Taking the Fifth Sweeps the Criminal Nation

February 18, 2002

Salt LakeCity,

Lochsen Bagel

Non-talking alleged criminal about to get a royal talking-to.

riminals are usually the last ones to be on the front of a trend-setting movement, being sheltered away in their underworld subculture or prison. But the hippest of hip are entirely accused criminals, and most have latched on to a new fadâ€”invoking the Fifth Amendment.

Popularized by the wave of Enron and Arthur Andersen officials taking the Fifth in front of the current Congressional probe, "Fifthing"â€”as those in the know are calling it nowâ€”has become the fashionable way to respond to charges. Fifthing has long been the preferred manner of defense for white collar suspects and political figures undergoing questioning, but lately it's extending far beyond.

"Nearly 30 of our suspects in questioning have taken the Fifth Amendment this week," said New York City police sergeant Michael Rosen. "Ranging from domestic abuse cases to drug trafficking and murder suspects. It's a popular defense right now."

"I am invoking my Fifth Amendment rights against self-incrimination," said alleged murderer Ricky "Bollweevil" Hines to three detectives questioning him. Hines was found with a bloody axe in the apartment of a hooker, who was found dismembered and clearly labeled by body parts in her own freezer. Charged with the murder, Hines appeared disappointed and could only shake his head, adding, "I hope that after making the agonizing decision to take the Fifth, it doesn't appear to others like I am guilty of the crime I've been accused of."

"The Fifth Amendment is there to protect the innocent man against self-incrimination," said accused shoplifter Boot Martin. "Perhaps a few weeks ago I would have reacted differently to the charges against me, but after much soul-searching and consideration, I am taking the advice of counsel and Fifthingâ€”I mean, invoking my rights according to the Constitution. I will not incriminate myself. Let the eyewitnesses and that lousy videotape do it."

"It really doesn't change much," said Law Professor Dershall Alanowitz. "Either you confess or you plead not guilty. Most of the time the accused doesn't elect to take the stand against themselves or anything, no surprise there. Kenneth Lay just took an old hat and gave it a cool new feather."

Much of the buzz surrounding the Fifth Amendment comes from the Enron hearings and the parade of Enron officials, most notably former Enron CEO Kenneth Lay, who all took the Fifth rather than answer questions from senators on the committee. Lay, once finished delivering a practiced speech declining to answer questions and announcing he'd invoke the Fifth Amendment, was then subject to harsh insults and jibes by the Congressional Committee. Sen. Ernest Hollings (D., South Carolina) implied Lay's tie was purchased cheap at a K-Mart sidewalk sale. While Sen. John McCain (R., Arizona) stated Lay should be tried for crimes against humanity for his shoes alone.

Like most fads, criminologists and law experts believe it will pass quickly.

"Before too long," said Professor Alanowitz, "criminals will be back to confessing and telling their stories at length, for movies of the week and hot tell-all books. And Fifthing will be as out of date as Ken Lay's suit. Did you see that number? Ike called, he wants his burial wear back."

the commune news is only too happy to incriminate itself, and invites you along for the ride. Ivan Nacutchacokov wants everyone to know the musical he's writing about his life is coming along fabulously, except for the music part, and the words could use a little work.

Man-eating shark brought in by grouper wearing wire

Iraq wants free elections, aid, infrastructure, and T-shirts

Vintage Dell to Grace Smithsonian's New What the Fuck Were We Thinking? Wing

Long National Nightmare Finally Over: Andy Griffith Dead

December 12, 2005

The Red Badge of Adulthood

There comes a time in every man's life when he must become a man. Except for Pee Wee Herman or Michael Jackson. (Owing to weirdness.) Or Gary Coleman, owing to shortness. Or unless he becomes a woman first, like RuPaul. But everybody else: eventually you've got to pony up. And Omar Bricks' pony is here.

How do I know? Read the tee-shirt, bitch.

Some misguided fucknuts actually consider home ownership to be the tell-tale sign of adulthood, but you and I know better than that. After-all, the King of China has a million palaces and he's only like five. Or if you need an example that hits closer to home, think of the Olsen Twins, or that kid from War of the Worlds. I'm sure they've all got houses, and probably in the same neighborhood. Which would suck if you live in that area, since your neighbors never mow their lawn or take out the trash, and just want to play with LEGOs all day. Which is a complaint several of my neighbors have levied against yours truly, sure, but I'd like to see some kid invent an air cannon to shoot his garbage over his house and into his neighbor Mitch's back yard, which is where that mountain came from that Mitch skis on in the winter.

No, an adult isn't made by the things he owns: not a house, not a dog, and most definitely not a car he borrowed from some bank robbers in Panama. An adult is made by whether or not other people think he's an adult, and Omar Bricks now owns a shirt that says ADULT on it in big, red...

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January 31, 2005

The New Government Ninjas

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It's about time the government dropped the ball, publicly, and proved me right. I told you years ago, in one of my earliest columns, about the top-secret anti-terrorist unit operating out of the Pentagon with free reign to go anywhere and do whatever they want to stop terrorism. The government at last admitted the unit exists, and they're now calling it the "SSB" (or Strategic Support Branch), operating under the direction of the Pentagon's Defensive Intelligence Agency. Their original name, you'll remember me telling you, was the True Badasses.

On Sunday, January 23, the Washington Post broke the mainstream news about the existence of the SSB, while the rest of us who read the commune or report the alternative news just sat back and yawned in a patronizing fashion. Nobody needed to tell me about the super-secret Pentagon anti-terrorism unitâ€”and by nobody, of course, I mean my super-secret embedded Pentagon source, who I'll call Doggie Style. He told me early in 2002, after the unit's creation, that it had begun operating. They were the True Badasses back then, but the scope hasn't changedâ€”they still were developed and hand-picked by Secy. Donald "Rumplestickdick" Rumsfeld, still dressed all in their black ninja outfits, and had the unconstitutional freedom in their mandate to operate any and everywhere they please, if it served counter-terrorism.

How could this happen? Too late to ask now, sir. It would have done us all well if somebody, besides me, had read the Patriot Act. They made it in really small type for a reason, you know. Since no one read it, no one found Clause 631 unusual: "The signing of this Act hereby invalidates all Constitutional guarantees of due process, and promises the creation of a group of elite terrorist-fighters dressed as ninjas and armed to the teeth with amazing ranged and melee weapons, a group herein referred to as 'The True Badasses.'" There it is, in bright red tiny type for us all to have read, and prevented. Damn you, M-TV-generation attention spans.

Nothing to do about it now. Our best bet at this point is to elect some exceedingly liberal leaders (we're talking Dennis Hopper and Karen Finley here) who can sponsor an "anti-Patriot Act Act" that will include the "complete reversal clause" that several of our early amendments cleverly contained. While we're at it, legalizing prostitution wouldn't be bad idea. As Las Vegas and Atlantic City have proven, the worst effects that can happen is having David Cassidy and Andy Williams put on an excessive number of shows in your city. Worth it? I'm not going that far.

That doesn't help us in the meantime, of course. What should you do if the True Badasses, or whatever they're calling themselves now, burst through your window, suspecting you of being a terrorist sleeper cell? Really, this doesn't differ much from the response outlined in my much-maligned self-help pamphlet, "Help! Ninja Attack!"

First, if you are capable of disappearing in explosions of smoke or shadows, by all means, do so. For the rest of us, I'm afraid you're left with stop, drop, and rollâ€”I know this is customarily used to put out fires, but it also works well in Badass, ninja, or bear attacks. Bears run in fright from a clearly insane person, while a True Badass or ninja will often believe you're suffering a seizure, and attempt to put a wallet under your tongue. While they search for their wallet, take advantage of their distraction and wrestle the weapons from their hands. The numbers may be against you, but if you do it fast and well enough, you can at least stage a stand-off likely to last for hours and draw out the FBI and the media. There's nothing ninjas and True Badass terrorist-fighters hate more than public exposure. This will send them back into hiding for sure. Saved again! Nowâ€¦ as for how you can get rid of the media and the FBI, that's a puzzler. If you come up with any ideas, or write your own pamphlet, bounce it my way. I've been working on that one for years.

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Quote of the Day

“May those who love us, love us, and those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts, and if he doesn't turn their hearts, may he fuck them up so I'll know not to trust cripples.”

-Old Irish Proverb, Jr.

Fortune 500 Cookie

That weird smell in the office: It's you, dude. Stay out of the sun this week at your doctor's request; he's tired of seeing you shirtless. This week's lucky prom dates: Mom's hot friend "Aunt" Chyniqua, Baseball Commissioner Bud Selig, a randomly selected pro wrestler, entire cast of Revenge of the Nerds, or six of the seven dwarves: Sneezy's got cancer.

Try again later.

Top 5 Bush Second-Term Pledges

1.	Encourage nations to work with us again, under threat of violence
2.	Pay national deficit with Discover and Visa cards
3.	Appeal to black constituents by finally selling off "Amos & Andy" videos
4.	Build new wing of America so rich people can vacation more
5.	Two, maybe even three more inaugurations

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

BY Orson Welch

9/15/2003

Hello commune readers, and welcome to mile three of the Orson Welch movie-review marathon. Can we make it to the finish line? Nobody knows, and even fewer care, but still we trek bravely onward. Not even the howls of derisive mockery, nor the constant flood of hateful emails can get us down. Nor being refused entry to the commune's main offices for not "feeling like a nut" and then returning to our mother's car to find it literally wallpapered with parking tickets, as if parking on top of the median is on par with a serious act of terrorism. Nay, commune readers, we shant be dissuaded, so stop trying to dissuade usâ€¦ meaning yourselvesâ€¦ okay, meaning me. Quit fucking with me. I'm just trying to do my job here, and your precious idiot-savant Roland McShyster isn't back yet, so just step off my jock and let's be civil about this, okay? Great. Now for the movies.

In Theaters

Cabin Fever

According to the note Roland McShyster left on my windshield, Cabin Fever is "The taxi-cab industry's winningly botched attempt at creating a new cultural fad, making kids think it's cool to take a cab absolutely everywhere, even to cross the street to get a newspaper." Right. I can see why you people love this guy so much. Morons.

In actuality, Cabin Fever is a bastardized cross between The Blair Witch Project and 28 Days Later, two bastards who certainly didn't need to cross-breed. Look, any time a movie's selling point is "at least it didn't cost much to make," you know you're in trouble. See Robert Rodriguez, below.

Matchstick Men

So Ted Griffin wakes up one morning, and realizes "Oh shit, I wrote Ravenous!" Thank God nobody noticed. But just to be on the safe side, he hurries up and writes Best Laid Plans and Ocean's Eleven to cover his tracks. Good move. Keep 'em laughing about that Ted Nugent's shirt joke and nobody will bother to ask where exactly you came from. And now you can stop padding your resume by pointing out that your grandma was in Jazz Mad back in 1928. Bonus.

But then Ted finally breaks down and listens to his brother Nick's stupid idea for a movie called Matchbox Men about some little tiny guys who drive those die-cast toy cars, which he's been going on about for years. And in a moment of fraternal weakness, Ted actually agrees to co-write the movie with his brother, on the condition that they drop the stupid slot-car angle. Bad move. I mean, good that they dropped the slot cars, bad that they wrote the movie at all. How either of these guys is related to Ridley Scott is anybody's guess, but he must've got too comfortable thinking people had finally forgotten about Legend and he could safely squeak out another turd here. Look for all these guys to do some great work in the near future to try and cover up this burnt spot on the rug.

Once Upon a Time in Mexico

Here's an interesting question: How do you follow up a movie that's famous for being made on a shoestring budget of $7,000 you earned by selling your body to science? If you're Robert Rodriguez and the movie is 1992's El Mariachi, you spend another $7,000 on a mediocre sequel and save the rest of your Hollywood budget to secretly make a bizarre spy movie starring your neighbor's kids. Hollywood caught on, of course, and as punishment made Rodriguez direct The Faculty in 1998, even sneaking Bebe Neuwirth into the cast as a not-so-subtle "fuck you" to Rodriguez. The director got the last laugh however, when his spy movie hit a Teletubbied nerve and Spy Kids was a hit, spawning two sequels. And as the final cumshot in Hollywood's marmalade, Rodriguez has made another El Mariachi sequel, yet again for $7,000, and has spent the rest of the budget fixing up his house. Now I'm not saying you should go see the movie, but you've got to admire those balls.

Secondhand Lions

Okay, first off: Contrary to the message Roland McShyster has been leaving on various office voice mails, this picture is not a pathetic biopic of pathetic film critic Jeffrey Lyons. Though, admittedly, it would probably have been better if it were. Instead, it's a piece of hilarious shit that tries to pass off the anthropologically old Robert Duvall and Michael Caine as endearing elderly gay curmudgeons charged with raising a precocious young tyke played with Haley Joel Osment. Thanks to the combined age and lifeless performance of his co-stars, I think it's safe to say that Osment is, yet again, seeing dead people. About as likeable as someone else's anal cavity, Secondhand Lions will leave you wanting more, more reasons to live and for the love of God keep 'em coming fast.

Underworld

Here's a "chicken-or-the-egg?" riddle for you: Did the fact that Len Wiseman is engaged to Kate Beckinsale get the former prop-lackey his first real gig, writing and directing the bad rubber-werewolf opus Underworld? Or was it Wiseman's involvement that dragged actress Beckinsale into the project and Ike Turnered her into accepting the lead role? If the later is true, we can only imagine what Wiseman talks Beckinsale into in bed, good gravy! The formerly sort of respectable cockney chick-flick queen takes a running broad jump into poop with this ill-advised comic book romp, based on somebody's stoned idea of what a comic book about Halloween would be like. Cross The Matrix with Dark City and Bram Stoker's Dracula, then have somebody with a serious head injury try to tell you about all three of them at once, and you'll have something close to Underworld. Only that would be better since it probably wouldn't take two hours or cost eight bucks. The choice is yours.

That's all we've got to sink our fangs into this week, commune readers. Here's hoping you find something tangy to suck on until next issue's column. Until then, I'll be keeping my fingertips peeled bringing you the sad, sad best Hollywood has to offer. Take care!