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Middle East Peace Treaty: Everybody Out

March 18, 2002
The Middle East
MRS. BIRD/GRAPHICS D
New population breakdown of the post-treaty Middle East
A
treaty was signed Friday declaring peace between Israel and its surrounding Arab nations, something few thought they would see in their lifetime. And this time there is high expectations the treaty will hold, meaning peace for the 349 people still residing in the Middle East following a massive exodus of hardline and extremists Arabs and Israelites.

“I am glad we have finally settled this long, brutal time of unrest,” Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah told five men in a barren stadium as echoes filled all around him. “I look forward to a long time of peace and prosperity, and hopefully repopulating our lands.”

“We have much to be thankful for,” said Israeli Prime Minister Ariel Sharon, to a small group of friends he had invited over for Pictionary. â...Read more...


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December 5, 2000

Click for Biography

CUIDADO: PISO MOJADO

On a recent trip to the little man's room I came across a sign on the floor. It featured a stick man breakdancing on a yellow background above text which read as follows: "Cuidado: Piso Mojado". That's right, Spanish. And as every bi American knows, that's Spanish for "Look Out: I Pissed on the Floor". And that got me thinking, and I thought this: "Goddammit, how come everything's got to be in Spanish?" Quickly after that my thought changed to "Wait a minute, who's pissing on the floor?" but then after a moment of confusion it switched back to the Spanish thing. And I think I may be on to something here.

Since when do we as Ameyhicans have to bow to the whims of the Spanish-speaking minority? Personally I'm tired of it, and I think it's time I made a stand. The next time I pull up to the Taco Bell drive thru, you won't hear me ordering a "Burrito Supreme, Nachos and a Chalupacabra", I'm going to proudly demand a "Big-Assed Bean Sheath, Some Chips with Shit on Them, and One of Them Scary Fuckers From the X-Files". That's my right as an American. And they'd better not underfold it so the bottom blows out on my bean-sheath, either.

I was feeling rather proud of this resolution as I tried to decipher a pornographic limerick scratched into the bathroom stall (Anybody who knows the one about Swedes and weenies, email me at deeznuts@thecommune.com), when suddenly my thoughts began to change again. Once more, they...Read more...


º Last Column: Why "My Friend Polio"?
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June 28, 2004

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Your Candor is Sickening

Please, George, watch that disgusting mouth of yours. Nobody cares if it's the truth, they don't want to hear it anyway. The truth is not always beautiful, George, and in this case, it's positively sickening.

Do you really think anybody wants to hear about your medical history, your sexual proclivities, or a combination of either? No, George. Giving you the simplest, quickest answer: No, they don't. That sound you hear isn't the whisper of a freshly-created buzz, or catty town gossip. It's dry-heaving, and you've caused it, George.

Let's assume for one second you even had a reasonable excuse to mention you've recently begun taking that Cialis drug—and that's a big enough if, George. Bypassing that, was the look of disgust some clear signal you should proceed with the story, adding even more detail and description when possible? I think not. Did the way my face flushed red and the gasp that came out of my mouth, did these things beg for elaboration on your fascinating story about the dick pills? Because I personally fail to see the encouragement.

I was watching the crowd reaction, perhaps better than you were, and I didn't see anyone asking to hear about your erectile dysfunction, either with words, facial expressions, or body language. It's possible, I suppose, given that my eyesight is not what it used to be, some schmuck far in the back of the crowded room wore a T-shirt asking for you to tell us more about your floppy phallus,...Read more...


º Last Column: I'm Great
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Quote of the Day
“Freedom is a fragile thing, and must be protected; however, it is nowhere near as fragile as my aunt's vase, so it seems a fair exchange to lock you in your room for two weeks, you little hooligan.”

-Mom
Fortune 500 Cookie
More fruit, dammit!—more fruit, I say! Time to give up the blackmail scheme; there's no getting blood from a stone. Flush once for yes, twice for no. You'll bury all your old grudges this week, and grandpa—sorry, I suppose we could have let you know in a nicer way. Bad dog goes horrible dog this weekend.


Try again later.
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Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

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

View Past Columns
BY Sanchez Vickle
10/28/2002
TV REPAIR
Fat patterns pulsing
in stitches of static
erratic and plastic,
the spastic display.
With a bang and a kick
and a "cheap motherfucker!"
an emergency side-slapping
repair is performed.
The picture then jittered
and shimmied and quivered
then twisted all sideways,
the image deformed.
With a hearty "hiya!"
like the best fake karate
pissed off fists of fury
rained down on the set.
A homemade remedy
for that TV set voodoo,
a righteous exorcism
time-tested and true.
But with one kick too many
the screen split like a prism
and with an ass-rattling blurt
that cheap cocksucker died.
Now, most would be ready
to cash in the towel.
To blow a foul "Taps" Read more...

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