took off for brighter horizons after we were established, everyone else from that era hates me also. Well, excuse the hell out of me for wanting those nice little perks of a secure job, like being paid in American currency and not having to wear disguises when going into the office. How dare I long for something more than spending drunken nights in the newsroom with the stereo playing, "MacArthur Park" while fearless Editor Red Bagel explains again how the strip searches are necessary to prevent government agents from wiring us in our sleep to eavesdrop on the office. Until the lawsuit, in fact, I was never so sure of anything in my life as I was leaving the commune for M-TV. Sure, M-TV fired me for lacking "pep," whatever that is, but it set me on the paths of waiter jobs and doing maintenance on the machines at Kinko's that brought me back to writing—serious writing, playwriting. I was doing pretty damn well. My mistake was not more cleverly disguising my life story and, particularly, the Red Bagel character in my play. You got me, Bagel, what can I say? Once you were kind of like a father to me. Now you're completely like a father: I hate your guts and I can't wait until you're dead so I can inherit your rock polisher and other knickknacks. Then you'll finally have done me some good. But again, this is a minor setback. The Raoul Dunkin story is much longer than this, and this is merely the depressing drunken newsroom "MacArthur Park"-listening conspiracy-drowning calm before the storm. Like Gloria Gaynor, I will survive, and unlike Gloria Gaynor, I will have another hit. Rest assured, though, until that day, Raoul Dunkin will put all his effort into making the commune better than it's ever been. After I have a cigarette. I'm jonesing for one bad. º Last Column: Volume 33º more columns
|
| |
Milestones1812: Some kind of war of note happened, probably involving some big shot historical guys. People waved their dicks around and shouted, most likely.Now HiringBitchin' Ninja. Ass-kicking ninja needed for sword-swallowing, punching through solid rock, hiding underwater for days at a time, providing tactical superiority over other online news-magazines, cosmetics consultations, brick-laying, snowboarding out of airplanes, cooking delicious soufflés, cowering foes with a steely glare, and taxidermy. Mystical world-view a plus.Top T.V. Shows| 1. | Friends, NBC | | 2. | New Friends, NBC | | 3. | Wilma & Non-Threatening Abstinent Gay Man, NBC | | 4. | Black Friends, UPN | | 5. | Star Truck: Interstate, UPN | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 8/4/2003 Well how the hell are ya, America? Excuse my saucy tone, but I'm fuckin' smashed. That's right… wait, what were we talking about? Movies! Blow 'em out your ass, America! I'm fuckin' sick of movies, this week we're going to review vegetables. Cucumbers! Radishes! En… Endives! Yeah!
Alright, smartass, I'm out of vegetables. Here's your goddamn movies:
In Theaters
American Wedding
A formerly hardass franchise has gone all Friends on us, ladies and gentlemen. Hollywood's obese felines are betting you'll slap down your hard-earned pesos to watch these dirtballs get hitched, and I say screw 'em! Screw 'em and their imported water. If I wanted to see somebody stick their...
Well how the hell are ya, America? Excuse my saucy tone, but I'm fuckin' smashed. That's right… wait, what were we talking about? Movies! Blow 'em out your ass, America! I'm fuckin' sick of movies, this week we're going to review vegetables. Cucumbers! Radishes! En… Endives! Yeah!
Alright, smartass, I'm out of vegetables. Here's your goddamn movies:
In Theaters
American Wedding
A formerly hardass franchise has gone all Friends on us, ladies and gentlemen. Hollywood's obese felines are betting you'll slap down your hard-earned pesos to watch these dirtballs get hitched, and I say screw 'em! Screw 'em and their imported water. If I wanted to see somebody stick their dick in a wedding cake I would have gone to my cousin Dave's wedding last month. So let me be the first to add this movie to my list of things we're all boycotting: Pizza Hut, the boyscouts and this movie. Oh, and vegetables. Fuck vegetables. You heard it here first.
Fucking Friday
Jamie Lee Curtis and some anonymous tampon star in this triple-hashed remake of all those "Dad woke up with his teenage son's boner" movies from the 80's. Only now it's a mother and daughter sharing the misery, and it's not a onetime deal, but rather a once-a-week hassle that the family has come to know derisively as Fucking Friday. The expected faux-hilarity ensues, with daughter getting hot flashes and mom getting hot pants, blah blah blah. The bulk of the film consists of queasy sequences featuring mom being pawed by underage slobs with beer on their breath and daughter air-sickness bagging her way through routine, mechanical sex with dad, both of which I sincerely could have done without. Somebody actually found Mark Harmon buried in the wreck of the Lusitania and dug him up to co-star as the hot neighbor who may or may not have mind-switched with a two-year-old Latino boy. They must have figured Harmon had the necessary experience with catastrophes, but at least the first time around he probably got some decent seafood.
Gigli
With his latest picture, Ben Affleck proves he's whiter than any of us could have possibly imagined, despite his current marital status as a lemur clinging tenaciously to Jennifer Lopez's ass. Affleck plays Larry Gigli, a walking punchline whose constant references to "gettin' Gigli wit it" demonstrate that Affleck can't even appropriate faux-black culture from Will Smith, of all people. Thankfully, J-Lo sings a song on the soundtrack, so maximum camp value is achieved, allowing audiences to enjoy the film on an ironic level even if they like acting and music.
The Secret Lives of Dennis
Who out there among you didn't think it was too late for a Head of the Class spin-off movie? Okay, that's not many hands, but I'll assume that's because not many of you foresaw the possibility, or even recall the show from your cocaine-encrusted chest of 80's memories. For those of you that did think a spin-off was a good idea, wouldn't you have spun off a movie around rebel loner Eric or even geek chic Arvid? Okay, you guys with your hands still up are just fucking with me, go on home and quit busting my balls. As for the rest of you, were you really thinking of going to this movie? Good God man, don't you have some chores to do? Stay home and spellcheck your suicide note or something, for the love of all that is holy.
S.W.A.T.
The latest Playstation game to skip the Playstation and come straight to the theater is a loose (and I mean like the cousin that let you feel her up at the family reunion loose) sequel to the 1994 Stephen "Midget Golfer" Dorf flick S.F.W.. This is not to be confused with the Bridget "Anaconda" Fonda handjob S.W.F. (Super White Female) or the Three Stooges flick W.F.S. (Where the Fuck is Shep?). Since the original wasn't actually about anything, the producers had the leeway to build the sequel from the ground up, and to give the franchise a kick in the ass by making it a blaxploitation thrill ride. As with the original, the American public was deemed too square to be exposed to this film's title in its full glory (Some White-Ass Turkeys), but savvy filmgoers should know without being told that Samuel L. Jackson wouldn't get mixed up in another lame movie about the actual S.W.A.T. team, not after The Negotiator. Though he did still manage to walk into a door frame by not demanding that the screenwriter change his character's name from Hohmo, I can't help but think that's going to get more laughs than any of the actual jokes in the picture.
Alright, everybody out unless they want Bacardi on their pants! You got your movies, now leave Uncle Roland to drown his sorrows in a kiddie pool full of inexpensive rum. Check back in another two weeks, but if nobody answers when you knock then just dream up your own pithy comments for once. Lazy bastards.    |
