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Suspected U.S. Puppet Cleric Killed in IraqJune 28, 2004
Baghdad, Iraq
Assad the Unseen
Von Poppel attempts to lead the crowd in a chant of "Hey! Ho!" moments before the figs began flying
J
ust days before the scheduled transfer of power to Iraqi officials, the U.S. occupation suffered another major blow when radical Shiite head cleric and suspected U.S. puppet Boner Von Poppel was killed during a community uprising in Baghdad. The elderly fig farmers who stoned Von Poppel to death with unripe figs believed the Shiite religious leader has been installed by the United States to manipulate the local population and retain U.S. control of the region beyond the date of Iraqi sovereignty. While the U.S. denies claims that Von Poppel had been inserted into Iraq by the CIA to advance U.S. interests, local residents never completely accepted the cleric as one of their own, due in part to his B-boy style of dress and lack of facility with the Iraqi language.

When confronte...Read more...


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October 18, 2004

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A Vote For Bush is A Vote For Bush! Bush!

Never before in the course of history has one nation so collectively possessed a mental deficiency.

How many polls must come out, one after the other, simply to infuriate me with the conflicting information that the president's approval rating lies around 42% or lower, while up to 49% claim they will vote for him again? Can this be accurate? You're telling me, at any time, up to 7% of voting Americans believe George W. Moron is doing a shitty job as president, and yet they plan on sending him back? At least reality TV is explained for me. Seven or more percent of our population can watch horrific behavior and keep watching just to see how bad things will get.

Well, you've done it—I’m forced to my knees, hands together in the theistic praying fashion, begging you: Don't re-elect the dumbest man in America.

I suppose you ask me to make a case for voting against Bush. Oh, where to start, where to start? Let's begin with personal insults. He is clearly not done evolving. Since he is among the latest in the Bush line, we have to suppose the devolution is perhaps beginning. And let's not forget his grasp of the English language compares unfavorably to that of Taxi's Latka Gravas. He demonstrates a laughable knowledge of American politics, which is disappointing enough for your average high school graduate, but in a president, it's scrotum-shrink terrifying.

A devastating list of personal indictments of the man, and I...Read more...


º Last Column: Just a Minor Setback in the Raoul Dunkin Story
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July 12, 2004

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Child Star for Hire

Let the word come down from the Mountaintops, which is Red Bagel's nickname for the commune offices: Clarissa Coleman needs work. Sure, anyone who knows me knows I want work, but now I need work. My legal troubles are finished now, you may have seen the segment on Court TV or read about the out-of-court settlement in the paper, or The Guinness Book of World Records, the page on outrageous payoffs. Damn Jerry Nascar, that's all I'm saying. As for you-know-who, the nice lady who filed the lawsuit, I'm not legally allowed to mention her name ever again. So let's pretend I'm referring to someone else whenever I use the word Skankabitch.

Getting back to work, which is what I'm here for, let's just say the settlement is bad enough, but I've got legal fees by the buttload. Before all this, work was just some way to have fun and a shortcut to fame. Now it's do-or-die. I'm not having luck finding too many high-profile film and television roles to pay the bills—of course, that was the story before Skankabitch sued. So now I have to shorten the list of stuff I won't do even more. It's a talent clearance sale—every one must go.

It's a great sale for producers of weird shows. C.S.I., you listening? I'll even play a dead body. Bullets fly through my head, shatter brain and bone and crap—it looks like it hurts, but I'll try anything once. Any shows where I have to wear a prosthetic piece or a mask or anything, I'll do it. Put me in a...Read more...


º Last Column: And Justice for Nothing
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Quote of the Day
“Upon being stopped by the Customs Officer during my trip to America, he asked: 'Have you anything to declare?' I burst forward, telling him, 'Only my genius!' I was promptly beaten to a piteous pulp and subjected to a humiliating search. Needless to say, they found my weed.”

-Wildman Oscar Davies
Fortune 500 Cookie
By next week you will not believe what passes for a blowjob these days. Guess how many quarters I have in my left pocket and I will be quite surprised. I said don't cauliflower last week? I did? That doesn't sound like something I'd say. Remember, trust no one. Including me. If you believe that, you're a fool.


Try again later.
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View Past Columns
BY Red Bagel
2/21/2005
A Fistful of Tannenbaum, Chapter 10: The World's Biggest Plane
Editor's Note: Jed Foster and frequent houseguest Paulette Standiford made the trip to N.O.R.T.O.N. to discover the Bomb of Ages, a bomb so big it could not be dropped on anybody via conventional planes. Then, just when the threat of characterization might have creeped in, they were captured by Foster's arch-nemesis Professor Hyman von Hufnagel, a German bastard. Incidentally, Paulette's name has been changed to Daisy Pantshappy, on the advice of the author's lawyers.

It was eight miles long, and plenty wide, a sheer black-skinned behemoth with a wingspan so big it passed through your state and probably your pen pal's, too. It was a plane—the world's biggest plane, and was made for the express purpose of dropping the world's biggest bomb. The plane was so big...Read more...

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