Americans Copying Shitty Music They Refuse to Buy

ecord companies were faced with a 10% drop in CD sales from 2000 to 2001, and are quick to point the finger squarely at internet music piracy and illegal CD copying. Now the awful songs and albums consumers refuse to buy are available to them for free elsewhere.

“It used to be someone would have to buy an album just to find out it was crap,� said recording industry lawyer Snig Partridge. “Now they spend hours downloading it, take one listen, and mutter they’re glad they didn’t buy it.

“That’s our money!� yelled Patridge, leaping across the desk and savagely attacking this commune reporter.

There is some validity to the maniacal lawyer’s complaints. A recent survey conducted found nearly 25% of respondents were downloading or making hardcopies of CDs they didn’t want to buy. Numerous reasons were cited, such as the expense of purchasing CDs, the ease and availability of pirating materials, the chic of bragging about burning or downloading something, the lack of new Beatles material, but most popular among the answers was “just don’wanna.�

Many record industry analysts are puzzled by the slow down in CD sales, given the height of artistry of popular music with acts such as Britney Spears, Nelly Furtado, Creed, Pink, Uncle Kracker, and No Doubt topping the charts.

“It’s obvious music is experiencing a renaissance,� remarked some dreadlocked teen at a music store, in a voice that didn’t sound at all sarcastic.

“I don’t get it,� said Marx Kapital Records CEO Fred Ingells. “People hear the single. They like the single. They hum the single. They don’t buy the album. Something’s not right here.�

In 2000, music product sales totaled $14.3 billion. A year later that amount had dropped catastrophically to $13.7 billion.

“$13.7 billion! How are we supposed to live on $13.7 billion?� shouted Snig Partridge, this time leaping out from behind a Volkswagen on the street and attacking this commune reporter long after our interview had finished.

Across the music industry, response from record company representatives has ranged from perturbed to dismayed.

“Y’all fuckin’ my money now, biatch,� growled A’ight Records President Tru Dat Williams, cocking a Glock and firing blindly out the window in a confessed effort to hit potential music pirates.

“What makes me sad is the poor artist,� said Ingells. “When you steal a CD by bootlegging it from a friend or downloading it from the internet, you’re stealing a dollar out of their pocket. A whole dollar, or considerably less if we’re talking just singles and EPs here.�

Several artists were contacted to hear their reaction to this matter, but instead of listening to the interview tapes we burned copies of them and sold them on eBay as bootleg interviews. Snig Partridge then leaped out of our filing cabinet, knocked this commune reporter unconscious and made off with all our unsold copies.

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Say hello to the biggest new name in pornography. Seriously, my name is BRUCE CHEEKS and I make them spell it all in caps, so it's about twice as big as most porn credits.

I stumbled onto the whole thing. That's how most people get into porn, I hear. I was in the sauna one day, which is my favorite way to start a story, and I happened to drop my towel, six or seven times. I got quite a big response, but the security guard said I could stay there if I wanted to. One guy came up to me after I was dressed and complimented me on my "curious physique." He asked me if anybody had ever told me I have an amazingly deep ass crack. Which I already knew. You can check page 105 in Guinness if you don't believe me.

As luck would have it, this guy makes amateur porn films. Very amateur, according to some reviews in Hustler he showed me. But he told me he could really put an ass crack like mine to use. I was about to punch him, but then he said I would be doing it with a woman in the scene. And if that worked out, maybe two women. I was like, are you kidding me? I would do that job for free. Then he told me I would have to because he would really have to pay the two ladies I would be with extra. "Combat pay," he called it.

Cut to a few days later, and the shortest scene ever in a porn movie, and I was a full-fledged porn star. Paul, the director/Pizza Boy #3, screened it for his friends and they were amazed. One of them, D-Boy, said I had an ass crack that could swallow the world. It was the first time I've ever been acknowledged for anything in my life, so I was pretty happy. Even though they screwed up my credit at the end and called my character "She-Male." Like He-Man, but not the same. I blame my excellent breasts.

Even though a few of the guys puked a lot, I think it's the first step toward a huge porn career. It's perfect for me, because I like to have sex and never get the chance to. And I also need money because no one will hire me for anything. It's like I get to have my cake and have sex with it, too.

It's going to take some scheming on my part. I made a copy of my movie—I had to give it a title, since Paul never did that. I called it Fucked My Balls Off. I didn't want to call it the first title I thought of, Me Having Sex With Two Chicks at the Same Time, because I was planning on leaving it on a shelf at Blockbuster, and people wouldn't know "Me" was referring to me. Until they watch it, which they will. I made a case and everything. I put my ass crack right on the case so people will know what the main attraction is. In the video, I don't want to ruin it for you, but manage to fit one lady's whole leg inside. It's something you won't forget.

I think this will open up doors like I've never even imagined. Porn, lie down and surrender now, because you're about to get conquered by the biggest ass in the world.

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A Note From Emil: For all you true commune addicts out there like me, I discovered something fantastic! As you probably know, columnist Rok Finger has had a long and storied career in publishing even before he became a commune staple—so I was delighted to find a stack of old Fingers in a collection of my neighbor’s old Wah Wah Adult Men’s Magazines. Apparently he wrote there for quite some time. So sit back and satisfy yourself with old Finger. I can’t wait to read it myself… it looked surprisingly current, but I’m saving it to read once it’s in print.

Good gentlemen and ladies who read Wah Wah, I’d like you to take a break from your intense visual arousal long enough to talk politics, specifically, the Middle East. You may think everything in the Middle East is terrorists and jihads at this point, but I’d like to assure you we’re in good hands: The hands of a young man named Osama Ben Laden.

Who? You may not know that name, but you certainly should. While other young Muslims are running around strapping bombs to themselves and charging as much as $10 a barrel for oil, Osama Ben Laden and men like him are making the Middle East safe for democracy.

For ten years, Ben, as I like to call him, and other faithful Muslims have been fighting against the deadliest threat ever known to America: the communist Soviet Union. Their good soldiering and guerilla tactics have made Afghanistan a most unwelcome home for the Russkies, and finally, in February 1989, week-kneed smilin’ Red Mikhail Gorbachev pulled the last one of this commies from Afghanistan. Lesson learned: It may take you a long time, but the most earnest and well-trained army can bring down the biggest enemy!
We Americans should be extra proud, because thanks to Presidents Reagan and Carter, Operation: Cyclone helped train these proud sons of the Arab world. That’s our tax dollars bringing us safety in the Middle East for generations to come. It would have been easy to finance the less extremist groups, or even send our own troops in to stand up for our interests, but as the old adage goes, do you want it done right or do you want it done quickly? As Americans know, there’s only one answer to that.

I met up with Ben and some of his buddies after a late-night meeting of their elite gentlemen’s club, and I found him quite a surprise, even for a Middle Eastern commie-killer. For one thing, he’s not like any Joe Muhammad off the street—he’s not even from Afghanistan, but from Riyadh, Saudi Arabia. That makes no never mind to Ben: "You can’t sit back and watch an infidel disgrace a fellow Islamic stronghold. Do you mind getting your feet off my Quran?"

He’s right, and I did. More than that, ol’ Ben is the son of a billionaire! That’s right, he comes from big oil money, and there’s few bigger than Mohammed Ben Laden where Ben comes from, the U.S.-friendly country of Saudi Arabia. His dad was worth $5 billion, at least before he died in 1967 in a plane piloted by an American. Just think about that: Here’s a guy who has every reason to hate Americans, but he’s fighting for our side. You gotta admire that.

Instead of wasting away his multi-million dollar inheritance on fast cars and publishing adult magazines, Ben put his talents to learning the art of justified war, and his money to training fellow soldiers. But never forget a lot more money comes from us, champs!

When I sat down to talk with Ben, he was a very imposing figure, standing at 6’4" (almost twice my height) and weighing in at a solid 102 lbs. You wouldn’t want to see that coming at you across a battlefield. He expressed his fondness for having several wives and Wah Wah magazine, particularly articles like "What Do You Get With Too Much Tit?" and their annual Vintage Anal issue.

Asked what he thinks of America, he smiled coyly. "How could you not like a country where everything is owned by the Jew and women in bikinis are made CEOs?" I couldn’t agree more. I’m not sure which Jew he’s talking about, I’ll have to ask my contact Saul Bergoweitz if he knows anything. I also wouldn’t mind finding out more about this bikini CEO.

So hear that, Saddam Hussein: Your invasion of Kuwait has no friend in Osama Ben Laden. Better watch your step, or you’ll find yourself on the wrong end of that Russian-made assault rifle.

I had to leave Ben, and thanked him for our interview with some backissues of Wah Wah and other dirty magazines I used purely for research purposes. I also helped feed his interest in American architecture by supplying the pictures he requested of the World Trade Center buildings. I was anxious to get back home to my longstanding wife, Arvelyn, and see what she looked like in a burqa.

But for those of you terrified of a war with Saddam Hussein’s boys, let me ease your minds: We have nothing to fear from Iraq as long as boys like Osama Ben Laden are in the Middle East.

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