|  | 
Milosevic Sports New Mustache For TrialFebruary 18, 2002 |
The Hague, Netherlands Junior Bacon, Up Close For The Commune New Milosevic 'stache. It's supposed to look that way.
Milosevic's new mustache was reportedly recommended by his legal advisors, in an effort to change his appearance from the Slobodan Milosevic that has been seen all over the news, a visage people around the world have come to know and hate for the charges against him. Legal advisors believed a mustache would make Milosevic look more distinguished and lovable, like America's Wilford Brimley.
Yuri Nokostimov, a part of Milosevic's legal team, was quoted as saying, "Uh… it isn't quite what I had in mind. It's, er, definitely a… change. Big chang...
ormer Yugoslav President Slobodan Milosevic showed up for the first day of his war crimes trial in The Hague, Netherlands with a fierce determination to prove his innocence against the charges—and with a hot new look.
Milosevic's new mustache was reportedly recommended by his legal advisors, in an effort to change his appearance from the Slobodan Milosevic that has been seen all over the news, a visage people around the world have come to know and hate for the charges against him. Legal advisors believed a mustache would make Milosevic look more distinguished and lovable, like America's Wilford Brimley.
Yuri Nokostimov, a part of Milosevic's legal team, was quoted as saying, "Uh… it isn't quite what I had in mind. It's, er, definitely a… change. Big change."
Valta Krikosec, another legal consultant aiding in Milosevic's defense, added, "I'm sure it will have an effect on the jury."
Milosevic is charged with 66 counts, including crimes against humanity for actions in Croatia and Kosovo and genocide in Bosnia. The former Yugoslav President's efforts to cleanse Croatia, Bosnia, and Kosovo of ethnic Albanians has led to his being labeled the biggest war criminal since the Nuremberg Trials.
Milosevic has called the trial illegal and said he is not guilty of the charges. He has never killed a person, only Kosovars [ethnic Albanians] and enemies of Yugoslavia.
Though considered less than respectful to the judge and those involved in the trial since its inception, Milosevic arrived Thursday and promptly greeted Judge Richard May with an open-handed salute. May didn't appear impressed with Milosevic's effort.
"He looks different with that mustache, that's for sure," said Co-Prosecutor Dirk Ryneveld. "Something is very familiar about it instantly."
"I know!" exclaimed Co-Prosecutor Geoffrey Nice. "Charlie Chaplin has a mustache just like that."
Prosecutors stated that until 1999, 800,000 Kosovo Albanians were forced to flee their homes due to actions of Serb troops acting under Milosevic. At the end of the statement, Milosevic made a farting noise from his defense table and chuckled loudly, applauding himself.
If found guilty, Milosevic could face a life imprisonment. When asked for his opinion on the trial, President Bush said, "I would not want to be in Slobobobobadan Milosevic's place. He is fat and old and his mustache looks stupid." the commune news lists its musical influences as Tom Petty, Heart, and Creedence Clearwater, Revival, not Revisited. Ramon Nootles is rattled about turning 40, even though it isn't for another ten years.
 |
Police crack IRA "money-loindering" scheme
Playstation 2 now portable; many Playstation 2 players not
WWII Memorial finally recognizes how cool war is
Fat kids everywhere cheer national trend toward declining P.E. classes
|
Bush’s MySpace Page Traffic Way Down Plans for Tallest Ferris Wheel Scrapped; Yao-Ming Too Busy to Turn It Entwistle Pleads Not Guilty of Murder, Last Several Who Albums Condi Rice Hates the Way She Smiles in Pictures |
| |
| 
 June 23, 2003
Volume 45Dear commune:
What’s the deal with my boyfriend? We’ve been together for three months now and he still hasn’t popped the question. I’ve been dropping hints left and right, but he just doesn’t seem to get it. I tore a page out of a wedding ring catalog, with my favorite ring circled, and slipped it into his bowhunting magazine, but he didn’t even notice. And whenever I say we should talk about our future, he says we should wait until all of the sinners have been harvested. I swear, between all his bowhunting and digging holes in the back yard, I’m not sure he’s even thinking about who we could get to cater the reception. Am I just missing the signs that he’s planning a fantastic romantic proposal, or do I need to give him an ultimatum?
Sincerely,
Confused in Connecticut
Dear Confused:
The only thing the commune loves more than a romantic ultimatum is a jailhouse wedding, so we say go for it! Most serial killers are afraid to commit, so be sure you catch him at the right time. Laying your cards on the table while he’s bathing in the blood of the vanquished or making a shish-ka-bob of eyeballs might just cause him to retreat into his emotional cave, or set him off on a tri-state killing spree, and then you won’t see him for weeks. Hit him up while he’s on a manic swing, maybe after he’s been reading about his exploits in the local paper. But act quick! Winning a man’s heart is all...
º Last Column: Volume 44
º more columns
Dear commune: What’s the deal with my boyfriend? We’ve been together for three months now and he still hasn’t popped the question. I’ve been dropping hints left and right, but he just doesn’t seem to get it. I tore a page out of a wedding ring catalog, with my favorite ring circled, and slipped it into his bowhunting magazine, but he didn’t even notice. And whenever I say we should talk about our future, he says we should wait until all of the sinners have been harvested. I swear, between all his bowhunting and digging holes in the back yard, I’m not sure he’s even thinking about who we could get to cater the reception. Am I just missing the signs that he’s planning a fantastic romantic proposal, or do I need to give him an ultimatum? Sincerely, Confused in ConnecticutDear Confused:
The only thing the commune loves more than a romantic ultimatum is a jailhouse wedding, so we say go for it! Most serial killers are afraid to commit, so be sure you catch him at the right time. Laying your cards on the table while he’s bathing in the blood of the vanquished or making a shish-ka-bob of eyeballs might just cause him to retreat into his emotional cave, or set him off on a tri-state killing spree, and then you won’t see him for weeks. Hit him up while he’s on a manic swing, maybe after he’s been reading about his exploits in the local paper. But act quick! Winning a man’s heart is all about timing, plus the FBI is combing your letter for fiber evidence as we speak.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for any lives we may have directly or indirectly ruined along the way. Staring in the rearview is no way to live your life, honey.º Last Column: Volume 44º more columns
| 
|  December 30, 1999
Mr. Dingle"I remember in my youth, I had made a mask out of rubber bands and construction paper. It was a beautiful thing, glittering with sparkles I had glued around the eye holes. I would wear it everywhere and would make people call me 'Mr. Dingle' and refer to myself in third person as in 'Mr. Dingle would like some mashed potatoes' and 'Mr. Dingle demands we watch cartoons.' One day, my father approached me with a sad look on his face. Great Aunt Mable had died of pneumonia and the family was in mourning. So my father says to me, in that gentle way of his, 'Son. We all like Mr. Dingle, but I'm afraid he's not invited to the funeral. Only you were invited.' I was stunned. I said, 'Dad! I'm 22 years old! I'll decide whether Mr. Dingle is invited or not!' Mr. Dingle enjoyed that funeral. I think Great Aunt Mable would have been...
º Last Column: Vase
º more columns
"I remember in my youth, I had made a mask out of rubber bands and construction paper. It was a beautiful thing, glittering with sparkles I had glued around the eye holes. I would wear it everywhere and would make people call me 'Mr. Dingle' and refer to myself in third person as in 'Mr. Dingle would like some mashed potatoes' and 'Mr. Dingle demands we watch cartoons.' One day, my father approached me with a sad look on his face. Great Aunt Mable had died of pneumonia and the family was in mourning. So my father says to me, in that gentle way of his, 'Son. We all like Mr. Dingle, but I'm afraid he's not invited to the funeral. Only you were invited.' I was stunned. I said, 'Dad! I'm 22 years old! I'll decide whether Mr. Dingle is invited or not!' Mr. Dingle enjoyed that funeral. I think Great Aunt Mable would have been proud." º Last Column: Vaseº more columns
|
| |
Milestones1993: Ramon Nootles graduates from San Dimas Community College with a degree in Questionable Journalism, the first degree of its kind offered in America, and a minor in Poontang Studies.Now HiringIron Monkey. We saw the movie and thought the ancient Chinese legend might be the guy to get the ninja we hired out of our offices. Lame-ass ninja, poison-darting Lefty the mail clerk and skittering across the tops of the computer towers.Least Popular Summer Blockbusters| 1. | The Matrix Redundant | | 2. | X3: X-Men Vs. Triple X, an all-new X-File featuring your ex-wife | | 3. | Finding Chemo | | 4. | Sylvester Stallone starring in (anything) | | 5. | Hollywood Homicide | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Albert Forrest Hyne 1/20/2003 The Tell-Tale Cell PhoneTRUE! I am shitting bricks like some kind of gigantic house-building robot, but does that make me crazy? Fuck you if you say I'm crazy! Fuck you and all of your crazy-saying friends! Fuck you right in the antelope! Yeah, I'm crazy like the bionic man was crazy. I can see through walls, motherfucker! You come and get some of this, I'll hear your eyelashes rub together when you reach for the car door! I'll drop a safe on your ass, and I'm not talking about some little file folder box with a lock on it, I mean one of those huge goddamned gun safes you could fit a Samoan in! Still think I'm crazy? Step a little to the left, motherfucker!
I don't know why I did it, okay? People do some fucked-up shit after snorting a pound of coke. I knew a guy once who tried to paint a house...
TRUE! I am shitting bricks like some kind of gigantic house-building robot, but does that make me crazy? Fuck you if you say I'm crazy! Fuck you and all of your crazy-saying friends! Fuck you right in the antelope! Yeah, I'm crazy like the bionic man was crazy. I can see through walls, motherfucker! You come and get some of this, I'll hear your eyelashes rub together when you reach for the car door! I'll drop a safe on your ass, and I'm not talking about some little file folder box with a lock on it, I mean one of those huge goddamned gun safes you could fit a Samoan in! Still think I'm crazy? Step a little to the left, motherfucker!
I don't know why I did it, okay? People do some fucked-up shit after snorting a pound of coke. I knew a guy once who tried to paint a house with his dick, I'm just sayin' it gives you some strange ideas. It's true, I never had a problem with Ernesto. He was always okay by me. But tonight he showed up and he had the ringer on his goddamned cell phone playing "Somewhere Out There" and that thing was ringing like every two SECONDS. At first I figured people would eventually stop calling him but then his bitch of a girlfriend kept calling every two minutes to see if he loved her yet and that thing drove me out of my mind like in a Ferrari.
Finally I got pissed and asked him why he didn't put the thing on vibrate before I had to club him to death with a jack handle, but he said he couldn't because he had a can of Red Bull in his pocket and he didn't want the thing to get shook up and jizz all over his new pants. This seemed fair enough, but still that phone was DRIVING ME FUCKING CRAZY and I asked him if he could change the ringer to something else, like something by the Baha Boys or Shaggy or whatever, anything really. But he was a prick and wouldn't change it so I had to club him to death with a jack handle.
Would you still think me crazy if I told you how cunningly I disposed of the body? If you looked in the dictionary to check and make sure cunningly was really a word, and it turned out it was, what would you think then? A madman would have attempted to dispose of the body in some crazy way, like shooting it out of a cannon or trying to inflate it with helium so it would float away. Or putting fake cardboard ears on the head and saying "My dog got hit by a car!" But not I, who is not mad. I buried that novelty-ringing fucker in the bathroom. And if anyone questions the uneven tile floor in there, I will tell them I have moles. The animal kind.
Just then there came a knock at the door, and it was Terrance and his brother Marcus. At first I told them to fuck off, because Marcus is the dick who never returned my Shirelles tape, but then I realized how that might look so I invited them in. We hung out for a while talking about thong underwears and that was cool, but Marcus was going on so long my ears started to ring. Then after a while I realized it wasn't my ears at all, there was a faint ringing sound in the air, impossible to locate or ignore. That's when it hit me. THE PHONE!
Terrance scrunched up his nose when he heard it too.
"Hey man, is Ernesto here? That sounds like his goddamned phone. I hate that fuckin' thing."
"No!" I told him. "And why are you asking such stupid fucking questions? Damn is you stupid. If Ernesto was here, why wouldn't he be out here with us? What, you think he's hiding in the bathroom or something? Shit. If Ernesto was here, I'd beat his ass to death with a jack handle, that's how not here he is."
I had covered my tracks deftly but still, the phone rang on. Again and AGAIN. That stupid bitch girlfriend! Couldn't she take a hint that he was dead? By now it was becoming impossible to ignore or deny it, Ernesto's annoying goddamn phone was in my apartment somewhere! At first I had Terrence and Marcus convinced that it was just me humming "Somewhere Out There," but then Marcus asked how come I could hum and drink beer at the same time, was I some kind of ventriloqueer or something?
SHIT!! They KNEW! My eyes darted around the room for something else to blame the ringing on as it grew louder and louder. In an instant it was deafening! My head was pounding as Terrence and Marcus laughed and talked about Barbershop. Were they fucking with me?? They had to know, and now they were fucking with me! Those pricks!
"Alright you cocksuckers!" I shouted. "I confess!"
The both looked at me with genuine puzzlement. Hmm.
"I, uh… haven't seen Barbershop yet."
"Well, shit dog," smiled Terrence. "Get your coat man, we goin'."   |
