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Fuckoff Reporter Leaves commune in LurchAugust 30, 2001 |
Greenwich Village, NY Busty Thomas Raoul Dunkin, probable male prostitute ongtime commune political correspondent Raoul Dunkin has unexpectedly left his post at the commune in favor of hosting MTV's South Beach Jigglefest this spring break in Southern Florida. Confidential sources have it that MTV is just jerking Dunkin's chain, and that he's an asshole for believing them. Only time will tell, but once Dunkin is a washed-up Miami hobo begging for mustard packets on the streets, the commune will be there to cover this important news story. In order to fulfill Dunkin's contractual obligations and ruin his credibility as a reporter in his absence, in the coming weeks the commune will be publishing the fragments of news stories and personal items that we found in his desk. We feel that this is in the best public and journalistic interest....
ongtime commune political correspondent Raoul Dunkin has unexpectedly left his post at the commune in favor of hosting MTV's South Beach Jigglefest this spring break in Southern Florida. Confidential sources have it that MTV is just jerking Dunkin's chain, and that he's an asshole for believing them. Only time will tell, but once Dunkin is a washed-up Miami hobo begging for mustard packets on the streets, the commune will be there to cover this important news story. In order to fulfill Dunkin's contractual obligations and ruin his credibility as a reporter in his absence, in the coming weeks the commune will be publishing the fragments of news stories and personal items that we found in his desk. We feel that this is in the best public and journalistic interest. Red Bagel is the commune's fearless editor and a respected bookie for local dog-track betting.
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 December 8, 2003
Boris is TrippingHello hello, reading persons. Boris is here for column. So much to tell of story! Big news is Boris is Angel from Hell like in easy Wynona Ryder movie! Is true! So exciting. But Boris must tell how these things does happen. First of it all starts with Boris decides to decorate apartment to surprise robot friend Louis. Louis is in such bad mood all times because economy thing is bad for robot jobs, no persons wants to pay to see and talk to plain robot. Them does go to movie to see Arnold robot who is exterminator thing to go back in time. This is big deal. Persons are having all so much fun with Arnold thing who is important robot president of California. So hard for Louis, who is only robot president of apartment and does not like to go back in time. If person does ask can Louis robot go back in time like exterminator Louis says he will go back in time to kick person's ass. This is funny saying thing. So Louis is grouch all times and is not happy that Boris does leave apartment door open all night in case Similar to Skippy dog does come home. All other dogs and hobo persons does come in to eat Boris' peanut butter and make big mess, is bad thing. Boris does not get award for this idea. So now Boris does have better thinking, decide to decorate apartment to bring happy days for Louis friend, like show with Fozzie person. First idea is to get lot of clinging wrap to cover apartment and make shining and easy to...
º Last Column: Boris is Too Old For This Shit º more columns
Hello hello, reading persons. Boris is here for column. So much to tell of story! Big news is Boris is Angel from Hell like in easy Wynona Ryder movie! Is true! So exciting. But Boris must tell how these things does happen. First of it all starts with Boris decides to decorate apartment to surprise robot friend Louis. Louis is in such bad mood all times because economy thing is bad for robot jobs, no persons wants to pay to see and talk to plain robot. Them does go to movie to see Arnold robot who is exterminator thing to go back in time. This is big deal. Persons are having all so much fun with Arnold thing who is important robot president of California. So hard for Louis, who is only robot president of apartment and does not like to go back in time. If person does ask can Louis robot go back in time like exterminator Louis says he will go back in time to kick person's ass. This is funny saying thing. So Louis is grouch all times and is not happy that Boris does leave apartment door open all night in case Similar to Skippy dog does come home. All other dogs and hobo persons does come in to eat Boris' peanut butter and make big mess, is bad thing. Boris does not get award for this idea. So now Boris does have better thinking, decide to decorate apartment to bring happy days for Louis friend, like show with Fozzie person. First idea is to get lot of clinging wrap to cover apartment and make shining and easy to clean. But after Boris uses whole roll to decorate door idea does become too expensive. "Damn nuts" is Boris saying for this. But then Boris does get new idea to push old idea out of brain: Boris will make apartment beautiful with sparkling Jolly Ranching candies, to make such happy place for Louis. Boris does get superman glue and big bags of candies from store, and goes home to glue candies on apartment. All afternoons is such hard work with dizzy glue and Boris is glued to many things like couch cushion and stray dog with name of Bart. Boris also does eat too many of decorating supplies and takes break to have stomach aching. But after long times all day Boris is done and apartment has beautiful covering of Jolly Ranching candies in all places. Boris is so excited for Louis to see, can barely sit on couch. Also can barely sit on couch because Jolly Ranching candies are poking in butt. New beautiful couch is not so comfortable as old ugly couch thing. Also does get very sticky from sweating, but is paying price of beauty. When Louis does finally gets home, him is too excited for speaking. Then apartment is so beautiful Louis does scream for joy. Next for joy Louis does yell at Boris get out of Jolly Ranching apartment before he does kill Boris with gratitude. Louis does want Boris to bring T.V. too, but in excitement Louis throws T.V. too hard for Boris to catch. Boris does go down to house of buses so Louis can enjoy beautiful new apartments by alone self. Other things does happen that Boris does forget, but soon Boris does have tripping adventure to end up in beautiful place called Bone Gap, Illinois. So fun a place. This is place where Boris does meet Angels from Hell and gets ride to hell for no money. Is so fun because bus-riding persons does not like when Boris sings "Baby Come Back/Babies Got Back" medley that is very beautiful, but Angels from Hell don't not care. If Angels can hear Boris, they like this song. Ok, is time to ride on chopping thing. Boris will write more when getting to hell, goodbye! º Last Column: Boris is Too Old For This Shitº more columns
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|  January 20, 2003
Challenge of the Masked DudeThe new year is presenting more hurdles than some excessive hurdle-presenting device of some sort. Remember the Masked Dude?
Yes, former pro-wrestler the Masked Dude has been consistently on my ass like my former glitter-covered spandex tights. If you remember the details from my previous column, you're one up on me—I had to look it up and re-read it just to remember, and it was hell finding the commune on this "internet" thing. But as I mentioned, the Masked Dude, the only 5-foot wrestler in our wrestling league, the Dandies of America, constantly sought me out to turn his zero-win record into a one-win, or higher. As the 4-Foot Nightmare, I was the shortest wrestler in the league and, in the Dude's opinion, the easiest path to victory. But I never fought the Dude, as I recovered from my wrestling infatuation long enough to resign from the D.O.A. and toss my tights to the wind, where they landed in a ladies social group and ruined everyone's evening.
But that wasn't enough for the Masked Dude—he's sought me out like a blood-sniffing hound, always seeking that victory he's so badly wanted. It was truly difficult to track me down, too, considering how I kept my wrestling identity a secret from everyone, even my wife—hell, even my cat, Makeshift. Somehow, though, the Dude found me living with Lee and Camembert and began stalking me, like next-level trailer trash ex-husband stalking, too.
As if the notes weren't bad enough, and...
º Last Column: A High-Resolution New Year º more columns
The new year is presenting more hurdles than some excessive hurdle-presenting device of some sort. Remember the Masked Dude?
Yes, former pro-wrestler the Masked Dude has been consistently on my ass like my former glitter-covered spandex tights. If you remember the details from my previous column, you're one up on me—I had to look it up and re-read it just to remember, and it was hell finding the commune on this "internet" thing. But as I mentioned, the Masked Dude, the only 5-foot wrestler in our wrestling league, the Dandies of America, constantly sought me out to turn his zero-win record into a one-win, or higher. As the 4-Foot Nightmare, I was the shortest wrestler in the league and, in the Dude's opinion, the easiest path to victory. But I never fought the Dude, as I recovered from my wrestling infatuation long enough to resign from the D.O.A. and toss my tights to the wind, where they landed in a ladies social group and ruined everyone's evening.
But that wasn't enough for the Masked Dude—he's sought me out like a blood-sniffing hound, always seeking that victory he's so badly wanted. It was truly difficult to track me down, too, considering how I kept my wrestling identity a secret from everyone, even my wife—hell, even my cat, Makeshift. Somehow, though, the Dude found me living with Lee and Camembert and began stalking me, like next-level trailer trash ex-husband stalking, too.
As if the notes weren't bad enough, and they really weren't, kind of a disappointment, he began following me everywhere around November. I haven't mentioned it before now because, well, between the private investigators, the tax people, and teens seeking drugs, if I mentioned every time someone was stalking me I'd run out of column space. But unlike the rest, I couldn't buy off the Masked Dude or score anything strong enough to dissuade him. I reported it to the police, but once you get there attention with a firm "Listen, needledicks," they won't hear anything else you say. So I was on my own.
Finally, one night, I got home and found a message scrawled to me on the wall of my apartment hallway, in letters seven-foot high: "I CHALENJ YU, NITMAR!"
With the poor spelling and lack of context, it took a long while to decipher, I can tell you that. I feel a little bad for dumping Camembert out of bed, putting a sack over his head and beating him with a phone book, but you can understand my confusion—who wouldn't assume it was their roommate when first seeing a message like that? I wanted to make sure his challenge was met with enough force to put off another one. But then I remembered Camembert spells very well—he proofreads these columns for me sometimes, like all times. And once he returned to consciousness, he assured me it must have been someone else, and not Lee either. With those two eliminated, and once I had called the staff of the commune and PETA to make sure none of them had anything to do with it, I narrowed my focus to the Masked Dude.
A challenge! To me! An opportunity to end this madness once and for all, and return to regular madness.
If you thought I'd turn it down, you don't know Rok Finger. Yessir, challenge accepted… as I scrawled in ten-foot letters on the outside of our building, just to show up the little prick. I even named the time and place, which I'm keeping secret, but let's just say it took me three buildings to get the entire message across and, well, it's a hefty fine.
One week from tonight, the gauntlet has been throw down. The loser has to pick it up, and Rok Finger never picks up after himself. Boo-ya! º Last Column: A High-Resolution New Yearº more columns
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Milestones1979: A young Omar Bricks writes the first incarnation of what will eventually become his "My Friend Polio" column, originally titled "Why I Peed in the Water Fountain."Now HiringWeb Site Designer. Must have little to no professional experience, critical eye, delusions of grandeur, and think every current website sucks big ass compared to own Helmet fan page with FAQ. Starting pay of $90k to $250k, based on sheer swagger. Position will replace current asshole Neal, who should be finding out about this… just about… now. Most Misunderstood Nirvana Songs| 1. | Smells Like Clean Spearmint | | 2. | Race Me | | 3. | Come as You Barf | | 4. | Small Pathologies | | 5. | Harp-Shaped Fox | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 8/29/2005
Holy Toledo, America. I've never been to the place, but it sounds like quite the religious Mecca. What religion? I have no idea, but if it's Ohio, it's probably Shriners. That just seems to fit. Anyway, we're back and black after a wonderful vacation from the grind of viewing and reviewing. Are you all ready for the return of The Entertainment Police? Neither are we. Tough noodles.
In Theaters Now:
The Brothel Grimm That weird cartoon witch's dog is back, and he's running a whorehouse. Sure, it's been done before, but this time legendary director Terry Gilmore of Gilmore Girls fame is at the helm, and he knows how to weird shit up like a pro. From Time Midgets to What's Eating Gilbert's Grapes?, Gilmore has proven...
Holy Toledo, America. I've never been to the place, but it sounds like quite the religious Mecca. What religion? I have no idea, but if it's Ohio, it's probably Shriners. That just seems to fit. Anyway, we're back and black after a wonderful vacation from the grind of viewing and reviewing. Are you all ready for the return of The Entertainment Police? Neither are we. Tough noodles. In Theaters Now:The Brothel GrimmThat weird cartoon witch's dog is back, and he's running a whorehouse. Sure, it's been done before, but this time legendary director Terry Gilmore of Gilmore Girls fame is at the helm, and he knows how to weird shit up like a pro. From Time Midgets to What's Eating Gilbert's Grapes?, Gilmore has proven time and time again that he can spin gold into hay or blonde hair or however that Rapunzel alchemy shit is supposed to work. The scariest thing this time around was that I couldn't tell if this movie was animated or claymated or CGI or if it was made by those creepy-ass Duracell people from that Christmas Train movie. I suppose some people would find that ambiguity magical, but I have to admit it creeped the hair right off my ass and I spent most of the movie in the john. The Dukes of GazzaraBen Gazzara is back and hick as ever in this remake of his popular 70's show about Gazzara and his legendary contempt for royalty. Sure, Ben's a lot older now, but with age comes wisdom (occasionally) and in Gazzara's case, it just makes the wisecracks crankier and that much more funny. The supporting cast leaves a little bit to be desired though, since country music upstart Johnny Knoxville and that other guy don't have much to do, plus Jessica Simpson's ass suit springs a leak about ten minutes in and by the end of the film her cutoffs are looking pretty saggy. Which pretty much negates her reason for being in the film, and begs the question of whether or not J-Lo's ass had other engagements, or if there was a falling star sitting on it at the time of this film's production. The 4-Year-Old VirginSex comedies don't get any more offensive than this raunchy chronicle of a preschooler dealing with the intense social pressure to get laid. Some deep inner part of me was pained by the very concept of the film, but then I realized I was just hungry. After a box of nachos I was able to do my duty (not like that, I took care of that during The Brothel Grimm) and enjoy what Hollywood was crapping into my lap. Offensive or not, there are plenty of great jokes in the film about naptime and getting together over a couple of juice boxes, that kind of thing. But whoever penned the bit about giving 4-year-olds Viagra, could you raise your hand so I'll know to stand clear when the lightning strikes? Thanks. Wedding CrushersHere we go again with another weird Transformers rip-off about lonely killing machines who hate to see people getting married. Vince Ray Vaughn and sports magnate Owen Wilson star as the titular bots, and breathe some much needed life and levity into a script that has more emotional baggage than the Samsonite heirs. Though as with almost any comedy released these days, I missed most of the film while I was wondering what in the hell is up with Owen Wilson's nose. Seriously. If you know, send an email. And that's that-a-tat-tat, America. Hope you're finding a reason to breathe these days, if not, well then you probably can't read this anyway. Unless they've got the Internet in hell. Do you think they have in Internet in hell? Probably, but I bet it's over a really crappy slow dial-up connection, and they've got some kind of virus that inserts disturbing transvestite porn into everything. I guess that's why nobody wants to go there. That, and I hear it's full of the kind of people who forward mass emails. Yech. Until next time, I'm Roland McShyster.   |