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February 14, 2005 |
Iranian President Mohammad Khatami starts off his sarcastic rally by telling the audience he was so happy to have to cancel his Matrix costume party to answer U.S. aggression. ran, the Middle East's "other Ira," fought back with lethal verbal force on Friday, responding to U.S. warnings to "straighten up and fly right" with a dangerous barrage of sarcasm and pretend fright. Iranian President Mohammad "Salami" Khatami unleashed an attack of insincerity the likes of which few countries have ever seen.
"We are so scared of you," said Khatami, while numerous friends cracked up behind him. "Please, do not send your thousands of groundtroops and air craft carriers and stealth bombers to demolish our ancient culture with an invasion—an invasion, I point out, which would be so justified."
The mockery comes following recent announcements by the White House and U.S. President George W. Bush, warning Iran that pursuing a nuclear program...
ran, the Middle East's "other Ira," fought back with lethal verbal force on Friday, responding to U.S. warnings to "straighten up and fly right" with a dangerous barrage of sarcasm and pretend fright. Iranian President Mohammad "Salami" Khatami unleashed an attack of insincerity the likes of which few countries have ever seen.
"We are so scared of you," said Khatami, while numerous friends cracked up behind him. "Please, do not send your thousands of groundtroops and air craft carriers and stealth bombers to demolish our ancient culture with an invasion—an invasion, I point out, which would be so justified."
The mockery comes following recent announcements by the White House and U.S. President George W. Bush, warning Iran that pursuing a nuclear program would lead to sanctions or other measures against the country.
Thursday, Bush added, "And don't say, 'What nuclear weapons?' That ain't gonna fly."
Instead, Khatami reacted with deadly sarcasm, holding a rally in Tehran Friday to goad the U.S. and entertain his countrymen.
"Oh, Allah be praised, you caught me!" said Khatami, patting himself down. "I've been hiding nuclear armaments for years, right here on my robe. Wait—nope, nope. Those are just my cigarettes. Well, shit. Maybe I left them in my garage, next to the car I don't have either. But I will be checking this out right away, Mr. U.S. President, who completely and surely has jurisdiction to root through the couch cushions of my country looking for things."
It was a far different tact than Saddam Hussein in 2003, when President Bush then ordered the Iraqi leader to disarm, and Hussein replied, "Make me."
Bush immediately went on the offensive then, informing the Iraqi president he didn't make monkeys, only trained them. The U.S. president further warned, "If a clash is necessary between our two armies, there will be two hits—ours hitting yours, then yours hitting the ground. Understand?"
As of press time, the White House has yet to respond to Iran's taunts, though Press Secretary Scott McClellan said the administration would wait for the Iranian president's rally to stop, then would "burn" them with a clever retort like you wouldn't believe. The rally, begun Friday, has lasted for three days without clear sign of finishing, as the anti-American mob urges Khatami to continue his unstoppable assault of wit.
"If it helps, Mr. President, I'm sure your penis is quite massive," Khatami continued on Saturday, cheered on by hoots and hollers of the crowd. "You are welcome to invade Iran, if it pleases you, but I am sure your penis can get no bigger than it currently is. You are indeed a man, as you have proven with all the threats and multiple country invasions and everything. I'm sure Allah smiles down on you, and will in no way send you to hell to smoke your ass for eternity once you are dead. Forget about all death warrants on your dad and yourself—I'm sure everything is all better now. If I see you in the street, in front of my non-existent car, I am sure to brake so I don't hit you and splatter your devil's guts all over the road."
In spite of a response not yet coming from the White House, inside sources predict Bush may yield the floor to Vice President Dick Cheney to reply with one of his devastating "Your momma so fat" comebacks. the commune news is, like, completely and totally thrilled we're denied access to the White House press room so often, just because some reporters don't like to wear shoes. Ivan Nacutchacokov has been getting an amazing number of stories from Iran, thanks to his brilliant burqua disguise, but hates having the holy shit beat out of him whenever he walks ahead of the men.
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Muslims Protest Violent Cartoons by Fucking Shit Up Cheney Comrade Injured During Hunt for Bin Laden Stealers Wheel Win Super Bowl, Says Heavily Accented Man Colin Farrell Claims Responsibility for Groin Injury That Sidelined Kwan |
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 June 18, 2007
the commune Sells OutAs of this writing it's been about one week since our building burned down. You may have seen it on your local evening news, or read about it in Fire! magazine, if such a thing exists. I can't say I have many regrets about it, although I would have preferred to have been given mouth-to-mouth resuscitation by a female firefighter. So I do have regrets, I suppose. The whole "everything I own completely destroyed" comes at a pretty pivotal time in the commune history, as I was quite on the fence about whether or not to continue my fruitless Don Quixote-like pursuit of informing the public of the conspiracies around them, or to just retire and dedicate my life to hot-tubbin'. I've long begun to suspect that the Internet is nothing more than a passing fad, and short of creating a MySpace site for the commune, there is no way to distinguish one's self on the worldwide web. So to summarize, I've decided to take the commune to a quarterly pamphlet publishing routine. As the commune started as a pamphlet, some might say we've taken a step back. I prefer to think of it as walking all the way around the earth until you wind up back in the exact same spot where you once stood. It's nothing personal against our readers or our staff, although there are a few of you who will one day get what's coming to you, nothing personal, it's just that I've poured way too much of my time and money into this anonymous enterprise and I don't believe we've affected...
º Last Column: Return to the Bermuda Shorts Triangle º more columns
As of this writing it's been about one week since our building burned down. You may have seen it on your local evening news, or read about it in Fire! magazine, if such a thing exists. I can't say I have many regrets about it, although I would have preferred to have been given mouth-to-mouth resuscitation by a female firefighter. So I do have regrets, I suppose. The whole "everything I own completely destroyed" comes at a pretty pivotal time in the commune history, as I was quite on the fence about whether or not to continue my fruitless Don Quixote-like pursuit of informing the public of the conspiracies around them, or to just retire and dedicate my life to hot-tubbin'. I've long begun to suspect that the Internet is nothing more than a passing fad, and short of creating a MySpace site for the commune, there is no way to distinguish one's self on the worldwide web. So to summarize, I've decided to take the commune to a quarterly pamphlet publishing routine. As the commune started as a pamphlet, some might say we've taken a step back. I prefer to think of it as walking all the way around the earth until you wind up back in the exact same spot where you once stood. It's nothing personal against our readers or our staff, although there are a few of you who will one day get what's coming to you, nothing personal, it's just that I've poured way too much of my time and money into this anonymous enterprise and I don't believe we've affected nearly enough readers. If only the truth were more contagious, or I could infect everyone in the world with some kind of computer-born virus. This would not cause death or pain, this theoretical virus, but spread the love and joy that humanity can overcome the darkest things about itself; and possibly cause some rectal itching, who can say with theoretical computer-born viruses? This has been my dream. But as with all dreams, it must come to an end when we wake. This is not the end of the commune—not by far. I mean, it is for you, sure, but not the end for the commune staff, myself chiefly among them. We've all become close friends, and I'm sure they will have little problem doing the exact same work we do now with no office, an unprofessional outlet for their work, and absolutely no paychecks, not even coupons or Bagelbucks. They're dedicated like that, and it's not because they're stupid, no matter what you might have overhead me saying loudly while drinking it up. If anything, our low-budget guerrilla-style reporting will bring this family closer together. Particularly Raoul Dunkin, who most definitely needs to be brought closer together with force. I've already bought the perfect van to act as our new office, and as soon as I find out for sure who survived the fire we will all make our way south to Mexico, where publishing costs for pamphlets are simply insane. It's been rough for them all, this news I have yet to tell them, but we'll take it in stride. I'm not saying we will never publish on the Internet again, and if Emile Zender, lifelong subscriber to all things commune, deems it worth his time, he's welcome to transfer our smaller publications to the website version, which he is inheriting. And basically, as our last note, I think covering Paris Hilton going to prison pretty much finalizes all the news we could ever hope to report. What's more important than wealthy people being jailed for driving felonies? The world has turned upside-down and on its ear. Which reminds me, I promised the gang we could Van Twister a few minutes ago. It's like Twister, but in a van. So enjoy this, what may be our final commune. And if Ivana Folger-Balzac asks you where everyone disappears to when she gets back from her vacation, tell her we all died in the fire. I would wink at you, but this is text. Thanks for all the fond memories and however many years of loyal readership. º Last Column: Return to the Bermuda Shorts Triangleº 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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Quote of the Day“There's more than one way to skin a cat. But only one reason: cat skin tacos.”
-Emil the Lonely ChefFortune 500 CookieYou will become unbearably wealthy this week, and pen a beautifully-written suicide note. Donkey meat tastes just like chicken, but don't leave the hooves on unless you want your dinner guests seriously freaking out on you. This week's lucky swear words: fafuck, dickfish, shatly, bitcheese, cashit, cabbageass, shitch.
Try again later.Top 5 Concessions to Iran for Freeing British Prisoners| 1. | Give Iranian cricket team real shot at the World Cup | | 2. | Current prisoners traded for Ian MacKellen, who can hopefully deliver more convincing confession | | 3. | Just one more season of Ricky Gervais' The Office | | 4. | Three words: Spandau Ballet Reunion | | 5. | Stab at pissing off the second-largest military force in the West before taking on the biggest not as successful as expected | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 4/14/2003 Howdy howdy howdy America, as they used to say in the old three-man Westerns. We're here for another week of the viewin' and reviewin' good time you've come to know as Entertainment Police. Or, if you've been tuning in to our Spanish-language affiliate, Entertainmentalvo Policias Arriba Arriba!. We're back, and so is Hollywood with exhibits A-E in the "When did semi-retarded apes take over Hollywood?" trial. So without wasting any more time, let's take a crack at this week's movies before that tight-assed court reporter gets back from the john.
In Theaters
Bend it Like Beck's Ham
Probably the most surreal movie of the year so far, after Shaq's turn as an aspiring stewardess...
Howdy howdy howdy America, as they used to say in the old three-man Westerns. We're here for another week of the viewin' and reviewin' good time you've come to know as Entertainment Police. Or, if you've been tuning in to our Spanish-language affiliate, Entertainmentalvo Policias Arriba Arriba!. We're back, and so is Hollywood with exhibits A-E in the "When did semi-retarded apes take over Hollywood?" trial. So without wasting any more time, let's take a crack at this week's movies before that tight-assed court reporter gets back from the john.
In Theaters
Bend it Like Beck's Ham
Probably the most surreal movie of the year so far, after Shaq's turn as an aspiring stewardess in A View from the Top, of course. Brain-scrambled folkamuffin Beck finally gets a chance to write and direct his own film, after his scripts for Dogfood Stamps and Papa Roach Motel Fire were turned down by the studios. This one definitely was the strongest script of the bunch, centering around the story of a disco-loving rump roast who coughs on Satan, instead of the rather far-fetched plots of the other two. I have to admit the film lost me a bit when the gummy bears hijacked the giant dancing robot and made him put on the golden pants, but I still had a good time.
The Core
At first I was excited because I thought this was going to be another killer movie about the Marines, but then I realized that's spelled Corps. Which is a bummer since I was really in the mood to see some doughboys get chewed out severely by a skullfucking psychopath. Anyway, in the end I had to settle for this poofy little bitch of a movie. Yeah yeah yeah, the earth is going to blow the hell up unless some goofy dingdongs can set its shit straight with a technological cattle prod up the ass. Tell me another one. I didn't even like it the first time when it was called Armagremlins.
Head of State
With a title that's a clever pun on the Clinton administration, this new comedy features Chris Rock as an irrepressible presidential fill-in who can't go five minutes without getting his knob shined. The expected hilarity ensues, mainly when girls turn out to be boys, boys turn out to be girls, and half of them turn out to be either members of the Britpop band Blur in cheeky cameo roles, or Ari Fleischer in funny wigs. As presidential sex comedies go, this one isn't quite as inspired as All the President's Men, but still easily outpaces such rote exercises in the genre as Sexual Congress and In the Oral Office.
A Man Apartment
Horror has a new face when virtuoso crotch-scratcher and testosterone mop Vin Diesel gets his own apartment after his wife leaves him for getting her killed by vengeful drug dealers. The resulting bachelor pad is not pretty. Think The Money Pit meets Poltergeist, only sweatier. Though the film is a little too dependent on cheap scares, like the sudden extreme close-ups on Diesel's grotesquely browned briefs, overall it has just enough of the right creepy vibe to stick in your head, and to keep more than a few girls from ever dating again.
Phone Booth
Could John Wilkes Booth be the 21st century's perfect killing machine? Would you respect me if I said yes? What if I said it in the form of a big glitzy movie with shit blowing up and Katie Holmes? How 'bout this: An evil madman holds the world for ransom after he develops a time-traveling phone booth and uses it to call up America's original lone gunman, summoning Booth from the past to do his evil madman bidding. Does that make your teeth hurt? You should try sitting through the movie. At least they resisted the urge to throw Carrot Top into the mix somehow.
That's all the milk the tit has for us this week, gents and gentinas. I hope you enjoyed it more than your last marriage, and I hope we'll see you here again in another two weeks. Well, not literally see you, it's not like we're developing some new invasive web-spying technology and using this site as a beta test or anything. That would be crazy. So forget I said anything about that. Really, at all. Just flush it from your memory. Completely. Thanks.   |