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June 28, 2004 |
Baghdad, Iraq Assad the Unseen Von Poppel attempts to lead the crowd in a chant of "Hey! Ho!" moments before the figs began flying ust days before the scheduled transfer of power to Iraqi officials, the U.S. occupation suffered another major blow when radical Shiite head cleric and suspected U.S. puppet Boner Von Poppel was killed during a community uprising in Baghdad. The elderly fig farmers who stoned Von Poppel to death with unripe figs believed the Shiite religious leader has been installed by the United States to manipulate the local population and retain U.S. control of the region beyond the date of Iraqi sovereignty. While the U.S. denies claims that Von Poppel had been inserted into Iraq by the CIA to advance U.S. interests, local residents never completely accepted the cleric as one of their own, due in part to his B-boy style of dress and lack of facility with the Iraqi language.
When confronte...
ust days before the scheduled transfer of power to Iraqi officials, the U.S. occupation suffered another major blow when radical Shiite head cleric and suspected U.S. puppet Boner Von Poppel was killed during a community uprising in Baghdad. The elderly fig farmers who stoned Von Poppel to death with unripe figs believed the Shiite religious leader has been installed by the United States to manipulate the local population and retain U.S. control of the region beyond the date of Iraqi sovereignty. While the U.S. denies claims that Von Poppel had been inserted into Iraq by the CIA to advance U.S. interests, local residents never completely accepted the cleric as one of their own, due in part to his B-boy style of dress and lack of facility with the Iraqi language.
When confronted with these suspicions Saturday in Baghdad, Von Poppel confused the gathered crowd and sealed his fate.
"Yo yo yo, lissen up, cuz I got somethin to say. This be straight from the heart, y'all," Von Poppel told the crowd, pressing 'play' on a nearby boombox for accompaniment before launching into a bizarre marionette dance. "I got no strings, to hold me down, to make me fret, to make me frown! I've got no strings, so I have fun, I'm not tied up to anyone! I got no strings, so you can see, there are no strings on me!"
Shortly after the completion of the song and dance number, Von Poppel was pummeled to death with figs.
While U.S. officials expressed shock at the violence of the uprising, many Iraqis were more surprised Von Poppel had lived as long as he did.
"I almost killed him last week," admitted Baghdad shopkeeper Hashim Ababneh. "There was just something not right about that boy."
Other locals expressed similar sentiments, pointing out that it was unusual for Shiite religious leaders to be completely ignorant as to the particulars of Islam, or to dress like an extra in a Jay-Z video.
"Yo, Iraqis, we gots to increase the peace and respect the police, you know what I'm sayin'?" Von Poppel was quoted as sayin' during a sermon last fall. "The U.S. is the best so don't mess with the rest, y'all."
Experts believe Von Poppel's complete lack of understanding of Iraqi culture or the Muslim religion may have sealed his fate. Earlier this year the cleric had created a stir by appearing on the holy day of Mawlid al-Nabi eating a pulled pork sandwich and talking with his mouth full. When the gathered crowd of Iraqis drew Von Poppel's attention to this grievous misstep in Muslim etiquette, the cleric answered "Yo yo yo, you gotta check yourself before you wreck yourself, Iraqis. We gotta increase the peace, Cochise. You know what I'm sayin'?"
In spite of widespread skepticism among Iraqi citizens, the U.S. has steadfastly denied any attempts to manipulate Muslim religious life, and was happy to announce the rise of Iraqi's newest anti-U.S. radical Shiite cleric Nihad al-Pacino over the weekend. the commune news can't handle the truth, but we're surprisingly resilient after a punch to the abdomen. commune foreign correspondent Ivan Nacutchacokov is hunted for sport throughout the Middle East, and his repeated claims that it's actually wabbit season have done little to change this.
 | Iraq plagiarized Mexican constitution to meet deadline
G8 conference attracts vanity license plate holders who like gates
God retiring Rehnquist from Supreme Court early
Large undecided voter population in Japanese election lack honor
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Pope Swears God Will Punish Drug Dealers With Poor-Quality Shit Vintage Dell to Grace Smithsonian's New What the Fuck Were We Thinking? Wing Isaac Hayes Recognized on Bad Mother’s Day 'Paris Hilton Autopsy' Sculpture Signed to Three-Picture Deal |
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 April 10, 2006
Flinging Out the DeadIn honor of this week's Six Feet Under theme, and, what the hell, every person who has ever died, ever, we're going to use this column to take a look at how humans throughout history have dealt with the problem of what to do with dead bodies once the life spark has farted on out the door.
It has often been said that a lot can be learned about a culture by the ways in which they honor their dead, which is only really true for the few cultures throughout history that have buried their dead in a papier-mâché shells made from encyclopedia pages. For most other cultures, funeral customs just show how lazy they were feeling at the time.
For starters, in really ancient times, no real thought was given to burial formalities, mostly because it was just too much work to dig someone's remains out of a hunk of dinosaur poop.
After dinosaur times, but before Dinosaur Jr., man dealt with the death of his fellow man by getting far away from the dead body as fast as humanly possible, much like the way children deal with breaking a window or rolling a car into a lake. In fact, hauling ass away from death was an effective strategy for thousands of years. Some have interpreted this as evidence of early man's fear of death, but in all likelihood it was merely a smart move on early man's part, since funeral details are, without exception, a huge pain in the ass, and you can't get stuck with the bill if you're beating cheeks across the other side of the...
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In honor of this week's Six Feet Under theme, and, what the hell, every person who has ever died, ever, we're going to use this column to take a look at how humans throughout history have dealt with the problem of what to do with dead bodies once the life spark has farted on out the door. It has often been said that a lot can be learned about a culture by the ways in which they honor their dead, which is only really true for the few cultures throughout history that have buried their dead in a papier-mâchĂ© shells made from encyclopedia pages. For most other cultures, funeral customs just show how lazy they were feeling at the time. For starters, in really ancient times, no real thought was given to burial formalities, mostly because it was just too much work to dig someone's remains out of a hunk of dinosaur poop. After dinosaur times, but before Dinosaur Jr., man dealt with the death of his fellow man by getting far away from the dead body as fast as humanly possible, much like the way children deal with breaking a window or rolling a car into a lake. In fact, hauling ass away from death was an effective strategy for thousands of years. Some have interpreted this as evidence of early man's fear of death, but in all likelihood it was merely a smart move on early man's part, since funeral details are, without exception, a huge pain in the ass, and you can't get stuck with the bill if you're beating cheeks across the other side of the valley before anyone else has any idea what's happened. This same sensible strategy is, I must point out, frowned upon as highly illegal or at least considerably rude in our own society, so I'll leave it to you to decide if we've really evolved in the right direction over the last several thousand years. As time went by, man eventually figured out that death was nothing to fear, and that for hundreds of years he'd been hastily abandoning family members who were merely sick or sleeping. At this point, it didn't take man long to discover how fun death could be, and for a time the dead were valued as fun puppets and stunt people for early man's action-packed theater productions. But eventually man learned that keeping the dead bodies of family members around for group portraits or sex posed some daunting health concerns, and when man discovered bathing and finally washed off thousands of years of B.O., he realized that the dead fucking stank. This led to several hundred years of man burning his dead, for hygiene, cave heating, and general revenge purposes. Eventually the Egyptians would come along, in Egypt anyway, and put a unique spin on death rituals thanks to their paralyzing fear of nudity. Mummification developed as a way for Egyptians to make sure their dead were never caught with their man-dresses down, and to prevent the embarrassment of accidentally seeing some long-dead asscrack. Eventually, the custom grew until it became common for mummification to begin in childhood, with parents taking their kids out in the fall to buy a new wrap for the school year, and making sure everyone in the family got enough preservatives in their diet. By the time the average Egyptian died at the age of 25, their bodies were ready for thousands of years of timeless, decomposition-free sleep. By medieval times, the dead had come to be valued as an important military asset, and no army worth its codpieces would dare go into battle without a fleet of catapults loaded with plague-ridden corpses having their back. During these exciting times, it was within every person's reach to be a military hero in life, or in death if they were a giant pussy in life. This timeline must, due to its brevity and my weak stomach, gloss over many other customs from around the world, like the Calatians who ate their dead, or the many native tribes around the world who believed the dead had cooties and therefore should only be porked with a condom. I think we can all agree that these dark times, much like haircuts in the 1970's, are best forgotten to the sands of time. Equally forgotten, but much funnier, were the various foolish customs of the East regarding death, most of which involved honoring a person's death by killing even more people, and sometimes little yappy dogs. In India, a man's corpse was cremated along with his live wife, which has to explain the extraordinarily high rate of deathbed divorces among Hindus in those times. Fijians would strangle the deceased's slaves, wives, and friends, due to widespread confusion between funeral rites and concepts of mafia revenge. A nobleman's death in Japan was seriously bad news for the deceased nobleman's slaves, who were all expected to commit seppuku, which is sort of like sudoku but even less fun. In Africa, the death of a king pretty much meant everybody was fucked, so the Africans understandably kept a string of king look-alikes always on hand to step in and secretly take the king's place should he die, leading to a royal succession that went on like a bizarre game of genetic telephone. As the world became more enlightened and funeral customs evolved, people would eventually stop killing each other to honor the dead. Unfortunately, the part about killing little yappy dogs also had to be thrown out with the bathwater. In more modern times, our present-day funeral traditions gradually came about, mostly for reasons no less stupid than those given by our ancestors. Dressing all in black was originally a ploy to fool the spirits of the dead, who were expected to follow the living home and crash on their couches indefinitely, becoming a major pain in the ass. Wakes were originally attended by people who were waiting for the dead to come back to life, which helped the tribe identify its biggest optimists, who were reportedly the most delicious and the first on the list for when cannibalism would eventually swing back into favor on one of the inevitable 20-year cycles of public opinion about the rightness of eating folks. The custom of firing rifles at funerals dates back to the days when the living would try to spear the spirits of the dead at funerals, just for the hell of it, though modern technology is decidedly more effective for blowing ghosts all to shit than crappy old spears ever were. Most modern funeral rites were designed to placate the dead, in the hopes that they'd take a hike and not hang around, scaring the crap out of everybody forever. In this, not much has changed to present day, as most funerals sill involve dressing a dead body up really nice, and people taking turns flattering the deceased and playing his or her favorite music as if they all enjoyed it. Basically, for the dead a funeral is like being Billy Mummy from that "It's a Good Life" Twilight Zone episode for about an hour, which isn't a half-bad consolation for later being blown all to shit by a nearby military funeral. º Last Column: What the Sleep Do We Know?º more columns
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|  May 26, 2003
The Doctor is OutI don't like my doctor. He laughs too much when I describe my symptoms and plus he smells Greek. Also I don't think the prick knows what he's doing. You tell me how you're supposed to get a yeast infection when you don't even cook.
My main problem with doctors is that they're all dildos. Every last one of them. Except for radio personality Dr. Laura, now she's more of a heartless ubercunt. I tried to choose her as my doctor at the clinic, but they said I had to choose between Dr. Blintz or the highway, and the highway was booked up that day. That nurse thought she was pretty funny until I asked her why they didn't give us bigger sample cups to crap in for the tests, that seemed to hit some kind of nerve. She's probably had to try and squat over one of those tiny things herself.
I'm not sure if Dr. Laura even counts as a real doctor, to tell you the truth. It may be one of those honorary titles like what Dr. Seuss had.
Whenever your star vehicle is cancelled and replaced by reruns of a show about some kid who talks to his dead grandma on a toy cell phone, it kind of makes you think. Soul Searching, they call it. Though I may be thinking of that dance show with Ed McMahon. And that's not what I've been doing, though when I was a kid I did play-act like I was the host whenever that show was on TV. I didn't really like dancing, but I loved gonging the neighborhood kids when they tried to act like they had talent. I probably would have liked...
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I don't like my doctor. He laughs too much when I describe my symptoms and plus he smells Greek. Also I don't think the prick knows what he's doing. You tell me how you're supposed to get a yeast infection when you don't even cook.
My main problem with doctors is that they're all dildos. Every last one of them. Except for radio personality Dr. Laura, now she's more of a heartless ubercunt. I tried to choose her as my doctor at the clinic, but they said I had to choose between Dr. Blintz or the highway, and the highway was booked up that day. That nurse thought she was pretty funny until I asked her why they didn't give us bigger sample cups to crap in for the tests, that seemed to hit some kind of nerve. She's probably had to try and squat over one of those tiny things herself.
I'm not sure if Dr. Laura even counts as a real doctor, to tell you the truth. It may be one of those honorary titles like what Dr. Seuss had.
Whenever your star vehicle is cancelled and replaced by reruns of a show about some kid who talks to his dead grandma on a toy cell phone, it kind of makes you think. Soul Searching, they call it. Though I may be thinking of that dance show with Ed McMahon. And that's not what I've been doing, though when I was a kid I did play-act like I was the host whenever that show was on TV. I didn't really like dancing, but I loved gonging the neighborhood kids when they tried to act like they had talent. I probably would have liked grade school more if they had let you wheel a gong into the talent shows like I wanted to. As it stands it was the worst two weeks of my life. Before the last two.
Whatever it's called, I've been up to my nipple rings in this thinking lately. You should try it some time, it's like a vacation for your eyes. Actually that's a bald assed lie. Thinking sucks, there's a reason it only comes up when your life has pinched a loaf. But I like to think I'm not the only one tugging on the peter of misfortune lately. Like they say, misery enjoys company picnics.
I suppose the whole doctor thing is a moot point anyway, since it looks like UPN's money tit is drying up and I won't have medical coverage after Thursday. Then it'll be back to consulting the copy of Captain Pickle's Big Book of Sick that I've had since I was five, which was probably a better idea all along. At least it has pictures and doesn't stick any silverware in your skin pantry, unlike certain doctors I could name or at least vaguely describe.
I'm not sure if the commune's advertisers have a problem with terms like "skin pantry," they seem to be a pretty mellow. All I know is the one douche commercial I did was like playing charades with a bunch of Nazis, everything was on their "no no" list. I couldn't even say "afro clam."
Until I get some offers for legit commercials (and no, I don't believe they really film commercials for having sex with a pony. Once bitten, twice shy on that one guys, but thanks for playing) I'm thinking of supplementing my income by opening an advice booth here at my desk at the commune, like the scam that Lucy girl was running in the old Peanuts comics. She seemed to do alright.
I don't really have her background in psychiatry, but I think I could do well with a Blunt Honesty booth. People would sit down, pay me first (if I learned one thing from Dr. Kevorkian's Biography, it's get the money upfront) and I'd tell them they had a face only an undertaker could love or something helpful like that. I'd probably have to charge more than a nickel because of inflation and all, I haven't really worked out the pricing structure yet. But I think it could work. One thing I know for sure, no way am I letting this thing degrade into a kissing booth like the last time I had this idea. A girl's got to look out for her reputation. º Last Column: Hot Commercial Propertyº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses yearning to breathe free, the wretched refuse of your teeming shores... uh, on second thought, scratch that. If I can pick, don't give me any losers.”
-Emily DickinsomeFortune 500 CookieGive up the ghost this week—everybody knows you're drawing those eyebrows on with a magic marker. You may only be a gigolo, but that doesn't mean anybody wants to hear you sing about it. Try naming a constellation after yourself: it worked for that "Chantilly Lace" guy. This week's lucky pets: salamander, ostrich, rutabaga, cow fetus, bottle of deadly germs.
Try again later.Top New Year's Resolutions| 1. | Quit being such an asshole | | 2. | Exercise every day. Every Arbor Day. | | 3. | Kill them all | | 4. | Lose 20 pounds to limey con artist | | 5. | Quit smoking halibut | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 5/1/1999 It's Oscar time, America! And you know what that means: It's time to assert our inborn artistic superiority over every other country on the globe! The Oscars are like the Olympics of Entertainment, where we dominate in every event. Just like the real Olympics! Except for the goofy made-up sports like hockey and skiing that they play up in Canada. I'm talking about the real sports here.
Anyway, welcome to my Oscars special! What a load of movies we've got this year, huh? You should thank your lucky stars I'm here to keep you straight on which films to root for. I'm going to give you the straight skinny on my picks for Oscar gold, as well as guiding you through the murky waters of all the nominees. Because, as "The English Patient" proved, sometimes they sneak in a real stinker...
It's Oscar time, America! And you know what that means: It's time to assert our inborn artistic superiority over every other country on the globe! The Oscars are like the Olympics of Entertainment, where we dominate in every event. Just like the real Olympics! Except for the goofy made-up sports like hockey and skiing that they play up in Canada. I'm talking about the real sports here.
Anyway, welcome to my Oscars special! What a load of movies we've got this year, huh? You should thank your lucky stars I'm here to keep you straight on which films to root for. I'm going to give you the straight skinny on my picks for Oscar gold, as well as guiding you through the murky waters of all the nominees. Because, as "The English Patient" proved, sometimes they sneak in a real stinker just to make sure we're paying attention. May the best film win!
Best Picture:
Elizabeth
Yeah, like I'd go to see a chick flick. And a FOREIGN chick flick at that. You can waste
your money if you want to, but I hear they're playing "Beloved" down at the dollar
theater.
Life is Beautiful
Product placement is getting truly out of hand in today's entertainment features. Now
they're even sneaking it into movie titles, and I say the buck should stop here! I
don't give a damn if Mikey likes it! Keep him out of my Multiplex!
Saving Pirate Ryan
Hands-down the best pirate film since Muppet Treasure Island. The touching, emotional story of a captain's voyage to rescue Pirate Ryan from the Island of the Cyclops Women. Stephen Seagal's directorial debut shines as a true gem of American cinema. Unfortunately, the Academy has not been kind to pirate movies in the past (see Muppet Treasure Island, above) so I don't honestly see this picture bringing home the naked guy.
Shakespeare in Love
Although not the first porno to be nominated for an Oscar (see Titanic, Raging Bull), I have to admit this one might have a shot. Starring Bill Paxton as the beard himself, and Courtney Love as herself, in a movie written by Courtney Love. I'd at least give her the worthless "best screenplay" trophy just for having the balls to write herself into history this way. The MTV generation has a lot of pull with Academy Voters (see previous Best Picture winner, "Empire of the Sun", the Rage Against the Machine tour video) so Love's film may go home with the "Best Kiss" Oscar as well.
The Thin Red Line
Absolutely my pick for the Best Picture of the year. All those trim Russian soldiers marching about, how can you beat it? Definitely the best "Capitalist Pigs Must Die" film of the year.
Best Director:
Terrence Trent D'Arby, The Thin Red Line
Who'd of thought such a pantywaist could direct such a great, macho film? Except for the spurious inclusion of his late-80's hit "Wishing Well" during a Red Army marching sequence, D'Arby's direction is flawless, and I'm personally impressed. I'd have expected him to be a cashier at D'Arby's by now. I'd place him as the front runner for the Oscar if it weren't for the fact that I think all of the other nominated directors could kick his ass to Cleveland and back.
John Madden, Shakespeare in Love
Only a real meathead roughneck like Madden could keep Courtney Love in line during the filming of this difficult movie. He's been quoted as saying that his years in the NFL were only meager preparation for dealing with his star.
Benito Mussolini, Life is Beautiful
Living proof that you can bounce back from a rocky past, and that Hollywood forgives just about anybody. Except for the Hollywood YMCA, you pee in their pool once and you're out, buddy.
Stephen Seagal, Saving Pirate Ryan
Definitely the director to beat, especially because he can kick almost anyone's ass. This category raises the interesting question of who's the bigger badass: Seagal or Mussolini?
Peter Weller, The Truman Show
Who better than Mr Robocop himself to direct Truman Capote's masterpiece? The only real tragedy of the Oscars this year is to think that The Truman Show didn't get nominated for Best Picture. But I'm sure Peter Weller will get his revenge. I wonder if he's got a 16mm camera mounted on his machine-gun arm, or how that works? He's probably the only nominated director who can develop his own film, and who is bulletproof. Kick ass.
Best Actor:
Tom Hanks, Saving Pirate Ryan
In a harrowing, grizzled performance as Capt. Turner, Hanks brings us closer to the heart of a drunk old pirate who talks to his stump than many of us would have ever cared to be. Definitely Hanks' best performance since his turn as the Philadelphia Fanatic in Major League 2.
Ian McKellen, Gods and Monsters
Never satisfied with resting on his laurels from his early success as the tall kid in Our Gang who never said anything, McKellen is back in this remake of "Clash of the Titans". Now set in suburban Long Island, the film features McKellen in a stirring performance, playing an aging Barbarian who falls in love with Jason Priestly. Sure to get the Barbarian vote from the Academy.
Benito Mussolini, Life is Beautiful
Mussolini reveals himself to be a deft physical comedian, leaving audiences howling in disbelief that the WWII leader of fascist Italy can fall down a flight of stairs and land on his feet.
Nick Nolte, Afflecktion
Although the film was nothing but a shameless rip-off of Multiplicity, Nolte burns up the screen as the mad scientist who brings the hundreds of Ben Affleck clones into being. Nolte aptly displays the horror inherent in finding oneself surrounded by hundreds of Afflecks, all bobbing their heads and gelling their foofy hair in unison.
Edward Norton, American History X
Who the hell is Edward Norton?
Best Actress/Supporting Actress:
The Academy's gag category this year. You don't believe me? Go ahead, name three women who are nominated. I'm waiting. Most of the names listed as best actress and best supporting actress nominees this year are actually the names of Academy members' children and pets. You heard it here first.
Best Supporting Actor:
James Coburn, Afflecktion
Playing Quasimodo to Nolte's Dr Frankenstein, Coburn is touching as a hunched old fart who babbles on about WWII.
Robert Duvall, A Cybil Action
Executive producer Cybil Shepherd displays both her megalomania and her lack of creativity in the naming of this film, a rote action flick redeemed only by a stunning performance by Robert Duvall as an ex-preacher who uses his Louisville Slugger to collect on drug debts.
Ted Harris, The Truman Show
I have to admit, after Cheers ended I thought Ted's career was a goner. But he really pulls it out of the crapper as Kansas farmer William Clutter during the "In Cold Blood (Use Tide!)" segment of Capote's magnificent film. Harris was quite believable in the role, especially when his toupee didn't come off during the strangulation scene.
Geoffrey Rush, Shakespeare in Love
Who?
Billy Bob Thornton, A Cybil Plan
Cybil Shepherd strikes again with this unfortunately titled film in the crime thriller genre. Thornton proves that he can play a retard for every occasion with this role as an autistic Midwestern auto sales manager who accidentally kills a hooker and has his idiot friends try to help hide the body. Easily Thornton's best performance since Good Morning Vietnam.
And that's a wrap! Best of luck in stalking your favorite celebs at the Awards Show this year! Or if you won't be making it to the ceremony, may your favorites take home the gold! Unless your favorites were one of the weak foreign films that inevitably gets nominated, in that case tough luck. Here's a quarter, call somebody who cares. And be sure to tune in next month for more of the new reviews that you've come to depend on!   |