| Loves That Woman ';
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$dunkintitle='The New Anne Frank Diary';
$edit='2003/1222/';
$fanmail='2005/0516/';
$fanmailtitle='Volume 63';
$finger='2005/0905/';
$fingertitle='I’m Fresh Out of Haitian Cigarettes';
$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 Hooper’s 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/';
$pickletitle='State of the Art';
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$police='2005/0905/';
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$poliotitle='Omarelief';
$rent='2005/0829/';
$renttitle='I’m Not that Big a Fan of Talking';
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$reynoldstitle='A Series of Unfortunate Evans';
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$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';
?> | 
Ivan Nacutchacokov, Embedded in BaghdadMarch 31, 2003 |
Baghdad, Iraq Commune Art Dept. Ivan Nacutchacokov (lower left corner) reports from the about-to-be-war-torn capital of Iraq.
Originally the commune awarded me the assignment of traveling with the 108th Infantry, famous for their chili, a prize won in a raffle at the Washington, D.C. press party. However, growing suspicion's over this reporter's Russian background and "too many questions" about where we were and what we were doing led to a confrontation and eventual abandonment outside of Umm Qasar when the battalion moved on to other areas. Left to his own wiles, this reporter might have been fine had he not been found by the self-styl...
oreign correspondent and champion lovemaker Ivan Nacutchacokov reporting, embedded at Baghdad with the 72nd Liquor Battalion. Which is not a true military battalion so much as a group of Iraqis heavily inebriated on 72 cases of wine and holding this reporter captive.
Originally the commune awarded me the assignment of traveling with the 108th Infantry, famous for their chili, a prize won in a raffle at the Washington, D.C. press party. However, growing suspicion's over this reporter's Russian background and "too many questions" about where we were and what we were doing led to a confrontation and eventual abandonment outside of Umm Qasar when the battalion moved on to other areas. Left to his own wiles, this reporter might have been fine had he not been found by the self-styled Iraqi defenders engaged in heavy drinking.
It has been a relatively painless five or six days of passing bottles of wine around a windowless bunker since then. Without the reaffirming vision of sunlight or the night outside, coupled with the sleeplessness as bombs and shells continue to wrack the city outside, time has become virtually meaningless to this reporter. Occasional games of Russian roulette with a group of unwashed civilians who don't speak English also add to the feeling of mayhem.
A small radio broadcasting the movement of U.S. troops as they approach the capital of Iraq is the only source of outside information available, but to listen to the rattling walls, breaking glass, and war-whoops from the surrounding drunken armed men, it's easy to believe the fighting has already begun here. Details as to what U.S. forces approach and from what direction are currently unavailable, but I can definitely describe the mood in Baghdad as foggy and raucous.
Though the Iraqi military impostors were initially mistrustful and showed extreme prejudice against this reporter, after the first few days they allowed me to be untied. It was at that point I was bricked up into a wall in the unknown Baghdad building I report from, though I thankfully learned enough of their language to convince them to leave a few bricks out so that I may breathe.
With enough ingenuity and an increased proficiency with the language, it is my plan to coax the intoxicated revelers to wire my report to Ramrod Hurley at the commune offices. There may be some confusing passages or grammatical errors, given the possibility of a mistranslation and the difficulty of carving a news report into a brick with a pocket knife, but it does seem to be going surprisingly well so far.
It is a troubling thing, to look the enemy in the face and not be sickened by the smell of wine and vomit. But after the initial terror and nausea subside, one cannot help but feel a kinship with the Iraqi people and a sympathy for their plight. In all likelihood Saddam Hussein will be overthrown and replaced with a more democratic leader, and it should be everyone's hope that despite years of disagreement all Americans will hope for these people, who have endured so much hardship, to find peace and prosperity under new leadership, as well as seek a 12-step program or something.
In the remaining days before the arrival of U.S. troops, and the intense ground fighting begins, this reporter still has enough time to find out more about the weapons, tactics, and morale of these challenged soldiers, and hopefully can change their mind about the intention to use me as a human shield. the commune news is never one to scoff at the problems of others, especially when you can snort, sneer, and skiffle. Ivan Nacutchacokov is the commune's foreign correspondent and has a resilience in the battlefield that belies his tired, crabby whining demeanor.
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Automatic bread-butterer butters wrong goddamned side
Iranian conservatives run on pro-jihad, tax cuts agenda
Dean shouts down opponents to head DNC
Police: Real cool Colorado mom held teen sex/drug parties
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Officials to Celebrities: Please Get Out of New Orleans isaster-relief officials in New Orleans made a stern announcement today to the thousands of celebrities descending upon the devastated city in hopes of providing humanitarian aid in exchange for career-boosting photo ops: We’re serious; you really need to leave now. “We’ve got to get these fucking celebrities out of New Orleans,” sighed an exasperated Lt. Mark Bolio of the Army’s 92nd Airborne. “They’re drinking up all our bottled water and bitching about the catering all day.” The influx of famous faces has weighed as a heavy burden on officials who have spent the last week scrambling to get everyone out of the city-shaped deathtrap. Receding water levels have exposed a nightmare world of toxic contamination, with nearly the entire city soaking in deadly levels of E. coli bacteria, lead, crude oil, PCBs, asbestos, leptospirosis, battery acid, herbicides, raw sewage, DDT, snakes, and according to at least one local, cooties. After busting a nut trying to remove the bulk of New Orleans’ stubbornly entrenched locals, many of whom refused to leave their pets or belongings, the Army was not prepared to deal with the celebrity occupation. Wisconsin Man Takes in Jazz Band he whole nation wants to do their part to help the victims of Hurricane Katrina, but a Madison, Wisconsin man is doing so much he makes all the other volunteers and charity donors look like dried puke. For Albert Pohl Martinson hasn’t merely taken in three or four family members or refugees from New Orleans: He’s taken in a whole jazz band. “I just wanted to do what I could,” Martinson told a deluge of fawning media standing on his front lawn. “So I said I would take in the first group of refugees I could. I sent them bus tickets and had them carted up here immediately. And then, being a good citizen, I called the local news to make sure they were informed.” However, Martinson didn’t stop and giving the 5-man combo all the food, shelter, and clean water they needed; he also bought them sparkling fresh instruments so they could take their mind off their troubles. Stealers Wheel Win Super Bowl, Says Heavily Accented Man Colin Farrell Claims Responsibility for Groin Injury That Sidelined Kwan |
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 September 26, 2005
All I'm Looking for is the Perfect GangbangSome guys are greedy, the way I see it. They want every single dollar they can get their hands on. They want the things they can't have, the things they don't even deserve. They could be blessed with good looks, good fortune, and all they want is more, more, more. Me? I'm not like that at all. I want one thing out of life before I die, and it's not all that much—I want to experience the perfect gangbang.
Of course, I've had my share of gangbang experiences. But were they perfect? Hardly. Not unless you call a blaring TV in the background, a bunch of strange jerks giggling, and that just-vomited breath smell overpowering what should have been a beautiful couple of hours. Still, I'm not giving up hope. I know the perfect gangbang exists out there, and I just want to be part of it before my days are over.
Does this sound familiar? You get a phone call from an old friend, or some guy you drank too much with in some bar some night, and get invited to what promises to be a real sharp gangbang with a beautiful honey. You get there, the room is packed full of dudes who have no business at a gangbang, either too skuzzy or they clearly don't know what they're doing. Smoke and liquor permeate the room like you never left the bar. The "beautiful honey" you were promised is some freshly passed-out stripper way past her prime and smells like she pissed herself before going unconscious to the mercy of the crowd. Am I too proud to walk away? Maybe not, but it...
º Last Column: Those of You Worshiping My Brother Are Making a Mistake
º more columns
Some guys are greedy, the way I see it. They want every single dollar they can get their hands on. They want the things they can't have, the things they don't even deserve. They could be blessed with good looks, good fortune, and all they want is more, more, more. Me? I'm not like that at all. I want one thing out of life before I die, and it's not all that much—I want to experience the perfect gangbang. Of course, I've had my share of gangbang experiences. But were they perfect? Hardly. Not unless you call a blaring TV in the background, a bunch of strange jerks giggling, and that just-vomited breath smell overpowering what should have been a beautiful couple of hours. Still, I'm not giving up hope. I know the perfect gangbang exists out there, and I just want to be part of it before my days are over. Does this sound familiar? You get a phone call from an old friend, or some guy you drank too much with in some bar some night, and get invited to what promises to be a real sharp gangbang with a beautiful honey. You get there, the room is packed full of dudes who have no business at a gangbang, either too skuzzy or they clearly don't know what they're doing. Smoke and liquor permeate the room like you never left the bar. The "beautiful honey" you were promised is some freshly passed-out stripper way past her prime and smells like she pissed herself before going unconscious to the mercy of the crowd. Am I too proud to walk away? Maybe not, but it doesn't mean I'm a happy participant. Sloppy seconds I can deal with, but fifths? Sixths? Thirteenths? Ugh. Sometimes you just want to pack up your ol' kit bag and leave that gangbang before it gets disgusting. Even those rare gangbangs when the gal is still awake can be disappointing. You hoped for a small and intimate affair, but she was shitty drunk and called up some ex-boyfriends, and all of a sudden they're crashing you and your small gang of five to muscle in on your action. And just because she's drunk tonight doesn't mean she won't press charges tomorrow. I let loose an audible sigh. Then I join in, of course, but I still keep my fingers crossed for that one remarkable gangbang I've always been looking for. Picture this: Just you and the anonymous woman, and four friends who just came with you from the last party. And she's a doll, too, like a slutty Katie Couric, but not too slutty. Dressed in some alluring and only slightly skanky lingerie, bathed like the room in the red lights of nearby lamps. Rose petals cover the bed and its satin sheets, the scent of lilacs and maybe a little MGD fill the room. Instead of the inane chatter of that one asshole who says this is so fucking hot, the only sound in the air is the gentle breathing of five people, and maybe a Lionel Richie record. "Easy like Sunday morning" croons the singer, and everybody gets naked. Let the banging commence! Now that's pretty fucking romantic, you got to admit. It's not at all like a nasty rendezvous with your dorm roommates in a Taco Bell bathroom. And it's not all that impossible either. Hell, I already have the guys in mind. I just need to find the willing girl and arrange the date. You see? I don't want all that much. I don't see why things have to be so difficult. I wouldn't mind looking online, trying one of those "adult friend finders" or something… but you gotta be careful with those. A lot of nuts answer those kind of ads. º Last Column: Those of You Worshiping My Brother Are Making a Mistakeº more columns
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|  July 21, 2003
Saddam Hussein: Dead or Alive 3While your average American gives no thought to the complicated world of politics, concerned more with trivialities such as "Will my job survive the year?" and "How can I afford to keep my family medically insured?" the think-tankers in the upper echelons of the U.S. government are asking only one question: "Is Saddam Hussein alive, and if so, where is he?" Yes, if you check, that's technically only one question, hence the single question mark.
The short answer is: No. But wait! Before you think I've become boring in my old age, I haven't cracked your brain with the baseball bat of conspiracy yet, and I assure you there is more to the Saddam Hussein story than you've considered before. And always more than they're telling you.
The reason Saddam Hussein is no longer alive is that he was never alive. Saddam Hussein, was, is, and always has been nothing more than a computer program. Surprised? Good, I say. You don't think I hold off on telling you all this shit simply because it slipped my mind, do you? I get my jollies watching your jaw drop, friend.
Has anyone ever seen the movie Virtuosity? Of course not. Some would chalk this up to the film being predictable and fairly empty of any real enjoyment, but I say this underestimates the part played by the American government to make the movie go unseen. The film is a roundabout way to propose that many of our society's villains are nothing more than distracting computer...
º Last Column: Roll On, Columbia
º more columns
While your average American gives no thought to the complicated world of politics, concerned more with trivialities such as "Will my job survive the year?" and "How can I afford to keep my family medically insured?" the think-tankers in the upper echelons of the U.S. government are asking only one question: "Is Saddam Hussein alive, and if so, where is he?" Yes, if you check, that's technically only one question, hence the single question mark.
The short answer is: No. But wait! Before you think I've become boring in my old age, I haven't cracked your brain with the baseball bat of conspiracy yet, and I assure you there is more to the Saddam Hussein story than you've considered before. And always more than they're telling you.
The reason Saddam Hussein is no longer alive is that he was never alive. Saddam Hussein, was, is, and always has been nothing more than a computer program. Surprised? Good, I say. You don't think I hold off on telling you all this shit simply because it slipped my mind, do you? I get my jollies watching your jaw drop, friend.
Has anyone ever seen the movie Virtuosity? Of course not. Some would chalk this up to the film being predictable and fairly empty of any real enjoyment, but I say this underestimates the part played by the American government to make the movie go unseen. The film is a roundabout way to propose that many of our society's villains are nothing more than distracting computer creations, and it took a lot of government operatives countless hours to make the film so utterly forgettable as to slip through the box office cracks unnoticed. But there was good reason for all the time spent doing so.
If we open ourselves up to the possibility that one villain is really just a souped-up Atari made to look like Russell Crowe doing a decent American accent, where do we stop questioning everything? Consider this: Have you ever been in a room with Saddam Hussein, the actual man? I didn't think so. That should make it abundantly doubtful a real Saddam Hussein even exists.
Everyone knows Iraq was only targeted by the military for one reason, and that's oil; this is only up for debate by people who enjoy deceiving themselves about everything, such as the government has only altruistic motives, or J.A.G. is a really good show. In fact, whenever you hear a government official say they want to bring democracy to another country, it should automatically translate as they have natural resources vital to our economy and are holding out. Hence we decided to bring democracy to Iraq, in exchange for barrel upon barrel of yummy oil.
Of course, Iraq was a foreign culture and has virtually no strategic value, following that we have no enemy after the Soviet Union dismantled and had no strategy against no enemy. The original leaders of Iraq, looking pretty dopey and smiling all the time like they just squeezed out a silent fart, weren't much motivation for the American people to go to war. So the U.S. war machine created the Saddam Hussein computer program, based an old Abbot & Costello routine beloved by Sec. Jim Bakker. "Who's in charge of Egypt?" "Hussein." "I'm sayin', I want to know." Love that one.
But if you build a computer program too good, as any hack movie producer knows, it can develop its own intelligence and decide to take things over. Which is exactly what happened when we installed the Saddam Hussein program on Iraqi Amigas. Pretty soon we did have a Saddam Hussein threat to overthrow—our own. He even generated independently more pictures of George Bush's Uncle Herb in full Iraqi military guard and had him doing ridiculous Herb-like things, such as waving a shotgun around or reading threatening messages to the U.S. government in great big glasses from his underground bunker.
Keep in mind, I still think the Saddam Hussein program is a threat, and if one mainframe carrying the program survived the Baghdad bombing, the danger remains. But all of this could have been dealt with much quicker and efficiently by planting a virus in the Iraqi intranet, or installing Windows 2000 on one of the network computers. º Last Column: Roll On, Columbiaº more columns
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Milestones1993: Ivan Nacutchacokov/Ivana Folger-Balzac honeymoon ends in stalemate.Now HiringPatsy. Must be willing to take the fall for numerous state and federal offenses. Should bear a passing resemblance to Red Bagel, Omar Bricks or Rok Finger. Immunity to electrocution a plus.Top Auto Crash Excuses| 1. | Distracted by Butt-Rock | | 2. | Cell Phone Tainted Brain Meat | | 3. | Marbles on Road | | 4. | AC Apparently Doesn't Mean "Autopilot Car" | | 5. | Friggin' Daihatsu | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 2/4/2002 Aloha, America! Nope, I'm not reporting to you from sunny Hawaii today but that was a pretty good guess. I'm just in a sunshine and grass skirt kind of mood today; I can't explain it. Maybe it was that Hawaiian Tropics commercial I saw the other day. Or maybe it was the Eskimo Pie I ate this morning. Actually the more I think about it, that Eskimo Pie bit doesn't make a bit of sense. Some would argue that you can't get any further away from Hawaii's welcoming shores than to be huddled in a miserable freezing igloo, gnawing on whale fat. And they're probably right, but nevertheless I link the two mentally. Maybe it's those cute little pudgy babies. Come to think of it, Eskimos and Hawaiian Islanders sure do look a lot alike. Maybe a little too much. I'm beginning to think they're running a...
Aloha, America! Nope, I'm not reporting to you from sunny Hawaii today but that was a pretty good guess. I'm just in a sunshine and grass skirt kind of mood today; I can't explain it. Maybe it was that Hawaiian Tropics commercial I saw the other day. Or maybe it was the Eskimo Pie I ate this morning. Actually the more I think about it, that Eskimo Pie bit doesn't make a bit of sense. Some would argue that you can't get any further away from Hawaii's welcoming shores than to be huddled in a miserable freezing igloo, gnawing on whale fat. And they're probably right, but nevertheless I link the two mentally. Maybe it's those cute little pudgy babies. Come to think of it, Eskimos and Hawaiian Islanders sure do look a lot alike. Maybe a little too much. I'm beginning to think they're running a scam on us, a complex ploy to secure more than their fair share of dancing puppets on the "It's a Smallish World" ride at Disneyland. Interesting. You tend to the entertainment reviews below while I ponder this further over another Eskimo Pie.
In Theaters Now:
A Beautiful Mime
If there's one thing this movie taught me, it's that mimes are a lot more tolerable when they're jaw-droppingly gorgeous and have the body of a porn star. I'd like to thank Jennifer Connely for expanding my cultural awareness and my BVDs for a solid two hours in this powerful film. There's a lot of awards buzz surrounding Connely's performance here, and I have to agree: she's hot as hell! You can bet I'll be keeping an eye out for her Golden Globes in the future.
Big Fat Liar
What's funnier than Jim Carrey running around like he's retarded and not being able to tell a lie? You guessed it, a 300 pound Jim Carrey running around like he's retarded and not being able to tell a lie. They promised the sequel would be bigger than the original, but none of us dared to think they were talking about Carrey's drooping leg fat. And yeah, it's pretty funny, but I have to admit it's the ultimate insult when Hollywood would rather dress up attractive people in fat suits than hire one of the many genuinely fat people available for the role.
Collateral Damage
Arnie's latest meat-headed action flick casts him wholly unbelievably as a nerdy office drone who's expertise in collating office files and Xeroxes somehow prepares him to be an awe-inspiring ass-kicker who cold-boots faceless terrorist booty, in triplicate. Wait until this one comes out on video, then put it back on the shelf and see if they have any decent soft-core in stock.
I Am Sam
The Dr Seuss classic takes a turn for the creepy in this dark psychological thriller starring Chris Kattan as the food-obsessed stalker who just won't let Michael Douglas' businessman be. Some might consider this re-imagining disrespectful to the original book, but I'm convinced that Dr Seuss himself would have done the train shoot-out scene just the same way if he'd had access to this kind of technology back in his day.
Rollerball
I know what you're thinking. Cross the white-hot fad of rollerskating with the popular teenage dance movie, throw in Skeet Ulrich, and you've got a sure hit on your hands, right? Think again. Take a closer look at what you've got on your hands, and note it's nutty texture and off-brown hue. Pretty nasty, eh?
Now on Video:
Captain Correlli's Man-dolphin
I can't honestly say I knew what the hell was up with this movie, or how they got Nicholas Cage involved, but to suffice it to say it was original. It was sort of like a cross between Buck Rogers, Powder, The Abyss and an Arco commercial, if that makes any sense. It wasn't bad, but it was one of those movies that makes you wonder if you left the gas on.
The Curse of the Sade Scorpion
Another strange one to keep you scratching your head until you're in need a band-aid. Imagine if they remade "Anaconda" in the desert, with Ben Kingsley instead of Ice Cube, and instead of a big snake eating people it's a scorpion that sings "Smooth Operator" almost constantly. And believe it or not, this was actually the scarier movie of the two. Come to think of it, maybe that's not so hard to believe.
Ghost World
The second feature from Nintendo Pictures follows the reasoning that if the original is good, throw in a egg-pooping dinosaur and it'll be even better. I'm not sure what to think of the result, however. Whoopi Goldberg has some great lines as the wise-cracking dinosaur, but I just couldn't get over how dumb Patrick Swayzee looks in that little plumber hat.
Kiss of the Drag Queen
Jet Li is back and this time he must face his toughest adversary yet: his own ambiguous sexuality! How will Li react when he finds out that the girl he just chop-sueyed a platoon of ninjas to save turns out to be a flamboyant drag queen from Frisco? S/he is Li's perfect match, but will he risk the scorn of his ultra-traditional culture and his macho ass-kicking buddies to know her love? No chance, but he did kick a guy's ass with a tuna fish in a scene that I thought was pretty cool.
Television:
The networks are rushing out new episodes of their biggest shows for what they call "sweeps" and that means it's the best time to be a television fan! Here's some highlights of the coming week:
Frasier (NBC)
The episode we've all been waiting for as the champ puts to rest old grievances with his longtime arch-nemesis Muhammad Ali. A tear-jerking episode, or something gets jerked anyhow.
Si, Esse (CBS)
I've been hearing everyone raving about this show about forensic science cops, but didn't think it sounded appealing. Still, pretty ballsy move to have an all-Spanish cast. I managed to follow it pretty good and this week's episode ought to be the best as that guy who seems to be in charge has an affair with the young girl with the sombrero, who I think might be his protogé or something. Hot Spanish chicks and possible nudity? Roland is there, compadré!
Everybody Loves Reagan (CBS)
Last I heard this guy was drooling all over his presidential bib in some nursing home, so I don't know how he gets a hit sitcom. Then again, I still don't know how he beat Mondale in a landslide. It's their biggest episode yet this week as the current president (you know, the one with the dirty name) stops by to talk about his space station that blows up nuclear missiles. You won't want to miss it. I will, though.
Video Games:
State of Emergency (PS2)
This flag-waving tribute to New York is long on sentiment and short on fun. Sure, I agree firefighters and cops and paramedics and all of them are the real heroes, yeah, I'd gladly look the other way if they wanted to murder somebody or rob a bank, but any game with more candle-lit worshipping-at-the-feet and less fighting and explosions just isn't my idea of fun. Not that they aren't walking gods among us, of course.
Rackless (Sexbox)
The boys at Microsoft are going all out to beat the competition. This game is truly a new frontier, as you're a cosmetic surgeon trying to pump up the chest of a young hottie who just can't attract the boys 'cause of her natural flatlands. Keep adding on inches to turn her from Kate Moss to Jennifer Connelly and watch out you don't snap her spine in half. Success is its own reward!
Ninja Gayed In (PS2)
Wash-out of a game based on that Saturday Night Live gay ninja character that was only funny the first sketch. You play the ninja in sequined black commando gear and can stun enemies with glitter-laden throwing stars or your special move which I'll save you the nausea of describing.
There are foul things afoot, Entertainment Policers. After a little cursory research on the "internet", I've discovered that the Eskimos and the Hawaiian Islanders do in fact share a common ancestor! From everything I can tell, his name is Saul Worthington and he lives in the Bronx. Looks like I'll be giving our Mr. Worthington a little phone call this afternoon to get to the bottom of this. Wish me luck, America!   |
