Comic Relief Sends 10,000 Tons of Onions to Africa

fter years of providing fart-powder-drenched meals for the homeless, the humanitarian organization Comic Relief completed its latest drive this month by sending huge quantities of useless onions and garnish to starving families in Africa, in what is believed to be the largest-ever gag gift in the history of charitable donations.

Comic Relief’s gift is thought to be the funniest aid Africa has received since the USA for Africa fundraiser in 1985 collected over $60 million to pay for mayonnaise and other highly-perishable foodstuffs to taunt the hungry of that famine-plagued continent.

“I remember seeing USA for Africa on the news back in 1985 and thinking ‘That’s fucking hilarious! Why didn’t we think of that?’� remembers comedian and Comic Relief host Robin Williams. “They got all these people to call in and pledge money, did the song and everything, and then they spent it all on shit that went bad in like twenty minutes! Then the real stroke of genius is when they put it trucks with bald tires and set them loose all over Africa to get stuck in the mud and capsize, and then the drivers ate most of the food. Too funny! I only hope we’re remembered as well.�

Comic Relief, founded in 1986 by comedian Bob Zmuda as a gut-busting way to help the homeless, sought in its 17th year to make a new splash by taking their “leave ‘em laughing� credo to an international level. Early indications are that this giving spirit is spreading, as Comedy Central has already pledged to match Comic Relief’s donations dollar-for-dollar, providing impoverished Africans with ketchup and A-1 sauce to go with their hilariously inedible feast of onions and garnish.

“At first we were thinking of sending them some really nasty food, like liver or something, but then we realized that would just be mean,� explained comedian and Comic Relief regular Billy Crystal, whose humanitarian work has been funnier than his movies for years. “They could actually eat that crap, and that wouldn’t be funny, just sad. I mean, how would you like it if you were starving to death and some wiseass acts like he’s being all generous, then gives you something gross your mom used to make you eat? Blech.�

“It was way funnier to just give them a shitload of onions, because what are they going to do with those? They’re pretty good for seasoning other food, but what other food?� Crystal chuckled, shrugging his shoulders in a “Who knows?� gesture. “You should have seen those guys when the trucks pulled up and all those onions came tumbling out the back! They kept waiting expectantly as each new truck pulled up, thinking one of them had to be the steak or French fries truck, but then each one would open up and it was ‘Nope! More onions!’ Ha ha. Ah… well, maybe you had to be there.�

The presidents of Ethiopia, Zimbabwe and Nigeria issued a public thank you to Comic Relief last Thursday, praising the group for their giving hearts and strong sense of starvation-themed humor. The statement was followed by an expectant pause, as if the African leaders were each expecting Comic Relief to recognize their ability to appreciate a good joke and in turn reveal where the actual food was. All three were still waiting on stage when the Comic Relief representative in attendace sounded off an electric fart box, then in the ensuing commotion ducked out a back fire escape, leaving the building.

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Many readers have an unshakeable image of me from reading my column. They see Rok Finger as a cool, collective individual with a good head on his shoulders, by way of a stodgy little neck. A tough-as-nails, yet sensitive and insightful observer of human nature, in the least effeminate way possible. A creature of perfection, who could not get any better. But you could not be further from the truth.

Like anybody else, I try for improvement. New Year's is a time for me, like everybody else, to look within using my mind's eye, which has X-ray vision, and ask myself, "What would Rok Finger do?" Meaning to make himself better. Me better. I speak of New Year's resolutions. Let's make them together, shall we?

Chief among my New Year's resolutions is to cut down on use of the third person when I speak. It just gets too damn confusing. Maybe in return I could increase my use of the second person. You can do it, Rok! There. That sounds more supportive already.

Camembert and Lee have suggested that maybe I'm a bit aggressive as a roommate. Well, Lee said it. Camembert couldn't look me in the eye when I was told this, so that's as good a sign as any that he agrees. Is it possible? Are you too strong a personality for weasly jelly-spined lifeforms like Camembert? Not everybody has your self-confidence and dynamic personality, some are overwhelmed. And people don't need to be overwhelmed, they need to be encouraged. So I say, way to go! I will see to it this year that Camembert is much more encouraged to speak his mind. We will begin rigorous training in that department at 0200 hours tonight, right after V.I.P. is over. I'll make it a surprise.

I was talking with my ex-wife Arvelyn the other day—I came down her chimney dressed as Santa Claus as a Christmas surprise, and we had a happy reunion after the pepper spray's effects faded. She confessed to me that, on some level, right below the fear and indescribable rage at my behavior, she still loves me. She even wishes we could reconcile, but she said I'm far too paranoid and snap at the least little thing. I denied it, of course, but after setting fire to the Christmas tree in retaliation I didn't have much of a leg to stand on. I conceded that maybe she had a point, and I would try to improve that in the future—at least until I can find out what her ulterior motive is in this game.

In fact, you could even say that my cat Makeshift is the only one who has no problem with me. Which is why I kidnapped him. Such a good friend and ally should live with me rather than my arch-enemy/ex-wife. "Kidnapping" might be a misrepresentation. Catnapping is probably more accurate, as well as more adorable.

I'm not even getting into what my office mates think of me. So many emotionally-troubled people in one place shouldn't be given consideration, which is the logic I've been using for the Israel-Palestine conflict for years. But each of them is angry with me about something—whether it's my on-target advice on how they handle their personal lives, my complaints about their distracting breathing noises, or my wearing a wire during personal conversations (again, Mr. Bricks, nothing personal, just doing my civic duty), they all have a bone to pick with me. A bunch of lousy bone pickers.

To study myself in this context, this barrage of complaints, you'd think I needed more than a tweak here or there in the Rok Finger personality matrix. I needed a dad-blamed reconstruction. Which makes my New Year's resolutions completely clear, at least.

I resolve, first and foremost, to not let the opinions of others bother me. I must be more sure of myself, I must defy criticism in every form, and I must be steadfast against the corruption of others.

And I'm going back to the third person. Rok Finger was much closer to perfect before this mess started.

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Did you see it? Did you see?

True 'dat, I made it to the top once again. My show aired last week in the WB's prime Saturday night line-up. It was pre-empted in some areas by tornado warnings or an old movie, but most of the nation got to see the debut of "Ho's!" I was thrilled.

They edited some of my best ad-libs out, but I can deal with that. Save it for the DVD special features.

I'm listed next to last in the credits, right before David Faustino—that's practically the best spot, next to the first spot, the last spot, and the next-to-first spot. If I can get a "with" in front of my credit, I'll be red-hot in Hollywood again. I feel it coming back to me already.

My favorite part was when the one girl asked me what I thought of her ho outfit, and I did that black girl wag of my head. I didn't even say anything and I got, like, the biggest laugh of the show! That's going to be my catchphrase, I can feel it. Everybody's going to be doing that within a month. Then it will get old and stale and I'll tell people how '90s it is to still be doing that. But I'll still do it, if they want me to, if they just meet me on the street or whatever. You got to please your fans.

I suppose the ratings were pretty good. We beat out all three of the major networks, I don't know how that happened. The producer said the WB wins the ratings on Saturdays a lot because all the old people stay home from the clubs just to watch the most offensive thing they can find on TV and write angry letters to the newspaper about it. I don't know if that's a theory or what, but I'm happy they made us number one! How's that, folks? I'm on a number one sitcom—again! And they say thunder never strikes twice. Thunder or rapists, I can't remember how the phrase goes.

Not that the critics care about ratings. TV Guide called the show "bargain basement stupid." I thought that was a compliment for a bit, like how all my friends say "stupid," but apparently TV Guide still means it like my dad says it. None of the other critics were good about it either. "Disgraceful," "repulsive," "fecal," I've heard them all. Even the commune's Orson Welch wrote an article for Profound Magazine calling it, "The same boorish quality of trash as every low-grade half-wit idea on television." But it is a magazine that reviews television for people too snobbish to watch it, so no surprise there. Roland McShyster was pretty cool, he reviewed it in an office memo last week and called it a "heart-warming history of the Hostess company, told in flashbacks." I didn't see any of that myself, but maybe I'm too close to the inside.

I don't want to rest on my success, though. That's how you end up a TV nobody, like George Clooney. Sure, he may be doing all sorts of movies and everything right now, but he hasn't done TV in years—and probably never will again. You've got to build a lasting TV career, you can't fall back on what's easy. I want to keep doing "Ho's!" and find new ways to develop it. I've already proposed a spin-off for my character of Ophelia, the white ho, but I also want to do TV movies, or maybe even an all-singing, all-dancing variety special, if I can find people who can sing and dance. I also want to direct—direct TV.

But I've seen both sides of success, success and non-success. Too much of the latter. It's important to me that I make not just a funny show, but a real television legacy. I want "Ho's!" to be as memorable as the great shows, like "Just Shoot Me," or "Who's Your Daddy?"

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