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commune Reporter Lil Duncan Contracts SyphilisOctober 29, 2001 |
Duncan's skanky ass infected with the spirochete Treponema pallidum
The disease, caused by the bacteria Treponema, was discovered in Duncan after a series of blood tests and physicals given to all commune staff members except Easily Riled Herb. The tests were specifically looking for anthrax or other communicable diseases possibly spread by terrorist to American news sources like ABC and NBC.
After the diagnosis, the commune offices were filled with panicked men and some of the randier women who were terrified they had contracted it, though so far all testing has revealed only Duncan carries the disease at this time. All commune staf...
reedom-loving news source the commune was the victim of international terror this week when much-beloved (no exaggerration there) reporter Lil Duncan was diagnosed with the venereal disease syphilis.
The disease, caused by the bacteria Treponema, was discovered in Duncan after a series of blood tests and physicals given to all commune staff members except Easily Riled Herb. The tests were specifically looking for anthrax or other communicable diseases possibly spread by terrorist to American news sources like ABC and NBC.
After the diagnosis, the commune offices were filled with panicked men and some of the randier women who were terrified they had contracted it, though so far all testing has revealed only Duncan carries the disease at this time. All commune staffers, especially fearless commune editor Red Bagel, will be tested second or even third times to verify the absence of syphilis.
"Terror has hit home, way too close to home, you ask me," Bagel told a group of commune reporters he demanded quote him in the next edition. "Terrorists strike to make us fearful and terrified. Hence the name, stupid. Well, they have struck, and I guarantee you, the terrorists will pay! Put that part right under the headline, too, Nootles."
Duncan's doctor J. Ernest Fielgüd, a specialist in sexually contracted diseases, and medically schooled in them as well, has informed the commune that syphilis is a bacterial disease that is no longer the death sentence it was deemed early in the 20th century. With penicillin, the doctor said, syphilis can be eradicated from even late-stages sufferers.
commune Research Editor, Griswald Dreck, however, disagreed.
"If syphilis shows up, the party's over, that's all I can say. Little microbes invade your neurons and turn you into a character not unlike Jack Nicholson in 'The Shining.' Brrr! All work and no play make Lil a dull girl. Check her typewriter, I betcha anything she's got stacks and stacks of that shit on her desk. I'm outta here, no joke. You sit and wait for the ax in the chest, jack."
Dreck packed his tiny ventriloquist dummy-sized suitcase and vacated the commune offices quickly. All other commune staffers are visibly shaken and worried, but so far wait patiently for the outcome.
Lil Duncan could not be reached for comment as I ain't getting near the syphilis-beridden bitch. the commune news is strong enough for men, but women are sickened by it. Ramon Nootles shouldn't act like such a bigshot around the guys who write the small type, what, he thinks his shit don't stink?
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 December 9, 2002
One Household Please, and Hold the KidsChristmas is just around the corner, and that can only mean one thing in the Umbrage household: wait a minute, do I even have a household? Does one guy living in a studio apartment with a picture of a potted plant count these days? Usually it seems implied that there are some kids and/or hamsters involved, but I don't know if that's part of the textbook definition. If I count, then some guy living out of a suitcase down at the Y isn't far off, and that's a pretty half-assed household if you ask me. There should be some kind of minimum standards.
Kids I most definitely do not have, and unless the Spirit of Christmas comes around and kicks my ass over it some day I'm not giving it high odds that will change. Why exactly is it that some starving hobo passing out in your entryway is considered a nuisance, yet a pack of bratty little ingrates dominating your whole life, barfing milk left and right and making you listen to Raffi is looked upon as a blessing? I think we've got our priorities in some kind of uncomfortable Twister position there.
The thing that gets me is the people who pretend that they like kids. Right. Just like I love being stung in the dick by a hornet. Nobody likes kids, not even other kids. Put two of them alone in a room together and you won't get ten minutes into a porno before one of them hits the other in the head with a toybox or the corner of a brick. Forget about not letting them see R-rated movies; the average kid kicks more ass...
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Christmas is just around the corner, and that can only mean one thing in the Umbrage household: wait a minute, do I even have a household? Does one guy living in a studio apartment with a picture of a potted plant count these days? Usually it seems implied that there are some kids and/or hamsters involved, but I don't know if that's part of the textbook definition. If I count, then some guy living out of a suitcase down at the Y isn't far off, and that's a pretty half-assed household if you ask me. There should be some kind of minimum standards. Kids I most definitely do not have, and unless the Spirit of Christmas comes around and kicks my ass over it some day I'm not giving it high odds that will change. Why exactly is it that some starving hobo passing out in your entryway is considered a nuisance, yet a pack of bratty little ingrates dominating your whole life, barfing milk left and right and making you listen to Raffi is looked upon as a blessing? I think we've got our priorities in some kind of uncomfortable Twister position there. The thing that gets me is the people who pretend that they like kids. Right. Just like I love being stung in the dick by a hornet. Nobody likes kids, not even other kids. Put two of them alone in a room together and you won't get ten minutes into a porno before one of them hits the other in the head with a toybox or the corner of a brick. Forget about not letting them see R-rated movies; the average kid kicks more ass than Steven Seagal. They just don't have the sound effects and guys back-flipping off the Hoover Dam to make it seem impressive. Face the facts, kids are mean like the Viet Cong. If adults acted like that the whole world would be like Jerry Springer during sweeps week. The show, not the guy. You wouldn't be able to walk out in the rain without someone yelling that you'd peed your pants, and then out of nowhere somebody would pull your shorts down and rub some spaghetti in your hair. Yeah, what a wonderful world indeed. What a freakin' miracle of nature. I was out on a date with a girl the other night and she told me she had babies, all I can say is thank God that window was open or I might not have gotten out of there in time. I found out from a friend later that I'd misheard her and she actually has rabies, got bit by a flying squirrel or something, so I kind of felt bad about flinging myself out of the restaurant like I did. I might give her a call to go out again some time, maybe in a couple weeks when the pills have had time to make sure she's not going to foam from the mouth on my upholstery or anything like that. She was nice, and it's not like she has kids anymore. I want to meet the guy who suckered the world into thinking that having kids is a good idea. Probably the same guy who invented the diaper or Pokémon. All I'm saying is that if this guy holds a seminar, consider me there. If I could get just one tenth of that magic to rub off on me, within a week I'd have people paying me money to watch them kick themselves in the face. Granted, I hope I'd eventually come up with a better money-making scheme than that, since I'd probably get tired of flying all over the country to witness face-kickings and people getting blood on me and all that, but it would be a start. And it illustrated my point pretty well, I think. So yeah, you can keep your "household," if that's what it comes down to. I'll console myself somehow as I recline on my spitup-free couch and sleep in until noon. And I hope you like Candyland, you poor bastards. º Last Column: Conversations Vol. 2º more columns
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|  August 8, 2005
That's NostaligiaI think I finally found my niche in the world. I was watching those VH-1 shows about the '80s and the '70s and all these people talking about cool things. It's the kind of show you watch and you say, "I remember that!" But not me. I had to sell my memories in 1990 or they were going to repossess my apartment, with me in it. The guys who bought them left me the memories of my mom and dad and family, they said those had no resale value, but I can't really remember much of anything else. Which is a shame, because everyone keeps telling me the networks never gave Tales of the Gold Monkey a chance, and that sounds like the kind of show I'd like.
But my niche. Like I said, I found it. I'm going to be the first guy to have '90s nostalgia. I'm even going to copyright it so everyone else has to pay me when they want it. I can do '90s nostalgia. That shit was awesome, as I remember it.
Like remember M.C. Hammer? His pants were big. He always hung out with a lot of guys and jumped around, and sang some of those famous, unforgettable songs. Like the Addams Family one. Like he said, don't touch him, remember? That was awesome. I expect to get $1.50 out of that one, on average.
After that we came up with grunge. I still remember the big bands from those years. Like Joan Osbourne and Dishwalla. They were in-your-face, like punk, but everybody could like them. They said God was a bum and they wanted to hear what you thought, which was cool. I wrote a...
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I think I finally found my niche in the world. I was watching those VH-1 shows about the '80s and the '70s and all these people talking about cool things. It's the kind of show you watch and you say, "I remember that!" But not me. I had to sell my memories in 1990 or they were going to repossess my apartment, with me in it. The guys who bought them left me the memories of my mom and dad and family, they said those had no resale value, but I can't really remember much of anything else. Which is a shame, because everyone keeps telling me the networks never gave Tales of the Gold Monkey a chance, and that sounds like the kind of show I'd like.
But my niche. Like I said, I found it. I'm going to be the first guy to have '90s nostalgia. I'm even going to copyright it so everyone else has to pay me when they want it. I can do '90s nostalgia. That shit was awesome, as I remember it.
Like remember M.C. Hammer? His pants were big. He always hung out with a lot of guys and jumped around, and sang some of those famous, unforgettable songs. Like the Addams Family one. Like he said, don't touch him, remember? That was awesome. I expect to get $1.50 out of that one, on average.
After that we came up with grunge. I still remember the big bands from those years. Like Joan Osbourne and Dishwalla. They were in-your-face, like punk, but everybody could like them. They said God was a bum and they wanted to hear what you thought, which was cool. I wrote a song and sent it to Dishwalla and I guess they had a creative writing block or something because they haven't gotten back to me yet. That's probably worth about $4. $5, if I throw in Tracy Bonham's mom.
They had a ton of cool movies in the '90s, too. Remember Braveheart and Schindler's Lab? I didn't see them but lots of people did. From the box you could tell Mel Gibson had long hair and was a roadie or something. I bet that was cool. He was crazy, wearing that dress and all. And Schindler's Lab was in black and white, judging by the back of the box, so I didn't see it. But it was pretty tempting, because they had those cool Matrix-looking numbers on the front. It was probably an awesome computer movie like Johnny Nemamonic, another kick-ass '90s movie. Which I didn't see. I'll only charge about $1 for all those, since I didn't see them. But reminding other people they saw them should be worth something.
And who could forget the music? But we did that already.
Remember when Chris Farley and Princess Diana were killed in that car crash? That sucked. They were so funny. I'd like to take a long pause to remember them, and charge about $10 for it.
T.V. was completely "fresh" in the '90s, too. I didn't have one, but it was. Sometimes I would watch them at a friend's house, or through the neighbor's window. There were lots of doctor and lawyer shows, because they can afford televisions. What do you think that's worth, about $1.30? Not too much, but something.
Anyway, since I lost my job this will be a nice way to pay the bills. And keep my memories! So consider this an invoice for $18.80. Cash and check are fine, but I can't take credit cards. I'm looking into Paypal. º Last Column: Stupid Heroesº more columns
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Quote of the Day“My love is like a red, red rose… always surrounded by pricks.”
-Wycked BurnsFortune 500 CookieDuck! Jesus, did you see that? Now may be the time to consider ending your relationship with Columbia House. That weird lump you feel may not be an alien tracking device after all; go ahead and see a specialist. You won't remember the name of that Faith No More tribute band anytime soon.
Try again later.Top Unsigned Retro 70s Funk Bands| 1. | Captain Dance and His Delicious Groove Posse | | 2. | Shithouse Delight | | 3. | The Unfuckables | | 4. | Danny Gyrate Presents Sensual Musk | | 5. | The Wonder Holes | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 5/30/2005 G'day, America, we're phoning in this week's edition of Entertainment Police from an Aussie state of mind, and by that I mean I'm stuck in an airport in Austria. Word to the wise: don't accept an invitation to the Greater Chinese Film Festival, because there ain't one. It's all a clever white slavery ring that was apparently looking to get its hooks into one of Omar Bricks' neighbors, but lucky for her Omar's been collecting the neighborhood's mail as part of an experimental attempt to teach dogs to deliver mail, as a way to make his a two-income household without the downsides of getting married or going gay.
We've been raffling off the leftover mail here at the commune's offices to raise money for sick kids who are faking cancer, so I ended up with the film festival invite,...
G'day, America, we're phoning in this week's edition of Entertainment Police from an Aussie state of mind, and by that I mean I'm stuck in an airport in Austria. Word to the wise: don't accept an invitation to the Greater Chinese Film Festival, because there ain't one. It's all a clever white slavery ring that was apparently looking to get its hooks into one of Omar Bricks' neighbors, but lucky for her Omar's been collecting the neighborhood's mail as part of an experimental attempt to teach dogs to deliver mail, as a way to make his a two-income household without the downsides of getting married or going gay. We've been raffling off the leftover mail here at the commune's offices to raise money for sick kids who are faking cancer, so I ended up with the film festival invite, to the great disappointment of my would-be Chinese captors, believe me. There's a three-to-one male-female ratio over there, so they were happy to see me show up to that sausage-fest like I was a turkey baster full of the bird flu. But enough about my airline-gone-out-business limbo. Thanks to the magic of Wifi, I'm here as usual to offer another weekly glance at the magic of Hollywood, your portal to disinterest. In Theaters Now:Cinderella ManFinally, that Aussie meathead whose name I can't remember is a big enough star to make the film he's been dreaming about since he was a child: a serious dramatic retelling of the Cinderella legend with a man cross-dressing as a woman in the title role. Sure, we've all had that idea before, but who thought they could really pull it off? Only this guy, whatever his name is. Don't tell me, I swear it's on the tip of my tongue. Anyway, the resulting film is surreal as a Tupperware party at David Lynch's house, with the hairy and deep-voiced Cinderella going to great lengths to hide his manliness from his wicked stepsisters, his fairy godmother, several unperceptive mice, and the charming prince from the ball who's going around town trying to see whose foot fits into Cinderella's size-13 glass slipper. The results will jerk tears and several other body parts. The Gaylords of DogtownFinally somebody is giving the Weird Al treatment to that awful Nichole Kidman movie Dogtown, which itself was a cheap knockoff of Cats, except with more-loveable dogs played by unlovable big Hollywood stars. As anyone who actually saw Dogtown could tell you, what that movie needed was a whole lot more skateboarding, and this parody doesn't disappoint. But the real masterstroke was casting the entire movie only with real dogs, who, to a dog, easily trounce the performances of their human imitators in Dogtown. Watching real dogs skateboard is also pretty hilarious, especially if they're being pulled behind Jeeps and Ferraris and things and they put them in funny crash helmets and sunglasses. The Longest TurdHollywood's been going through a serious toilet-humor streak lately, which I can only think is a result of the "Go Young!" philosophy that has left us with a median age of thirteen for Hollywood studio execs. This mentality suits Adam Sandler just fine, however, and he's back from a recent detour into unfunny roles with this decidedly no-brow tale of a prison shitting contest and a little guy who could lay cable like nobody's business. Sandler really sinks his teeth into the role, if you can read that figure of speech without conjuring some disgusting mental image of Happy Gilmore biting a turd, and shines as the virtuoso ass-dropper. Burt Reynolds isn't nearly as funny in his cameo, but hey, fuck you, he's Burt Reynolds. MadagastroNever before has $90 million bought so little at the Hollywood rummage sale as in the case of this computer-animated film about a crazy scientist with the shits. Ben Stiller is back in his usual role as a lion with itchy balls, and other famous people use cartoon animal totems to spout the kind of hateful anti-diarrhea rhetoric that would get them blacklisted if it came out of their non-animated mouths. I think I heard Will Smith in there somewhere, and of course Bela Lugosi. As for the animation itself, it looks like a Special Ed class's homage to South Park, but I mean that in the nicest way possible for not hurting the feelings of retards. And that's all that we've got the time or life force to review this week, friends and neighbors, but be sure to check back in another two when we'll have an in-depth look at the amoeba and finally answer the hot-button question "Microscopes: real magic or phony bullshit?"   |
