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Court to Bush: Quit Doing Whatever You WantDecember 22, 2003 |
Washington, D.C. Snapper McGee Camp X-Ray "prisoners of war," left bored without due process or lawyers to talk to, have taken to playing "Duck, Duck, Goose". n exasperated federal appeals court dealt a severe setback to the Bush administration this week, should they decide to obey it, by mandating the president could not arbitrarily label foreigners on U.S. soil enemies of the state and imprison them without due process. The court officials also implored the president, "Please, for the sake of everybody in the world, quit doing whatever you want just because you feel like it."
It was a major change in recent legal policy. Riding the coattails of the Sept. 11 terror attacks, most courts and other administrative officials have endorsed a policy of "let the baby have his bottle," (Supreme Court v. ACLU, 7281). In the past year, especially around the second anniversary of the infamous terrorist incidents, the legal wind began blowing ...
n exasperated federal appeals court dealt a severe setback to the Bush administration this week, should they decide to obey it, by mandating the president could not arbitrarily label foreigners on U.S. soil enemies of the state and imprison them without due process. The court officials also implored the president, "Please, for the sake of everybody in the world, quit doing whatever you want just because you feel like it."
It was a major change in recent legal policy. Riding the coattails of the Sept. 11 terror attacks, most courts and other administrative officials have endorsed a policy of "let the baby have his bottle," (Supreme Court v. ACLU, 7281). In the past year, especially around the second anniversary of the infamous terrorist incidents, the legal wind began blowing in another direction. The president has been losing ground on his doing-whatever-he-wants agenda.
Court decisions have been turning against the president as early as May, when following the end of formal hostilities the president sought to throw a "victory kegger" in the former palatial estate of deposed Iraqi leader Saddam Hussein. The court sided with congress that the palace party would violate international war time code of conduct, infuriate U.S. allies, and be distinctly unpresidential.
The court also intervened when Bush declared several of the Guantanamo Bay prisoners guilty of heresy, and wanted them put to death on national television by celebrity executioner Lee Majors, the Six-Million Dollar Man. Bush attorneys, when defeated in the federal court, addressed reporters on the courthouse steps: "It seems to me like the courts aren't as against terrorism as they claim to be."
The latest defeat is the most serious, and it appears to legal analysts we didn't bother to consult that the tide is turning against the president in the long wake after Sept. 11. In a case brought by a brother of one of the alleged terrorist suspects, the constitutionality of keeping prisoners without due process for two years was challenged and the federal courts sided with the family. According to the justices, the president cannot go around all "willy-nilly" and hold people for years at a time without the benefit of counsel. The "willy-nilly" was added by the commune, for effect.
The court, in a written decision, also implored the president to take his authority seriously and stop misjudging the limits of his power.
"We understand the need for alacrity and effectiveness in dealing with terrorist bodies," said the decision, apparently misreading the president's mastery of the language, "but the president would do well to see his presidential powers more realistically. He should read the constitution, or have a friend read it to him. He may not have been elected by the populace, but he is still not a dictator for life, and should consider his powers accordingly."
The president reportedly did not take the defeat well, and insiders say he is consulting attorneys and historians about a plan to replace all current federal and Supreme Court justices with former frat buddies. White House press secretary Scott McClellan played it close to vest when addressing reporters.
" The West Wing made this job look like so much fun," said McClellan, shaking his head and lost in thought. "All I can say is, fuck that show." the commune news, too, has undefinable powers that no court can take away. Watch us test that theory this spring when the landlord wants to re-negotiate our office lease. Lil Duncan is the commune's sex correspondent. We mean White House correspondent. Sexy White House correspondent.
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 February 16, 2004
The Rotten Stink of ValentinesGoddammit! Another V-Day, come and gone.
According to nebulous website statistics, one in five Americans is single, but as we know, polls taken at pornographic sites are debatable. The truth is probably somewhere in between—all my neighbors are married or in serious relationships, yet nobody at the commune can maintain a significant other for more than a week. All I know is, if those estimates are anywhere near close, that leaves a lot of pissed off people who spent last Valentine's Day stewing in their homes.
Somehow another Valentine's Day passed and I survived, and more over, I didn't get drunk and call up any ex-girlfriends on the phone. Sure, I browsed the internet looking for the loneliest blogs I could find, just for company, then I searched for a while to see if anyone else remembered that show Tales of the Gold Monkey, but that isn't really on topic. What's important is I maintained some level of dignity by keeping my indignity within the walls of my apartment.
There are different arguments about Valentine's Day, I suppose. Some would say it's a soulless commercial enterprise driven by the almighty dollar to shill tiny greeting cards, flowers, chocolates, and chalk-flavored hearts; others are retarded, and disagree. These fucks are hopelessly whipped by whatever gender's genitalia they're dating.
Whoever first expressed the need for love, for one human being to find that special connection to another...
º Last Column: Patriot Chains º more columns
Goddammit! Another V-Day, come and gone.
According to nebulous website statistics, one in five Americans is single, but as we know, polls taken at pornographic sites are debatable. The truth is probably somewhere in between—all my neighbors are married or in serious relationships, yet nobody at the commune can maintain a significant other for more than a week. All I know is, if those estimates are anywhere near close, that leaves a lot of pissed off people who spent last Valentine's Day stewing in their homes.
Somehow another Valentine's Day passed and I survived, and more over, I didn't get drunk and call up any ex-girlfriends on the phone. Sure, I browsed the internet looking for the loneliest blogs I could find, just for company, then I searched for a while to see if anyone else remembered that show Tales of the Gold Monkey, but that isn't really on topic. What's important is I maintained some level of dignity by keeping my indignity within the walls of my apartment.
There are different arguments about Valentine's Day, I suppose. Some would say it's a soulless commercial enterprise driven by the almighty dollar to shill tiny greeting cards, flowers, chocolates, and chalk-flavored hearts; others are retarded, and disagree. These fucks are hopelessly whipped by whatever gender's genitalia they're dating.
Whoever first expressed the need for love, for one human being to find that special connection to another and build a lasting relationship with, is a total schmendrick. If he had been born in another era St. Valentine probably would have gone on to invent the dog whistle, another device with more espoused about it than proven. So what if a dog comes running when you blow it? Have you ever seen a dog that didn't come running to a person? They're stupid dogs. They see people and want to lick them, for whatever dog reason mandates.
Likewise, I say love is a myth. If I believed in the devil I would propose he started it as a way to complicate what could have been party city for sexual relationships in this world. You don't see animals exchanging phone numbers or discussing long-distance relationships. They know what they want and they don't confuse it with their self-esteem or worrying about how a partner reflects on them. It's not a coincidence either that animals don't suffer from broken hearts, depression, midlife crises, weight issues, or impotency—and I've seen enough websites to verify it.
I don't claim to be a genius; I may only be a seven-inch pixie with a surly attitude, but I can tell right from wrong. People who are not in relationships are miserable. People who are in relationships are miserable. If you're lucky enough to catch people during that brief period of ignorance when they think they are going to be in a relationship and find excitement in their partner and are fresh from loneliness enough so they dread going back to it, then you'll find them happy. The intelligence of dedicating your life to seeking out that one-to-two-week period in a life that lasts about 80 years, give or take cigarette consumption, it's not the brightest way to go.
Not that I have an alternative at this point. Or, I do have alternatives, but they usually end up with me getting drinks thrown in my face. I'm not advocating we drop the whole "love" deal right off the bat, but I say it wouldn't necessarily be a bad idea to re-evaluate the idea of monogamy. Elvis Costello asked what was so funny with peace, love, and understanding? That's a big question, with lots of possible answers. I'm only asking what's so wrong about paying money for sex a couple of times a month? Both you, the column reader, and the potential jurors out there I might be seeing next month. º Last Column: Patriot Chainsº more columns
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|  February 18, 2002
The Golden PotionOnce upon a time
Or so goes the line
I heard tell a notion
Of a gold magic potion
Its power mysterious,
A bouquet quite delirious
It filled all who drink
With the charm of a king
The strength of ten oxen
For lifting or boxing,
The smell of a flower
And ten times the power,
Eyes that would dazzle
And a wit that would frazzle
The smartest of Greeks,
Send them crying for weeks.
It came in a vial
Gold like a sun's smile,
And gave off an odor
More than peculiar
And all who came near
Fled quickly in fear
And assumed without stirring
The vial contained urine
One day was a man
Who wandered this land
With no sense of smell
And then no way to tell
What lurked in the beaker
That lay near his sneakers
Despite better judgment,
He drank deeply of it,
And found all the gifts
From the previous list
Bestowed upon him
Much to his chagrin
Yet no one believed
And quickly took leave
Despite all his pleas
They said he drank...
º Last Column: The Man in the Baloney Suit º more columns
Once upon a time
Or so goes the line
I heard tell a notion
Of a gold magic potion
Its power mysterious,
A bouquet quite delirious
It filled all who drink
With the charm of a king
The strength of ten oxen
For lifting or boxing,
The smell of a flower
And ten times the power,
Eyes that would dazzle
And a wit that would frazzle
The smartest of Greeks,
Send them crying for weeks.
It came in a vial
Gold like a sun's smile,
And gave off an odor
More than peculiar
And all who came near
Fled quickly in fear
And assumed without stirring
The vial contained urine
One day was a man
Who wandered this land
With no sense of smell
And then no way to tell
What lurked in the beaker
That lay near his sneakers
Despite better judgment,
He drank deeply of it,
And found all the gifts
From the previous list
Bestowed upon him
Much to his chagrin
Yet no one believed
And quickly took leave
Despite all his pleas
They said he drank pee º Last Column: The Man in the Baloney Suitº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Get out of my way, you're crapping up my genius, dumbnuts.”
-Ayn RandyFortune 500 CookieAll of those great things we said were going to happen to you last week? Yeah, sorry, we had you mixed up with your brother. You're fucked. Try parking your car at the far end of the lot and walking this week: everyone finds the way you jiggle when you walk highly amusing. Your friends and the packaging aren't lying: that's not toothpaste. Did you really think you were going to get away with naming your son Pringles? This week's lucky ass creams: Vaseline Intensive Hair, Ditch the Itch Ultra, Smooth Movers Hibiscus Scent, Baby's Ass in a Bottle, Johnson & Johnson No More Flaming Mass of Ground Hamburger Hemorrhoid Salve.
Try again later.Top Raoul Dunkin Nameplate Engravings| 1. | Excess Scrotal Flap | | 2. | Mr. Skids | | 3. | Fellator of Bono | | 4. | Living, Breathing Lung Chunk | | 5. | Abstract Barf | | 6. | The Dreaded Rear Admiral | | 7. | Charles Bronson Pinchot | | 8. | Prancing Machine | | 9. | Chowdermouth | | 10. | Latrine Archaeologist | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 10/24/2005 Yola, America. Roland McShyster here, there and every- where, like the Buggles used to say. Are you ready for a new week’sworth of exciting new releases? Too bad, too bad. Let’s see how you like another weekload of the normal bullshit instead.
Elizabethtown
You ever meet a girl who thinks the whole world revolves around her? Well, thankfully not all of them are like that: a few have more humble aspirations, only manifesting their egomania on the local level. Hence the case with Kirsten Dunstin’s character Elizabeth in Elizabethtown, who believes an entire podunk Kentucky town revolves around her. The only one who agrees is the gay guy from Pirates of the Queer Bean, who carries around a sword in this movie for no apparent reason. So is...
Yola, America. Roland McShyster here, there and every- where, like the Buggles used to say. Are you ready for a new week’sworth of exciting new releases? Too bad, too bad. Let’s see how you like another weekload of the normal bullshit instead.
Elizabethtown
You ever meet a girl who thinks the whole world revolves around her? Well, thankfully not all of them are like that: a few have more humble aspirations, only manifesting their egomania on the local level. Hence the case with Kirsten Dunstin’s character Elizabeth in Elizabethtown, who believes an entire podunk Kentucky town revolves around her. The only one who agrees is the gay guy from Pirates of the Queer Bean, who carries around a sword in this movie for no apparent reason. So is the movie enjoyable? Hard to say. Is it as enjoyable as throwing peanut M&Ms at the boy scouts sitting in the front row? Most certainly not.
A History of Violins
The guy who played heroic king Eric Orn in the Lords of the Ring trilogy is back in a film that’s half really boring documentary about how they make violins, and half ass-kicking good time about how to beat the shit out of a bunch of people with a violin after they come into your music store and demand sheet music for the score from Armageddon. Some may call the film dyslexic, but I call it Pete. I don’t know, just looked like a Pete to me. The other guy is played by the polack from that funny Polack film a few years back about how many polacks it takes to paint the floor.
Serenity
It’s exceedingly rare that a television show is made into a successful big-budget film, but Serenity is the rare exception that proves the rule. Granted, we are talking about one of the most successful TV shows of all time here. But few would have guessed that the first Seinfeld spin-off movie would focus on George Costanza’s dad and his weird "Serenity Now!" cult religion, so it was still a gamble. The producers hit a bunch of sixes, or however you win at gambling, with this one though, since I was glued to my seat for every frame, and only partially because I sat in some tacky combination of nacho cheese and half-dried Mr. Pibb. The film delivers the laughs, though with a few surprises mixed into the batter. Don’t be shocked toward the end of the film when Costanza flips his kibbles and starts kicking everyone’s ass in a dress, but I won’t say any more than that for fear of giving away the film’s thrilling finale.
Two for the Money
Al Pacino’s next and all future movies should just be called Being Al Pacino, since then screenwriters wouldn’t have to muck around with thinking up new names for their Al Pacino characters. Al’s back, and he’s Paci-no different that he has been in his last eighty-seven films. But is that a bad thing? Only if you don’t like furious nose breathing. Histrionics fans will enjoy this tale of a flashy guy who dares to suggest that having loose morals and a giant ego are good things, for only the four thousandth time in film history. That bit of redundancy having been pointed out, Two for the Money is still the best movie about alpaca breeding you’re ever likely to see.
And that’s a wrap mogul, ladies and gentlemen; hope you enjoyed this bird’s eye view into the current theater scene. Join us again next week when protégé Orson Welch will thrill you with his own brand of movie hate in his other-weekly column Jewel of the Bile.   |