Thousands of Missing Children Found at "Have You Seen Me?" Headquarters

daring pre-dawn raid on ADVO national headquarters, concluding a joint investigation between the FBI and the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, has resulted in the discovery of thousands of missing children this week. Americans from all walks of life have responded, in unison, (kind of like in Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall, except they’re not all little English kids) “Holy shit? Really. Wait, what’s ADVO?�

ADVO, Inc., the nation’s largest full-service targeted direct mail marketing services company with annual revenues of over $1 billion, is best-known (and by that we mean among people who can tell the difference between different targeted direct mail marketing services companies, so like four people in Iowa maybe and probably your dad) for its partnership with the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children. Together, ADVO and the NCMEC have mailed “Have You Seen Me?�® cards weekly to over 79 million American households and nearly a dozen people who are having their mail forwarded to Canada.

ADVO began its partnership in 1985, and in the seventeen years since over 100 missing children have been returned to their forgetful parents after being featured on the ubiquitous “Have You Seen Me?�® cards. Until very recently, the rest were all thought to be lost to the sands of time, or baked in a witch’s cake or something. But in fact most have been working at ADVO mail processing centers around the country the entire time, living in military-style barracks and not getting any kind of chocolate milk whatsoever. Twenty ADVO centers have been operating solely on missing-child labor since 1985, distributing both Super Coups™ mailers and, ironically, the “Have You Seen Me?�® cards themselves.

“In retrospect, it should have been obvious,� said Mark Schroeter, head of the FBI’s investigation for the last ten years. “I mean, duh!� Schroeter continued, violently smacking himself on the forehead. “What a fuckin’ dipshit move! I’m so fucking stupid! Stupid!� Schroeter carried on further, attempting to kick himself in the ass before losing his balance and falling into a stack of phonebooks.

“This is JUST like the time those jewel thieves hid in my trunk and I unknowingly transported them away from the crime scene and to eventual freedom. Way to go, dumbass! You fucking gimp, how’d they ever let you into the Bureau? You couldn’t find a white guy at a boat show! Gaaaaaaaaaawwwd!� Schroeter said as he stomped up and down and threw his government ID into a nearby tree.

“We’re looking for these kids in fucking Guam and the whole time ADVO is just scooping them up off the streets and putting them to work in the mail processing centers. Shit do we look dumb. Way to go, guy, that was sure some tax money well spent, you dickless wonder. We practically printed them up a license to steal. Or kidnap, or whatever. You know what I mean. Do I just have total shit for brains, or what? You shouldn’t even be interviewing me. I’ll probably fuck up your newspaper somehow.�

A dramatic scene had unfolded that morning as ADVO head Scranton McNally was led away in handcuffs by FBI agents, pausing briefly before cameras to snarl “And I would have got away with it, too, if it weren’t fo-� before he was cut off by Agent Schroeter, who stormed through the middle of the scene, shouting: “Fucking lousy cop coming through! Make room for the imbecile! Everyone gather round, have your picture taken with the amazing asshead! Come on, kick me in the nuts while I can still feel it!�

Thousands of relieved parents who had been flown in from around the country for photo-ops stood teary eyed through the mass reuniting, then spontaneously broke into the chorus of “Teach Your Children Well� before being interrupted repeatedly by sounds of a tussle as Agent Schroeter attempted to run himself over with an FBI van.

Muslims Protest Violent Cartoons by Fucking Shit Up

Cheney Comrade Injured During Hunt for Bin Laden

Stealers Wheel Win Super Bowl, Says Heavily Accented Man

Colin Farrell Claims Responsibility for Groin Injury That Sidelined Kwan

Dear commune:

I want a new ten-speed bike, not a Huffy or a kid’s bike or anything, but one with real handle brakes and everything, something glossed up and ready to go. Something really cool looking. If you want to throw in a helmet or some neon-looking biker shorts, all the better, but I’m not holding my breath.

I also wouldn’t mind a bunch of DVD movies and a new DVD player. I realize the one I got for Christmas last year is still pretty new, but something about the way the front panel lights up—I don’t know, kinda faggy. I’m just saying.

I would also like an electric guitar, whatever you pick out should be fine. I don’t know how to play but I know if I got one I would take the time to learn, no matter what my dad says. Everything does not just end up in the garage gathering dust.

If you could bring me this stuff, which is not a lot to ask, I won’t even ask for anything really big and ridiculous, like having all my bills paid and getting a girlfriend who doesn’t sleep around at the drop of a hat. Oh, but I do want to ask for world peace. Partly because I really want it, partly because I feel like a total asshole if I don’t ask for at least one thing not entirely just for me.
I realize you are not Santa Claus, and this letter did not come to you by mistake. I stopped writing to Santa Claus because Christmas came and I ended up with a big lapful of nothing. I like you guys, you seem like the kind of people who can get shit done. You make good on this stuff and I’ll spend 365 days a year worshipping you guys. I’ll also set milk and cookies and a little orange juice with vodka out for you, if you want to come down the chimney.

A.J. Ridenhaus
Great Valley, N.D.


Dear A.J.:

This may surprise you, but we here at the commune were all touched and inspired by your letter, so we decided to do as you asked. Expect us from 9:30 to midnight on Christmas Eve, though we still have to talk someone into making the run to your house—it’s a little out of the way. But what the heck! It’s a damn shame when you do everything you can to change the world and find it’s the same sad-ass place it was when you came into work this time last year. If we can make one person happy, we’ll consider everything squared. And this year, that lucky person is you.

Of course, the bike won’t be quite what you asked for. Ramrod Hurley bent the frame pretty bad, which is why he doesn’t ride it anymore. And we’re not quite sure if Lil Duncan’s biker shorts will fit you right. And DVDs are a little expensive, so we’re substituting some free thousand hours of AOL discs we acquired. But the electric guitar we can do, enough failed attempts to start bands around here have left us with a pile of them. As for world peace—shit, good luck on that. It’s a scientific fact most people are only happy when other people are unhappy, so there’s no way everybody can live in peace and harmony. But we have an old VHS of Woodstock ’94 we’re passing on to you instead. See how much fun it is when people riot and mosh and exploit the hell out of other folks, then tell us if you still think peace is such a groovy thing.

By the way, all the time and money we’re spending on you this year is what we usually put towards buying and delivering Christmas gifts for local orphans. If they happen to call and ask us why Santa didn’t come this year, we’ll just tell them Santa had to cater to a self-absorbed Gen-Y prick this Christmas. Suck on it, Ridenhaus.
the commune

---

Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for the over-commercialization of Christmas. Nor are we responsible for the real downers who want to over-Jesus it up either. In fact, between those two warring factions it’s no wonder we’re shit out of holiday spirit already.

º Last Column: Volume 56
º more columns

Hold onto your asses, 'cause this is craziness in peak: I'm being sued.

Right, me. I thought as a legal requirement to be sued you have to have money. Apparently something has changed in the Constitution. Let this be a lesson to everyone, you got to read the Constitution once every few years to see if it's been altered or replaced. Not all of us individually, that would be outrageous. We should all just select one person a year to read it, starting in reverse alphabetical order. Then that guy gets on the internet and tells us what's been taken out and revised. And hopefully no one will figure out by the time it rolls around to me I'll be a hundred-something or dead.

None of this helps. But it helps to complain about the Constitution when you're pissed off.

Oh, the lawsuit, right. It's that snurfler Jayme. I know snurfler isn't a real word, but c'mon, she's suing me. I'm not going to go and call her an economy-sized bitch when she could attach that as another lawsuit. From now on, I'm only calling that sperm queen made-up names.

So get this. I'm trying to do some of the regular cover shoots for the next few issues of Metallichick comic book and major lorkhound Jayme is hanging around and totally distracting Nat so his mind is on getting laid rather than doing business. I tell her to run off and cream the janitor for a few minutes while Nat and I do real work, and she got all offended. Nat was pissed at me, and maybe it was a bad idea to piss him off while Jayme is so obviously crusading for the Metallichick cover model role, but I think Nat will respect someone who's blunt with him. Or can get him blunts, if that fails.

It wasn't even the order to go boff the custodian that pissed her off, at least she didn't name it in the lawsuit. Apparently when she refused to move along I said, and I quote the lawsuit, "Skee-daddle, dildo!" In Jayme's little debutante world being called a dildo causes, again quoting the lawsuit, "Severe emotional damages" and "unpleasant imagery." What the hell is that about?

This shit is just whacko. I call 'em like I see 'em—she's a dildo. I didn't make her a dildo, a prig klautat who goes around sucking donk like it's a crackpipe and trying to sleep her way to comic book covers. Pathetic, you ask me. She should sue her parents. Dear mom and dad, thanks for making me a neurotic miss priss dudoodobat. Consider yourself served.

Is "snatch handout" a real insult? A lawsuit-inducing insult? Hey, lawyers, let me know if I can say that without getting litigated back to the stone age.

My lawyer won't even let me tell my side of the story to her lawyer anymore. I'm just trying to let the guy know what kind of hosehoarder he's representing. By the way, I guess I can use that one since it's been added to the lawsuit as of our last meeting.

I ought to just fire my lawyer. If he were any good he would have gotten me those back checks from that ALF screen test I did years ago. One of these days that footage is going to turn up as a DVD special feature and everyone will see they missed their calling letting a grown man wear that suit.

I can defend myself, if I do fire that assmunch shyster of mine. I'll come up with some brilliant legal plan. Technically, I think if I can prove in a court of law the fershizzle can be used like a dildo I can win the case. Even if I can't it would be really funny seeing a couple of guys trying to ram her up some big broad's pouch. It would even be worth losing the case.

º Last Column: The Bad Luck Club
º more columns