Oakland Beats Tampa Bay

n the battle of post-game celebrations, the fans in Tampa Bay have nothing on the spirited Oakland fans. Sunday night, following the Raiders' loss to the Bucs, East Oakland sizzled and burned with young rowdies demonstrating their loyalty to the hometown team by trashing and looting stores, burning cars and spinning doughnuts in intersections all up and down International Blvd. More than 80 people were arrested in the melee, most for vandalism, destroying public property, or public drunkenness.

Meanwhile, in Tampa Bay, Florida's "Bay Area," exactly one person was arrested: a dyed-blonde Miss Thang who was baring her implants to the crowd gathered to celebrate the Buccaneers' first-ever Super Bowl championship.

Asked to comment, Oakland riot-participant Hector Barbazino said, "They only had one arrest down there? Day-um, bro! And it was for what? Some bitch flashin' her titties? Oh, that ain't right, yo."

"That ain't cool at all, man," added Barbazino's cousin, Ricky Ledora. "Shee-it, they ought to come to Oaktown and see how we get down here, yo. Look at Carlos over there in the chopped Toyota, yo, his bitch LaShanté be hangin' out the sunroof all damn night, and she butt-naked, man! Butt-naked!"

"Oh, yeah, bro. Bitches be throwin' they titties on my windshield for hours, yo. Pressed titties on glass, what I'm talkin' about." Barbazino commented, as he poured lighter fluid all over a parked Subaru station wagon and set a match to it. "Word, homes. If Ray-Ray didn't had to take my ride to go pick up his baby-mama before ten, we'd still be gettin' it, them titties on glass."

The word from Tampa Bay was that, other than the breast-baring incident, not a lot of carrying-on occurred. City residents marched a few times around the three blocks of the downtown area, some of them carrying American flags and singing "God Bless America," and a few people were observed drinking Mike's Hard Lemonade from bottles hidden in brown paper bags. After an hour of this, most of the crowd dispersed and went home to watch Alias.

In Oakland, however, it was a different story. The large crowd merrily jumped on moving cars, broke windows and set fires for hours. When the mob energy began to wane, police fired tear gas, rubber bullets and wooden dowels in an attempt to further incite the crowd and egg them on to new heights of destruction throughout the night.

"Come on, you miserable bastards!" shouted Sergeant Arnie Cocklip at the crowd, as he fired his service revolver in the air. "Let's show the world how we kick heiney in Oakland. We're number friggin' one, goddamnit! Break something! Burn something down!"

Reluctantly, the worn out crowd complied with police orders and thoroughly trashed a nearby McDonald's, a Kelly-Moore paint store and the Gomes Tire and Service Center. Said one young reveler, Jose Chingamadre, "After we burned the three Chevys over on 151st, and threw bricks through the window of the day-care center there, I was ready to go home and watch Alias. But then the cops made us stay out here and keep going. Man, those dudes are like hard-asses, you know?"

Damage in Oakland was estimated at over $100,000, with the police that were present throughout the night gathering the day after to vote on which of the rioters would receive a full share, and which only half shares. "Them little slacking sonsabitches that only broke a couple windows or just missed a pedestrian while they were spinning doughnuts think they're getting a full share, they better think again. Punk-ass bitches gotta show me something special to get that," Sergeant Cocklip explained.

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Emil's Note: I know what you're thinking, loyal commune-ist: "Oh great, more recycled Finger columns from bargain bin porn mags." Frankly, I'm shocked you would think so cynically. You're wrong on that point as well, as this is BRAND NEW FINGER! It only seems recycled because that's part of his charm. Yes, I found Rok Finger once more, working in the most unexpected of places, as part of a nightclub act in Savannah, Georgia. Yes, now that I think about it, I suppose it was kind of expected. After much cajoling, and tender massage, I convinced our staid old tell-it-like-it-should-be columnist to volunteer a few more pages to remind us of better commune times. He isn't likely to move out of the Peach State yet, but this is almost as good as having him right here in the office! I'll just imagine that old creepy collectible Linda Hunt doll mom keeps down here is him until the real thing is in attendance. So enjoy fresh finger, good people…

My faithful readers, please be kind to me, as I'm a bit out of practice on ranting in typeface. But the Arab who owns the commune now assures me thousands of my fans are camped out in front of the building and will give no one any peace until they receive more of my motivational thoughts and harrowing true stories.

The god's honest truth is that I don't have much to write about. I have not been opining in a very long while, except on stage, and my life has become considerably boring since I earned my living at the commune. Times were tough, I borrowed a sizable high-interest loan from a hyper-intelligent 10-year-old, the enema bar failed, I couldn't pay it back, so I had to go into hiding working in show business. It's the world's oldest cliché, I'm boring myself talking about it.

Still, it's fair to say there's enough of interest to me to keep me breathing. My wife is working the upscale Hoboken real estate market while I'm living the high life on the Savannah entertainment scene, which is perhaps a little depressing, but we're both living our dreams. Her dream involves lots of land and garish sport coats, mine involves thing people really care about, but that doesn't mean they're not equally important. The fact people pay to see me perform each night is what means they're not equally important. Yes, I have broken into the lucrative world of voice-catching action figure performance.

Some people still use the term "ventriloquist dummy," not realizing how offensive it is to those of us who perform. For instance, the little pissant camel-jockey who asked me to write this column still says "dummy, but did he ever think how dummies feel to be called dummies? True, most of them are inanimate wooden dolls that display no emotion, but that doesn't mean they don't feel. And what about the rest of them that do, namely me? So get politically correct already, you stupid Polacks.

I've always had an eye for the voice-catching-inclined, as we tend to shop in the same stores, so it was a lateral move from wearing their clothes to performing in the business. True, I had originally gone to the Yak Yak Club to work as a gruff but lovable bartender, but they took issue with the fact I could not be seen behind the bar. It was the Great Raymondo who noticed I had a touch of talent, particularly looking "creepy as fuck," and while I don't know much about voice-throwing talents like Raymondo, I can say he does a dynamite impression of my voice. Except my Johnny Carson impression, he can't do that. Isn't that odd?

Raymondo, like most convicted sex offenders looking to break into show business, was down and out, and could not afford his own voice-catching action figure, so he asked that I join his stage team—I even get first billing—and simply enhance his jokes by making funny faces and spinning my head around 360 degrees. I'm still working on that part, although I have managed a firm 180, which is no small feat.

Speaking of which, my small feet help. All my life I have been subject to ridicule for being undersized, as well as especially unattractive, but now at long last, when people see me kicking my tiny shoes back and forth while Raymondo mimics my voice, they don't make fun of me, they just laugh and laugh and laugh.

Admittedly, in a perfect world, I would have a lot more to do with the material we perform. It's kind of Raymondo's baby at this point, I'm just shaking it violently. I respect his humor is mostly wood-based and, yes, I get some of the best zings at his expense, but I don't see why we couldn't work in some of my stinging observations on how unnecessary queens are and why should we have to pay taxes. Not to mention a little soft shoe, properly amplified so the audience can hear the tap sounds. But everybody stops somewhere, and once I get to that level of fame where I can squeeze Raymondo out, it will be "Rok & Nobody" instead of "Rok & Raymondo." You know, I've never considered it until now, but I might even cut the "& Nobody" out of the title, why should I have to share my marquee with Nobody?

This has been a reminder of the good old pre-voice-catching days. Almost enough to make me miss the common. Still, big fame awaits me, and I must run. I'm auditioning for Jeff Dunham later today, and I'd do anything to get on that guy's meal ticket. I'm even considering a surgery that allows the voice-thrower to move my mouth by sticking his hand into my back. I'm not saying yes to it, just considering it. Surgical augmentation is all the rage in show business, the showgirls tell me.

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1:21am - To Be Continued
:Gotta go, I'm late for something!

10:51pm - StillStacked
But the show's not just about boobs, no way! It's also got bouncy dialogue and cleaves right to the heart of important societal issues every week. There's also a funny old guy who's ugly and old enough to really let Pam's beauty shine through in contrast. She's a 10, no doubt, but he makes her look like a 10.7 at least. There are also some other pleasantly nondescript characters there to say all the lines that aren't Pam's. Which is good, because if it were just Pam talking all the time, then the show would be a one-woman monologue and those are never fun. She'd probably start talking about her vagina and ruin all the good times! Don't go there girl!

6:08pm - I Like Peanuts
:Am I the only one who thinks CBS Nightly News has totally jumped the shark? Sorry guys, but I'm going to have to jump on the bandwagon that thinks you guys did your best work back when nobody knew who you were. Now it's all about the money, and the women. Nice hair, though!

5:31pm - In the News
:Has anyone tried these Lunchables? I've got a hunch(ables) they're pretty great!

5:06pm - MoreStacked
The studio execs were proven right once again, because Pam Anderson's got the giant big knockers of talent that the world has been dying to see!

3:59pm - Deepness
:What has everybody been hearing about this heaven place? Sounds pretty nice, ay? Or is that just me?

1:38pm - Still Hungry
:Let me be the first to say, deodorant is the way to go. Sure beats the alternative.

11:40am - StackedAttack
:You can say ta-ta to the small time, Pam, because I'm predicting your star's gonna bust right out of that tiny, constrictive bra of anonymity, baby. Anyone with a pair of eyes can see, Stacked is a giant tit and I see some golden globes in Pam Anderson's future! I know Golden Globes are awards for movies, I wasn't talking about that. I see big things coming out of the shirt of your career, girl.

9:16am - Meatloaf
:If there's one thing I can wholeheartedly recommend to every man, woman and child on the face of the earth, regardless of age, and without even knowing them, it's the BowFlex. Talk about your muscle factory! Those guys in the commercial are ripped!

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