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A keen smile and a sharp knife
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German Man Denies Teaching Dog Nazi Salute

February 9, 2004
Berlin, Germany
Berlin PD
Adolf, seen here defiantly mugging for his kennel booking photo
A
54-year-old Berlin man was arrested on charges of contributing to the delinquency of a house pet last week for allegedly teaching his dog the “Heil Hitler” salute, according to German authorities. Though he admits his sheepdog can do the salute, Hans Roland insists he must have learned the gesture from other dogs in the neighborhood.

“It’s not my fault the pound sold me a Nazi dog,” claimed Roland through an interpreter. “You never know what you’re going to get, a carpet pee-er or a radical skinhead or whatever.”

“Sieg Heil!” screamed Roland at the sheepdog, Adolf, after it began to lower its paw.

When this reporter pointed out that Roland’s denials were implausible, given that he was wearing a t-shirt with a picture of A...Read more...


Polish Roof Falls in Following "Drinks Are on the House" Debacle

Gas prices expected to rise because oil companies just complete dicks

Stupid Mexican dog talks but not in English

Poison Probe Reveals 90% of Packaged Foods Actually Dog Food



September 26, 2011

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Return to Zender (Week 24)

Greetings, communistas! Apologies for the long gap in writing, things have been moving too fast and furious here at commune headquarters to allow much time for reflection. I just realized the other day that I’ve been wearing the same pair of socks for three days, and trust me, I have showered in that time. So hopefully that adequately reflects the level of hubbub going on around here lately.

No update from the last four months would be complete without mentioning the Gnarlap. Sometime around week 11 it became clear there was some kind of mythical beast living in the crawl space underneath my mother’s house. Not the basement, mind you, but the crawl space beneath the basement. Don’t ask me why we have a crawl space under our basement, faithful commune reader, I’m not a damned architect, and the police have already pursued that line of questioning to its fruitless conclusion. Just rest assured that it is there, and there is some kind of troll-like monster living in there and making a lot of noise and generating some kind of awful smell that Griswald Dreck is convinced is unmistakably the stench of a Gnarlap web. Raoul Dunkin was skeptical of this until the day he came home and found that the Gnarlap had eaten all of his Chicken in a Biskits, at which point he was convinced, and enraged.

As you might imagine, an exterminator was called, and as you might also imagine, if you’re particularly imaginative or an especial fan of the mid-1980’s...Read more...


º Last Column: Return to Zender (Week 8)
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November 24, 2003

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Don't Believe the Hype

Don't soil your couch or anything, but I've officially been banned from the Saturn dealership. Actually, technically I think I'm banned from all Saturn dealerships worldwide, but I don't believe for a second they're so organized I couldn't walk into a showroom in Iraq someplace with a fake beard and test out a car or make off with an armload of donuts if I wanted. At best I think the overseas dealerships have a vague description of me and some trademark sayings, but that shit's easy enough to fake. I've already got some hilarious platform shoes saved up and I've been itching to use that accent from Scarface for something for a while anyway, so I'd like to see those Iraqi bastards try to keep me out of one of their gay little toy cars.

Not that I was really sold on the idea of buying a Saturn, mind you. Where I'm from, that shit'll get you bitchslapped like you were carrying around a book. "Nice car, Oppenheimer." Right, like I need that noise. But the thing is, I was watching TV the other day, trying to find that channel with the temperature on it to see if it was cold outside, when I spied that ad about how Saturns are made out of some insane Klingon plastic where you can hit that shit with a golf club and the dent pops right out like superman's balls.

So right away the gears start turning and I'm thinking about the advantages to having a car made out of that stuff, gay little shitbox or not. Like what if that shit is bulletproof? Holy God...Read more...


º Last Column: They Don't Call it a Blood Drive for Nothing
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Milestones
1975: Bludney Pludd is born. He didn't make a big deal about it at the time and we're certainly not going to change that tradition now.
Now Hiring
Knife-Thrower. Should be capable of agile manipulation of melee weapons for entertaining stage spectacle, including throwing blades at volunteer Bludney Pludd. No references required, but we will insist on counting fingers.
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BY Roland McShyster
4/16/2007
Hola shit, gringos. It’s south- of-the- border Roland McShyster coming to you from our continental neighbors, Mexico. Cancun is all ablaze with its usual brilliance as young people flock by the hundreds to the international Wordloaf festival. That means sharp spelling, wit, and cerveza by the cold cases. Roland McShyster is all over ivy tower intellectual fare like that. But it doesn’t mean I can neglect my movie-reviewing duties, and I don’t have to since directors all send Roland M. their movies on DVD screeners, just hoping for that review blurb that will land the asses in the seats. Watch as I don’t fail to disappoint.

Disturbia

Oh, yeah, let’s kick it cool style with another gripping and gritty story of a real-life rapper who made his way to...Read more...

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