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 June 9, 2003 |
Washington, D.C. Snapper Mcgee While visiting the Middle East, Bush attempts to explain to local government which one he went to war with and which one he plans war with in the near future.
Confirming the reports is recent retired general "Meat" Callaghan, who left his position as a war advisor shortly before the invasion of Iraq began.
"It was the intention early on that Bush meant to go to war with Iran, and all documents were signed to that effect," said Callaghan Friday, at a local café where this reporter had to buy his soup. "Though the country formed even less a discernible threat than Iraq, the president claimed they had weapons of ass destruction and needed to ...
ources inside the Pentagon are now saying that señor capitan Bush easily confuses Iraq and Iran, and though he vehemently hates both countries, meant to go to war with one while appeasing the other with placating words. The trouble is, Bush may have gone to war with the wrong one.
Confirming the reports is recent retired general "Meat" Callaghan, who left his position as a war advisor shortly before the invasion of Iraq began.
"It was the intention early on that Bush meant to go to war with Iran, and all documents were signed to that effect," said Callaghan Friday, at a local café where this reporter had to buy his soup. "Though the country formed even less a discernible threat than Iraq, the president claimed they had weapons of ass destruction and needed to bombardmentalized. We frankly thought there was some sort of intelligence problem—the president wasn't getting the right intelligence to his brain. But he insisted there was no mistake, and thought the newspaper headlines reading 'Iranis Ran From Iran' would be funny enough to make him crap his pants."
No one is naming names, but sources suggest that those in the chain of command below Bush rewrote orders under his name to make Iraq the intended target. A quote attributed to Dick Cheney, addressing Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld, sums up the alleged view of other Bush administration officials:
"I'm tired of him going to war with every country just because he thinks the name is funny. I tried to explain the complicated politics of the Taliban and the possibility they were aiding Al-Qaeda and all he could come up with was 'Afghanstand sounds like a place where they sell blankets.' Or when the Syrian ambassador came to negotiate the Iraqi invasion with us and he kept saying, 'You Syrious?'"
Sources allege that Cheney and company did not fabricate presidential orders, merely "fixed" them. Retired Gen. Callaghan described the situation: "The president is good-natured and sincere enough in wanting to go to war, he just sometimes gets confused by all the dozens of names and funny-sounding words he gets all day. He just knows good countries and bad countries, coalitions and axis of evils—remembering real big issues and gray areas and such is hard. He knows one of those countries has the real bad leader who tried to kill his dad, and that's the one he meant to go to war with. A good administration knows how to do what the president means rather than what he says."
Answering the allegations in a press conference, outgoing White House spokesperson Ari Fleischer, clearly showing signs of weariness toward the end of his run, told something resembling the truth.
"The White House cannot confirm such reports without closer study, but yeah, it's probably true. You know the man won't go down as the sharpest president in history, I don't think I'm rattling any expectations to say that much. All these reports about the Bush administration manipulating intelligence in the Iraqi war have it backwards—the administration understandably had to manipulate the Bush intelligence. You don't want to see this guy try to do long division, you can actually see the brain cells committing hari kari."
Most reporters, including this one, was so dumbstruck by the forthright revelations we couldn't think of any follow-up questions. the commune news is proud as a peacock, but usually ridiculed like a cock pea. Raoul Dunkin is filling in for White House correspondent Lil Duncan (no relation), who is on vacation and seeking to get a part in The Real Cancun 2.
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Lawyers for Gitmo Detainees Lobby to Stop Calling Them “Gitmo” Detainees Fans Mourn First 30 Years of Puckett’s Life Serial Killer’s Neighbor: “He just wouldn’t shut up about serial killing.” R.C. Car Enthusiasts Angered by Latest Mars Mission Snub |
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 July 4, 2005
Second DraftedI have started the next phase of my writing career: The Second Draft.
That means I finished the script, wrote it all the way through, and now someone has to rewrite it. Don't worry for me, it's not going to be me who rewrites it. I just had to find someone who wants to write it again for me, take out all the spelling errors and give the people who aren't me believable dialogue and stuff. That's what all the rewrites I've ever seen have involved, taking a script that's not so good and making it work as a movie.
I already found someone, even though I have to pay him. But I'm paying him 60% of whatever the script sells for, so it's not like it's real money. You may have heard of him—but probably not. It's office scourge Ramrod Hurley. He has a lot of free time, since no one likes him, and I assume he writes pretty well because he works here and the commune has standards and shit. It's not like they give everyone a job writing here, only the ones who write good. Plus, as I said, he works in percentages, which is basically like imaginary money.
I haven't even told you how the script turned out, have I? It's pretty sweet, if I can say so myself. It's all about a world-famous actress who witnesses a murder, then she has to go into hiding, disguising herself as an even more famous actress, this one has different color hair. So she hooks up with this wicked lead singer of a punk band/talk show host who helps her escape the guy trying to...
º Last Column: Top 29
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I have started the next phase of my writing career: The Second Draft.
That means I finished the script, wrote it all the way through, and now someone has to rewrite it. Don't worry for me, it's not going to be me who rewrites it. I just had to find someone who wants to write it again for me, take out all the spelling errors and give the people who aren't me believable dialogue and stuff. That's what all the rewrites I've ever seen have involved, taking a script that's not so good and making it work as a movie.
I already found someone, even though I have to pay him. But I'm paying him 60% of whatever the script sells for, so it's not like it's real money. You may have heard of him—but probably not. It's office scourge Ramrod Hurley. He has a lot of free time, since no one likes him, and I assume he writes pretty well because he works here and the commune has standards and shit. It's not like they give everyone a job writing here, only the ones who write good. Plus, as I said, he works in percentages, which is basically like imaginary money.
I haven't even told you how the script turned out, have I? It's pretty sweet, if I can say so myself. It's all about a world-famous actress who witnesses a murder, then she has to go into hiding, disguising herself as an even more famous actress, this one has different color hair. So she hooks up with this wicked lead singer of a punk band/talk show host who helps her escape the guy trying to kill her, because she witnessed the murder, remember? Well, first she and rock star/talk show guy escape all these times she's almost killed, then they catch the guy. Set a trap, Scooby-Doo style, and get the guy all wrapped up in mummy bandages.
So I finished this "draft," as they call it in screenwriting class. But Nancy says I should always rewrite a script after the first draft, since a first draft is never perfect. Mine is, I told her, and she told me to stop interrupting her while she's teaching. Every script needs a second draft, she said, and then she wrote it on the board in color chalk, so we had to take it seriously. I figure I go to Hollywood and try to sell this script, if they ask me I did a second draft, I could always lie and say yes. But what if they can tell I'm lying? Better not risk it, so I figure I'd just get the second draft done. Damned if I'm going to do it myself, though, which is why I brought Ramrod in as a co-writer.
I guess it's going okay. I gave it to him a week ago, haven't seen him much since. I called him yesterday and he says it's going well. He changed a few things, like made the main character an aging dentist and took out the plot about witnessing the murder, instead made it this story of this dentist trying to find his wife who's been kidnapped by international diamond thieves. But it's basically the same thing I wrote, he said, but he did punctuate it and capitalize all the names, and wrote it on the computer instead of in a sketch book.
I can tell already we're going to have to sort shit out, Ramrod and I. I only did this bullshit because I need a really big comeback movie. How can I have a comeback movie if I'm not the big star of the movie I wrote? I certainly didn't do this because I wanted all the glory and recognition of writing for Hollywood. That's like saying I wanted the sweet reward of being kicked down a flight of stairs. He probably thinks I'm going to play the wife of the dentist, but I got other ideas—I can play a dentist. I know all about teeth, and I have a good smile. Well, I have a good smile.
I hope they don't give me a Best Screenwriter award. That thing nearly killed Damon's career. And I haven't seen Joe Esterhaz act in forever. º Last Column: Top 29º more columns
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|  November 11, 2002
Cancer's for Pussies: How Smoking StartedIt's rare that I take requests from people for columns, given that my office is very well hidden and can only be found with use of a pirate map I scribbled several years ago; at least, that's what I thought until Omar Bricks looked behind the water cooler after hearing a burp and found yours truly ducked behind. So for the ever-curious Mr. Bricks, I present the story of smoking.
Everyone who's not a tool already knows that the first tobacco crops were grown in ancient Mesopotamia, but it would be hundreds of years before anyone thought to stick them in their mouths and light them. No, at first tobacco leaves were used for early toilet paper, and was ceremoniously declared the greatest "found" invention by some shaman-type fellow who periodically declared things. Unfortunately, this was also closely linked with the earliest nicotine addictions, as some people were discovered going to the bathroom 20, 30 times a day. Tobacco was soon banned for the first time and the Mesopotamians (translated today as "messy sons of bitches") went back to their original toilet paper choice, live rabbits.
Tobacco was discovered again years later, during medieval times, when a resurgence in popularity in the crop sprouted almost overnight. Barbarians first encountered the sensation of tobacco smoke during one of those "trash-the-town-and-burn-everything" fits they were prone to. Two burnout barbarians in particular known as Gunther and Jovann were put to death for...
º Last Column: Your Mama Invented Television
º more columns
It's rare that I take requests from people for columns, given that my office is very well hidden and can only be found with use of a pirate map I scribbled several years ago; at least, that's what I thought until Omar Bricks looked behind the water cooler after hearing a burp and found yours truly ducked behind. So for the ever-curious Mr. Bricks, I present the story of smoking.
Everyone who's not a tool already knows that the first tobacco crops were grown in ancient Mesopotamia, but it would be hundreds of years before anyone thought to stick them in their mouths and light them. No, at first tobacco leaves were used for early toilet paper, and was ceremoniously declared the greatest "found" invention by some shaman-type fellow who periodically declared things. Unfortunately, this was also closely linked with the earliest nicotine addictions, as some people were discovered going to the bathroom 20, 30 times a day. Tobacco was soon banned for the first time and the Mesopotamians (translated today as "messy sons of bitches") went back to their original toilet paper choice, live rabbits.
Tobacco was discovered again years later, during medieval times, when a resurgence in popularity in the crop sprouted almost overnight. Barbarians first encountered the sensation of tobacco smoke during one of those "trash-the-town-and-burn-everything" fits they were prone to. Two burnout barbarians in particular known as Gunther and Jovann were put to death for taking ten-day smoke breaks after their discovery of what happened when you ignited full tobacco fields. Enterprising associate barbarians took crop samples and traveled throughout Europe, peddling the leaves to kids in grotesque camel costumes.
The aristocracy of Europe became models for the "modern" enlightened smoker. Catherine the Great even signed the first exclusive endorsement contract for Ragamuffin Cigarettes which included posting her severed head smoking with a smile over the slogan "Aaaah… flavor country!" painted on a fence. Those who could afford the expensive cost of tobacco engaged in frequent smoking to give their skin that healthy yellow tint and their voice that sexy gravelly sound; the poor were left to contract those through leprosy.
Skip a few hundred years ahead, and all the rumors about a "revolution" and war with the British boils down to a few angry skirmishes because the Brits were worried America was going to cut off their tobacco and refuse to honor all previously-acquired coupons, and the Brits really wanted that bowl-shaped tent. The colonists and the Brits sat around a table, they played a few cards, they smoked a whole field, and everything was settled with a quick short treaty. Of course, we then turned around and raised the price on a pack of cigarettes three coppers, which really pissed them off, but they weren't about to quit years before the patch had been invented.
As we all know, smoking today has become such an addictive habit law after law has been passed to curb and eventually eliminate smoking throughout the country. In all history only one other habit has been so addictive, and they likewise eventually outlawed shooting people in the anus with a crossbow. Is smoking bad for you? Yes, but practically anything enjoyable is bad for you, as hundreds of people with crossbow shafts in their asses would attest. So light up and enjoy! And hopefully I can eventually answer Omar Bricks' more specific questions about "special" tobacco products. º Last Column: Your Mama Invented Televisionº more columns
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Milestones2002: commune staffer writes this ìMilestonesî blurb, causing time to fold in on itself and destroy the universe.Now HiringCharles Bronson. Experienced Charles Bronson needed to pull off some Deathwish-style menacing to scare off Ivana Folger-Balzac once and for all. Five years Charles Bronson experience minimum. Please provide references, and filmography.Top Cruel New Rumors| 1. | Gay people can't whistle | | 2. | Tennessee quarter shows state trooper harassing black motorist | | 3. | French Stewart not actually French | | 4. | Cats love vodka | | 5. | Donald Trump is secret owner of McDonald's chain | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 8/9/2004 Hola, America! That's about all the Spanish I know, but I wanted to give the column a little International flair this week. Why? Shit if I know.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by once again for all the reviews you care to peruse. Like the way I rhymed that? It may have taken half the morning, but the good shit doesn't just come squirting out the tube, as my grandfather always used to say. You have to cut the tube open with a utility knife and scrape out the insides with a spoon, FYI.
It probably wouldn't have taken so long, actually, but it took me a while to realize that nothing rhymes with orange. Weird, huh? But you didn't come here for the free poetry advice, unless you're insane, and if you are then say hi to my uncle Benny for me. As for the rest of you, how...
Hola, America! That's about all the Spanish I know, but I wanted to give the column a little International flair this week. Why? Shit if I know.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by once again for all the reviews you care to peruse. Like the way I rhymed that? It may have taken half the morning, but the good shit doesn't just come squirting out the tube, as my grandfather always used to say. You have to cut the tube open with a utility knife and scrape out the insides with a spoon, FYI.
It probably wouldn't have taken so long, actually, but it took me a while to realize that nothing rhymes with orange. Weird, huh? But you didn't come here for the free poetry advice, unless you're insane, and if you are then say hi to my uncle Benny for me. As for the rest of you, how about a big ole movie review sandwich? Have at it!
In Theaters Now:
Open Water
Jesus, when I heard Disney was going to be making a film about a shark family, I thought it was going to be a whole lot more fun-loving than this! I almost shit in my popcorn the first time the great whites showed up, and by almost I mean I did. I don't know how the rest of this movie turned out, but take it from me, if you're ever looking for a hard time, try to return a turded-on bucket of popcorn with a story about how that's the way it was when you got it.
The Porn Supremacy
So say you're porn magnate Larry Flint, only you don't know it because some religious asshole shot you in the back and you can't remember anything except you like porn. But now some other scuzzbucket has horned in on your racket and is using your name: The Porn Identity! You could probably stop him with some kind of legal battle, but nobody wants to take your case because they're put off by the way you breathe audibly through your mouth all the time. So it looks like you're going to have to count on the last resort of the disenfranchised: karate! Sound implausible? You bet your double-D's it is, but Philip Seymour Hoffman mouth-breathes some serious life into the role, and it's a kick to watch him run over people's toes in his wheelchair and ride that thing down stairs in Berlin and shit. Finally there's a movie that makes Europe look worth visiting (did you know they have porn? And guns?) while filling a serious void in terms of action roles for the handicapped.
The Village People
After the copycats raised the ante on Signs, the terrifying Tesla biopic from horrormeister M. Night Shyamandala (pronounced "Smith"), with last year's release of the Grateful Dead scarefest House of the Dead, some wondered if Shyamalama would ever again be able to raise the stakes in the horrifyingly-bad rock band movie genre he had created. Well, doubters should eat another little piece of Janis Joplin's heart out this week, since Shyamalanda has come back swinging the biggest stick of them all, jumping straight past the double-dog-dare and into Village People territory. This was no small gamble, considering the danger that the film's target audience may be too young to remember just how scary the Village People really were, and that the young ones might get kind of excited and start to dance when the soundtrack plays "Y.M.C.A." instead of trying to crawl up their own assholes in terror like the older members of the viewing audience will do reflexively.
But even the tragically accidental pregnancies of the Y Generation are sure to scream up a lung once they realize they're surrounded by the cop, the Indian and the gay biker who lost his bike. The scariest part of all is that Shyanmalingi won't let you even see the Village People until half-way through the movie, leaving your imagination to fill in the blanks about how hideous their sexually-ambiguous costumes might be. Some might complain that the film's "twist" ending isn't surprising enough, but I for one had no idea that the Village People and the Oak Ridge Boys were the same guys.
And that's all he wrote, America. It's more traditional to say "she wrote," but that would just be wrong. Tradition's usually pretty sexist that way. Anyhow, hope you enjoyed our time together, but don't hurt yourself rushing to register for the fall semester, because, well because this isn't a college course, stupid.   |
