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Bagel Accepts Man of the Year AwardDecember 24, 2001 |
tâs been a tremendous year for heroes and villains. In its final months, 2001 became filled with turmoil and struggle for many throughout the world. People were called upon to do what they could for the cause of freedom, and many were ready to do what they could. But for the third annual presentation of the communeâs âYou the Man of the Yearâ Award, one nominee stood out above the others: commune Editor Red Bagel.
âIâm delighted and surprised by this good fortune,â said Bagel, accepting the award at a black-tie ceremony held in his apartment. âI donât know if Iâm a hero. I certainly couldnât say if Iâm The Man or not. But this recognition means very much to me. I thank you all.â
Not only was Red Bagel recognized as The Man for 20...
tâs been a tremendous year for heroes and villains. In its final months, 2001 became filled with turmoil and struggle for many throughout the world. People were called upon to do what they could for the cause of freedom, and many were ready to do what they could. But for the third annual presentation of the communeâs âYou the Man of the Yearâ Award, one nominee stood out above the others: commune Editor Red Bagel. âIâm delighted and surprised by this good fortune,â said Bagel, accepting the award at a black-tie ceremony held in his apartment. âI donât know if Iâm a hero. I certainly couldnât say if Iâm The Man or not. But this recognition means very much to me. I thank you all.â Not only was Red Bagel recognized as The Man for 2001, it was a special YTMOTY (or âYitmottyâ) for Bagel: His third. âOf course itâs a special feeling to be admired by those in the community where you live and work,â Bagel told Ivan Nacutchacokov, bleary-eyed and wavering over by the punch bowl, âand to think that after all these years your contribution isnât forgotten, well⊠it warms your heart.â The âYou the Man of the Yearâ Award was conceived in 1999 by Bagel as a way the commune could make a statement about those in the national and international community who work hard to change their world for the better. Every year in December, names suggested for the newest Yitmotty recipient are submitted directly to Bagelâs inbox by the staff members of the commune. Of those long and varied possibilities, the commune Editor chooses one that stands above the rest and he (or she) receives the yearâs âYou the Man of the Yearâ Award. Bagel knows better than anyone the competition was fierce. âItâs been a difficult year for everyone,â said Bagel, much better with some coffee in him. âWe got to see what people, Americans especially, were really capable of when their mettle was tested. Among others who were worthy of the âYou the Man of the Yearâ Award were: George Bush, Rudolph Giuliani, Colin Powell, Dan Rather, Justin Timberlake, Ashley Judd, your mother, Superman, Hu Cum Inpants, and the communeâs own Omar Bricks. Iâm delighted I was chosen, for whatever reason.â Bagel, a stern face in the world of Internet news, is known for his tough journalistic standards and killer fashion sense. He founded the commune in 1999 as a way to deliver alternative sources for news directly to the world. His achievements in 2001 include organizing the commune staff with multiple firings, strengthening the commune deadline so a new edition is published every two weeks, and correctly calling a bluff when all the guy had was a pair of 10âs. Ever optimistic, Bagel hopes to get the commune to a daily schedule in 2002, as well as publish his own autobiography and write the music for the movie version, which he plans on calling Hot For Teacher: The Red Bagel Story. the commune news stays on, even while swimming. Lil Duncan is a senior commune correspondent and looks better in a pair of thigh-high boots than anybody else at the commune, except Stigmata Spent and maybe Ted Ted.
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 July 8, 2002
Thanks For the Memories, and the Seafood MedleyStop the presses, or the servers, or whatever the hell the politically correct term is these days: the commune family just got one dude larger. And no, don't call your bookie yet; Lil Duncan isn't pregnant. We've all heard, and started, enough of those rumors on the Internet to know that nothing short of a full cervical exam will allow you to cash in on that one.
No, the real reason for the skyrocketing population of the hypothetical commune family is less likely to be seen on a motel TV at three in the morning: longtime commune staffer Kendra Beuttle just got married! Who was the lucky guy? Well, if you had your money on Dorick Dominovic of the Ukraine, then you'd better make sure your bookie hasn't skipped town because you've just hit some kind of monster long shot. Damn. I'd ask how you did it but I'm not sure I really want to know.
Personally, I don't know too much about Dorick, besides the fact that you can't get on his good side by calling him Dork. The strongest impression I got from him was that his English is, how you say? Sucks. I'm not sure how Kendra landed him so fresh off the boat, but every time I saw him at the wedding he looked like he thought it was all an elaborate procedure you had to go through to buy bread in America. Poor guy. I'm not even sure how well he knows Kendra or how you say "hose hound" in Ukrainian. He looked at me funny when I told him she gets around like Goodyear, so I just decided to leave it be after that.
º Last Column: Cesarean Sections are Overrated
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Stop the presses, or the servers, or whatever the hell the politically correct term is these days: the commune family just got one dude larger. And no, don't call your bookie yet; Lil Duncan isn't pregnant. We've all heard, and started, enough of those rumors on the Internet to know that nothing short of a full cervical exam will allow you to cash in on that one.
No, the real reason for the skyrocketing population of the hypothetical commune family is less likely to be seen on a motel TV at three in the morning: longtime commune staffer Kendra Beuttle just got married! Who was the lucky guy? Well, if you had your money on Dorick Dominovic of the Ukraine, then you'd better make sure your bookie hasn't skipped town because you've just hit some kind of monster long shot. Damn. I'd ask how you did it but I'm not sure I really want to know.
Personally, I don't know too much about Dorick, besides the fact that you can't get on his good side by calling him Dork. The strongest impression I got from him was that his English is, how you say? Sucks. I'm not sure how Kendra landed him so fresh off the boat, but every time I saw him at the wedding he looked like he thought it was all an elaborate procedure you had to go through to buy bread in America. Poor guy. I'm not even sure how well he knows Kendra or how you say "hose hound" in Ukrainian. He looked at me funny when I told him she gets around like Goodyear, so I just decided to leave it be after that.
I mean, if he wants to marry the biggest slut this side of Lil Duncan, that's his own home-based business. It sounds like an indecent proposal from the get-go to me, but as long as she can keep a cock out of her mouth long enough to say "I do," I imagine it'll work out okay for those two.
I basically came to the wedding to see what would happen when Lil showed up, since those two had been at odds ever since word got out that Kendra was claiming to be Lil at parties and was horning in on her "commune slut" racket. Just the week before, Duncan had been overheard screaming "Screw you and your wedding party!" in the halls of the commune offices, and Omar Bricks was one guy who sure as hell wasn't going to miss it in case she meant that literally.
So probably the biggest shock of the evening came when Lil never showed up for the wedding at all. Actually, nobody else from the commune came, ruining my visions of a drunken rant of a toast from Red Bagel and Rok Finger slipping a disc on the dance floor. Today somebody told me it was because Kendra had only been working here two months and was a California Queen-sized bitch, but whatever. Invited or not, Omar Bricks got a free plate of seafood medley and a bladder full of champagne; I'd go to a Manson family wedding to dodge another night of TV dinners and reruns of M*A*S*H with Foghat.
The ceremony itself went pretty smooth, except for the part when Dorick put both rings on his fingers and tried to run out before the vows were completed, so maybe he knew more than I gave him credit for. Kendra's dad wasn't about to see a little case of cold feet and petty thievery get in the way of true love, and every romantic's heart was warmed when he grabbed Dorick by the nads and hoisted him back up on stage. I have to imagine that's going to make for some kick-ass wedding album photos, plus I don't think Kendra was too into the idea of having kids anyway.
There wasn't a dry eye in the house when Dorick sobbed out his "I do," though from the way he was cradling his crotch in his hands I'm not sure if it was the emotion of the moment that was choking him up. Regardless, the knot was tied and Dorick's family got five bucks apiece and some magic beans to carry the steamer trunks out to the car for the honeymoon.
On the way out of the hotel Kendra stopped at a courtesy phone and called Red Bagel to tell him take her job and shove it sideways, since she was now "attached to a husband like some kind of beautiful suckerfish." The moment probably would have been more triumphant if Bagel had ever heard of her before, but he got the number for her honeymoon hotel and assured her he'd get back to her once he'd asked around a little bit.
Me, I took a cab back to Bricks Manor, pondering the wonders of life along the way, and thanking the spirit in the sky that I didn't have some kind of psychotic bitch sucking my life out of my ass with a siphon hose. As the cab pulled up to my front door, two questions stuck in my mind like glowing streetlights in a black sky.
I wonder if Foghat taped M*A*S*H for me?
And who told this taxi-driving motherfucker to pull up on my front lawn?
Bricks out. º Last Column: Cesarean Sections are Overratedº more columns
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|  April 5, 2004
Full RetreatAstute commune readers or other mythological creatures might have noticed the long sustained absence of new material over the past couple of weeks. It was the first time since 2001, the year I got my first checkbook and rented commune office space, that we've taken an extended absence from news reportage. I apologize, but it couldn't be helped, as everyone here had lost their minds.
That might be a possible exaggeration. Lefty the commune mail clerk seemed perfectly within her normal rationale, but she was particularly grumpy on the ride to the Funsational Summer Corporate Retreat and Motivational Seminar, on the commune bus, also known as the Damned Bus. Everyone was in a not so good mood, which is to say no one was in a good mood, but it was yet another of my kind concessions to brother Gay to make the commune a more profitable experience over the long haul.
Despite the silly name, Gay did NOT have fun at the Retreat. Sure, he had a ball when the clowns were doing their thing, and the white college Republican rap troupe broke it down for us, and I could see him really moved by motivational speaker Slick Hodges. But then came the group therapy session, where we attempted to learn about our own personalities in the work place, outside of the actual work place, and the hard bitter truth ran right into his sweet spots.
We tried a dandy trust exercise, where we split into groups and, blindfolded, had to put up a tent. It ended in a lot...
º Last Column: I Have Caught the CIA's Latest Death Virus
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Astute commune readers or other mythological creatures might have noticed the long sustained absence of new material over the past couple of weeks. It was the first time since 2001, the year I got my first checkbook and rented commune office space, that we've taken an extended absence from news reportage. I apologize, but it couldn't be helped, as everyone here had lost their minds.
That might be a possible exaggeration. Lefty the commune mail clerk seemed perfectly within her normal rationale, but she was particularly grumpy on the ride to the Funsational Summer Corporate Retreat and Motivational Seminar, on the commune bus, also known as the Damned Bus. Everyone was in a not so good mood, which is to say no one was in a good mood, but it was yet another of my kind concessions to brother Gay to make the commune a more profitable experience over the long haul.
Despite the silly name, Gay did NOT have fun at the Retreat. Sure, he had a ball when the clowns were doing their thing, and the white college Republican rap troupe broke it down for us, and I could see him really moved by motivational speaker Slick Hodges. But then came the group therapy session, where we attempted to learn about our own personalities in the work place, outside of the actual work place, and the hard bitter truth ran right into his sweet spots.
We tried a dandy trust exercise, where we split into groups and, blindfolded, had to put up a tent. It ended in a lot of pain for Gay, who found a tent post painfully inserted somewhere, only partially, thank God, by one or more of his teammates. Ted Ted is the angriest and most outspoken, so the obvious suspect, but he lacks the physical strength to force a tent post into the human body, while Stigmata Spent had the sheer muscle to do itâbut still, someone had to hold him down. Despite the animosity toward my brother, and the fact they didn't get the tent set up, the session leader still had to admit they showed impressive teamwork in the endeavor.
As always, role-playing followed, and without going into much detail, let's just say it soon degenerated into everyone doing their Gay Bagel impersonations. My favorite was Ivana Folger-Balzac's, which consists of wagging a finger and yelling gibberish like "Habba habba habba! Habba ha!" Which is not to discredit humorless Shabozz Wertham, who puts on a pointy white hat and straightens his tie while saying, in a very Gay voice, "About time for my weekly cross-burning!" That brings down the house. Oh, and then there'sâwell, perhaps I should return to my earlier policy of less description. Gay wasn't very happy with this therapy, and the session leader scolded us, saying we should role-play more than one person to do it right.
To our great surprise, it did help us realize our problemsâGay. The unlicensed psychology student conducting the therapy sessions suggested we feel pressure from Gay to do well, and Gay confirmed it, interrupting the student and making her cry. Many of the staffers complained about the new weekly schedule, saying it was more work than they were used toâone story or column a week is taxing the talents of my crew, and they long for the old days of the semi-weekly schedule. Actually, they long for the days of childhood when they could eat popsicles and screw around all summer, but I'm powerless about that. But the semi-weekly thing I could do something about.
So the rift is wider and more pissed-off-filled than ever between Gay and I, since I broke our deal and put the commune back on its semi-weekly format. But anything to make my staff happier. It is important I mention that, in the end, I'm glad Gay came aboard here at the commune. Before they hated me, or Raoul Dunkin, or Ramrod Hurley, and all the back-stabbing, bad-mouthing, and vandalism really started to pull our family apart. But now I'm on the inside with it allâwe've united against a common enemy, my brother. And they've got a point, of course, he really is a dick. º Last Column: I Have Caught the CIA's Latest Death Virusº more columns
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Quote of the Day“The unexamined life is not worth living⊠so show me your tits already.”
-Sol CratesFortune 500 CookieNobody loves you anywhere near as much as your mother, but the bad news is you were adopted and never met her. Your "Most Favored Nathan" status will be revoked this week when a more-favorable Nathan arrives in town. Sorry. Try to start flossing your teeth, crotch and armpits, ASAP. This week's lucky bullets: zingers, greenies, pissmakers, Big Bens, deconstipators, "lead flapjacks," armor-piercing, elephant piercing, Ella Fitzgerald-piercing.
Try again later.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | Why the Bangles Hate Mondays So Much | | 2. | The Death of Archie: From the Comic to the Big Screen | | 3. | Uncle Macho's Homemade Horse Chow | | 4. | Get Out of That Tent and Back into Your Fat Pants in 1 Month | | 5. | Critic's Corner: National TreasureâNo Nation's Treasure | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 3/17/2003 Oscar fever is upon us, ladies and gentlemen, and fear not: that puss-like discharge is a completely normal symptom. Hollywood is throwing all of its bulimia-managed weight around in an effort to whip us all into an Oscar frenzy, until we're running around like assholes, buying movie hats and snatching up tickets for movies we've never heard of. Since after all, they must be good if Hollywood wanted to artificially boost their box-office by leveraging back-room deals for Oscar nominations, right? They wouldn't go to all of that trouble for a turkey, would they? Don't be silly. So let's ratchet up the anticipation to an uncomfortable level before the big night with one final look at the nominees!
Best Picture 
Oscar fever is upon us, ladies and gentlemen, and fear not: that puss-like discharge is a completely normal symptom. Hollywood is throwing all of its bulimia-managed weight around in an effort to whip us all into an Oscar frenzy, until we're running around like assholes, buying movie hats and snatching up tickets for movies we've never heard of. Since after all, they must be good if Hollywood wanted to artificially boost their box-office by leveraging back-room deals for Oscar nominations, right? They wouldn't go to all of that trouble for a turkey, would they? Don't be silly. So let's ratchet up the anticipation to an uncomfortable level before the big night with one final look at the nominees! Best Picture Chicago -read EP review- I've already given the city of Chicago enough free publicity by refusing to review their movie a few months back. I'm not about to add insulin to injury by talking it up more, here. More than I already have, anyway. So I'm stopping. Right⊠Now!
Gays of New York -read EP review-
Hands down the best gay film of the year. Notice I didn't say the "gayest best film," because that would be improper English, or "gayest good film," because that honor belongs to the overpoweringly gay epic Sweet Homo Alabama. GoNY, however, is good and gay in its own right. Though some thought the disco club rumbles in the film were too graphic, I think that the film would have lost its realism if they had left out all of the hair-pulling and name-calling. Some might argue that the film is too gay to win the big prize, but that didn't stop Cool Hand Luke, now did it? Even money says this one makes off with the naked-guy statue.
The Hours -read EP review-
There's some kind of standing rule with the Academy where if all of the reviewers fall asleep during a certain movie, they have to nominate it for Best Picture. Partly just tradition, I think, but also none of those guys want to admit they weren't deep enough to power through some ass-numbing exploration of a woman's spirit filmed in real-time with no cuts or bathroom breaks. The Hours is the secret shame of this year's nominee class, and I understand why. Getting through this movie is like serving a tour in Vietnam, only hard. Look out for this one as a dark-horse candidate for the win if none of the voters can get through the video.
The Lords of the Ring: The Out of Towners -read EP review-
What was supposed to be either the best gay movie of the year, or at least the gayest best movie of the year, turned out to be the least-gay mediocre movie that was supposed to be better and more gay. Peter, Paul and Mary Jackson pulled a fast one with this wild departure from the modern classic original, and I don't mean the good kind of "fast one" like in an airplane lavatory. Steve Martin is obviously acting upon orders from individuals who have kidnapped his family, but the directors, at least, should have known better. The series still has a chance to redeem itself, but early word is that the third film will star Lou Diamond Phillips. Really. If this one wins the Oscar it'll be because someone's a big fan of "The Hammer Song".
The Pianist -read EP review-
Funny, sure, but I doubt they're going to want to have to show a clip montage of past Oscar winners that includes a midget in a sleeping bag being mistakenly used as a giant tampon for a whale. In this case, the nomination is the award, and a secret thank-you to the Farley brothers for cutting the title down from their original The Princess and the Pianist.
Best Director
Rob Marshall, Chicago -read EP review-
I'm not kidding, piss off with the Chicago stuff.
Martin Scorsese, Gays of New York -read EP review-
It's fitting that Scorsese should invent the gay-boxing epic (with 1945's lesbian opus Raging Bull), see it aped masterfully in last year's Lords of the Ring, and then turn around and trump them all with this gay disco masterpiece. I don't know how they'll end up copying his latest coup, maybe they'll make Saturday Night Fever again, but I hope they just leave well enough alone.
Roger Daltry, The Hours -read EP review-
Roger Daltry must've been too wasted away in Margaritaville to jump on the "Rock Stars Directing Blockbuster Movies" bandwagon last year, and when he did finally show up to direct something, a year late and with his pants only half on and his eyes all bloodshot, it isn't a pretty picture. Pun most definitely intended. Some directing classes or rehab time couldn't have hurt, and it's pretty clear there are a few scenes where he dozed off while the camera was running. After the world-ending badness of Tommy, it's not like we were expecting anything better than a kick in the nuts here, but I still left feeling vaguely disappointed, and sore.
The Farley Brothers, The Pianist -read EP review-
At first glance this may seem like one of the Academy's usual gag nominations, but for once I think they're actually acknowledging the skill it takes to get a camera crew up an elephant's ass.
Pedro AlmovĂłvar, Talk to Her
Now here's the gag nomination. Fairly uncreative by Academy standards, but maybe they've got some inside joke about a guy waking up in bed with some Mexican dude and saying "Pedro, I'll move over and talk to her" that makes it hilarious. You never know.
Best Actor
Adrien Brody, The Pianist -read EP review-
Finally, that funny guy from Mallrats gets his due, though of course he had to unwittingly have sex with a buffalo to get it. That's the price we all have to pay. But who knew he had a poofy first name like "Adrien"? No wonder we haven't seen him in more action vehicles.
Nicolas Cage, Adaptato
Only Nicolas Cage, or possibly Robin Williams, (maybe Gerald Ford) could pull off the lead role in this heavily bizarre Mr. Potato Head movie. But Cage does it with more panache, funny noses and sour cream than anyone had a right to expect. Maybe now he'll finally get to take a crack at the big-budget action roles he's always been denied because of that crazy look on his face.
Daniel Day-Lewis, Gays of New York -read EP review-
Daniel Day is just amazing in this film. His shoes match every outfit⊠even the ones you wouldn't think would go with anything. In addition, he does the gay thing better than most supposedly gay people. Give the man a restaurant already.
Toby Keith, The Quiet American
Another gag nomination that provides a polite smile and little else. Maybe the Academy needs to hire some new writers.
Jack Nicholson, About Shit -read EP review-
Jack is the man, even when he's not a man (see Kangaroo Jack, 2003. Actually, don't see it, since it was kind of rank, but think of it when you read that comment) and the Academy has never been afraid to French-kiss his two Jakes. Woah, excuse me. Just barfed. Got too vivid there even for my own self. Anyway, there are few men on earth who can carry a film in which absolutely nothing happens, and thankfully for us Jack is one of them. I'm not sure who the others would me, maybe Jesus or that Jonestown guy. I hear he was pretty charismatic.
Best Actress
Salma Hayek, Fritos
Best snack-food movie since Kurosawa's Ramen-dan, and Salma Hayek makes eating Fritos look like something we should all do, naked.
Nicole Kidman, The Hours -read EP review-
To be honest I forgot she was in this; she must have come in after I tried to kill myself by choking on a Whopper. The candy, you think I want to die with Burger King in my mouth? Ick.
Nathan Lane, Unfaithful
Proving he's just as good at playing a chick as he is at playing a really effeminate man, Nathan Lane won a lot of fans this year, many of whom would beat the shit out of themselves if they knew they were lusting after a dude.
Julianne Moore, Farhvergnugen
Though Moore should probably be recognized for the best performance anyone has ever given in a two-hour car commercial, I got sick of that "Da da da" song after about ten seconds and I think it may have soured me on her as a human being.
Renée Zellweger, Chicago -read EP review-
Nope, don't have anything to say. Not a God. Damned. Thing.
Best Supporting Actor
Chris Cooper, Adaptato
The secretive X-Files creator must've had some childhood play-time issues lingering to make him want to call in a favor to be cast in this one, but he does a fine job as the Potato Heads' weird neighbor who's missing some of his accessory teeth.
Ted Harris, The Hours -read EP review-
There must be a lot of big fans of The Who out in Hollywood, because Daltry had no problem attracting top-drawer talent to this project. Thanks to this film I now know all the nervous tics Ted Harris displays while waiting for the director to wake up and call "Cut!" but I'm not sure that gives him the edge for the Oscar.
Paul Newman, Road to Perdition -read EP review-
The movie itself was a slow train to Boregon State, but Newman did his thing with style as a mafia hitman who had his bladder removed in the war and has to drink while standing over a toilet. It doesn't read funny in black and white, but it works in the film. It's a shame to think what Newman could have done with a decent script, I for one would have loved to see him as a member of the Potato Heads' extended family in Adaptato.
John C. Reilly, Chicago -read EP review-
I hear ya knockin' but you can't come in⊠Keep it up, Chicago.
Christopher Walken, Catch Me If You Can -read EP review-
It's a bit strange that Walken got the nod instead of Leo "I Was Born to Play Lucky the Leprechaun" DiCaprio, but I can't fault the Academy with throwing a little love Walken's way. Playing Lucky's father had to be a challenge, since he rarely appeared in the Lucky Charms commercials, leaving Walken to create an entire mythology from scratch. And he did a fine job, mixing one part parental cereal wisdom with two parts of his trademark "I'm hiding under your bed" icky charisma.
Best Supporting Actress
Kathy Bates, About Shit -read EP review-
Bates scared the shit out of me when she came up on the screen, I thought she was going to go after Jack's ankles with a sledgehammer. Come to think of it, they could have had a pretty sweet sledgehammer/fire-axe battle to the crazy death between the two of them. Kind of strange the screenwriters didn't think of it first.
Julianne Moore, The Hours -read EP review-
Shit, she was in this, too? What, is she saving up to buy a house or something?
Queen Latifah, Chicago -read EP review-
Nice try, you almost tricked me into talking about Chicago again. Riiiight, Queen Latifah.
Meryl Streep, Adaptato
She was born to play the role of Mrs. Potato Head, and did not disappoint. But being a woman of sleight build, I did wonder at times exactly how many facial features and accessories she could really store in her ass.
Catherine Zeta-Jones, Chicago -read EP review-
Christ, did the entire Academy have family members in this movie or what?
And that is what it is. Of course, there are also some nominations for cartoons and music and best catering and all that, but we're trying to bring the column in at under three hours this year. I did notice that the nominations were fairly light on joke names and fake categories this year, maybe it's a sign that the Academy is finally growing up. Well, on second thought they did still nominate a movie with a dick joke in the title for Best Picture, so I guess we shouldn't get too worried. I hope you've enjoyed yourself as much as I've enjoyed yourself, and that you'll all be back for more EP flavor the next time we squirt it out of the nozzle. Until then!
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