| Loves That Woman ';
$dunkin='2005/0905/';
$dunkintitle='The New Anne Frank Diary';
$edit='2003/1222/';
$fanmail='2005/0516/';
$fanmailtitle='Volume 63';
$finger='2005/0905/';
$fingertitle='I’m Fresh Out of Haitian Cigarettes';
$fortune='2002/020121/';
$goocher='2005/0711/';
$goochertitle='Gwar of the Worlds';
$hanes='2005/0704/';
$hanestitle='Pink is Not for Men';
$hartwig='2005/0606/';
$hartwigtitle='Parade';
$hooper='2005/0912/';
$hoopertitle='Seventh Heaven';
$hurley='2005/0404/';
$hurleytitle='Time of Healing';
$kroeger='2005/0822/';
$kroegertitle='Charity Case';
$loser='2005/0822/';
$losertitle='Lost Leavings';
$ned='2003/0818/';
$nedtitle='Cyantology';
$pickle='2002/020513/';
$pickletitle='State of the Art';
$poet='2005/0905/';
$police='2005/0912/';
$polio='2005/0905/';
$poliotitle='Omarelief';
$rent='2005/0912/';
$renttitle='Way Inside Jokes';
$reynolds='2005/0425/';
$reynoldstitle='A Series of Unfortunate Evans';
$hartwig='2004/1206/';
$hartwigtitle='O Captain!';
$sickhead='2004/0419/';
$sickheadtitle='The Legendary Spot of Coco Hobari McSteve';
$ted='2005/0530/';
$tedtitle='The New War on Poverty';
$vanslyke='2005/0606/';
$vanslyketitle='Health Food is Full of Shit';
$zender='2005/0425/';
$zendertitle='The Sixth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting';
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Supreme Court Rules on Gay MarriageJuly 7, 2003 |
Washington, DC Dan Fathead An impressive-looking building where if you shook it, judges might fall out
"Marriage is like, something chicks invented to make sure guys don't have any fun," explained Justice Anthony Kennedy in his majority opinion.
"So you're saying I've got to support you financially, pay for a bunch of foofy-ass furniture I don't want, raise some snot-monster kids who live to piss me off, and I don't get to ...
ollowing last week's landmark sodomy decision that opened the door for Americans everywhere not to be white Christian fundamentalists, onlookers have waited with baited breath for the other shoe to drop as the Supreme Court passes judgment on the controversial topic of gay marriage. That shoe came sooner than expected yesterday, when the high court handed down a ruling that many anticipated but few wanted to admit: "Yes, marriage is really gay."
"Marriage is like, something chicks invented to make sure guys don't have any fun," explained Justice Anthony Kennedy in his majority opinion.
"So you're saying I've got to support you financially, pay for a bunch of foofy-ass furniture I don't want, raise some snot-monster kids who live to piss me off, and I don't get to have sex with anybody else no matter how fat you get? Oh yeah, that sounds like a great deal. Sign me up and point me toward the polo shirts," sneered Justice David Souter while miming the jerk-off motion with his hand.
"I was going to get married once, but then I decided to just slam my balls in a car door and call it even. Best call I ever made," boasted Justice Breyer, sitting down gingerly.
Justice John Paul Stevens nodded in agreement. "Friend of mine got married once. They said it was Vietnam that screwed him up, but I for one know better. His wife was into collecting those little beanbag animals," Stevens shook his head solemnly.
The lone dissenting opinion was voiced by Justice Antonin Scalia, who spoke meekly from the bench.
"Hey, I like being married. It's fun to talk to my wife about what kind of sink we're going to put in the downstairs bathroom, again and again, for hours until you don't care if you live or die. And to hang out with my wife's asinine friends from college, that's a blast," asserted Justice Scalia, starting to cry. "Anyway, when I was younger I found single life to be overrated, I really did. Always getting to do whatever I wanted, staying out all night, having my own ideas…" Scalia trailed off as he got a far-away look in his eyes.
"Plus I think there's something in the bible about getting boils on your ass if you're not married by the time you're 30. Ugly stuff. It's in there somewhere, I swear. Enjoy life at your own peril, single sinners."
Uptight religious groups everywhere spoke out against the decision before it was even handed down, not wanting to miss an opportunity to start some shit.
"We will not stand for this attack on the sanctity of marriage," threatened Rev. Lee Harden-Stroker, president of the one-man To Heck with Gays Coalition of some godawful place called Hucknuckle, Texas. "Next thing you know them liberal judges gonna rule that church is boring or that closed-minded fundamentalist dogma drives a wedge between people while failing to address the spiritual needs of its followers in any meaningful fashion. And them's fightin' words."
"Sure, being married isn't much fun, but nobody said life was supposed to be fun," explained Tyner Allaboy of the Concerned Christian Men's Club. "Show me where the word 'fun' appears in the bible. Ain't there. It's God's plan for men and women to grow emotionally distant from each other, raise ungrateful children and spend our weekends fixing the damned rain gutters again and again."
"Just think about it," concluded Allaboy in a flourish of inspiration. "If God really wanted us to be happy, would he have put our mouths so far away from our privates? Try and argue with that." the commune news agrees that marriage is gay, but the alternative does get a little lonely some Saturday nights. Thank God for legalized prostitution! Wait, what? Boner Cunningham is the recent recipient of the prestigious Golden Doorknob Award for the least relevant journalist of the year. Way to go, Boner.
 |
Teen still missing in Aruba, Jamaica, oh-woo I wanna take ya
Blockbuster ends late fees in exchange for 'soul-reaping'
Super Bowl Advertising: Fat guys with Nike T-shirts to get $1.8 mil
 IRS: Excessively Needy Girlfriends Can't Be Declared "Dependents" |
Venezuela Adds Itself to ‘Axis of Evil’ he so-called ‘Axis of Evil,’ which now has more points than a pinwheel, took on another member when the forgettable South American country of Venezuela added itself to the roster of anti-U.S. countries this week. The announcement was made in the most awkward fashion, when President Victor Chavez made allegations that the United States has made plans to invade Venezuela soon. How soon? Chavez didn’t pinpoint a date, but said the invasion would happen imminently. According to Chavez, the U.S. has been planning to invade his country for some time, and he has proof, although he didn’t exactly present it to anybody. The most precise allegation made by Chavez cited “invasion training maneuvers” being made in his country by CIA operatives, who apparently weren’t in Venezuela for one of their thousands of monthly beauty pageants. Orleans Refugees at Home in Disneyland’s French Quarter efugees from the New Orleans disaster were thrilled this week by the news that Mayor Ray Nagin plans to re-open large parts of the city as early as today, allowing the many refugees spread across the American South like spilled milk to finally return home. The decision to return, however, is not so easy for the small number of lucky refugees who were relocated to the French Quarter section of the Disneyland theme park in Anaheim, California during the first days of flooding. “This is great, it’s like being back home, except Disneyer!” gushed socialite Anita Bomes, thrilled with her new New Orleans, a quaint miniature version of the city located near a fake lake that, to date, has never flooded. “Blond Highlights the Devil’s Work,” Says Iran, Straight Men Dow Reaches 13,000, Tao Reaches ∞ |
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 May 17, 2004
Midgets Aren't All They're Cracked Up to BeFrom the first day I pulled Nevil out of my duffel bag and locked him in the trophy case in my living room, I thought that I was pretty damn clever for acquiring a midget. I pictured all kinds of everyday tasks that he could perform for me; it would be like having my own butler, only puntable and hilarious. Who wouldn't want a comically undersized sidekick to make their bed, brush their teeth, or stand in for them as a real life stunt double in situations they personally didn't want to be associated with, like work, paying taxes, going to jail, or being gang fucked in a dark alley by a group of Hell's Angels hopped up on PCP?
Fate, it seems, has a cruel way of twisting your dreams into reality.
It seems like I cater to that fucking midget more then he ever waits on me. For the longest time I couldn't even take him on a walk through a decent neighborhood without him darting off and humping somebody's front yard gnomes. I can't count the number of times we would've both been arrested if it weren't for my quick thinking, drop-kicking Nevil into the hedges and soaking up the accolades from homeowners who thought I'd just saved their landscaping from some kind of demented, randy troll.
Eventually I had to solve this problem by stealing one of those remote control shock collars. It didn't seem to be doing the trick at first, if anything the shocks just got Nevil excited, but after I replaced that pussy-assed 9V battery with a Sears DieHard...
º Last Column: This is Mickey Hanes!
º more columns
From the first day I pulled Nevil out of my duffel bag and locked him in the trophy case in my living room, I thought that I was pretty damn clever for acquiring a midget. I pictured all kinds of everyday tasks that he could perform for me; it would be like having my own butler, only puntable and hilarious. Who wouldn't want a comically undersized sidekick to make their bed, brush their teeth, or stand in for them as a real life stunt double in situations they personally didn't want to be associated with, like work, paying taxes, going to jail, or being gang fucked in a dark alley by a group of Hell's Angels hopped up on PCP? Fate, it seems, has a cruel way of twisting your dreams into reality. It seems like I cater to that fucking midget more then he ever waits on me. For the longest time I couldn't even take him on a walk through a decent neighborhood without him darting off and humping somebody's front yard gnomes. I can't count the number of times we would've both been arrested if it weren't for my quick thinking, drop-kicking Nevil into the hedges and soaking up the accolades from homeowners who thought I'd just saved their landscaping from some kind of demented, randy troll. Eventually I had to solve this problem by stealing one of those remote control shock collars. It didn't seem to be doing the trick at first, if anything the shocks just got Nevil excited, but after I replaced that pussy-assed 9V battery with a Sears DieHard he started singing a different tune. I'm not sure what, it sounded like "Greensleeves" but it's hard to scream in tune when you're on fire. The shock from that car battery is so strong it'll blow a midget clean across the street, and he'll shit his pants in mid-air or your money back. That little fucker even stopped biting, hissing and spitting. I'm telling you, a shock collar is the gift that keeps on giving. Remember that come Christmastime, especially if anyone on your list owns a midget or an ornery dwarf. In the end, I guess my biggest midget-owning gripe is still maintenance. I had a big problem with him drinking out of the toilet in my apartment, which sounds funny until you get up in the middle of the night to take a crap and realize you've just shit up the back of a midget's jammies. Trust me, that makes leaving the toilet seat up seem like no big deal. So after I got the collar, I decided to hide in the bathroom closet and wait until Nevil got his tongue in the water before I hit the button. Holy shit! Now he won't even go near the fuckin' bathroom. So what does he do? He shits in the bottom drawer of my fridge. I should have gotten a hamster. The vet says that Nevil doesn't have any hair anymore due to the hundreds of thousands of volts that I run through him on a daily basis, and that I should find other ways to discipline my midget. Yadda yadda yadda. But I'm nothing if not a humanitarian, so for a week I took the damned collar off. Every time he did something that I didn't like, picking at the paint on the walls, trying on my clothes, trying to escape, or pissing in my closet, I would beat him shitty with a pick-ax handle instead. Trust me, it was good exercise, but nowhere near as convenient. That and my neighbors were always complaining about the noise and asking if they could borrow my croquet set. Communication is a big problem too. It would be so much easier if Nevil could talk. All he ever does is grunt and growl. Why can't midgets ever talk? You'd think they'd be great at it, since they constantly need help when they can't reach things. I'd expect a midget kid to be able to say "Hey bitch, hand me that sammich!" by the time they're two. Of course, maybe at one time he could talk. But when I found him, in order to subdue the little bastard enough to get him into my bag I had to stab Nevil in the throat with a piece of splintered wood, then tape the wound shut with duct tape so he wouldn't die. I wasn't worried about it at the time, since I already knew that midgets can't feel pain. So don't say I never learned anything in school. But I think that might have had something to do with his lack of conversation skills. So a word to the wise, for those of you who are thinking about getting a midget: Think twice, because it will be more of you taking care of them, and not the other way around. º Last Column: This is Mickey Hanes!º more columns
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|  October 1, 2001
Rubber Ain't My BrotherTime to set the record straight, Pop'n Fresh. Who's in the kitchen with Dinah? Neddikins Nedmiller, them's the cat! Surprise! Long time this mystery puzzled them noodles of them noodle-headed school marmots. "Whoozit?" they askin. "Whoozat strummin that banjo?". Sure ain't Poor Henry, nor Lonesome Tom, them out trappin' coons! Sures ain't Fat Teddy Wedkins, him out eatin' pies offa windowsills. Ain't neither Ralf the cat-eater nor Surly Joe, them went to town for the bark-strippin contest. "Whoosat leave left?" them melon-headed childrens askin. "Who's in that kitchen we know?". Well the time's up, you paint-eatin' imbeciles, and Neddy's left holdin the banjo. You all owe me a nickel.
Summertime's the time Ned likes to strap on a pair of latex jogging trunks and hit the slopes, them Korean bastards took Ned's tonsils in the great war. Rub-a-dub-dub there's a shark in my tub, that's what I always say! Memorial Day's the time to remembrin all them things you never remembered, like gettin' your porcupine sharpened or where you left your mother that cold wintry day. Veteran's day's the time when you take your horse in to get his elbows checked for white dwarfs, that's the day.
Newsflash! Sub sandwiches float! Jig's up, Kruschiev!
When Nedinski was six years old of the equinox, his momma take him out in the deep woods of them black forest to teach him 'bout them magic-talkin tree midgets. Ned learn that day 'bout the city of them trees, and them...
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Time to set the record straight, Pop'n Fresh. Who's in the kitchen with Dinah? Neddikins Nedmiller, them's the cat! Surprise! Long time this mystery puzzled them noodles of them noodle-headed school marmots. "Whoozit?" they askin. "Whoozat strummin that banjo?". Sure ain't Poor Henry, nor Lonesome Tom, them out trappin' coons! Sures ain't Fat Teddy Wedkins, him out eatin' pies offa windowsills. Ain't neither Ralf the cat-eater nor Surly Joe, them went to town for the bark-strippin contest. "Whoosat leave left?" them melon-headed childrens askin. "Who's in that kitchen we know?". Well the time's up, you paint-eatin' imbeciles, and Neddy's left holdin the banjo. You all owe me a nickel. Summertime's the time Ned likes to strap on a pair of latex jogging trunks and hit the slopes, them Korean bastards took Ned's tonsils in the great war. Rub-a-dub-dub there's a shark in my tub, that's what I always say! Memorial Day's the time to remembrin all them things you never remembered, like gettin' your porcupine sharpened or where you left your mother that cold wintry day. Veteran's day's the time when you take your horse in to get his elbows checked for white dwarfs, that's the day. Newsflash! Sub sandwiches float! Jig's up, Kruschiev! When Nedinski was six years old of the equinox, his momma take him out in the deep woods of them black forest to teach him 'bout them magic-talkin tree midgets. Ned learn that day 'bout the city of them trees, and them midgets who frolic and play there with them tree rats, and them scream like freight trains and fling their scat like Sandy Kofax when they're sad. Ned learn that day not to make the tree midgets sad, so today he passes that wisdom on to you. Don't make them tree midgets sad. Ned remember them summertimes when he was knee-high to a boa constrictor, runnin' round in the yard like a Chinaman celebratin' China Day. None of them neighborhood families had money for none of them Water Witch lawn toys or no Crazy Clown neither, so Neddy and his buddies Ron-Ron and The Gooch would tie the garden hose to that epo-leptic kid Stanley and chase him 'round with flashlights, turning 'em on and off an off an on until he'd start doin' the 'lectric wiggle like a honeybee mappin' out the way to the treasure. Then we frolic and play in the water, til them vultures start to circle overhead. That's when it's time for some chocolate milk 'n grape nuts, by gum. Summertime's also the time for them eye-bogglin' great scientific advances, like Nedmiller's beach catapault. Nothin' quite matched the joy wrapped up inna small boy's scream as he's rocketed out of his swim jimmies and kerplunked into the ocean 'bout a quarter mile out to sea. Also works for family dogs, too, but warning: NASA loses their sense of humor faster than a jellyfish in a weasel condom when they pick up flying schnauzer formations on their radarmascope. This year Nedrums is workin' on his sister-invention, the sea-catapault! Doublin' the pleasure 'n fun when you see sharks and manta rays and small whales flung up onto the beach and highway! Hot damn! Back to the lab with Neddington P. Bear! Lotsa hours to spend, wrappin' malamutes in apple cores and Polydent, and checkin' the summer sausage for a hernia. I hope the best to you and yours with your summer projects, and may all your hornet's nests be kosher! TTFN! º Last Column: Lost My Way on the Slow Gray Trainº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Discretion is the better of valor, and the first thirty minutes of Saving Private Ryan much better than any of the rest of it.”
-Crazy Eddie ShakespeareFortune 500 CookieIt's time you leave your job, 'cause they're going to fire you tomorrow. If you're ever cornered by a bear, hang your lunch in the tree and pretend you have Tourette's. She sells seashells by the sea shore, which is an incredibly bad market to unload those things. Duck, duck—goose. Lucky numbers all negative.
Try again later.Top-Selling Software| 1. | Windows XPlodes | | 2. | Norton's Anti-Social | | 3. | The Sims Hot Threesome | | 4. | Doom: Columbine Commemorative Edition | | 5. | Mavis Beacon XTreme Typing | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 5/27/2002 Hey there America, thanks for showing up for yet another dose of Entertainment Police magic. It looks like summer snuck up on us while we were passed out in the hammock, and that can only mean one thing: vaguely justified bikini features on Entertainment Tonight! Actually, that's a lie, summer probably means more than that to certain types of people, like the blind and sheepfuckers. And for the intents and purposes of this column it means summer blockbuster season! In case you've been out on the range a little bit too long, this is the time of year when Hollywood rolls out its big guns in an all-out war to gouge those greenbacks out of our tight little wallets. Who's got the biggest guns, besides that chick from The Skulls II? Roll your eyes over part one of our Summer Preview to...
Hey there America, thanks for showing up for yet another dose of Entertainment Police magic. It looks like summer snuck up on us while we were passed out in the hammock, and that can only mean one thing: vaguely justified bikini features on Entertainment Tonight! Actually, that's a lie, summer probably means more than that to certain types of people, like the blind and sheepfuckers. And for the intents and purposes of this column it means summer blockbuster season! In case you've been out on the range a little bit too long, this is the time of year when Hollywood rolls out its big guns in an all-out war to gouge those greenbacks out of our tight little wallets. Who's got the biggest guns, besides that chick from The Skulls II? Roll your eyes over part one of our Summer Preview to find out:
In Theaters
Bad Company
I suppose it was only a matter of time before we saw Steven Seagal ass-kicking his way through the hallways at Enron, but I was still surprised at how fast they turned this one out. They must have these scripts sitting around in Mad-lib form somewhere.
The Bourne Dentist
Matt Damon is Richard Bourne, a man who was born (get it?) to scrape plaque off of molars, but highly secretive government agents are out to stop him for reasons that only the screenwriter understands. Pretty good as far as dentist-thrillers go, and I liked Damon's Bond-like use of dental apparatus to get him out of tight jams. Kind of like Bond himself in It's Never Too Late to Die and Fancypants. The best thing about the movie, however, was the fact that they vetoed the original title at the last minute: Rinse, Spit or Die. Hallelujah. That would have been the worst title since James Bond in… Overkill.
Divine Secrets of the Ya-Ya Sisterhood
Talk about some divine Ya-Yas. This would qualify as must-see TV if it were on television and television showed knockers. Yeah.
Enough
Those Hollywood big-shots were apparently as fed up with all of this Jennifer Lopez bullshit as you and me, so they finally decided to lay the franchise to rest with one gonzo exploding-building, axe-in-the-skull, flaming-motor-home "the bitch ain't comin' back" finale. Very satisfying for those of us who thought they should have killed her off after The Wedding Planter.
Harvard Man
Sarah Michelle Gellar, the curvy bass player for heavy-metal sloths Slayer, dons the press-on mustache for some cross-dressing Just One of the Guys mayhem at America's favorite party school. Probably the best metal band date movie since Ministry's Sorority Girls.
The Importance of Being Ernest
Hell yeah. It's about time Hollywood laugh machine Ernest P. Worrel returned to the big screen, I was beginning to think he'd died or something. Some might argue that all of Ernest's movies are the same, and on the surface that may appear to be true. Boy meets girl, boy drops girl into a vat of raw sewage, boy falls off ladder and boy saves a bunch of little kids from some kind of snot-covered goblin.
But it's in the subtle undertones that the differences are found, and this soul-searching epic about a septic-tank scrubber who is mistaken for the president is clearly Ernest's strongest work to date.
Insomnia
Can't sleep? Then maybe you should move to Alaska or Norweg or some place like that. I hear it never gets dark there, so you can stay up all night cleaning your gun or whatever they do up there all night. Maybe watching polar bears tear into the soda machines, something. I'm not sure, I fell asleep during the movie.
Scooby, Don't!
Everyone's favorite cartoon leg-humping machine is back in his big-screen debut. Unless you've ever watched the cartoon on one of those huge projection televisions, that's admittedly a pretty big screen right there. But for the rest of us with shitty 10" Sanyo TV/VCR combos, this is our first chance to see Scooby humping the president's leg all larger than lifelike.
Spirit: Stallion of the Cinnamon
I almost choked on a licorice whip when I saw the trailer for this one. Could this be for real? I thought horse pictures died with The Black Stallion and Return of the Bride of the Black Stallion 2. And not only was this a horse picture, but an ANIMATED horse picture to boot. And not only an animated horse picture, but an animated horse picture with a name that sounded like the title of a Jewel song. Holy shit! This could be worse than Glitter! Thankfully for everyone implicated in the credits, this turned out to be another great Mel Brooks spoof, with a clever red salmon of a trailer that should trick more than a few ten year-old girls into paying to see a movie about debutants having sex with horses.
The Sumbitch on All Fours
Ben Affleck takes a turn for the wolf in this poorly-timed "Werewolf in the South" picture. Believe me, I'm as excited as the next guy about the prospect of seeing some nutfuck werewolf with poofed-up hair taking a bite out of some saggy good-old-boy behind, but in the current national climate, are we really ready to laugh about bloodthirsty man-wolves again? As Teen Wolf, Too, Wolf, and Airwolf all proved, a novel spin isn't always enough to keep the public coming back for more man-dog mayhem. Having Ben Affleck being torn from ass to appetite by berzerk werewolves, now that's an idea that could have drawn a crowd. Or perhaps a movie about the same.
Undercover Brother
If you've ever told a younger sibling so many monster stories that they were afraid to come out from under the covers at night, then snuck under their covers while they were sleeping, farted, and then left, this is the movie for you. You know who you are.
Windtalkers
Though some may lament the trend, with more and more movies being packed with fart jokes these days it was all but inevitable that someone would eventually make a movie that was all fart jokes. And who better to do it than John Woo, director of such foreign fart classics as Con Air and Hard Boiled Eggs? The film starts out by showing the members of the Windtalker family coming to grips with their exceptional flatulent skills in a hilarious montage. Carl Windtalker's accidental ass-blasted recital of Sweet Child O' Mine at a baseball game will separate the snobs from the slobs in the audience, but if you make the cut you should have a good time. It's hard not to smile at the family's internal communication through a rudimentary language of intestinal blurts, and uncle Frank's scented Moose call will delight audiences, though it may scare children under the age of four. Coincidentally, some guy sitting in front of me added to the realism by cutting one loose during the film, making for a full sensory movie experience. I'll never eat Jujubees again, but I can't say that it didn't add to the film. I'm a little worried about Taco Bell's plans for a Windtaco tie-in, since I don't want to be caught in one of those places the first time somebody needs to make a run for the border after downing a sack full of those things.
That's it for now, folks. Tune your browsers this way in a month's time to take a gander at the other half of the skinny on what'll be crawling up your local theater's ass and dying this summer. Until then, this has been Entertainment Police, and you've been reading.   |
