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Bagel Accepts Man of the Year Award

December 24, 2001
New York City
Bagel's Mom
He's the Man of 2001
I
t’s been a tremendous year for heroes and villains. In its final months, 2001 became filled with turmoil and struggle for many throughout the world. People were called upon to do what they could for the cause of freedom, and many were ready to do what they could. But for the third annual presentation of the commune’s “You the Man of the Year” Award, one nominee stood out above the others: commune Editor Red Bagel.

“I’m delighted and surprised by this good fortune,” said Bagel, accepting the award at a black-tie ceremony held in his apartment. “I don’t know if I’m a hero. I certainly couldn’t say if I’m The Man or not. But this recognition means very much to me. I thank you all.”

Not only was Red Bagel recognized as The Man for 20...Read more...


Erectile dysfunction O.K., happens to everybody

Harsh critique of new book leaves Clinton heartbroken

Ukraine's Yuschenko falls for Yanukovych's old poison apple trick

Duke Prosecutor Disbarred, Accepts New Position as National Scapegoat



July 8, 2002

Click for Biography

Thanks For the Memories, and the Seafood Medley

Stop the presses, or the servers, or whatever the hell the politically correct term is these days: the commune family just got one dude larger. And no, don't call your bookie yet; Lil Duncan isn't pregnant. We've all heard, and started, enough of those rumors on the Internet to know that nothing short of a full cervical exam will allow you to cash in on that one.

No, the real reason for the skyrocketing population of the hypothetical commune family is less likely to be seen on a motel TV at three in the morning: longtime commune staffer Kendra Beuttle just got married! Who was the lucky guy? Well, if you had your money on Dorick Dominovic of the Ukraine, then you'd better make sure your bookie hasn't skipped town because you've just hit some kind of monster long shot. Damn. I'd ask how you did it but I'm not sure I really want to know.

Personally, I don't know too much about Dorick, besides the fact that you can't get on his good side by calling him Dork. The strongest impression I got from him was that his English is, how you say? Sucks. I'm not sure how Kendra landed him so fresh off the boat, but every time I saw him at the wedding he looked like he thought it was all an elaborate procedure you had to go through to buy bread in America. Poor guy. I'm not even sure how well he knows Kendra or how you say "hose hound" in Ukrainian. He looked at me funny when I told him she gets around like Goodyear, so I just decided to leave it be after that. Read more...


º Last Column: Cesarean Sections are Overrated
º more columns


April 5, 2004

Click for Biography

Full Retreat

Astute commune readers or other mythological creatures might have noticed the long sustained absence of new material over the past couple of weeks. It was the first time since 2001, the year I got my first checkbook and rented commune office space, that we've taken an extended absence from news reportage. I apologize, but it couldn't be helped, as everyone here had lost their minds.

That might be a possible exaggeration. Lefty the commune mail clerk seemed perfectly within her normal rationale, but she was particularly grumpy on the ride to the Funsational Summer Corporate Retreat and Motivational Seminar, on the commune bus, also known as the Damned Bus. Everyone was in a not so good mood, which is to say no one was in a good mood, but it was yet another of my kind concessions to brother Gay to make the commune a more profitable experience over the long haul.

Despite the silly name, Gay did NOT have fun at the Retreat. Sure, he had a ball when the clowns were doing their thing, and the white college Republican rap troupe broke it down for us, and I could see him really moved by motivational speaker Slick Hodges. But then came the group therapy session, where we attempted to learn about our own personalities in the work place, outside of the actual work place, and the hard bitter truth ran right into his sweet spots.

We tried a dandy trust exercise, where we split into groups and, blindfolded, had to put up a tent. It ended in a lot...Read more...


º Last Column: I Have Caught the CIA's Latest Death Virus
º more columns






Quote of the Day
“The unexamined life is not worth living
 so show me your tits already.”

-Sol Crates
Fortune 500 Cookie
Nobody loves you anywhere near as much as your mother, but the bad news is you were adopted and never met her. Your "Most Favored Nathan" status will be revoked this week when a more-favorable Nathan arrives in town. Sorry. Try to start flossing your teeth, crotch and armpits, ASAP. This week's lucky bullets: zingers, greenies, pissmakers, Big Bens, deconstipators, "lead flapjacks," armor-piercing, elephant piercing, Ella Fitzgerald-piercing.


Try again later.
Top 5 commune Features This Week
1.Why the Bangles Hate Mondays So Much
2.The Death of Archie: From the Comic to the Big Screen
3.Uncle Macho's Homemade Horse Chow
4.Get Out of That Tent and Back into Your Fat Pants in 1 Month
5.Critic's Corner: National Treasure—No Nation's Treasure
Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

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

View Past Columns
BY Roland McShyster
3/17/2003
Oscar fever is upon us, ladies and gentlemen, and fear not: that puss-like discharge is a completely normal symptom. Hollywood is throwing all of its bulimia-managed weight around in an effort to whip us all into an Oscar frenzy, until we're running around like assholes, buying movie hats and snatching up tickets for movies we've never heard of. Since after all, they must be good if Hollywood wanted to artificially boost their box-office by leveraging back-room deals for Oscar nominations, right? They wouldn't go to all of that trouble for a turkey, would they? Don't be silly. So let's ratchet up the anticipation to an uncomfortable level before the big night with one final look at the nominees!



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