|  | 
 September 6, 2004 |
Beslan, Russia Boguslaw Sadowski Russian military forces, not American, hustle in an attempt to clear likewise non-U.S. citizens from the dangerzone in North Ossettia.
The confusing terrorist incident, not in any way involving U.S.-protected interests, centered on a group of separatists rebels taking a school in the Russian province of North Ossetia hostage. During the two-day standoff between the terrorists and government forces, hundreds were wounded or killed—the majority of them children. American officials are calling the event a "horrific, far-away tragedy."
The foreign nightmare began when armed terrorists took parents, children, and teachers hostage on the first day of school. The rebels consequently demanded Russian for...
he part of the world not the United States was shaken by the gruesome events in Beslan, Russia, where a two-day hostage situation ended Friday after claiming the lives of more than 350 non-Americans.
The confusing terrorist incident, not in any way involving U.S.-protected interests, centered on a group of separatists rebels taking a school in the Russian province of North Ossetia hostage. During the two-day standoff between the terrorists and government forces, hundreds were wounded or killed—the majority of them children. American officials are calling the event a "horrific, far-away tragedy."
The foreign nightmare began when armed terrorists took parents, children, and teachers hostage on the first day of school. The rebels consequently demanded Russian forces leave Chechnya, falling on the time-honored method of murdering helpless women and children to gain sympathy for their cause. U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan condemned the attacks, saying, "What the fuck?"
American media covered the non-American catastrophe with a watchful eye, splicing in some video of the horrors between soundbytes from the Republican National Convention and previews of the upcoming Fall TV season. U.S. politicians were quick to provide commentary on the situation, in case something happened to make it a lead news story on any of the national networks or worked its way onto page six of the print news.
"This is yet another grim reminder of the lengths to which terrorists will go to threaten the civilized world," said President Bush, in another grim reminder of the lengths he would go to extort the agony of many to climb a couple of points in the polls.
Across this country, the reactions of average Americans were wide and diverse.
"What a shame," said Jerry Kimler, an office manager from Trenton, New Jersey. "We should all mourn for Russia. We, too, have suffered at the hands of Al-Qaeda. You are not alone, our communist neighbors."
"It's a disgusting crime, especially since it was committed against children," sobbed Agnes Walker-Rush, a cashier at a Winn-Dixie in Napalm, Georgia. "Once the Russians were our enemies, and now, not so much. I'm severely moved by their plight, and sickened by the images I might have seen on TV if I had known anything about this before you told me just now."
Ginger Oliver, a caterer from Concorde, New Hampshire: "I can't believe it. How could this sort of thing happen. Bill Clinton needs heart surgery? Why? How? He's not even that old. Things like this don't happen to presidents."
A different response came from professional wine-taster Gerald "Skeeter" McCloy: "Nope. Can't work up any real concern. You sure there weren't any Americans killed?"
New York University Sociology Professor Jean Winstead took a break from typing up her resume to frame the numb reaction some Americans express to the nightmarish human calamity.
"Geographically, we've always been an isolationist nation, and have retained much of that sensibility in the years since, even though we've become a world superpower with interests across every continent," said Winstead. "Our media reflects this nationalism, and keeps us focused on America as the center of the universe, so to speak. Plus, with all the useless information floating in our heads, from knowledge about the workings of the electoral college to nostalgia about 1980s new wave groups, it's amazing we have enough brain space left over to even remember other countries exist out there. By the way, do you know anyone who's hiring?" the commune news has to wonder if Chechnya is really worth holding on to if it's made up of peckerheads of the same ilk—we've wondered the same thing about Quebec, on a lesser scale. Foreign Correspondent Ivan Nacutchacokov fortunately escaped harm by covering the North Ossetia story by long distance, but upon his return to the commune offices, we slammed his balls in a desk drawer just to keep his record going strong.
 |
Saudi Arabian royal impersonator pardons self
Dominique Strauss-Kahn Celebrates Dropped Charges by Raping Some Chick
 "Blond Highlights the Devil's Work," Says Iran, Straight Men
Cereal rapist pleads guilty in Snap, Crackle, Pop cases
|
Turkey to Block Offensive Websites; commune Offers Pre-Emptive “Fuck You” Obama to Change Spelling of Name to oBAMa for Maximum Impact Oasis, Killers Combine Forces to Ruin Sgt. Pepper’s for Everyone Global Warming Poses Threat to National Parks, Says WWF’s “Machoman” Savage |
| |
| 
 March 4, 2002
Volume 15Dear commune:
My name is Ronnie Boyd and I am 13 years old. I'm in the hospital right now and very sick.
I have a rare disease that I can't even pronounce. I need a genitals transplant or the doctors say I won't live very long at all. I probably won't get it, as the doctors say genitals transplanting is very rare and most doctors can't do it without laughing so it's a very risky procedure. My doctor says things look pretty bad and I might not live six months, even if I pay the bill.
I am writing because I am trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records before I die. Since I am sick and my genitals don't even work I can't do all that much, but the Guinness people said my best bet is to get as many "get well" cards as possible and maybe I can set the record for that. So if you could spread the word that the sick boy with the bad genitals needs cards maybe I can do it before I die.
Thank you very much. It means a lot to me.
Ronnie Boyd
Kingstown, DE
Dear Ronnie:
We were very moved by your story, at least some of us at the commune, and we would like to help you. We would like to, but due to recent events it's not going to happen. Read on:
Dear commune:
This is Patrick Molton and I'm 11. Just to cut to the chase, I have a rare bone disease that makes my bones pop out through the skin and it's really gross. I need a really...
º Last Column: Volume 14
º more columns
Dear commune: My name is Ronnie Boyd and I am 13 years old. I'm in the hospital right now and very sick. I have a rare disease that I can't even pronounce. I need a genitals transplant or the doctors say I won't live very long at all. I probably won't get it, as the doctors say genitals transplanting is very rare and most doctors can't do it without laughing so it's a very risky procedure. My doctor says things look pretty bad and I might not live six months, even if I pay the bill. I am writing because I am trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records before I die. Since I am sick and my genitals don't even work I can't do all that much, but the Guinness people said my best bet is to get as many "get well" cards as possible and maybe I can set the record for that. So if you could spread the word that the sick boy with the bad genitals needs cards maybe I can do it before I die. Thank you very much. It means a lot to me. Ronnie Boyd
Kingstown, DEDear Ronnie:
We were very moved by your story, at least some of us at the commune, and we would like to help you. We would like to, but due to recent events it's not going to happen. Read on:
Dear commune: This is Patrick Molton and I'm 11. Just to cut to the chase, I have a rare bone disease that makes my bones pop out through the skin and it's really gross. I need a really obscure type of bone marrow to transplant or I'll die. I probably won't get it as I'm not very well liked and, well, that whole "waiting list" thing is just a popularity contest. I'm trying to get into the Guinness Book of World Records for the most "get well" cards sent to a dying sick kid and I'm doing pretty well, off to a nice start. I'd appreciate if you could let everybody know what I'm doing and where they can send cards and stuff. Also, watch out for that asshole Ronnie Boyd. He's beat me to the New York Times and Washington Post both, and the New York Times wouldn't even publish my letter afterwards, they said I wasn't cute enough and they had some kind of limit on the number of dying kid letters they could run. It's enough to really piss someone off. We even both promised, Ronnie Boyd and I, we wouldn't try overseas outlets and then that prick writes to BBC and he's all over the news and radio over there, it's a shitbag. British folks everywhere babbling on about Ronnie Boyd, Ronnie Boyd—do they give a fuck who Patrick Molton is? No. I might as well just be some nobody from Canada. Ronnie Boyd is a complete asshole. Sure, he comes off a like a perfect bed-ridden sick kid, but it's just a big fat lie. He has this big awful dick-rotting-off disease but he never mentions he got it from sleeping with pigs. Makes a difference, doesn't it? Do you really want to send your "get well" cards to a pigfucker? Think carefully. I'm the real deal, people. Real good kid, no false pretenses, certainly no animal fucking. I may be a little rough around the edges but that's just because I'm so damn straight with you, I ain't going to lie like some pigfuckers I could mention. So you search your souls or whatever you need to do and before you send out a "get well" card, just be sure if you want a pigfucker in the Guinness Book of World Records or a straight-shooting good American kid. Thanks. Patrick Molton
Meelay, NJDear Patrick, Ronnie:
As you can see, this has become a much stickier issue than we're prepared to get into. All we can say is good luck trying to get into the Guinness Book, but we're not getting involved.
Pigfucker.
the commune
Dear commune: Why didn't you tell anyone the commune was going to be on 60 Minutes? Being both a regular 60 Minutes viewer and loyal commune reader, I was happily surprised to see Ed Bradley leading a camera team into the offices of the commune last Sunday. I'm not sure why they blurred Rok Finger's face and not everybody else, but it was very cool to see all the famous commune writers and columnists and personalities (Mazie the Chicken is a lot shorter in person) in moving pictures for the first time. It's a shame they spent so much time on the unhealthy working conditions of the office and the questionable bookkeeping in the advertising department and didn't cover the great reporting and on-target editorials the commune has always presented. If you're going to be on television again, let me know so I can tape it. Mitch Weaver
Mullasky, VADear Cary:
Our lawyers suggest we answer your letter carefully and neither confirm nor deny the
60 Minutes piece you mentioned. We can safely say, however, that Rok Finger's face was not blurred by any technological means. It just takes some getting used to.
the commune
Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for however many seashells she sells by the sea shore when she sells seashells. That's one of our favorites. That and holding your tongue and telling everyone you were born on a pirate ship.º Last Column: Volume 14º more columns
| 
|  June 27, 2005
Vernon Hooper's Sixth CentsLet us not tarry, gentle readers, 'cause I knew a guy who tarried once in Vietnam and it got him killed.
In my younger days, for a brief time, I followed the Dead—the rock band, not a group of actual living corpses. Though they did come close in their latter days. Eventually, I gave up that childishness. Now I follow Cheap Trick. Which is hard, because they don't tour as frequently anymore and that drummer is a crafty driver. But I haven't been dissuaded yet.
Have you seen the latest Star Wars movie? I highly doubt it, since I made it myself in my garage only a few days ago. Finally we all get all those questions about Yoda's sex life answered.
What's the deal with napkins? Is anybody actually using these things?
I tried reading a book the other day and, frankly, I wasn't all that impressed. I'm not saying everyone is wrong with all this "books, books, books" praise, but I don't see it myself.
If you are going to shoot the Creature from the Black Lagoon, do you need a hunting license or a fishing license? This assumes, of course, you're doing it by yourself and not part of some angry mob. However, this is the kind of predicament that keeps me up at night. It probably worries the Creature, too.
I am finally finished selling my antique condom collection. I thought I'd never be rid of those things. A bad area to invest your money, let's just say that.
I would never, under any...
º Last Column: Vernon Hooper's Fifth Syphilis
º more columns
Let us not tarry, gentle readers, 'cause I knew a guy who tarried once in Vietnam and it got him killed.
In my younger days, for a brief time, I followed the Dead—the rock band, not a group of actual living corpses. Though they did come close in their latter days. Eventually, I gave up that childishness. Now I follow Cheap Trick. Which is hard, because they don't tour as frequently anymore and that drummer is a crafty driver. But I haven't been dissuaded yet.
Have you seen the latest Star Wars movie? I highly doubt it, since I made it myself in my garage only a few days ago. Finally we all get all those questions about Yoda's sex life answered.
What's the deal with napkins? Is anybody actually using these things?
I tried reading a book the other day and, frankly, I wasn't all that impressed. I'm not saying everyone is wrong with all this "books, books, books" praise, but I don't see it myself.
If you are going to shoot the Creature from the Black Lagoon, do you need a hunting license or a fishing license? This assumes, of course, you're doing it by yourself and not part of some angry mob. However, this is the kind of predicament that keeps me up at night. It probably worries the Creature, too.
I am finally finished selling my antique condom collection. I thought I'd never be rid of those things. A bad area to invest your money, let's just say that.
I would never, under any circumstances, hit a woman. Go ahead—tempt me. Give me a free punch, promise me her back will be turned. Have her burn down my house and I still won't do it. I want to point out, of course, using a baseball bat is not counted as hitting by most judges. It's more of a bludgeoning.
I like croutons, but hate salad. What is the answer, my friends?
Johnny Cash was always known as the Man in Black, and probably always will be. It doesn't matter how black you dress, it's just a title that's impossible to wrestle away from him. I tried wearing purple for a year, but I suppose Prince had that all sewn up. I don't know who got fellated to preserve these titles, but I want my own and I'll wear anything, suck anything to get it. The Man in Chartreuse? The Man in Off-White? Let me know, people.
The guitar has reigned for years as the most popular instrument in the world. I say it's high time that tyranny came to an end.
For those who don't know my writing process, I carry a little brown book with me, all the time, in my coat pocket. When the muse strikes, the real muse, not just some bitch hitting me for no reason, I take out my book and scribble a thought down. Of course, getting a pen in here is a lot more difficult than hiding a little brown book. But I'm resourceful.
A reminder, folks: Never volunteer to suck a cock to get something. I make exceptions at times, of course, but it's always a good rule. And for God's sake, if you do, at least get what you were promised before you do it. Fool me once, as they say…
I am no longer welcome back at Cracker Barrel. I can do nothing more than continue to profess my innocence. º Last Column: Vernon Hooper's Fifth Syphilisº more columns
|
| |
Milestones1978: Griswald Dreck's landmark third grade report "George Washington: Star of the Negro Leagues" creates a fervor in the classroom, leading to the firing of third grade teacher Anais Brockmiller and a thorough review of the state's history textbooks.Now HiringEunuch. No job really, just sit around and answer questions about what it's like to be a eunuch. Maybe take a blow to the groin to no effect every once in a while to impress office visitors and guests. Talking in a Mickey Mouse voice might be kinda funny too.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | Tanks: Why Can't We Drive 'Em? | | 2. | Apples: The Silent Killer | | 3. | Suck It: the commune's Vacuum Cleaner Reviews | | 4. | Uncle Macho's Boat Fire Gumbo | | 5. | Critic's Corner: How You Personally Ruined Western Culture | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 12/8/2003 A hearty "Yo" to you all, America, and welcome to the umptillionth edition of Roland McShyster's Entertainment Police, now a trademarked brand and theme restaurant in three states. We've got the candy you crave yet again this week, so let's waste no time peeling back that Hollywood Band-Aid and scowling at the owie that is this week's new releases:
In Theaters
Honey
Mariah Carrey is back, stinking up the screen in this, her latest attempt to prove that brother Jim didn't get all the acting talent in that family. If I were her, I'd settle for being known as "The Singing Carrey," because after squirming through brother Jim's off-key warbling in Mule in Rouge I don't expect her to suffer much competition...
A hearty "Yo" to you all, America, and welcome to the umptillionth edition of Roland McShyster's Entertainment Police, now a trademarked brand and theme restaurant in three states. We've got the candy you crave yet again this week, so let's waste no time peeling back that Hollywood Band-Aid and scowling at the owie that is this week's new releases:
In Theaters
Honey
Mariah Carrey is back, stinking up the screen in this, her latest attempt to prove that brother Jim didn't get all the acting talent in that family. If I were her, I'd settle for being known as "The Singing Carrey," because after squirming through brother Jim's off-key warbling in Mule in Rouge I don't expect her to suffer much competition for that title. Her prospects for one day being known as "The Acting Carrey" are unfortunately slim and none, and Slim can't act either. If she got any of the acting talent in that family, she left it in her other pants because here she stinks on ice like Nancy Kerrigan's gangrenous left knee.
The Last Samurai Show
The cruelly good-looking secret brother of commune toilet brush Alamo Cruise, embarrassing cult religion enthusiast Tom Cruise is back and John Belushing up a storm as usual in this gaijin comedy epic. Cruise's main squeeze Penelope "She's Not My Sister (wink, wink)" Cruise is strangely absent from the film, though whether this can be attributed to a lover's spat or the fact that there were no Mexican people in Japan in the 1800's is hard to say. Personally, I think they could have Jackie Chaned her into the script somehow, so look out for tabloid news of Cruise dropping a bombshell on his sisterly bombshell in the near future, mark my hypertexted words.
Lords of the Ring: Rerun of the King
Elvis Presley is back, and it turns out that instead of dying as the media reported, he actually wrestled some kind of amphetamine demon to the death on the toilet seat that fateful night, only to come back dressed all in white—or at least slightly more white than he was already known for wearing. Now he's taken up a second career as a boxing promoter in this third installment of the loosely-related "Ring" series, not to be mistaken for the pants-shitting scary movie about the little girl who sneaks out of your TV and eats all your Tollhouse cookies if you return your rental videos late. I for one was ready for an Elvis comeback, since somebody has to teach this latest generation of popamuffins how to croak through grotesque excess, but if your brain did you the favor of blanking out the memory of the first two films, this one's going to make about as much sense as a Japanese beer commercial.
Pig Fish
Famed screwball director Tim "Burt" Burton is back with his cast of circus freaks and non-gay fairies in this romp through the realm of the colorfully far-fetched. The cinematic answer to "If a pig and a fish had sex, what would they have?" (the traditional punchline of "An abortion" was apparently not P.C. enough for this studio), Pig Fish stars sporting goods heir Ewan MacGregor and world's fattest elf Danny Devito as the two opposing heads of the resultant hideous animal hybrid. MacGregor's the fastidious and methodical front end, while DeVito is the crass slob of a rear, making sure they're always on each other's nerves, literally. Though in all sincerity I have no idea how you decide which is the front or back end of a symmetrical genetic freak animal, I guess it's just Hollywood's bias for giving ribald slobs the ass end of the stick shining through here. It's kind of like those maps that show the world upside-down, with Australia on top. You can't really say they're wrong, but it hurts your brain to think about it. Same thing with this movie.
Something's Gotta Give Jack Nicholson a Heart Attack
Hilariously middle-aged arterial clog Jack Nicholson is back, in the latest comedy to bank on his not being young any more. Based on the sound premise that Jack's gotta go some time, and it's not likely to be yanking tots out of a flaming orphanage, Something's Gotta Give Jack Nicholson a Heart Attack basically plays like a role call of hilarious scenarios in which Jack Nicholson might buy the farm. Several of them include seeing Diane Keaton naked, which is funny enough, but the suspense really isn't there since everybody knows that if seeing Kathy Bates in the buff didn't do it, whatever sagging Keaton may have going on doesn't stand a streaker's chance in Hell of landing Jackie boy in the crypt. Keanu Reeves reprises his role as a pasty loser who thinks he knows karate.
Stuck on Your Ass
Hollywood's never had an original idea without having it again about ten seconds later, and if it's not fathers and sons trading bodies it's some sad sack odd couple being stuck in the same one. While Pig Fish approaches this idea from the surreal computer-animated side, the concurrent odd twin grafted to that film's ass, Stuck on Your Ass, takes a more literal approach. In this one, John Wayne lookalike Matt Damon and Greg "They Killed" Kinnear play normal twin brothers who accidentally got siamesed in a hospital mix-up when a dyslexic doctor bonered their chart with that of a three little Nepalese boys who'd been chain-ganged by Nature. I leave you to draw your own conclusions.
Well that's that and a rat-a-tat-tat, America. Glad you could make it and were able to take some time out of your busy schedule this holiday season, taking a break from planning out just how you're going to distribute the kindness and goodwill that you've been bottling up and repressing all year. See you around, America.   |
