Iraq Withdrawal Bill Threatened With White House Vito

otes along party lines heralded the passing of Congress' new military budget, which would allow $122 billion in funding with the stipulation that all troops be removed from Iraq by the deadline of March 31, 2008. It was a critical blow to the G.O.P. and the president, who did not concede defeat but instead promised the bill, if it passes the House, would have to face the merciless wall of "White House Vito."

Presidential advisor and former CEO of the Dallas Quik-Dry Cement Company Vito Pantusi has been working closely with Bush on a compromise that will make all involved parties happy, a White House inside source says, particularly the President Bush party.

"Mr. Pantusi plans on visiting House and Senate Democrats personally with some associates to convince them they've voted improperly," said our source. "His associates are sporting enthusiasts, as anyone can tell by their baseball bats, and Mr. Pantusi is sure he can teach certain Congressmen all about fair play."

Acquitted on three different charges of influencing a congressional vote with a large tank of piranha fish, "White House Vito" has been an associate of the president since their days together in the Texas business community, and the president has brought in Pantusi as an advisor in hard negotiations in the past. In 2005, with an end-of-year deadline fast approaching, Pantusi assisted in advising the president in negotiating the Andean Free Trade agreement.

"The White House would like to consider this matter resolved-like," Pantusi said in a follow-up news conference, cracking his knuckles audibly for the press in one of his rare public appearances. Other involved parties declined comment, and quickly shrunk from reporters who approached them too fast with microphones.

Speculation has already begun as to what role Mr. Pantusi and his special "commission o' negotiatin' muscle" might play in opposition to the deadline bill. Representatives of the negotiating commission, including White House Vito standing ominously in the background, fielded a few quick questions from reporters on Friday.

"In, uh, response to the question, ah, from the ravishing lady from The Washington Post with the killer rack," replied Pantusi associate Johnny Lips, "the president is, uh, looking for an amicable solution to the, er, Iraq budgetary disagreement. The president would, uh, prefer to leave the decisions on, um, monetary needs and appropriate troop presence to the, er, military personnel in charge of that there decision."

Pantuis himself only responded to one question, when a reporter from CNN asked if the president had any doubts about pursuing a war the public increasingly opposes. To which White House Vito answered by throwing his cigar at the trembling reporter and shouting over the microphone, "You want me to come down there and show you some fucking opposition? You like that, tough guy? I should smack your fucking glasses off, numbnuts."

If the White House chooses to pass the bill, the new budget requires Bush to start bringing troops home from Iraq and Afghanistan within 120 days. If negotiations go roughly with Vito Pantusi, 120 days is also the average length of hospital stay expected for congressmen who have enjoyed a difficult compromise with Bush's advisor. The Democratic majority in the Senate, however, warned that they would not be scared by White House intimidation.

"It's the president's right to respond with Vito to any legislation he disagrees with," said Senate Majority Leader Harry Reid, "but Congress is not without its own powers. If the president tries to force through his own Iraq budget through the Senate after rejecting ours, we're always willing to respond with Philly Buster."

The Senator gestured to a husky Samoan page standing behind the speaking Democrats, scratching his goatee and nodding his head ominously.

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The gaudiest fad of the 1950's had to be the 3D movie. The early 50's were a desperate time for Hollywood studios, as audiences were staying at home on their big fat asses in record numbers and movies were faring poorly in competition with television and communist witch hunts. Studio execs were willing to try anything to get more people into the theaters, even toying with the notion of making films that weren't big fetid balls of dung. But before they could go that far, the studio heads at Universal discovered that they'd accidentally made the same movie twice.

Universal had bankrolled The Hungry Jungle, which featured a young Charles Bronson running like hell away from man-eating tigers for two hours, and at the same time they had inadvertently financed D.A. Steuben's cannibal tiger picture Run Like Blood. Rather than shelling out promotional funds for both films to wastefully compete against each other, the studio decided to play both of them, simultaneously, on the same screen. That way they could cover up their gaffe while boasting twice as many stars running away from twice as many man-eating tigers in one movie. Like I said, these were desperate times and it should be noted that back then, guys couldn't hold their liquor.

Unfortunately the "movie" didn't make any sense when played this way, but this was only a minor setback. A young Universal intern soon discovered that thanks to poor quality control each of the films was tinted a slightly different color, and if you watched the composite film while wearing a pair of the red and blue "Wacky Glasses" given away free in boxes Oat Shmote kids' cereal, it came out kind of sort-of in 3D. The intern was thanked for his input, then immediately fired since he was obviously stealing from the studio to be able to afford drugs that good.

The idea stuck though, and the composite film Hung Like a Jungle was released in 3D as a promotional gimmick in 1952. The movie was a gigantic hit, with the 3D technology making audiences sicker than a dog on a Ferris wheel, an experience many filmgoers petrified by the boring 1950's seemed to enjoy. All summer long, audiences suffered through a kind of nausea they wouldn't experience again until The English Patient was released in 1996. The trend caught on like wildfire, and fifteen more films were released in 3D during the next three days, most of them soft-core pornos. Unfortunately for Hollywood, 3D movies were soon banned since public health officials couldn't be convinced that hundreds of moviegoers spending two hours drenched in their own vomit was just good clean fun.

Deprived of 3D cheesecake by The Man's uptight cronies, American youths in the 50's were eager for a new thing to come along and waste their time. Thanks to Australian DUI king Chuckie Dubing, they didn't have to wait long. Dubing discovered the boomerang while pulling the body of a dead aborigine off the hood of his car during a drunken one-man rally race through the outback one night in 1953. The strange crooked stick struck Dubing's fancy, and he extrapolated that it must be a hunting stick used to kill wild game birds in the bush. Dubing further extrapolated that its crooked design must allow the stick to curve in the air and return to its thrower, and this is the concept he sold to Wham-o later that year. In actuality, the aborigine was just carrying it because he wanted to show his family the funny crooked stick he had found under a tree.

Regardless, Wham-o mass-produced copies of the stick as a children's toy, and within a year millions of "boomerangs" (the name came from Dubing's approximation of the sound the aborigine made hitting his car) had been sold despite the fact that nobody anywhere had ever had one fly back to them after being thrown. Wham-o deserves a great deal of credit, however, for recognizing that few would risk appearing physically inept by claiming that the boomerang just flew kind of lopsided and herky-jerky into your neighbor's bay window every time you threw it.

Probably the only 1950's fad that ended up being worth three-quarters of a damn was the PEZ dispenser. The candies themselves had been around in Europe for twenty years, sold hilariously to American tourists who didn't know PEZ was the German word for piss. It wasn't until 1952, however, that Germany got revenge on America for kicking their evil little asses by marketing the PEZ candy in irresistible dispensers with the heads of popular political figures on top. Before long, Americans couldn't help themselves but eat candy out of Franklin Roosevelt's neck, making true Hitler's cryptic vow from 1941 that nobody had understood at the time. Eventually over the years, political bitterness died down and American children were eating candy out of Henry Winkler and Kermit the Frog's necks as well, continuing a bizarre tradition that rivals any of the crazy shit the Orient ever dreamt up.

That'll have to do for the 50's, although I wanted to go into how they pulled the first batch of Silly Putty out of a Yak's ass; there just isn't time. Keep an eye peeled for future columns, when we'll take a look at how other generations wasted their time between wars and the occasional worthwhile dance craze.

º Last Column: You Look Like An Asshole: The History of Fads Vol. 1
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Faithful voyeurs, or as I like to call you, "reserve" commune Enthusiasts Club members, I'm thrilled to report the summer picnic of our little group was a resounding, unqualified success. As unqualified as Raoul Dunkin applying for a job in a pornographic movie. Ha! A little joke at the expense of the commune's favorite maligned reporter. Forgive me, Raoul, it's impossible to resist joining in the good-natured fun.

As I mentioned, the picnic went off without a hitch. Of course, since I've been the only one attending meetings for the commune Enthusiasts Club since the year began, I had the direst expectations it would not attract a single visitor. Maybe I overreacted, working diligently from the beginning of the summer until the picnic day itself, August 21, advertising it around all of the tri-state area. What a surprising turnout! Close to 1500 new members showed up to the picnic. Can you believe my success?

I attribute much of the crowd turning out to my attempts to focus the meeting on a political agenda. I printed up many of the flyers and posters with a large "BEAT BUSH!" banner, and gave the location and time of the picnic. I believed more people would get behind the commune if they could embrace a similar agenda, and so many these days share the commune's objective of revealing the fallacies of the current administration and our so-called "president." How right I was. Protestors showed up in droves, and this time they were supporting the commune, and against the president.

Not that the plan didn't fail on some occasions. I clumsily folded the paper when Xeroxing the last two-thousand of the flyers, so a few too many of them inappropriately advertised "EAT BUSH!" and attracted a not-altogether desirable demographic. Still, I never judge a book by its cover, or the weird smell emanating and the unsettling groans it emits. I took down everyone's name I could get, and some of them were even pretty stoked about returning for future commune meetings—a young man named Jack Mehoff offered to videotape all our future gatherings. It goes to show, a little optimism can make the rain clouds disappear.

Understandably, it was hard to discuss future commune Enthusiasts Club business at the picnic with all the angry shouts and the large riot squad attendance, who infuriatingly carted away some of our most vocal members. Fearless leader Red Bagel proves himself right again about the "police state" New York City really is. I told as many people as I could when the next cEC (is that an acceptable acronym, gang?) meeting will be. Same as always, every Friday at my house—parking subject to availability, if we get just as large a turnout. Hopefully this time it won't be just me in my basement, reading a speech I practiced all week just to have no one else show.

My one regret about the picnic is I didn't get the information about its success to you all sooner. I had enough time to write up a concise description of the event for the August 23 commune, but the space Red Bagel promised me for my usual address was revoked at the last minute. Mr. Bagel had it on good authority China was going to finally launch that attack on the moon he kept hearing about—it didn't happen, thank god, but better to be vigilant, so no hard feelings here.

Though it wasn't an official meeting, fellow commune Enthusiasts Club member and longtime friend Sandy dropped by Wednesday. We watched a DVD movie (Hellboy) and had an argument about my insistence on taking notes on all our get-togethers. I told her it was for official club business, but she insisted she wasn't in the club anymore—something we're still discussing.

So a reminder to all readers, be sure to get in on the ground floor of the commune Enthusiasts Club while you still can. I've got a feeling it's really about to take off, and I'm pretty sure this time the feeling will be right.

º Last Column: The Third commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
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