| Loves That Woman ';
$dunkin='2005/0905/';
$dunkintitle='The New Anne Frank Diary';
$edit='2003/1222/';
$fanmail='2005/0516/';
$fanmailtitle='Volume 63';
$finger='2005/0905/';
$fingertitle='I’m Fresh Out of Haitian Cigarettes';
$fortune='2002/020121/';
$goocher='2005/0711/';
$goochertitle='Gwar of the Worlds';
$hanes='2005/0704/';
$hanestitle='Pink is Not for Men';
$hartwig='2005/0606/';
$hartwigtitle='Parade';
$hooper='2005/0912/';
$hoopertitle='Seventh Heaven';
$hurley='2005/0404/';
$hurleytitle='Time of Healing';
$kroeger='2005/0822/';
$kroegertitle='Charity Case';
$loser='2005/0822/';
$losertitle='Lost Leavings';
$ned='2003/0818/';
$nedtitle='Cyantology';
$pickle='2002/020513/';
$pickletitle='State of the Art';
$poet='2005/0905/';
$police='2005/0912/';
$polio='2005/0905/';
$poliotitle='Omarelief';
$rent='2005/0912/';
$renttitle='Way Inside Jokes';
$reynolds='2005/0425/';
$reynoldstitle='A Series of Unfortunate Evans';
$hartwig='2004/1206/';
$hartwigtitle='O Captain!';
$sickhead='2004/0419/';
$sickheadtitle='The Legendary Spot of Coco Hobari McSteve';
$ted='2005/0530/';
$tedtitle='The New War on Poverty';
$vanslyke='2005/0606/';
$vanslyketitle='Health Food is Full of Shit';
$zender='2005/0425/';
$zendertitle='The Sixth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting';
?> | 
American Afghans Apprehended, Interred In CampsOctober 1, 2001 |
Plimpton, CT Ramrod Hurley Interred Afghan American Kiwi
The Afghan, a popular breed of mid-size long-haired dog, was reportedly introduced to America several years ago by Chinese guys who brought them here originally to eat them, reported commune Research Editor Griswald Dreck. Also, horses were originally introduced to our country as indentured servants.
Dog Fancy magazine estimates the number of interred Afghans could reach 5,000 before the end of the week. Already several Afghans face additional charges of disobeying the new law by not reporting their whereabouts.
"We said, 'Sit. Stay.' And these dogs have disobeyed," said Attorney General John Ashcr...
n a controversial move, Congress has barely passed a bill allowing the arrest and internment of thousands of American-born Afghans in "government pounds."
The Afghan, a popular breed of mid-size long-haired dog, was reportedly introduced to America several years ago by Chinese guys who brought them here originally to eat them, reported commune Research Editor Griswald Dreck. Also, horses were originally introduced to our country as indentured servants.
Dog Fancy magazine estimates the number of interred Afghans could reach 5,000 before the end of the week. Already several Afghans face additional charges of disobeying the new law by not reporting their whereabouts.
"We said, 'Sit. Stay.' And these dogs have disobeyed," said Attorney General John Ashcroft. "Bad dogs. Bad, bad dogs."
Across the United States, pet owners and sympathizers are outraged by what they call an unfounded, prejudicial law.
"These dogs are good Americans," said Nancy Martin, owner of three Afghans interred because of the new law. "Mumu, Gaia, and Kiwi were born right here in this country. They eat American food, they wear American-made sweaters and make bad on American rugs. Not Persian. Certainly not Afghanese. Bad dogs? I say, 'Bad lawmakers. Bad, bad lawmakers.'" the commune News believes in socially responsible reporting and our staff practices safe sex at least seven times a day. Ramrod Hurley is a freelance journalist, photographer, and according to Lil Duncan, "Poppinazi". Ramrod is reporting for the commune news while he searches out a publisher for his new book, "If These Tits Could Talk: A Lil Duncan Biography".
 |  Use of Term "Gaydar" Most Effective Means of Telling Someone's Gay
White men dominate science positions, all non-sports positions
GOP strikes back at filibusters by installing Laz-E-Boys on Senate floor
Saturn moon Titan, covered in liquid gas, may soon expect U.S. invasion
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Venezuela Adds Itself to ‘Axis of Evil’ he so-called ‘Axis of Evil,’ which now has more points than a pinwheel, took on another member when the forgettable South American country of Venezuela added itself to the roster of anti-U.S. countries this week. The announcement was made in the most awkward fashion, when President Victor Chavez made allegations that the United States has made plans to invade Venezuela soon. How soon? Chavez didn’t pinpoint a date, but said the invasion would happen imminently. According to Chavez, the U.S. has been planning to invade his country for some time, and he has proof, although he didn’t exactly present it to anybody. The most precise allegation made by Chavez cited “invasion training maneuvers” being made in his country by CIA operatives, who apparently weren’t in Venezuela for one of their thousands of monthly beauty pageants. Orleans Refugees at Home in Disneyland’s French Quarter efugees from the New Orleans disaster were thrilled this week by the news that Mayor Ray Nagin plans to re-open large parts of the city as early as today, allowing the many refugees spread across the American South like spilled milk to finally return home. The decision to return, however, is not so easy for the small number of lucky refugees who were relocated to the French Quarter section of the Disneyland theme park in Anaheim, California during the first days of flooding. “This is great, it’s like being back home, except Disneyer!” gushed socialite Anita Bomes, thrilled with her new New Orleans, a quaint miniature version of the city located near a fake lake that, to date, has never flooded. Sanjaya Unites Indian Fans, People Who Hate American Idol IRS: Excessively Needy Girlfriends Can’t Be Declared “Dependents” |
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 July 8, 2002
Cheese"There was a time in my life I was convinced I could get a job endorsing a product. I was about 15, I think, relatively young, and had enough gusto to think I could do anything. In retrospect I should have tried to promote gusto, that I could've sold, before gusto went out of style back in the late '50s.
I would sit and think for hours on something I could endorse—it was more important to me at the time that I find the right product to endorse rather than spend time thinking of how to break into the celebrity endorsement business. For instance, being a celebrity would have been a nice start.
I wasn't foolish enough to want to sell something too easy to sell nor something too hard. That's why I decided on cheese. Cheese is a mainstay, but some people, at least back in my day, just weren't convinced yet. To them cheese was sort of like mooning God and his naturally-occurring flavors. Of course, those people weren't likely to listen to a sinner like me, all adorned with buttons and shoelaces.
'More cheese for me!' I would say at the dinner table, sitting down with my parents, Stephanie, and Goose. 'Man, what would this meal be without cheese?' I'd ask. Goose would think for a few days and hurt himself trying to answer. 'Cheese is like giving your stomach a friendly headrub!' I'd say. Dad would dwell on that thought and throw up shortly afterwards.
This eventually stopped once I actually tasted cheese. I couldn't even keep a...
º Last Column: Smoking
º more columns
"There was a time in my life I was convinced I could get a job endorsing a product. I was about 15, I think, relatively young, and had enough gusto to think I could do anything. In retrospect I should have tried to promote gusto, that I could've sold, before gusto went out of style back in the late '50s.
I would sit and think for hours on something I could endorse—it was more important to me at the time that I find the right product to endorse rather than spend time thinking of how to break into the celebrity endorsement business. For instance, being a celebrity would have been a nice start.
I wasn't foolish enough to want to sell something too easy to sell nor something too hard. That's why I decided on cheese. Cheese is a mainstay, but some people, at least back in my day, just weren't convinced yet. To them cheese was sort of like mooning God and his naturally-occurring flavors. Of course, those people weren't likely to listen to a sinner like me, all adorned with buttons and shoelaces.
'More cheese for me!' I would say at the dinner table, sitting down with my parents, Stephanie, and Goose. 'Man, what would this meal be without cheese?' I'd ask. Goose would think for a few days and hurt himself trying to answer. 'Cheese is like giving your stomach a friendly headrub!' I'd say. Dad would dwell on that thought and throw up shortly afterwards.
This eventually stopped once I actually tasted cheese. I couldn't even keep a straight face, my smile turned into a grimace instantly. Just not a cheese person. I quickly decided, then and there, that I had to give up my dreams of celebrity endorsement and become a columnist for an Internet site. It was pretty daring at the time, the Internet basically 60 years from being in existence, but it was the easiest way to say whatever I wanted without having to mean it." º Last Column: Smokingº more columns
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|  July 11, 2005
Gwar of the WorldsThank your lucky stars you're alive to witness another episode of Reflections of a Goocher, with your host, Stu "the Dew" Umbrage. The part of Stu will be played this week by Lil' Abner.
SU: Thanks for joining us, folks. Those of you who were not eaten by dinosaurs while waiting in line will be happy to know that I've got a whole new line-up of dinosaur jokes tonight. So, let's waste no time getting to the funny. What did the dinosaur say to the Reflections of a Goocher fan right before it ate him?
AUDIENCE: WE COULDN'T MAKE IT OUT THROUGH ALL THE SCREAMING!
SU: Very good! You guys are one step ahead of me yet again, I'm going to have to either fire my audience or hire smarter writers. Funny, funny stuff people. So, anyway, you ever pull a jar of something out of your refrigerator, only to be stunned by how old the expiration date is? I saw one at my house the other day that said "PALEOLITHIC ERA"! I'm going to have to buy some more Worchester sauce!
AUDIENCE: AH! RUN! FUCK ME!! (indistinguishable guttural noises, roaring)
SU: You people are a great audience, did I ever tell you that? Those of you who are left are just awesome. Moving right along, what time is it when a triceratops sits on your fence?
AUDIENCE: FOUR O'CLOCK!
SU: That fucker sat on my fence again? What, he can't read the sign? Where's my...
º Last Column: If God Had a Lawn, It Would Be Nice Like This
º more columns
Thank your lucky stars you're alive to witness another episode of Reflections of a Goocher, with your host, Stu "the Dew" Umbrage. The part of Stu will be played this week by Lil' Abner.
SU: Thanks for joining us, folks. Those of you who were not eaten by dinosaurs while waiting in line will be happy to know that I've got a whole new line-up of dinosaur jokes tonight. So, let's waste no time getting to the funny. What did the dinosaur say to the Reflections of a Goocher fan right before it ate him?
AUDIENCE: WE COULDN'T MAKE IT OUT THROUGH ALL THE SCREAMING!
SU: Very good! You guys are one step ahead of me yet again, I'm going to have to either fire my audience or hire smarter writers. Funny, funny stuff people. So, anyway, you ever pull a jar of something out of your refrigerator, only to be stunned by how old the expiration date is? I saw one at my house the other day that said "PALEOLITHIC ERA"! I'm going to have to buy some more Worchester sauce!
AUDIENCE: AH! RUN! FUCK ME!! (indistinguishable guttural noises, roaring)
SU: You people are a great audience, did I ever tell you that? Those of you who are left are just awesome. Moving right along, what time is it when a triceratops sits on your fence?
AUDIENCE: FOUR O'CLOCK!
SU: That fucker sat on my fence again? What, he can't read the sign? Where's my gun?
AUDIENCE: (gunshots, dying)
SU: I swear, you people. I know I say this every night, but you guys really are the best audience ever. What's that folks? There's an invisible dinosaur waiting for me in my dressing room? Tell him I can't see him! Ha! Oh God, I've got to write that down. Hey, where are you two going? We can't finish the show without an audience.
AUDIENCE: PLEASE, FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, HIDE US! THEY'RE COMING!
SU: Hide you? Then who are the cameras going to cut to for reaction shots after the big punchlines? What's that? The cameramen are dead? That reminds me of a great joke: What's the name of the dinosaur that's hunting you down right now?
Doyathinkysaurus? Ha ha!
AUDIENCE: (digestive noises)
SU: Well, I'm afraid that's about all the time we have this week on Reflections of a Goocher. Be sure to join us next time when we'll have a fresh new audience that's a lot more fun than this last bunch, and maybe by then the exterminator will finally get his ass over here to spray for these berserk, blood-hungry carnivores. Until then, I'm Stu Umbrage and you're a homo. º Last Column: If God Had a Lawn, It Would Be Nice Like Thisº more columns
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Milestones1993: Ivan Nacutchacokov/Ivana Folger-Balzac honeymoon ends in stalemate.Now HiringPatsy. Must be willing to take the fall for numerous state and federal offenses. Should bear a passing resemblance to Red Bagel, Omar Bricks or Rok Finger. Immunity to electrocution a plus.Least-Anticipated Holiday Movies| 1. | Miracle in an Alley Behind 34th Street | | 2. | Walking in a Winter Wonderbra | | 3. | It Would Be a Wonderful Life if I WasnĂt So Suicidal | | 4. | Christ, itĂs Christmas Already | | 5. | Frosty the Snow Dealer | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Millard Halftruth 9/15/2003 The Shoeshine ExemptionLife on the inside was tough. "The inside," that was what we call the penitentiary. I had been on the "inside" for nearly forty years. I was forty-four. That's more than half a man's life spent repaying a debt to society. What kind of debt takes that long to repay? What did I get out of it? A house? That's the kind of debt we're talking about. House-size.
You had two kinds of people in the joint: The guys who took what life dealt them and the ones who didn't. I was one of those guys who took what life dealt them. It was a pair of eights, a five, a four, and a two. Almost like it could be a decent hand, but not quite, enh, you know? I'm not complaining. And then there was Timmy.
Timmy was the kind of guy who didn't take what life dealt them. He was always thinking...
Life on the inside was tough. "The inside," that was what we call the penitentiary. I had been on the "inside" for nearly forty years. I was forty-four. That's more than half a man's life spent repaying a debt to society. What kind of debt takes that long to repay? What did I get out of it? A house? That's the kind of debt we're talking about. House-size.
You had two kinds of people in the joint: The guys who took what life dealt them and the ones who didn't. I was one of those guys who took what life dealt them. It was a pair of eights, a five, a four, and a two. Almost like it could be a decent hand, but not quite, enh, you know? I'm not complaining. And then there was Timmy.
Timmy was the kind of guy who didn't take what life dealt them. He was always thinking there was a way out, that there was more to life than slaving away making license plates to keep your mind off doing the time, and avoiding sodomy in the shower room. There was successfully avoiding sodomy in the shower room, and so much more. Timmy was always thinking big.
There were two kinds of guys who didn't accept the cards life dealt them: The kind who got angry, got mean, and turned it all against the prison. Bigot Deuceballs was like that, the meanest man the "inside" had ever seen. He would rip you a new asshole just as soon as look at you—some of them men he ripped a new asshole for didn't even want it, but he did it anyway. And the other kind of guy who didn't accept the cards life dealt them was the kind who dreamt of getting out, by any means necessary. That was Timmy.
There were two things Timmy was good at: Shoeshine and something else I probably shouldn't mention. But he was good. Man, he was incredible with that one talent. But he also shined a decent shoe. And on the "inside," that was his ticket to an easier life.
The warden made Timmy the personal bootblack to every officer in the prison. Sometimes the governor would visit and Timmy would give him the ol' spit-shine. Then after that he would shine his shoes, and the governor loved the look of his big ol' white bald head in that shoe, yes sir. It was better than the horrid demon face that popped up sometimes and scared him to loosin' his bowels. The governor was insane, you see, I might have mentioned that earlier.
Being the penitentiary pet and having the respect of the governor, that was good enough for most of us on the inside. But Timmy always dreamt bigger and bigger. There are two kinds of guys who always dreamt bigger and bigger: The guys who nobody believed were ever going to do anything, and the kind who would actually do something. Timmy was the second kind, but we all thought he was the first kind. He kept talking of busting out.
"I'm going over the wall tonight," Timmy told me one night, whispering down the cell block. For the sake of this story let's say I could hear him.
"Ain't no wall so much as a fence, Timmy," I replied.
"Fine, then I'm going under the wall. You going with me or not?"
When you're a young man, escape seems like it's possible. It seems all you got to do is pick your moment and run, and keep running until you get somewhere better. Then you get to be a forty-four year-old convict like myself and start to doubt you ever knew how to run in the first place. I tried to tell Timmy not do to it—but there was nothing you could teach Timmy about the world. He had a learning disability.   |
