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You can't spell 'patriot' without 'a riot'
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Officials to Celebrities: Please Get Out of New OrleansSeptember 12, 2005
New Orleans, LA
Junior Bacon
Actor Sean Penn bravely rescues himself from the New Orleans disaster
D
isaster-relief officials in New Orleans made a stern announcement today to the thousands of celebrities descending upon the devastated city in hopes of providing humanitarian aid in exchange for career-boosting photo ops: We’re serious; you really need to leave now.

“We’ve got to get these fucking celebrities out of New Orleans,” sighed an exasperated Lt. Mark Bolio of the Army’s 92nd Airborne. “They’re drinking up all our bottled water and bitching about the catering all day.”

The influx of famous faces has weighed as a heavy burden on officials who have spent the last week scrambling to get everyone out of the city-shaped deathtrap. Receding water levels have exposed a nightmare world of toxic contamination, with nearly the entire city soaki...Read more...


Paul Giamatti snubbed in "Sexiest Man Alive" contest

Washington: Dollar down, unemployment up, economy fantastic

Man, there are a lot of orphans for sale on eBay

Punk-ing of William F. Buckley even more dull than predicted



October 10, 2005

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At War With the Joneses

There must be some sort of law that says I, Rok Finger, can never live next to a normal neighbor. Well, I suppose the neighbors on the other four sides are normal enough. But that doesn't excuse the fact my neighbors to the right are the most obscene excuses for homeowners you've ever seen. You have seen them, haven't you? Leaving their vehicles on the lawn, setting fire to things at all odd hours, walking around the neighborhood in full Nazi regalia. I am not kidding—these are neighbor freaks.

They are the Joneses, if that is their real surname. I'm not sure if they're Eastern European or Russian or what, but they are clearly not indigenous to the area. They claim to be from Mississippi, but their accents are the worst I ever heard. If people in Mississippi all talk like that, I don't know how they ever get anything done—nobody could possibly understand that gibberish. Come to think of it, I'm not sure they get anything done in Mississippi at all. But that's another column.

Don't try complaining to the neighborhood block association either. There's clearly a strong foreigner sympathy streak running through them—maybe they have a soft spot for those who live behind the Iron Curtain, I don't know. But they always take their side. They let them burn animals at all weird animals, calling it "barbecue," an American tradition. But you throw firecrackers at one cat and all of a sudden they're the SPCA.

Nazi-lovers, too, obviously. You'd...Read more...


º Last Column: The Concert for New Orleans
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June 20, 2005

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The Tunguska Explosion

As every high school yearbook from the era can attest, "What the Hell Was That??" was the catchphrase of the year for 1908 in Russia, thanks to the infamous Tunguska Explosion in Siberia earlier that year, which rocked the fallacious common notion that an entire forest wouldn't suddenly just blow up for no apparent reason. Exactly that happened to 2,000 square kilometers (10,000 miles) of forest on a remote central Siberian plateau on June 30th, at 7:14 am. Some historians argue that it was actually at 7:13 am, but researchers have independently verified that every one of them, to a man, is an asshole.

So what the hell was that, exactly? Ask a hundred different people and you'll get seven different answers, and ninety-three people who look at you like you just crawled up out of a manhole naked. In truth, they're all wrong, unless you ask the question while participating in a Gay Pride parade and really are naked on the street. But that's obviously never happened to anyone so let's drop the subject and never bring it up again, regardless of any "Griswald Dreck Gone Wild" photos you might have seen circulating on the Internet.

Let's start with what we know. That morning began like many others, with simple Siberian farmers and herdsmen going about their regular business, planning a communist revolution. Some commented it was strange that they couldn't hear any birds singing that morning, but were quickly reminded that all the birds had been...Read more...


º Last Column: Buddha Who?
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Quote of the Day
“History is written by Jonathan Winters.”

-Germaine "Double Dip" Proverb
Fortune 500 Cookie
For God's sake, don't climb up in that porcupine tree. Sorry, being optimistic still won't get you a discount on eyeglasses. Remember, "lambast" is neither a compliment nor a veterinary term. This week, you will find love where you least expected it: up the ass. Your lucky disguise: a giant plastic toucan.


Try again later.
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View Past Columns
BY Red Bagel
4/23/2007
A Fistful of Tannenbaum, Chapter 18: The Pope War
Editor's Note: In the last prematurely published chapter, time-traveling Fancy Dan Jed Foster stepped up his flirting with the buttonesque-cute Princess Penny. King Arthur, Jed's host for his visit to his century, was not amused, and unfolded a plot to have Jed promoted to Supreme Knight of the King's Army and sent to battle, where he would surely be killed. We also introduced the lovable Catpants, whose full function in this story couldn't even be hinted at in the briefest of parts he played.

Yesterday things had been going so well. Jed Foster had at last kissed the endmost fingernail of the Princess Penny, and could probably work his way up to the back of the hand itself by the end of the month. But in one day it all changed, since the King had just promoted...Read more...

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