Ohio Rep. Traficant Sticks to Convictions, Despite Convictions

.S. Representative James Traficant vowed not to give up his Congressional seat Thursday following the announcement of his guilty verdict on charges of bribery, racketeering, falsifying tax returns, and forcing his federal aides to dress in overalls and chew straw on his Ohio farm.

Upon hearing the guilty of verdict, Traficant, who represented himself, stated, "I accept your verdict." On the steps of the courthouse, despite his attorney's counsel, Traficant vowed to appeal the verdict.

"I refuse to accept a verdict of this nature," Traficant told the commune. "This decision, indeed these charges, have all been politically motivated. I suspect everybody involved in this trial, from the prosecution to the judge to the defense attorney to the jury is out to ruin my good name. I reject this attempt to oust me from office. I'll see to it these charges are acquitted and my attorney is disbarred."

House Minority Leader Dick Gephardt (D-Missouri) called for Traficant's resignation. Upon being told Traficant was convicted of the charges, Gephardt was unswayed and still called for his resignation.

"Mr. Traficant puts a foul mark on all congressman everywhere," said Gephardt. "His conviction on bribery charges seals the deal. He cannot be trusted to represent the people of Ohio anymore. He is exactly why people hate politicians, and has been found legally guilty of doing what everyone else is only suspected of doing."

"I might also add," continued Gephardt, "that Mr. Traficant has, in recent months, been supporting Rep. Dennis Hastert as speaker of the House. You know, Hastert? The Republican? You put it all together, eh?"

When confronted with Gephardt's statements, Traficant was resilient about keeping his seat.

"I have convictions I will not turn away from. And by convictions, I don't mean yesterday's convictions, I mean my original convictions that brought me to office." Traficant accepted an envelope from a dark-suited man which he quickly pocketed. "They have tried to convict me on these charges before, when I first began my political career. They failed then and I believe they ultimately will fail again. These are my deeply-held convictions. Once again, I mean my personal convictions, not criminal."

When questioned about the charges, Traficant spoke vaguely. "Mistakes were made. Let's just say that and nobody gets hurt."

"My only regret," continued Traficant, "was that I didn't hire bigger and burlier aides. Somebody with a little farm hand experience. At the end of the day I could've gotten twice as much done. Or hell, maybe even just hired a couple of guys to run the farm without having to pretend they work in the office. It's not like I'm running short on cash, with all the bribes and underreporting on the tax forms. But that's not a confession—I mean, that's not to say I—aw, forget it. Talk to my attorney."

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In ancient times, the land area that is now Iraq was famous as the birthplace of the donut. A romantic land rich in donut-making resources, Iraq was the envy of pastry-loving empires both far and wide. All was well until neighboring Iran developed the bagel, a less enjoyable but more religiously sanctioned round breakfast food. The ensuing bad blood led to several wars and snide remarks between the nations that have persisted to this day.

Originally, the land of Iraq was called Sumeria, because they didn't know yet that it was Iraq. Actually, originally it was just some primordial goop deep underwater, filled with little one-celled nasties having sex and eating each other, but that timeline is beyond the scope of our column today. In recognizable human terms, the land was originally Sumeria. The Sumers were a decent folk, which is exactly why they were conquered and raped to death by the Akkordians in 2300 BC. A vile and heartless people fond of inventing annoying musical instruments, the Akkordians took thousands of years of Sumerian agricultural and cultural development and cocked them all up, and after a few decades they had nothing left but a handful of stale beans and polka music.

Eventually the Babylonians came and kicked their strange asses out of town. Peace and prosperity returned to the region and the people lived in happiness. Which, understandably, bored them to tears. The prosperous Babylonians grew cocky, especially king Hummerabi, who reveled in putting the neighboring Assyrians in their place. One day Hummerabi went too far when he enraged the king of Assyria by sending him a plaque on his birthday that featured two gold walnuts over the inscription "Nuts to You."

People lived to conquer back in those days, since your arid desert kingdom and nagging wenches never seemed as appealing as the other guy's. So the birthday prank was all the invitation that Assyria needed to attack Babylonia and conquer it. This was all fine and good, since the people had seen it all before and frankly were bored of being conquered, until the Assyrians passed a law saying no cursing on Sundays. Now, the Babylonians were some cursing motherfuckers, and they weren't about to let some bitch-assed Assyrians come in and tell them what the fuck they could say and what they couldn't. So the people rose up and put the smackdown on Assyria, wishing the Assyrians a pleasant fucking voyage as they rode them out of town on a rail.

Eventually a man named Nebuchadnezzar (Babylonian for "naked at noon") rose to lead Babylonia to great heights of power and wealth. Known for stunning the enemy by appearing in battle stark raving naked, Nebuchadnezzar (known from here on out as "Neb" to prevent carpal-tunnel damage) led the Babylonians in conquering all of Assyria and destroying all of the wonderful culture and science the Assyrians had developed over hundreds of years. While the Babylonians were celebrating their victory, Neb also conquered Judea and Jerusalem without telling anyone. Before long, Neb's conquering became a serious problem and his friends had to hold an intervention, which was less than successful since he stormed out in the middle and conquered the Cassites.

Thankfully for the rest of the free world, Neb got ahold of a bad egg while conquering the Mitanni and died of salmonella. The world rejoiced a second time when Neb's son Nebuchadnezzar II turned out to be gay, and instead of conquering everything in sight he built the Hanging Gardens of Babylon, which he kept saying were for his "wife" but nobody bought that worn-out old chestnut.

Babylonia rose to unprecedented power and distinction under Neb II, since all of their resources weren't going toward ridding the planet of the scourge of non-Babylonians. After the death of Neb II, the land was conquered in succession by Cyrus the Great, Alexander the Great and Ted the Good Father. The Persians won the land in a promotional sweepstakes, and though they moved in they never stopped complaining about the sand on their nice rugs. Eventually the Muslims came to town and blew the shit out of everybody, even though there were only about three of them, but they meant business.

Thanks to a progressive "Muslim or die!" philosophy on the part of the region's new landlords, the area remained Muslim until Genghis Khan showed up in 1219. In the mean time, Baghdad had become the center of world power and higher learning, which meant it was about time for some asshole with a club to come and kill everyone. Sure enough, that's what Genghis did, pausing only briefly when he himself died in 1227. To the surprise of few, Genghis' son popped out of his father's corpse like some kind of insane matrioshka doll and continued the continent-wide rampage that was his father's dream for humanity.

Eventually the Mongols died off, or more accurately, ate each other, and Iraq was without leadership. Several different gangs ruled Iraq at one time or another, including the Ding Dong Daddies and the Sand Badgers. Leather jacket motorcycle rumbles in the street were common, or at least their camel-based equivalents.

Eventually the Ottomans took over, ruling the land fairly and with exceptional foot comfort. Of course the Ottomans got greedy when they made a play for the whole couch in WWII and were ordered to go piss off and die. The British then ruled Iraq until the 1960's, when they were so into the Beatles they forgot about the Middle East entirely and Iraq snuck out after curfew and declared its independence.

The rest of the story has been pretty well covered by Tom Clancy and on Entertainment Tonight. It's the usual story: ineffectual leaders and kings are blown up left and right, and Saddam becomes president after shiving some dude in the shower. Iraq attacks Iran in 1980, still pissed about the bagel thing. Iraq attacks Kuwait in 1990 because they won't stop touching Iraq's border, and the US steps in to intervene, figuring it'll be good for a few bear claws and pink donuts with sprinkles. That brings us to the present day, as Iraqis wait out the US hamburger-bombing of their country, waiting out this latest conquering in hopes that they'll come out of the deal with a Hard Rock Café in the end.

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Brace yourself, good people. I have news of the biggest importance: My wife Arvelyn and I have split up.

That's right. After 30 years of marriage, there are issues which sometimes just cannot be worked out or addressed. It's true, Arvelyn and I could not have been more alike had we been split from the same zygote, but thankfully it was a less disturbing and more natural coincidence, and our genitalia synched up perfectly. But all that is over. Our disagreements could not be overcome.

As we ate dinner one night, just Arvelyn and me—our cat Makeshift had prior arrangements he had to meet—we enjoyed some of the most delicious soup and meat loaf you'd ever tasted. We're not sure where it came from, Arvelyn claimed she didn't make it and the door to our house was open when we came home from our respective jobs. But possession is nine-tenths of the law, as the cliché goes, so we chowed down.

Now is where the trouble starts. The meat loaf, the soup—delicious. No argument. But there was a strange collection of yams, strange mainly because I'm not quite sure what yams were, they may have even not been yams, but I'm not going to belabor the story so I grabbed a random word. Arvelyn scooped some on her plate, sniffed it, and offered me a forkful. "Taste this," she demanded.

Well, that was it. I tossed up the table and told her I needed some time apart. I couldn't even stay to watch her clean up the mess, which I usually enjoy, that's how frustrated I was.

I will not be anyone's personal food taster, I tell you that much. I know if I was going to poison someone, yams, or whatever dish that was, is the first place I'd start. And Arvelyn knows sure enough, she'd better after all these years, how much I feel the rest of the world wants to poison her. I've told her enough times that all her sass back to the folks at Burger King could come back and bite her anytime, but she carries on in her cavalier fashion. That's fine, let her risk her own neck, but how dare she test her possibly poisoned food on me first.

It's a shame to flush 30 years of marriage down the drain in an instant, but I've done it before, you get over it after about five or ten more. There are so many mixed emotions, like rage and hate, anger and revile, not to mention complete disgust. How do you counter all of this? Maybe you can't.

First I imagine we'll sort out all the technical details. I assume we can divide the house down the middle like perfect sitcom fashion, as long as I get the half with the bathroom, never let anyone say I haven't learned from Peter Brady's follies. Arvelyn would probably like custody of Makeshift, but I would rather have him put to sleep than to argue about him. Plus, he's been eyeing me suspiciously as of late and I notice money is missing from my secret hiding place.

Perhaps the time has come for Rok Finger to get out there in the singles scene again, to fill up his cup with love and slurp it loudly and rudely. I'm ready, people. I'm dangerous.

Although I think to start I will mope around in my underwear for five or ten years.

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