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7/3/26   
Breaking down barriers like a drunken Mario Andretti
Loves That Woman '; $dunkin='2005/0328/'; $dunkintitle='Highway to Hell'; $edit='2003/1222/'; $fanmail='2005/0516/'; $fanmailtitle='Volume 63'; $finger='2005/0822/'; $fingertitle='To Hell With This Desk'; $fortune='2002/020121/'; $goocher='2005/0711/'; $goochertitle='Gwar of the Worlds'; $hanes='2005/0704/'; $hanestitle='Pink is Not for Men'; $hartwig='2005/0606/'; $hartwigtitle='Parade'; $hooper='2005/0228/'; $hoopertitle='Vernon Hoopers Fifth Syphilis'; $hurley='2005/0404/'; $hurleytitle='Time of Healing'; $kroeger='2005/0822/'; $kroegertitle='Charity Case'; $loser='2005/0822/'; $losertitle='Lost Leavings'; $ned='2003/0818/'; $nedtitle='Cyantology'; $pickle='2002/020513/'; $pickletitle='State of the Art'; $poet='2005/0704/'; $police='2005/0822/'; $polio='2005/0822/'; $poliotitle='WEASELS-B-GON'; $rent='2005/0829/'; $renttitle='For the Last Time Deidrebane, Those Arent the Feds'; $reynolds='2005/0425/'; $reynoldstitle='A Series of Unfortunate Evans'; $hartwig='2004/1206/'; $hartwigtitle='O Captain!'; $sickhead='2004/0419/'; $sickheadtitle='The Legendary Spot of Coco Hobari McSteve'; $ted='2005/0530/'; $tedtitle='The New War on Poverty'; $vanslyke='2005/0606/'; $vanslyketitle='Health Food is Full of Shit'; $zender='2005/0425/'; $zendertitle='The Sixth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting'; ?>
homecommune Staff Biographiescommune news20,000 Seats Beneath the League with Stan AbernathieOr So You Thought with Red BagelBook RevoltBoris is Gay with Boris UtzovMy Friend Polio with Omar BricksMy Dearest Deidrebane with Carlisle P. ChesterfeldChild Star with Clarissa ColemanThe Best of Joel DickmanNo Shit? with Griswald DreckOne Sane Man with Raoul DunkinEditorial CartoonsFanmail from Some Flounders: Letters to the EditorGiving You the Finger with Rok FingerThe Hanes Identity with Mickey HanesSampson L. Hartwig RemembersShort N’ Sweet with Stan HooperPoop of the Century with Ramrod HurleyAmerican Jesus with Mitch KroegerYou Can’t Win with Alamo CruiseFortune 500 Cookies with Mazie the ChickenManifestos of FunMe Chinese with Ned NedmillerSittin’ Around the Pickle Barrel with Shorty and JeterPoetry CoronerEntertainment Police: Movie and Television ReviewsThis Space for Rent: Guest ColumnistsGlass Ceiling Fan with Thelma ReynoldsClarise Sickhead’s Bedtime StoriesGoddammit! with Ted TedReflections of a Goocher with Stu UmbrageThe World Vs. Homer Vanslykecommune Club with Emil Zender

Elderly Celebrities Relieved Hackett Was the One to Go

July 7, 2003
Los Angeles, CA
Skeeter Barnes
Late comedian Buddy Hackett, whose own material made a roast largely redundant
T
he death of legendary comedian Buddy Hackett early last week at the age of 78 was met with fond remembrances and tributes from his family and fans, and a collective relieved sigh from the nation’s remaining elderly celebrities.

“You know how the saying goes,” explained Bob Hope, 100. “Celebrities always die in threes. After Peck and Hepburn went, every celebrity over 60 had to wonder if they would be next. Actually, I think most of these assholes thought it would be me. Maybe I’m just oversensitive, but I was definitely getting some strange looks last week.”

“To be honest, I thought it would be Bob Hope,” confessed comedian Red Buttons, 85. “How old is that guy? He’s definitely cheating death at this point. That guy’s so old he looks like a ...Read more...


Howard Dean happy to be able to holler again

Whale-dolphin hybrid born to overeager whale, traumatized dolphin

Iran divided by election into two America-hating factions

Someone actually gave Tony Danza another show



February 17, 2003

Click for Biography

The Mystery of Cell Phone Bills

Modern mysteries come in all shapes and sizes, from the five-toed horny gorilla to the location of the island where they breed reality show contestants. But some of the most vexing mysteries of all come in the blandest of blandishments. Sometimes they slip under our radar in plastic-windowed envelopes, without any kind of Unsolved Mysteries theme music alerting us to their mysterious presence.

The only thing harder to read than an epileptic doing sign language or Spanish scribbled on a men's room wall is the modern cell phone bill. We live in a society where experts can catch a killer based on the velocity at which the blood hit the beanie baby display case, but there doesn't seem to be a person on the planet who can tell you what the fruity hell is going on with your phone bill. We have scholars who can read hieroglyphics, cave drawings and the handwriting in hip-hop album liner notes, but even they throw up their hands in disgust when you ask them what a Cross-Promotional Technolocality fee is or why you're being charged for Atmospheric Carbon Dioxide Removal. And this isn't only because you called them up at home in the middle of the night from a bar and they couldn't hear your question over the Phil Collins blaring in the background. They just don't know.

However, all that is unknown may not be unknowable. It may just be that no one has ever had the balls to rip the phony rubber Richard Nixon mask off the truth. And believe you me, there...Read more...


º Last Column: Six Degrees of Griswald Dreck
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August 19, 2002

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I'm Not a Pessimist, I'm an Asshole

I can't count the number of times in this life that I've been unfairly accused of being a pessimist. Actually, I probably could, since I'm a capable adult who made it through grade school with little trouble, unlike some people I could mention by name. So perhaps it is more accurate to say I don't care to count the times. If somebody out there is hot to get on my good side, they could run up some figures and leave the result on my desk after working hours today, but otherwise we're just going to have to work from my general estimate of "a whole lot."

Usually the name-calling follows a familiar scenario: Some dewy-eyed dreamer with his or her head up in the clouds will make some unrealistically optimistic statement about his worth as a human being or her newborn baby's chances of surviving its current bout with pneumonia. My reply then invariably inspires a response along the lines of "You know, Doug, you're a real 'glass-is-half-empty' kind of guy." Sometimes this is followed by a physical assault. That's a figure I can actually peg at exactly 107, as the county sheriff's office has done the tallying legwork for me on that one.

What few have the patience or acumen to realize is that I'm not a pessimist at all. Far from it. I'm an asshole. I don't fear the worst in any given situation, I embrace it and wish it upon all those in my immediate vicinity, hoping to be myself passed over in the cosmic game of "duck, duck, goose" called misfortune. Read more...


º Last Column: I Say It Needs More Salt
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Quote of the Day
“It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our capacity for customer service. Yes I'll hold.”

-Elvin Einschwartz
Fortune 500 Cookie
You will find Love in a new job this week. Unfortunately it's Courtney Love, and she's your second-shift supervisor. Cheer up, it's not that nobody cares about you; it's just that nobody's willing to admit to it. Everyone's right: Your irrational hatred of the Chinese is starting to hurt your chopstick business. This week's lucky stars: Sirius, Orion, Omega 13, Pauley Shore.


Try again later.
Worst Country Songs Ever
1.She Left Me for an African-American
2.I Don't Feel Like Drinkin'
3.Here's a Quarter, Go Buy Some Bubblegum
4.What's the Capital of Tennessee Again?
5.If Anyone Needs Me, I'll be Down at the Nail Salon
6.Regretfulness is the Hardest Word to Spell
7.Mama Didn't Raise No Episcopalians
8.I'm So Lonesome I Could Call an Escort Service
9.I Got This Hat on Sale
10.You Mispronounced My Name for the Very Last Time
Last IssueLast Issues Lead News Story

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

View Past Columns
BY Violet Tiara
5/27/2002
Dinner Date
Swizzle-stick me in a jar,
mastodons in foreign cars.
Oh what lovely
buggering bubbly
sex shows on starships tonight!

Chew up those rancid tulips
like I know you want to, Stone Phillips.
Belching out butterflies,
watching them flutter by,
gastric delights hued in blue.

Don't be so dumb,
dressed up and down in that bubblegum.
Don't you know you're the queen?
Practical jokes are so mean.
My lady you drink like a whore.

Rubber wigs are low-fuss.
Parsley sprigs condemn us.
Slap on that wig
and shit out a fig,
see if they won't now get us a table!

Stone Phillips, the queen and me,
dancing on MTV.
Dining on the finest Read more...

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