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Dick Cheney: Too Hot for TVJune 28, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Whit Pistol ice-President Dick Cheney unveiled a new "sassitude" last week, starting with Tuesday's off-color suggestion Sen. Patrick Leahy have sex with himself, and concluding with a spicier, not-ready-for-primetime Cheney fielding questions Friday from the White House press corps.
The VP surprised a number of political experts and average Americans alike by revealing a saltier disposition never before seen exhibited publicly by White House personnel. However, according to administration insiders, who crammed our doorways to volunteer information, Cheney has been quite the prick for years behind closed doors, so it was bound to come out sooner or later.
Things began innocently enough Tuesday morning, when on the Senate floor Cheney told Sen. Patrick Leahy to "fuck off," a...
ice-President Dick Cheney unveiled a new "sassitude" last week, starting with Tuesday's off-color suggestion Sen. Patrick Leahy have sex with himself, and concluding with a spicier, not-ready-for-primetime Cheney fielding questions Friday from the White House press corps.
The VP surprised a number of political experts and average Americans alike by revealing a saltier disposition never before seen exhibited publicly by White House personnel. However, according to administration insiders, who crammed our doorways to volunteer information, Cheney has been quite the prick for years behind closed doors, so it was bound to come out sooner or later.
Things began innocently enough Tuesday morning, when on the Senate floor Cheney told Sen. Patrick Leahy to "fuck off," although some within hearing range claim the vice-president had been misheard, and he had actually said "fuck you." A senatorial class picture was being taken when the Democrat from Vermont fired a few barbs about Cheney's friends at the oil corporation Halliburton and allegations of abuse of power, and the vice-president responded with quite the filthy mouth, though some suggested Cheney's uncharacteristic response owed less to Leahy's comments and more to Sen. Mitch McConnell making bunny ears behind his head.
Plans had been made for Cheney to offer an explanation and possible apology for the remarks, when overnight White House polling showed drastic jumps in the VP's approval rating among males under 30, particularly African-Americans, a group Republicans have long struggled to reach. The vice-president responded via phone on CNN's Larry King Live.
"Balls to an apology, fuckface. I wouldn't piss a sorry on your freckled white ass. Leahy's a peckerhead and it's about time I laid down the law, put the smackdown him, bitch. 'Cause I'm for real." To which Larry King responded, "Is this Howard Stern screwing with me again?"
The Larry King interview caused some uproar among the FCC and some have speculated it may alienate some right-wing organizations, but Gallup polls reveal an even more distinct increase among young voters, including undecideds, so White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan said Cheney would keep that shit up.
"Mr. Cheney is keepin' it real, folks," McClellan said Thursday. "If you don't like the heat, stay the fuck out the kitchen. It's the Veep's world, yo, you just visiting."
Friday, Cheney poured on more foul-mouth rancor, sporting sunglasses and wearing untied Nike sneakers. He welcomed questions from the press corps and gave reporters unwanted nicknames, including "Dicknose" and "Faghag." This particular reporter unfairly earned the moniker "Gramma Titties."
"I know you all think I'm fucking with you, but I'm for real," said Cheney, pausing to inexplicably perform "the Worm" for reporters. "It's a dangerous world, motherfuckers, and it's about time we stop pussying up the language and say fuck when we mean fuck. And don't even think about getting in my face, I don't give a shit if you're a Democrat or Republican or one of them Green Party queens—you act the bitch, I'll treat you like a bitch. Bitch."
Cheney then leapt from the stage and slapped White House reporter Helen Thomas with a harsh backhand, sending the correspondent—whom he had nicknamed "Grape Ape"—wheeling to the back wall. the commune news will attempt to keep it as real as the psychotropic drugs allow. White House correspondent Lil Duncan is not so li'l, but frequently dunkin'.
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Conservative Woman Found he White House, always on the search for rare species of human beings or close approximations, unearthed an impressive find last week: A female conservative. Defying usual stereotypes, the so-called “right-wing woman” is apparently not a career politician or from the deep rural South. In fact, she’s completed higher education and appears to be not at all an idiot of any sort—though field-testing leaves the possibility open. And, perhaps most startling of all, the administration found the rare species in the most unlikeliest of places—within its own ranks. The alleged female Republican is Harriet Miers, White House attorney and personal lawyer to the Bush clan for years. Born and raised in Dallas, a small state in the country of Texas, Miers earned several accolades for her legal work and previous appointments by Texas governor George W. Bush, no relation to the current president. Though she lacks any bench experience, discounting bus stops, Miers is a respected lawyer, despite being personal attorney to the president and the White House counsel. Fox Disappointed by Desperate Alien Prison Escape Ratings he new television season barely underway, Fox executives are already lamenting the low ratings for their most calculated new show of the season, Desperate Alien Prison Escape. “We don’t understand it,” lamented stunned network executive Roger Bacon. “This show capitalized on every hot trend currently on TV. We even had swearing. It should have been the biggest hit of all time. Fuck.” Fox’s latest ratings hopeful follows the travails of Juk, a member of a secret alien invasion conspiracy who intentionally gets arrested for sleeping with a bored suburban housewife in order to help his cousin escape from jail, using a detailed map he had tattooed on his scrotum, which due to his alien anatomy is located where a human being’s eyelids would be. Australian Al-Qaeda’s Accent Makes “Osama Bin Laden” Sound Hilarious Use of Term “Gaydar” Most Effective Means of Telling Someone’s Gay |
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 May 13, 2002
Toudle-Lou & Toudle-LeeToudle-Lou and Toudle-Lee sat in a tree and ate cranberries. That's the way they'd wile away a Thursday in the land of Margoline. Some are fonder of a wander through the woods, while peeling strands of string cheese. But not the Toudles, for them noodles were as stringy as they cared to be.
One day Morris, in his Taurus, drove to Margoline. He'd tied a blender to his fender for making blue Icees. And unlike monks, who love the chunks, Morris liked his smooth. He voted chunkless, like his uncles, who signed up at a State Fair booth.
So Lou and Lee sat in their tree, eating their berries cran. They talked to Roger, a salty codger, who lived in a bright yellow van. They'd been through hobbies, like sleeping in lobbies, and making underwear out of cats. They'd sat in a urinal while folding the Journal into intricate stock-market hats. But even lawn bowling and old bathtub trolling had left them feeling fizzless and flat. So up in that tree is where they will be if you come round looking for your cat.
Morris and me crashed our car in that tree one Thursday late in July. The Toudles fell down with a thunderous sound and the blender flew up in the sky. Roger the codger and a lodger named Hodger ran up to inspect the commotion. The scene was a mess as everything, I confess, was all covered in cranberry lotion.
But in spite of the gore and all the marshmallow spores that swirled round like a tornado in Texas, the Toudles, I thought,...
º Last Column: Jojo the Imp º more columns
Toudle-Lou and Toudle-Lee sat in a tree and ate cranberries. That's the way they'd wile away a Thursday in the land of Margoline. Some are fonder of a wander through the woods, while peeling strands of string cheese. But not the Toudles, for them noodles were as stringy as they cared to be.
One day Morris, in his Taurus, drove to Margoline. He'd tied a blender to his fender for making blue Icees. And unlike monks, who love the chunks, Morris liked his smooth. He voted chunkless, like his uncles, who signed up at a State Fair booth.
So Lou and Lee sat in their tree, eating their berries cran. They talked to Roger, a salty codger, who lived in a bright yellow van. They'd been through hobbies, like sleeping in lobbies, and making underwear out of cats. They'd sat in a urinal while folding the Journal into intricate stock-market hats. But even lawn bowling and old bathtub trolling had left them feeling fizzless and flat. So up in that tree is where they will be if you come round looking for your cat.
Morris and me crashed our car in that tree one Thursday late in July. The Toudles fell down with a thunderous sound and the blender flew up in the sky. Roger the codger and a lodger named Hodger ran up to inspect the commotion. The scene was a mess as everything, I confess, was all covered in cranberry lotion.
But in spite of the gore and all the marshmallow spores that swirled round like a tornado in Texas, the Toudles, I thought, were more excited than not since they though that the car was a Lexus. They drove it away, and when Morris yelled "Hey!" we just heard the horn beep "ta-ta" as they headed toward Rio. Morris thought I was wrong, he said "They're beeping along to Da Da Da by that German band Trio."
So the Toudles survived and are well and alive though now Lou has blenders on the brain. Lee accidentally ate a bird and the last that I heard the Toudles were laughing at mules out in Spain. That's the rumor today, though the word, as they say, can get twisted round as it carries. And now Morris and me sit here in their old tree and wonder where they found the berries. º Last Column: Jojo the Impº more columns
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|  September 16, 2002
Scrumpletydumples"Flippetyripples dapplety-giblets!"
cried the elf-like thing.
Pouncing on his footstool,
he was dressed fit for a king.
His sniveling little attendant
was harshly reprimanded:
"Dimplety-smackers… chalooga!"
he so eloquently demanded.
"Snabblety-scrabble, applety-pee!"
he examined it loudly,
the chain of gold that wrapped around his pudgy fingers three.
This would never do, it was much too yellow
is what he seemed to say, what I heard him bellow.
And deep within his deep blue eyes
I sensed a bluish dissatisfaction rise.
A glint of a look that seemed like it said
"Bring me my wife, and off with her head!"
For she had been spotted by the Chudaluk brook
with the caddest of cads, the deplorable Rook.
And that could only mean one of three things:
that she sings when it's hot, or it's hot when she sings
or lastly, unfortunately, that it's not singing at all,
that noise which echoed up through stairways and halls
which made it no secret, the shameful Rook's gall.
Though the last time I saw him, he stood not so tall
for on the king's mantle, in a jar, are his balls.
King Scrumpletydumples quite nearly was dressed
as he fastened a gold chicken medallion to his breast.
He wrapped his squat legs in chiffon and gauze
and dipped in royal rose water his royal red shnozz.
For...
º Last Column: Snuffles, Wonder Dog º more columns
"Flippetyripples dapplety-giblets!"
cried the elf-like thing.
Pouncing on his footstool,
he was dressed fit for a king.
His sniveling little attendant
was harshly reprimanded:
"Dimplety-smackers… chalooga!"
he so eloquently demanded.
"Snabblety-scrabble, applety-pee!"
he examined it loudly,
the chain of gold that wrapped around his pudgy fingers three.
This would never do, it was much too yellow
is what he seemed to say, what I heard him bellow.
And deep within his deep blue eyes
I sensed a bluish dissatisfaction rise.
A glint of a look that seemed like it said
"Bring me my wife, and off with her head!"
For she had been spotted by the Chudaluk brook
with the caddest of cads, the deplorable Rook.
And that could only mean one of three things:
that she sings when it's hot, or it's hot when she sings
or lastly, unfortunately, that it's not singing at all,
that noise which echoed up through stairways and halls
which made it no secret, the shameful Rook's gall.
Though the last time I saw him, he stood not so tall
for on the king's mantle, in a jar, are his balls.
King Scrumpletydumples quite nearly was dressed
as he fastened a gold chicken medallion to his breast.
He wrapped his squat legs in chiffon and gauze
and dipped in royal rose water his royal red shnozz.
For today was the day he would take a new wife,
a woman so faithful with which to spend his life,
or at least that's what we figured he meant when he said
"Frognatz rulpumba! Tolingle! Shub-bed!"
Hey, your guess is our guess, it's the Kingdom's anguish
that the royal red king speaks an unfathomable language. º Last Column: Snuffles, Wonder Dogº more columns
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Quote of the Day“It is a wise man who makes a career of providing quotes, for the dollar-to-word ratio is fantastic. Eat your heart out, novelists.”
-Beenjammin Lynn-FrankFortune 500 CookieYou! In the yellow shirt! You’re going to have an awful week. Move along now. This is the dawning of the Age of Aquarius, but your lifetime ban from the municipal aquarium still applies. Those repressed childhood memories you’ve been having about animal abuse and a shady-looking construction site? That was Donkey Kong. Try eating something with at least 17 letters in it this week: mailboxes and Alpha-Bits don’t count. Your lucky dong accessories: ornaments, jingle bells, argyle cock sock, festive wreath, racing stripe, spare donut.
Try again later.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 Orson Welch 10/18/2004 Good morrow, gentlefolk. I have just returned from my bi-monthly excursion to the Clatterton, New Jersey Renaissance Festival and I mourn the loss of medieval times. Even more so, I curse the inventions of televisions and motion pictures. What better time to review the upcoming DVD releases.
In Theaters
Van Helsing
Hugh Jackman is Jack Shit in this re-telling… re-telling? Not quite. In this completely farcical defecation of the original Bram Stoker character who hunted Dracula. Only if Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn formed a boy band could Hollywood more ruthlessly violate a literary classic. The special effects are amazing, and by special effects, I mean the genius editing done by the marketing department that fooled...
Good morrow, gentlefolk. I have just returned from my bi-monthly excursion to the Clatterton, New Jersey Renaissance Festival and I mourn the loss of medieval times. Even more so, I curse the inventions of televisions and motion pictures. What better time to review the upcoming DVD releases.
In Theaters
Van Helsing
Hugh Jackman is Jack Shit in this re-telling… re-telling? Not quite. In this completely farcical defecation of the original Bram Stoker character who hunted Dracula. Only if Tom Sawyer and Huckleberry Finn formed a boy band could Hollywood more ruthlessly violate a literary classic. The special effects are amazing, and by special effects, I mean the genius editing done by the marketing department that fooled countless individuals into seeing it at the theater. No doubt the DVD will sell well, too. Possibly the greatest injustice we'll suffer this year.
Garfield: The Movie
Remember the 1980s classic cartoon strip "Garfield," about the wisecracking lazy cat who loved lasagna and hated Mondays? No? That's precisely why the demonic forces of Tinsel Town have seen fit to smite us with a live-action version of this forgotten Rubik's Cube of a character. In this, Garfield learns that jealousy can lead him to misjudging a new friend, and we learn that animals should be harmed in films.
Dawn of the Dead
This complete rip-off of the 1985 George Romero zombie sequel is actually the most original thing coming out this week. Not a compliment. The make-up effects and casting is much improved from the original. In fact, let's just say that everything is much improved from the original. Still not a compliment. Not a shred of unique thought slips into this movie, it's locked up tight. You have to respect the serious devotion to unoriginality exhibited by the director, whatever he was, as the original modern parable of the living dead walking a shopping mall is not lost on today's audience. Today's audience, of course, also living dead. How clever that an audience can watch a thinly-veiled metaphor insult the bejesus out of them and they still possess enough capability for cognitive dissonance to deny they're the very ones being mocked. But not you, of course, dear reader.
I must go, before the smirk on my face begins to slip. By the way, if anyone knows how long a full roast duck or turkey leg will maintain in a modern refrigerator, please let me know. It's a long way until next month's RenFest.   |