atastrophe struck Saturday when 275 random Iraqi citizens were sentenced to death by election to the General Assembly in the first free elections in Iraq’s history.

Somehow, amidst the threat of violence and the actual violence in which potential voters were killed trying to attend the polls, 275 individuals were selected for unknown reasons to represent the various designated regions of their country, condemning them to a life full of terrorist violence and victimization by fanatic groups. Some speculators say a few of the newly-elected yet-to-be-killed assemblymen actually wanted the job, as organized groups of Kurds and Shiites in particular voted despite the danger to capture a greater control of the country than they have traditionally had. Others say, that as may be, come the first meeting of the General Assembly, you will be able to count the number of people not being dragged to the capitol building on one hand—the hand of an Iraqi thief, as the joke goes.

An estimated 280,000 Iraqis living outside the country voted via absentee ballot Friday, marking about 25% of the vote. While the absentee ballot traditionally favors George W. Bush, the results have not yet been tabulated, so some of the poor bastards destined for bomb threats and random shootings don’t even know there’s a ballot with their name on it yet. Of those Iraqis living abroad, who had the luxury of voting without being subjected to random acts of terror, 60,000 were living in neighboring Iran—presumably for the safety the non-U.S.-occupied country provides.

However, some of Iraq’s new electorate could be determined by early results already, and were quite optimistic about the future.

“I believe I will live well past sundown,� said Abiri Al-Hussah, revealed as the winner of his district’s election, a small section just outside Tikrit. “Anything after that is up for grabs. I damn the son of dogs who nominated me for the ballot—a thousand deaths be handed down from Allah to the chronic masturbator.�

Others had a less rosey view of their future in Iraqi politics, such as Jukret Dutat, a newly-elected official from Kazul.

“Well, shit,� said Dutat, as a translator deciphered for us. “This is what I get for not getting a subscription to the newspaper. You sideswipe one [untranslatable]’s car on the freeway and—boom!—you’re elected. This is not fair. I have no interest in politics and have no hope for a democracy in Iraq. I am here not by the will of the people, but because I could not resist brandishing the sign of Chula to slow drivers. This, as they say, completely chomps the dicks of goats.�

U.S. President George W. Bush, himself a winner by a wide margin of a seat on the General Assembly, which he’s ineligible for since he’s not a citizen of the country, saw the best hope for the future by the comparatively terror-free success of the election.

“The Iraqi people finally have a governing body in places—several bodies, in fact,� said the president, with his always-enlightening poor choice of words. “These are brave, freedom-loving men who will be happy to serve their people in the legislative branch of their country—not that they have much choice in the matter. You’re picked, you serve. End of story. Your sacrifice will long be remembered by your country, when they’re one day no longer blowing up their leaders.�

In Baghdad, Nassawa Al-Badib, the majority leader of the Shiite party, likely to become the next president of Iraq as the representative of the party receiving the largest vote, had great ambition for the country’s steps into democracy.

“At last we will be able to show the world, Arab and non-Arab alike, that Iraq is not a place of cruelty and violence. I will embrace my new role in the government, and guide my country out of these shadows, into its bright future. I will do this, of course, from my new home in Sarasota, Florida.�

Al-Badib quickly boarded a jet leaving the country and gave the twin two-fingered “victory� salute made famous by Dick Nixon.

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Hello to all readers. Or do readers say hello to Boris? Boris is all upside turned down by Matrix movie, which is too far out for Louis.

Friend Louis take Boris to see Matrix movie on condition Boris pay for ticket then go in exit door Louis hold open. Matrix is movie for kicking ass! To see movie so good as Matrix in Homeland Boris must get kicked in head by moving truck.

Matrix is top filmed action, starring cop who rides exploding bus. Cop is fantastic kung fu fighter even though not real actor, but still punches and kicks many of the same man. Over and over kung fu bus cop fight everyone in movie, to make happy audience. Even fight woman friend wearing no clothes, but audience do not see big fight finish. Must be for next Matrix!

Best part of Matrix is the smartness. Boris is easily stumped by old persons in movie who point to door and say door is not really there. Always Boris asks Louis why old persons can't not make up mind if door is door or not door and young kids in front row tell Boris to shut up mouth or to begin choking. Louis is strange and like to see old persons fucking Louis in ear.

After movie Louis is trying to tell movie story to Boris so Boris can enjoy movie after over. Kung fu cop is man who gets trapped in computers, like Boris when sticking fingers into disk drive hole, but for whole body. In computer kung fu cop must kick ass of everyone to break computer and helping out of other friends to freedom. Then all friends go to disco planet where the naked persons listen to electronic robot music.

Movie is best when making Boris think. Louis point to old persons talking because is moment to make audience smarter. Old persons ask question to kung fu cop, is you Matrix? Or is Matrix just like tiny dot on pinhead, as say Louis? All world is only trick of light like magic show and Boris only think Boris is taking shit when Boris is really in computer where shitting isn't not possible. Is circle in circle and wheel within wheel, like Jim Fucking Morrison preacher Louis love.

Shitting is crazy, Louis is right. Like when Boris and Louis watch Memento movie and stupid man always forget what happened in movie. Forgetting man shoots cartoon friend who is alive again later but is not angry because cartoon friend knows forgetting man is crazy fool. Also is movie where Louis want to see persons fucking Boris in the ear.

To Boris, Matrix is best when men jump too high and is so funny. Woman jumping in air for camera up close to naughty bits also give Boris funny sexy feeling. For fighting and sexy shiny clothes Boris is two thumbs inside Matrix. As movie for fucking in ear, Boris give to Matrix finger. Not as good as thumbs.

For Boris war movie is much better, for funny and for making everyone hate talking French persons. Is always on TV for free and not take Boris money for watching. Still not as good Wild Wild West where black cowboy raps and fights giant spider. Louis love black cowboy motherfucker but say movie is taking shit. Boris like Wild Wild West very much for fighting and loud music and blowing up houses and very glad they didn't not hurt cowboy for being black. Black cowboy is like Louis and white man is like Boris, very white, and both are good friends. Movie is like real life, no matter what Matrix say.

º Last Column: Goodbye War
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Ted Ted here, reporting from Ted Ted's world, commonly called Flatbush, N.J. Any longtime reader of the commune should know I've been on board as a reporter since day one, at least day one of my first day, and yet I feel that we don't know each other very well, you and I, the reader and reporter. Part of that is the fact you don't have a newspaper or anything; another part of that is you can only impart so much of your personality when you're objectively reporting the news, or reporting the way I do.

All that changes now.

Red Bagel requested that someone, anyone fill this increasingly dead space on the site, and when the request goes out for someone, anyone, I certainly fit the bill. It was about time I dealt a swift kick of justice to all those things that piss me off. All I can say is, cover your nuts, world—the kicking has started.

First, though, I'll give you some background. Let's call this the Ted Ted story.

For one thing, most obvious to people when I meet them, I am a small pixie. This is not a metaphor and is not a description of my personality in any way. I am a pixie, with wings, pocket-sized, judging by usual standards of pockets. There is some disagreement about this, it's fair to state. My doctors in particular say I suffer a very rare condition that allows me to grow vestigial fleshy wings and causes my diminutive size. I am small, that much is true, but do not mistake me for having a small temper or being any less threatening because of it. I could not, as you might have heard Ramon Nootles say, be beaten-up by a crack-baby. If there are any doubts, ask Ramon how I responded to that.

Since graduating from technical school in 1998 I sought a job in the growing field of handgun repair, but various psychological profiles cruelly kept me from receiving employment involving firearms. Just when I thought the business world was going to force me into the ever-growing field of serial killing, an angry letter of mine was mistakenly published in a burgeoning alternative-news website then called the commune. It's the same one that's now called the commune. Unfortunately, they published my diatribe as a news article, "Motherfuckers Still Blowing Up Shit in Beirut," and worse, they didn't even give me a byline. When I threatened to sue, then-Editor Red Bagel claimed to like my moxy and hired me as a regular staff reporter.

Despite not having a background in journalism at all, or maybe because of it, I flourished at the commune. I made good friends, though no one else could see them, and I continued to report on the things that really bugged the hell out of me. My articles have been recognized everywhere for special awards given to journalism based on opinion more than fact, though I've never bothered to go to any of these shows to see if I won because I figure they're probably scams trying to sell me time-shares.

In addition to reporting when I feel like it, I also keep my schedule busy as the commune's publicist. It's my job to get the word out to everyone about the commune, to promote the website and its staff. When I'm not doing that, I'm usually doing a lot of other things. I'm not only a reporter, but a published author of non-fiction books like Nasty Things About People Who Aren't Famous and Ted Ted's Book of Cajun Cooking.

Is there more about Ted Ted you don't know? To paraphrase the famous quote: Shitloads. But in good time you'll find out all there is to know. Keep checking back.

º Last Column: President Bush Will Have to Kill a Man to Get Some Goddamn Respect
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