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U.S. Students Dumber than Ever

May 13, 2002
Washington, DC
Snapper McGee
It's official: U.S. students not as bright as you
F
ourth and eighth-graders tested nationwide really screwed the pooch on a recent history exam, while 12th-graders were about as dumb as expected, the Education Department announced Thursday. The Bush administration was not impressed, calling the results "a shocking wake-up call of historicalistical proportions." More than 29,000 students took the history test that's part of the National Assessment of Educational Ineptitude, known informally as "Operation: Dumbo Drop."

Among fourth-graders, 67 percent had at least a basic understanding of the concept of history itself, though few could name any specific events. 13 percent showed no sense of events happening in the past at all, beyond a vague concept of everything happening "yesterday." That was three percentage points higher...Read more...


Joplin Tornado Not Named After Janis Joplin, Apparently They Don't Do That

Popular TV Clown Robertson Delivers Weekly Outrageous Banter

Canadian court upholds right to spanking, confesses to being naughty

Mark Buckles Some Sort of Cockwad



January 10, 2005

Click for Biography

Burn, Blaming, Burn

T'was the night before Christmas, and all through Bricks Manor, not a creature was sleeping, because my neighbor's house was all the fuck on fire. I shit you not, communauts, this was one bizarre-smelling Christmas. I barely saved the fireworks I keep buried in my lawn, and Foghat took a big black Christmas shit after gorging himself on some kind of half-melted attic insulation. This Christmas wasn't lacking Santa, just sanity.

As the most plausible recorded version of that night's events goes, Omar Bricks had just settled down for a long winter's nap with his trusty basset hound Foghat at the foot of the bed, watching for gremlins, when from out by the lawn there arose such a clatter, I jumped up and screamed "What the fuck??" like a pissed-off ninja. Away to the window I flew like The Flash, not as fast but just as naked. Or was that The Streak? One of those guys. And anyway, yeah, the new house they'd just finished building on Dale's old lot was way the hell on fire.

For a second, brave thoughts of dashing in heroically and getting all my shit out of there whizzed through my brain, like a half-remembered action movie. Then I realized the flames were like forty feet high and that camping gear was borrowed anyway. Sure, I'd left some boxes of crackers and shit in there too, but they were probably all brown on one side due to the raging inferno that was lighting up the neighborhood like the Griswalds' Christmas decorations. And in all likelihood,...Read more...


º Last Column: The Giving House
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August 18, 2003

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I Shit the Sheriff, But I Didn't Kid the Deputy

So I'm sitting there, explaining to the sheriff about how if a pizza delivery dude leaves his car running in front of your house while he jets in to bring your gaywad neighbor a pizza, it's totally kosher to sprint out and take his car for a spin for a few days or whatever, when I shit you not, that Eric Clapton reggae song comes on the radio. Right there, in the car, while the cop is leaning in my window and his breath is stank like Thai food and I'm trying to remember if Grand Theft Auto is a felony or just some shit they made up for the video game.

I'm sitting there, explaining to this dude about civil disobedience and Johnny Tremaine and all that, and about the legal precedent of Roper vs. Furley in 1968 and whatever else I can skewer onto the bullshit-kabob I'm cooking up for the guy, when I start to think I may have broken on through to the other side because there's no way this song comes on right then. I didn't even know the radio station had that record, as far as I can tell all they've got is one each from AC/DC and Pink Floyd that they picked up at a yard sale somewhere and they keep playing them again and again like your annoying ten year-old neighbor kid.

But sure as that cop's breath smelled like a loose Chinaman's ass they were playing the goddamned Clapton song. I think I may have screamed, quietly, when it came on, though I'm not sure if the cop looked uncomfortable because of that or just because he doesn't like...Read more...


º Last Column: Flaming Pogs & the Partial Robotomy
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Milestones
1999: Raoul Dunkin's first play, The Touch of Love, is put on in the commune break room by giggling staff reporters who find it unguarded in Dunkin's desk.
Now Hiring
Park Ranger. Duties include curtailing activities of bears, from large-haired picnic-basket stealing fun-lovin' bears to savage, towering vicious grizzly bears. Encountering bears is unlikely within the office, but your presence should finally shut up bear-phobic Ivana Folger-Balzac.
Top Easter Memories
1.Stuffing all those eggs up the bunny's ass. For the children.
2.Knee-deep in Peeps.
3.Kicked out of church for eating wooden Jesus. Thought it was chocolate.
4.I'll be damned, family really can tell ham from Spam.
5.Boil the eggs next year. Sweet Jesus, boil the motherloving eggs.
Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Pat Cheeks
5/2/2005
The King’s Lookalike
It was upon looking into the mirror the King noticed the most startling thing about him and his economically-deprived guest, Tim O’Pisspotless.

"’Tis most astonishing," exclaimed the queer King, "but you and myself, would not that I knew I were me, I would’st be mistaken on which is whom."

"…the fuck?" asked Tim, then doffed his cap and clutched it to his chest in respect. "What I mean, m’liege, is that I got no idea what the fuck ’tis you’re saying. But I would guess we look just alike, judging by the two fruitcakes staring back at us from the shiny-glass."

"’Tis precisely what I mean!" burst the King, too happy for anybody’s good. He started to undress. "I bid you, remove your encroachments, my good man!"

Tim...Read more...

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