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Bush Credits Jesus with Removing Protest MomAugust 22, 2005
Crawford, Texas
Junior Bacon
Jesus has yet to claim responsibility for the stone-cold "SLUT" graffiti on protest mom Cindy Sheehan's minivan window, but the Lord does work in mysterious ways. Ooh, snap Jesus! Snap!
T
he Bush Administration sighed a whistle of relief this week with the news that Cindy Sheehan, the mother of a US soldier slain in Iraq who had been standing vigil outside the president's Texas ranch for over two weeks, had finally gone home to California to care for her ailing mother.

"Clearly, the creator has made his will known," Bush intoned smugly, as lightning crackled in the background and the lights inside the president's Crawford, Texas ranch dimmed momentarily.

Sheehan had drawn considerable national media attention to her vigil in recent weeks, becoming the focal point for criticism of the president's handling of the war in Iraq and making a tidy sum selling lemonade to the massive news crews that had assembled. But her mother's recent stroke came hot ...Read more...


Lebanese candidate runs as "different kind of Islamic fanatic"

Red Sox outcurse Yankees to win World Series

Ignoring Ohio sniper didn't make him go away

Iraq perfectly quiet all week



March 3, 2003

Click for Biography

Fireworks Club

"I once shot myself in my pajamas!"

I've been on a weird sleep schedule for about a month or so. I wake up, stay awake for about 16 hours, then go to sleep, wake up 8 hours later, go to sleep, wake up 9 hours later, stay awake for 6 hours, take a 2-hour nap, wake up for 4 hours, take a long 1-hour blink, sleep for 9 hours, stay awake for a two-hour dinner, then sleep until spring. Actually, I guess it's not all that weird, I just wanted your assurance it was okay.

The nice thing about sleeping a whole lot is sleeping. I'd sleep all day if I didn't need to wake up and piss every other time I need to piss. Those rubber underwear fill up too fast. I tried to get one of those things like they have in the hospitals, one of them—whatcha call it—catheters. But they stick 'em right up your dick. The male nurse mentioned that and I told him "No man takes that route with me!" and laughed. Then he shoved a tube up my dick but it was the wrong kind.

My dreams are wicked cool. A lot of people say that, I bet, but I mean it. My dreams are so cool sometimes they don't let me in. I just dream I'm at the door and try to look in over the bouncer's shoulder and see what's going on in there 'cause it sounds really hot. If I remember to dream I'm wearing a nice jacket and shoes sometimes I get in, but they try to act like it's all quiet in there when I show up. I can hear fucking and dancing and giant fireworks explosions all the time when I'm...Read more...


º Last Column: Bulimia Machine
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November 25, 2002

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Let There Be Light

The solution to The Great Omar Bricks Transportation Dilemma of 2002 came to me in a dream last Friday night. In the dream I was running away from this big car-wash monster thing, some kind of snuffleupagus made from those shaggy spinner things that wash the cars.

It wasn't really chasing me; more like sliding slowly down a hill. But I was running in place on those damned metal rollers like always, so the carwash was gaining, minute by minute. I don't know why I didn't just hop off the stupid rollers, but it was a dream thing so that solution didn't occur to me then any more than having sex with the Easter Bunny does to you right now. Before you read that.

In front of me there was a window, and on the other side of the window there was another me, some kind of good-looking son of a bitch Omar Bricks clone who was just sitting there, building a car out of pizza boxes. Now, at the time I was pissed that I was handed the shit end of the stick on which Omar I got to be in the dream, but then I killed the monster by having sex with that girl from the BMW commercial, so it all ended pretty good.

After I woke up, it dawned on me. With money a little tight in the Bricks household since the out-of-court settlement, why flush away even more precious green paying some overpriced beerbellies up in Detroit to build a car for me when I could build it myself? I've seen some of those guys and believe me, it can't be that hard.

One...Read more...


º Last Column: Silly Attorneys, Tricks is for Bricks
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Quote of the Day
“No man is an island. But I have met several women I would like to live on for the rest of my life.”

-John Donne Juan
Fortune 500 Cookie
By the pricking of my thumb I have really fucked up my keyboard playing. Trust in a higher power this week—the Waffle King knows what he's doing. Why be merely happy when you could be shit-yer-drawers happy? The world is you oyster, which explains that nauseating fish smell you can't escape. Lucky hammers roofing, jack, ball peen, MC.


Try again later.
Top Frustrating Wi-Fi Dead Spots
1.Flower bed outside ex-wife's bedroom window
2.Antarctica. Most of it.
3.Men's room at the zoo
4.Twilight Zone
5.Raging Waters: the whole goddamned theme park
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 French Hammond and Teddy Eddie Blister
11/24/2003
How to Write a Contrived Novel
Verbs. Nouns. Direct objects. Pro-Nouns. Indirect objects. These are friend to the aspiring contrived novelist.

But writing is more than a mish-mash of words formed into sentences, then into paragraphs, then back into sentences for dialogue. All culminating in "The End." It is more than an exploration of language, of culture, of self, a fascinating journey through your own self-conscience meant to make you a better person. More than all this, even more than an intriguing story and fresh characters. Writing is a short ride to a big fat check.

For centuries authors existed entirely by the good graces of the wealthy—patrons of the rich, writing exactly what they wanted for one particular audience. Writing was an act of compromise to satisfy the whim of a...Read more...

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