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American Media Can Shut Up About Harry Potter Any Time NowNovember 26, 2001 |
Hollywood, CA Mite Yarnmouth/AP Harry Potter, who most Americans hope will magically disappear for like five seconds. pokespeople for the American media-consuming culture spoke Friday, sending out the word that we hear what you're saying about this Harry Potter phenomenon and the American media can lay off for a little while already.
Besieged by reports about the success of the hugely popular Harry Potter books by British author J.K. Rowling, the American public has recently been assaulted with constant unwanted information about the film Harry Potter and the Soceror's Stone, released Nov. 16, 2001 to monstrous audiences, making it one of the most successful movies of 2001.
"What are we, five?" said spokesperson for the American public Ralph Mackie.
"Yeah, okay, just shut up about the shit already, okay?" pleaded spokesperson Nancy Shumaker. "I know all ab...
pokespeople for the American media-consuming culture spoke Friday, sending out the word that we hear what you're saying about this Harry Potter phenomenon and the American media can lay off for a little while already.
Besieged by reports about the success of the hugely popular Harry Potter books by British author J.K. Rowling, the American public has recently been assaulted with constant unwanted information about the film Harry Potter and the Soceror's Stone, released Nov. 16, 2001 to monstrous audiences, making it one of the most successful movies of 2001.
"What are we, five?" said spokesperson for the American public Ralph Mackie.
"Yeah, okay, just shut up about the shit already, okay?" pleaded spokesperson Nancy Shumaker. "I know all about the movie and I don't give a rat's ass. I don't have any kids or nothing, what do you want me to do? Am I really supposed to care?"
Spokesperson John Umala empathized. "I just was starting to enjoy not hearing about friggin' Survivor every five seconds, then I'm blasted at every angle by terrorism. Can't I get a minute of peace without being slammed with over-hype on anything?"
When questioned about any possible chance of shutting the fuck up about it, executives at Warner Bros. declined to comment. No guarantees to stop talking about it for at least a minute were made.
The corporate-generated media hype is possibly the largest since 1999, when nearly every facet of the American media refused to give Star Wars: The Phantom Menace a rest, will you? the commune news really wants to hurt you, really wants to make you cry. Ted Ted is unable to stay dry-eyed through any episode of Little House on the Prairie, that Laura Ingalls was just so darling.
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 May 12, 2003
Time to Renew Your Smut LicenseI used to have a music teacher who wouldn't tell you your grade, he'd just play that note on a tuba and you had to figure it out. Bastard. Not that I really cared, I just wanted to get a D flat so I wouldn't have to take the damned class again.
From what I read in the papers, not much has changed since then. Sounds like the bastards are still in charge. The latest hoopla is over these two college coaches who porked Lady Disgrace right out on the national stage and both balled their way right out of a job. One had a thing for underage college girls, for the other it was strippers, but those are just two ends of the same Madonna/whore complex. Some would hesitate to compare seasoned professional strippers to the Virgin Mary, but they haven't spent much time with underage college girls. They make Madonna look like the other Madonna, it's amazing.
Most commentators are taking these events as further evidence that college athletics are totally out of hand. As if Cro-Magnon jocks with bulging forehead muscles earning degrees in astrophysics for passing the academic equivalent of a roadside sobriety test wasn't enough, now the coaches think they're above the law of common decency themselves. And those commentators do have a point, though I don't really think college athletics were ever really in hand. It's always been a screwy system, but if somebody had told me years ago you could get a scholarship for being good at P.E. class instead of math, I probably...
º Last Column: Astral Spies º more columns
I used to have a music teacher who wouldn't tell you your grade, he'd just play that note on a tuba and you had to figure it out. Bastard. Not that I really cared, I just wanted to get a D flat so I wouldn't have to take the damned class again.
From what I read in the papers, not much has changed since then. Sounds like the bastards are still in charge. The latest hoopla is over these two college coaches who porked Lady Disgrace right out on the national stage and both balled their way right out of a job. One had a thing for underage college girls, for the other it was strippers, but those are just two ends of the same Madonna/whore complex. Some would hesitate to compare seasoned professional strippers to the Virgin Mary, but they haven't spent much time with underage college girls. They make Madonna look like the other Madonna, it's amazing.
Most commentators are taking these events as further evidence that college athletics are totally out of hand. As if Cro-Magnon jocks with bulging forehead muscles earning degrees in astrophysics for passing the academic equivalent of a roadside sobriety test wasn't enough, now the coaches think they're above the law of common decency themselves. And those commentators do have a point, though I don't really think college athletics were ever really in hand. It's always been a screwy system, but if somebody had told me years ago you could get a scholarship for being good at P.E. class instead of math, I probably would have tried harder at crab-walking through that damned obstacle course.
Anybody who has to deal with the public at all knows that the U.S. populace on average writes at about a third-grade level, and I'm talking about third graders who are more concerned with having perfectly crimped hair and the flashiest charm bracelets than excelling in their studies. People complain that the informality of email has led to the downgrading of written communication to the sub-literate level. What they don't realize is that before email, most Americans had no use for written communication beyond a sticky note on the refrigerator asking who tried to flush a pineapple down the toilet. Email hasn't dumbed down America's writing, it merely exposed how brain-shellacingly shitty it was in the first place.
But that having been said, I still think the real problem these shenanigans are indicative of is the issue of America the Oversexed. I'm not really sure if people are actually having more sex than they used to, but they certainly feel as if they're expected to. Nothing in America has any value any more unless it has sex appeal, it doesn't matter if it's a movie about Watergate or a jar of pickles. Anybody who's having sex with his normal-looking wife is made to feel like he's letting his country down, and God save you if you aren't having sex at all. Might as well put on one of those giant beefeater hats and quit kidding everyone, comrade.
If we really want to cut down on public figures having sexual partners we don't approve of, perhaps we should limit their exposure to a popular culture that demands all men should be having sex with 16-24 year old girls. Men displaying a shaky grasp of social mores would have their popular culture licenses suspended before they mistake an intern for a humidor or write "sorority kegger" in their dayplanners. You wouldn't wave a vodka and tonic under an alcoholic's nose, so why taunt these guys with Tom Green movies and Erotic Survivor?
Just an idea. It could work, and it's sure as hell a lot easier than teaching these young girls some goddamned self-respect. Man. º Last Column: Astral Spiesº more columns
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|  June 9, 2003
Ape Skills"It takes a nation of millions just to keep a shitty sitcom on the air."
My dad once told me, "Boy, it takes a smart man to get a job these days. But it takes a good man to…" At that point the dog had gotten firm hold of his throat and I couldn't understand what he was saying anymore, but it was probably something about a good man knowing when to admit he's wrong or something. That dog came out of nowhere, now that I think about it.
Dad was a grease monkey, but he preferred the term "motor-fixin' ape." That was as good as he could talk everyone into calling him anyway. He worked at the garage down the street, fixing in any broken cars they would bring in. Or not fixing them, if they were difficult or took a long time or something. He wasn't crazy. But my dad always used to say, "Son, a man with skills is a man who can…" Something. I don't remember the rest of it. I only heard the full version once or twice, usually some birds would crash into his head or a marmot would leap out of a garbage can and latch onto his goodies like a vise.
It doesn't really matter, because a man with skills is probably a good thing, is what he was meaning, and I don't have any. It's not a big downer to me at all. Some people are good at certain things, while I'm good at not being good at anything. It bothered me when I was little, then I started spending a lot of time in unventilated rooms that were just painted. Now I don't worry about anything....
º Last Column: Genuine Draft º more columns
"It takes a nation of millions just to keep a shitty sitcom on the air."
My dad once told me, "Boy, it takes a smart man to get a job these days. But it takes a good man to…" At that point the dog had gotten firm hold of his throat and I couldn't understand what he was saying anymore, but it was probably something about a good man knowing when to admit he's wrong or something. That dog came out of nowhere, now that I think about it.
Dad was a grease monkey, but he preferred the term "motor-fixin' ape." That was as good as he could talk everyone into calling him anyway. He worked at the garage down the street, fixing in any broken cars they would bring in. Or not fixing them, if they were difficult or took a long time or something. He wasn't crazy. But my dad always used to say, "Son, a man with skills is a man who can…" Something. I don't remember the rest of it. I only heard the full version once or twice, usually some birds would crash into his head or a marmot would leap out of a garbage can and latch onto his goodies like a vise.
It doesn't really matter, because a man with skills is probably a good thing, is what he was meaning, and I don't have any. It's not a big downer to me at all. Some people are good at certain things, while I'm good at not being good at anything. It bothered me when I was little, then I started spending a lot of time in unventilated rooms that were just painted. Now I don't worry about anything. Maybe age makes you wiser. Budweiser. Sure, I could go for one about now.
The best thing about not being able to do anything is that nobody calls on you to do them a favor. No one gets pissed if you can't remember who called while they were out because they know your memory is shitty. No one asks to help you move once they know you drop stuff like it's chili pepper hot and their furniture is all expensive. No one asks you to cover for them if the boss shows up because they know you're not even good at lying. So if you see the bright side, it's better not being able to do anything.
I guess that's one thing I do well, see the bright side of everything. Like when life gives you lemons and you make lemonade, then you taste and realize someone pissed in your lemonade. I'm the kind of guy who says, "Well, now I know what piss tastes like so I'll never have to wonder." Then the kids tell me I spoiled all their fun and they won't sell me anymore lemonade, even with piss in it. But that's just more money I can spend on mouthwash. Always a bright side, dudes.
But if that's one thing I do well, now I gotta worry about people bothering me to do that. "Hey, Loser—I just woke up with a hobo's dick in my mouth. What's the bright side of that?" I've created a whole new avenue of work for just me.
Sometimes I really am a dumbass. º Last Column: Genuine Draftº more columns
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Milestones1961: Cuban immigrant Lazlo Homales buries a small change purse in a remote section of upstate New York. Over 40 years later, commune reporter Ivan Nacutchacokov finds the purse with a metal detector, and—what the crap, two dollars?? Lousy poor immigrants!Now HiringHall Monitor. Duties include asking to see hall passes, looking like an authority figure and keeping the unpopular commune staff members out of the staff lounge. Good grades a plus.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | How Do You Keep a Moron in Suspense? | | 2. | Uncle Macho's Naked Lunch | | 3. | Grenades Are from Granada and other Historical Nuggets | | 4. | Raoul Dunkin: Pussyfoot | | 5. | The Best of Wrinkly Raisin Breasts | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Ray Manatino 1/7/2002 Dreamin' in DreamlandI'm dreamin' a dream of a dream
I once had
about a dream that I had once before
The one where the fish flip and follow
each other
diving deep in the dark down below
The one where I'm swimming
safe and secure
sailing a salt-silent sea
The one where I'm dreaming I'm
dreaming I'm dreaming
and three times I can't wake up
The one where the waves wash
the walls all around me
or they would if I weren't in a meeting right...
I'm dreamin' a dream of a dream
I once had
about a dream that I had once before
The one where the fish flip and follow
each other
diving deep in the dark down below
The one where I'm swimming
safe and secure
sailing a salt-silent sea
The one where I'm dreaming I'm
dreaming I'm dreaming
and three times I can't wake up
The one where the waves wash
the walls all around me
or they would if I weren't in a meeting right now.   |