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October 13, 2003 |
Either Schwarzenegger arrives from belated victory party with wife Maria Shriver, or some sort of clip from a movie. he Tuesday polls have closed, the ballots are still being counted, but estimates make the outcome clear: California has lost the recall election.
California voters turned out in record, ignorant numbers Oct. 7 to make their confused voices heard, and the answer was a resounding, "What's this all about again?" As voters chose to recall Gov. Gray Davis, elected only 11 months earlier, and replace him with female-violating, Hitler-loving pure beef slab Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Not that a truly inept politician can't ruin an entire political system in less than a year. The current president only needed 9 months before the world as we knew it fell into a shitcan. And Gray Davis, described by friends as "a necessary evil," probably deserved a good pink-slipping. But to ...
he Tuesday polls have closed, the ballots are still being counted, but estimates make the outcome clear: California has lost the recall election.
California voters turned out in record, ignorant numbers Oct. 7 to make their confused voices heard, and the answer was a resounding, "What's this all about again?" As voters chose to recall Gov. Gray Davis, elected only 11 months earlier, and replace him with female-violating, Hitler-loving pure beef slab Arnold Schwarzenegger.
Not that a truly inept politician can't ruin an entire political system in less than a year. The current president only needed 9 months before the world as we knew it fell into a shitcan. And Gray Davis, described by friends as "a necessary evil," probably deserved a good pink-slipping. But to replace the deviously crafty with the hopelessly out-of-their-league, a trend already set at the presidential level, left California in the position of the biggest loser in the U.S.
Early estimates show the recall winning by 55%, with Schwarzenegger leading the recall candidates by a sizable margin. Among the opponents not just doing it for shits and giggles, Lt. Gov. "Tom" Cruz Bustamente, Sen. Tom McClintock, apparently not the character from the John Wayne movie of the same name, and a Green Party candidate who pushed a referendum where new ballots were cast with hemp. Schwarzenegger's 7,000+ votes over the next nearest candidate was called "overwhelming" by some overly-excited reporters. After all, here is a difficult foreign name they already know how to pronounce.
McClintock conceded happily to his fellow plus-sized Republican, calling it a "great day for California."
"In response to a common danger, the people of California rose to their duties and ordered a new direction for our state," said the well-rehearsed GOP mouthpiece. The message on that direction couldn't be less clear: We want the dumbest, most sexually-excitable candidate who runs a chain of failed over-hyped restaurants to do for us what he did for The Last Action Hero.
The white media, plagued with their fascination with celebrity, lauded the Schwarzenegger victory in many subtle ways, some calling it a "Hollywood ending." Leaving one compelled to remind reporters Dr. Strangelove and Taxi Driver had Hollywood endings, too.
Exit polls showed many voters disappointed with the failure of Gray Davis to mend California's budget problems during his 11 months in office. "It's not like the whole country's in a recession here," said one angry voter, drooling on this reporter's tape recorder.
The results of the California recall do little to surprise most pollsters, who predicted the election weeks in advance with their preemptive announcement of recall results beforehand. When asked what features they were looking for in a state governor, most Californians cited a vague understanding of the problems afflicting the state, poor pronunciation of English, and having appeared in at least one horrible Batman movie.
In a concession speech, Gray Davis called for everyone to "get behind" the governor-elect. What Davis neglected to add, but surely was thinking, was either that, 1, you could then proceed to push him off a cliff and into the Pacific Ocean, or 2, he's a big guy and you'll need the shade when the air conditioning dies after every power grid goes out, you fickle yellow-bellied traitors.
Schwarzenegger's new lieutenant governor, a bronze bust of former president Ronald Reagan, could not be reached for comment, as it's incapable of speech. the commune news does not share the malevolence visible throughout this article, but damn if we don't hate and hate and just don't know why. Shabozz Wertham is a former professor of something at some school and has been on special assignment covering the California recall election, and you ask us, he's a little spiteful toward us about it, too.
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 January 20, 2003
Isaac DePlaneIsaac DePlane took off his brain
as it had grown heavy
and his neck was tired.
All filled up with stats
and soluble fats
his poor peachy brain became mired.
"Catch you later, bitch!"
he hucked his brain in a ditch
and he felt wonderfully lightheaded.
Until his eye began to twitch
as he felt a phantom itch
and he forgot about where he was headed.
He wandered into a gas station
and like a mad animation
he drank down three pints of unleaded.
He screamed out names of soups
as he ran 'round in loops
like a chicken very recently beheaded.
Isaac DePlane rode a tugboat to Maine
where he took off his pants in a hurry.
And parading through town
in a homemade mackerel crown
he told folks "They're not live, don't worry."
Speaking of fish
made him hungry and wish
he was eating a salmon-stuffed taco.
But the townspeople were quick
to tire of his shtick
and they made him call his brother Rocco.
He came with their cousin Dino
in a rusty El Camino
and took Isaac to go find his brain.
When they did, Isaac cried
since someone pissed on one side
and it had been left out in the rain.
But in the end he was pleased
he no longer shit when he sneezed
and now things didn't all taste like dreck.
Though in a week he complained

º Last Column: Cakes Are for Baking º more columns
Isaac DePlane took off his brain
as it had grown heavy
and his neck was tired.
All filled up with stats
and soluble fats
his poor peachy brain became mired.
"Catch you later, bitch!"
he hucked his brain in a ditch
and he felt wonderfully lightheaded.
Until his eye began to twitch
as he felt a phantom itch
and he forgot about where he was headed.
He wandered into a gas station
and like a mad animation
he drank down three pints of unleaded.
He screamed out names of soups
as he ran 'round in loops
like a chicken very recently beheaded.
Isaac DePlane rode a tugboat to Maine
where he took off his pants in a hurry.
And parading through town
in a homemade mackerel crown
he told folks "They're not live, don't worry."
Speaking of fish
made him hungry and wish
he was eating a salmon-stuffed taco.
But the townspeople were quick
to tire of his shtick
and they made him call his brother Rocco.
He came with their cousin Dino
in a rusty El Camino
and took Isaac to go find his brain.
When they did, Isaac cried
since someone pissed on one side
and it had been left out in the rain.
But in the end he was pleased
he no longer shit when he sneezed
and now things didn't all taste like dreck.
Though in a week he complained
about being so inconveniently brained
and the unbearable strain on his neck. º Last Column: Cakes Are for Bakingº more columns
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|  February 16, 2004
Long Live Omar Bricks!Thankfully for you, the eager readers, nobody blew up any giant mammals on the international scene this week and we can finally get down to the nitty gritty dirt band on Omar Bricks' adventures through the afterlife. For those of you interested in the full sensory experience, I'd recommend putting Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" on infinite repeat while you read the column. If you read it at the correct rate of speed I think you'll find things syncing up in some pretty mind-blowing ways. If you're a slow reader or retarded or something, I can't promise it won't make you dizzy or colossally sick, so sync at your own risk here people.
Longtime Bricks fans, or newer fans with the cajones to dig deep into the archives, will no doubt remember back in 2002 when the Bricksmobile went all Casino on me and engulfed half of my neighborhood in flames, blowing yours truly into my neighbor Dale's azaleas. Thanks to the intense charring within the blast radius, some cocky son of a bitch from the fire department decided nobody could have lived through the explosion, and after I loudly agreed the police took that as gospel and Omar Bricks was legally dead. At the time I thought it would just be a funny lark and a cool way to mess with pizza delivery guys, but it turned out to be a real godsend when all my neighbors tried to sue the recently-departed Omar Bricks for fucking up their houses. Wouldn't you know it was their shitty luck that Omar's twin cousin from Cuba who was...
º Last Column: Blow Whole º more columns
Thankfully for you, the eager readers, nobody blew up any giant mammals on the international scene this week and we can finally get down to the nitty gritty dirt band on Omar Bricks' adventures through the afterlife. For those of you interested in the full sensory experience, I'd recommend putting Led Zeppelin's "Kashmir" on infinite repeat while you read the column. If you read it at the correct rate of speed I think you'll find things syncing up in some pretty mind-blowing ways. If you're a slow reader or retarded or something, I can't promise it won't make you dizzy or colossally sick, so sync at your own risk here people.
Longtime Bricks fans, or newer fans with the cajones to dig deep into the archives, will no doubt remember back in 2002 when the Bricksmobile went all Casino on me and engulfed half of my neighborhood in flames, blowing yours truly into my neighbor Dale's azaleas. Thanks to the intense charring within the blast radius, some cocky son of a bitch from the fire department decided nobody could have lived through the explosion, and after I loudly agreed the police took that as gospel and Omar Bricks was legally dead. At the time I thought it would just be a funny lark and a cool way to mess with pizza delivery guys, but it turned out to be a real godsend when all my neighbors tried to sue the recently-departed Omar Bricks for fucking up their houses. Wouldn't you know it was their shitty luck that Omar's twin cousin from Cuba who was watching the house indefinitely hadn't inherited any of the vast Bricks fortune.
This was all fine and dandy for months until all my appearance of hard work at the commune finally paid off in the form of a company car, which turned out to be a cop magnet even when Red Bagel wasn't driving it. I hadn't been behind the wheel more than three minutes when a cop pulled me over while I was taking a short cut through the park and told me my license had expired. I guess that's one of the down-sides of being legally dead that they don't tell you about when you're bluffing the fire department. There should be a law, but what are you going to do?
The next day I go down to the DMV to perform the seemingly-simple task of proving I'm still alive so I won't have to walk out in the cold every time I want to go down to the DQ for a scoop. I figured this would be fairly easy, considering that me even showing up at the DMV proves to all but the biggest of idiots that I am, in fact, alive. Being the stand-up supporter of democracy that I am, I decided to make things even easier on the powers that be by standing up on the counter at the DMV, holding up my death certificate, and announcing "Omar Bricks is Dead, Long Live Omar Bricks!" to the huddled masses assembled on the DMV killing floor. Most of the idiots there didn't know what the hell was going on, though one dude did clap for a while. I figured my point had been made, and I was on my way to go home and ring in the new Omar Bricks with a toast of Miller High Life when some closeted DMV dude stopped me at the door and told me I'd have to wait in line like all the others shmoes slouching their way toward the guillotine.
I guess I wasn't the only one there who had been mistaken for dead, though from the looks of most of those guys I should've guessed it. So I wait in line like a peasant, hoping the chick up front will spot me in line, remember me from my column or a police line-up somewhere and wave me away like "Dude, you're obviously alive! Get the fuck out of here!" and I'll be all thumbs-up and ass out the door. Well, any of you who've ever been to the DMV know that kind of magic just doesn't go down, and I was in that line for three fuckin' days. You may think I'm exaggerating that figure somewhat for hilarious effect, but I'm shitting you not, three days. Every time I got out of line to take a piss I was stuck at the back again, if I'd known that was going to be the case I wouldn't have loaded up on Hawaiian Punch and pop rocks on the way over, that shit makes you piss like a Hawaiian grandma or something, every ten minutes like a goddamned glockenspiel.
At some point on day three, weak bladders got the best of all the dorks in front of me in line and I finally won a round of DMV Survivor. I grooved my way up to the counter and laid the smooth on the three-headed DMV beast manning that station, who reached deep into her bag of pain and pulled out some bullshit about how I had to go to the city courthouse and get my death certificate revoked and blah blah blah before I could even talk about getting my license renewed. I briefly considered cracking open a big can of profanity on the whole scene, but a cooler part of my head prevailed and I seamlessly transitioned to Plan B.
You'd be surprised how far a good Scarface accent and a black market birth certificate can get you these days. It was enough to get Omar Bricks' mysterious "Coovan" cousin a driver's license, anyway. So remember Polio fans, if you see me behind the wheel of a car or you're talking to the highway patrol, remember one simple slogan: Omar Bricks is Dead, Long Live Navarro Bricks!
Bricks out. º Last Column: Blow Wholeº more columns
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Milestones1821: Costa Rica, El Salvador, Guatemala, Honduras, and Nicaragua all gain independence, consequently leaving them ripe for U.S. corporate invasion and political meddling.Now HiringMark Buckles is a Cockwad. Holy shit I don't believe we got that in print! Man, you were right, Sammy, they don't ever proofread this shit. This is better than that time we got "Mark Buckles sucks balls" on the CNN website poll.QVC Top Sellers| 1. | Edible Bacon Sleeping Mask | | 2. | Avocado Clock | | 3. | Big Bag 'o Cubic Zirconiums | | 4. | Electronic Feces Sniffer | | 5. | "Great Jews of the 60's" Trading Card Set | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 4/19/2004 Holy crap, America. That just about sums it up, doesn't it? Kind of makes you wonder why all those philosophers throughout history wasted so much of our time with their excess verbiage. Speaking of such, let's cut to the chase and chase down this week's movie reviews.
In Theaters Now:
Hellboy
Simpsons creator Matt "Spalding" Groening is back in this big-screen adaptation of his enduring comic strip about a little sock puppet in a Shriner's hat. While his main role in the strip was complaining and looking pathetic, Hellboy takes on a more dynamic role in the film version, fighting crime and fooling people into thinking they're going to another X-Men sequel. While the filmmakers get plenty of mileage out of...
Holy crap, America. That just about sums it up, doesn't it? Kind of makes you wonder why all those philosophers throughout history wasted so much of our time with their excess verbiage. Speaking of such, let's cut to the chase and chase down this week's movie reviews.
In Theaters Now:
Hellboy
Simpsons creator Matt "Spalding" Groening is back in this big-screen adaptation of his enduring comic strip about a little sock puppet in a Shriner's hat. While his main role in the strip was complaining and looking pathetic, Hellboy takes on a more dynamic role in the film version, fighting crime and fooling people into thinking they're going to another X-Men sequel. While the filmmakers get plenty of mileage out of that redneck guy who keeps saying "Hell, boy, you look like a tube sock!" I did leave the theater feeling like they'd just missed comedic gold by not having the hillrod try to put his foot up Hellboy's ass accidentally while he was getting dressed in the morning. Though they may have just been leaving some material open for the inevitable sequel.
Kill Bill Vol 2
Whoever this Bill Vol guy is, he certainly pissed off the wrong hair band. Likely a crooked promoter or a snide VJ at MTV or something, whoever he is, Bill's about to get his nuggets diced by those karate-kicking Nelson boys in this remake of the 1951 classic. Though I thought setting the eyeball-plucking scene to the tune of "After the Rain" was a little nauseating, you have to admire a pair of cloned androgynous pansy rocker twins who know more kung fu than Keanu Reeves' stunt double.
The Punisher
Taking a hint from Paycheck in the "Honesty in Advertising" department, Hollywood has shoveled this aptly-titled nugget into the gaping maw of public consumption, a cruel bit of revenge exacted upon audiences who broke Hollywood's heart by not going to see so many of the films it had dearly hoped would make shitloads of money. Now it's payback time, at least for moviegoers who buy tickets at random and dyslexic Usher fans. How does this film abuse audiences? Let me count the ways. Wow. Okay. Whoever can guess closest to the number in my head gets a big-ass jar of jellybeans. Good luck.
Walken Tall
Raise your hand if you can tell the difference between Vin "Rock-Like" Diesel and Dwayne "The Rock" Johnson. Okay, now get your asses over to MIT, they need you to build a particle accelerator out of dog food and twist ties. As for the rest of us, we'll just have to settle for being confused and staying away from any movies that smell like jock sweat. In the latest film starring whichever of those two this stars, Hollywood explores the question "If Christopher Walken got really mad, would he get huge like the Hulk and smash shit all to pieces?" I know that's one that has been on the tip of my tongue for years. The actual answer is slightly disappointing, but mainly because the Christopher Walken mask they put on the meathead to play the "after the transformation" Walken is so poor you can see the elastic band holding it on his face. But, on the bright side, stuff gets smashed and we don't have to see Rock Diesel's face for half the movie.
That's the that that is, America. Hope it made your flowers grow. We'll be back in a few with more bile from the belly of the beast, stay tuned.   |