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Republicans Organize "Poor People Rock!" FestivalNovember 1, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Dan Fathead Blueblood industrialist H.P. Cravenborg thrills the crowd of destitute onlookers with his impressive wealthiness
The inaugural festival was a star-studded day-long event which featured such poor people favorites as country superstar Toby Keith, Hip-Hop malcontents Deaf Niggaz, get-quick-rich guru Denny Cochran, radio shock jock Gray Baytor, and the hippie-bashing conceptual comedy troupe The Haight Mongers. Several of the country’s leading wealthy Republicans also spoke at the event, where festival-goers were let in free of charge after signing a waiver agreeing to be tested en mass...
esponding to years of baseless accusations that the GOP panders to the rich and disgustingly privileged, Republican leaders organized the first-ever “Poor People Rock!” festival this week to celebrate the decrepit and ramp up GOP support in the final week leading up to November’s crucial elections.
The inaugural festival was a star-studded day-long event which featured such poor people favorites as country superstar Toby Keith, Hip-Hop malcontents Deaf Niggaz, get-quick-rich guru Denny Cochran, radio shock jock Gray Baytor, and the hippie-bashing conceptual comedy troupe The Haight Mongers. Several of the country’s leading wealthy Republicans also spoke at the event, where festival-goers were let in free of charge after signing a waiver agreeing to be tested en mass for the effects of a new military-grade neurotoxin.
“I don’t know where this idea started that Republicans hate the poor, but it’s utter hogwash,” led off the event’s Master of Ceremonies, industrialist H.P. Cravenborg. “After all, who gave all you people jobs? Speaking of which; you, in the third row! I though you called in sick today? Get back to work!”
The day’s full slate of entertainers thrilled the crowd with bright, shiny visions of the good life surely waiting right around the corner for anyone willing to get off his lazy ass and stop being so poor. The massive throngs of stone-broke revelers went apeshit when speaker Denny Cochran informed them that they, too, could one day be one of the wealthy elite, with former neighbors and friends working in their factories for cutthroat wages. Similar messages were echoed by several of the day’s speakers.
“It’s time to stop blaming the Republicans for all your problems, poor America, and get yourself a slice of that big-old pie!” shouted former liberal activist Ron Somkins, who because a Republican activist after robust sales of his third book, “Fuck the System,” brought the author unexpected riches. Somkins’ latest book, “Re-evaluating the System,” is due in bookstores this winter.
Old money Republican speakers, perhaps less comfortable with the thought of the greasy poor clogging up the shower drains of their pristine social clubs, instead juiced the crowd with paeans to the many advantages to destitute living.
“You guys really don’t know how lucky you’ve got it,” Cravenborg moaned to the crowd while getting a continual back massage from a large Austrian man. “All this money’s more trouble than it’s worth, I tell you. Better to—ooh that feels good! Better to live the simple life, like you good people!”
After the event, envious members of the elite went out of their way to share their fondness for America’s 36 million poor and the refreshingly simple lives they lead.
“Me, personally, I love the indigent,” gushed a gracious Rupert Murdoch, media titan. “Hell, I’d be poor myself if I weren’t so goddamned wealthy.”
“Poor is definitely the way to go,” raved fashion mogul Chinsay Weintraub. “Poor is so in this year. It’s the new black.”
“I’ve always liked poor people, I think they’re quaint,” chimed in portly financier Gordon Stacks, smoking a cigar wrapped in $100 bills.
When asked how the day’s festivities might affect his voting preference in Tuesday’s presidential election, local fry cook and father of four Dan Henkle echoed the sentiments of the assembled wretched masses.
“Hey, fuck poor people!” the commune news has always subscribed to the notion that one who is rich of spirit can never truly be poor, unless they don’t have any money. Ted Ted is the commune’s resident enraged Republican correspondent, a position that has earned him the contempt of the rest of the staff and a half-off discount at Denny’s.
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 June 20, 2005
Stupid HeroesI was an avid comic collector when I was younger. Which means I was a kid who stole.
I loved comics, and couldn't keep my hands off them. At least that's what the judge said. In my defense, I only borrowed them so I could read them, bag them, and keep them for a long time to see if they went up in value. That was a lousy defense. I never should have defended myself. But I was only 10, I don't know what the court was thinking. And they called me the idiot.
That's why I love to watch comic book movies. And why the movie theater always throws me out for not having a ticket. There's a lot of comic book movies coming out this year. I'm already gathering ticket stubs to get into see the big ones. Like the new Batman movie. And there's also a Fantastic Four movie. I think Cinderella Man was a comic book character, too, but I'm not gay, so I didn't read it. Not that I wasn't tempted, mind you.
When I was a kid I wanted to be in the Fantastic Four. My biggest problem, besides having no super-powers, was that I never knew which one I wanted to kill and take the place of. Probably the girl. Not that I hate women, 'cause I don't, but it would be real awkward hanging out with a married guy, his wife, and someone else. I'd be like a fourth wheel. Maybe that could be my power—all my married friends and the guy they hang out with say I'm good at it.
If I could have any super-power in the world, that would be a tough choice. I think it...
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I was an avid comic collector when I was younger. Which means I was a kid who stole.
I loved comics, and couldn't keep my hands off them. At least that's what the judge said. In my defense, I only borrowed them so I could read them, bag them, and keep them for a long time to see if they went up in value. That was a lousy defense. I never should have defended myself. But I was only 10, I don't know what the court was thinking. And they called me the idiot.
That's why I love to watch comic book movies. And why the movie theater always throws me out for not having a ticket. There's a lot of comic book movies coming out this year. I'm already gathering ticket stubs to get into see the big ones. Like the new Batman movie. And there's also a Fantastic Four movie. I think Cinderella Man was a comic book character, too, but I'm not gay, so I didn't read it. Not that I wasn't tempted, mind you.
When I was a kid I wanted to be in the Fantastic Four. My biggest problem, besides having no super-powers, was that I never knew which one I wanted to kill and take the place of. Probably the girl. Not that I hate women, 'cause I don't, but it would be real awkward hanging out with a married guy, his wife, and someone else. I'd be like a fourth wheel. Maybe that could be my power—all my married friends and the guy they hang out with say I'm good at it.
If I could have any super-power in the world, that would be a tough choice. I think it would be the power to make people forget I borrowed money from them. 'Cause that's something I need all the time. We'd corner this super-villain in a bank vault, me and the rest of the Fantastic Four, who I now lead, and I could just borrow all the money from him. Tell him I'm late with the rent or something, or my mom needs hangnail surgery. Some cool story. Then, he defeats the rest of them and asks for the money back, and I'm all like, "Dude, I paid that back to you weeks ago." And he gets real mad, but he believes it, and has no choice but to go to jail. I haven't worked all of it out, but I think I'm on the right track.
I could be called the Borrower. It's better than Thieving Asshole, and I think that's taken already anyway.
I wouldn't want any of the other Fantastic Four's powers. The Thing is all made of rocks. Dude, have you ever been hit with a rock? That shit hurts. So whenever he punches anyone it's like someone threw a rock at his hand. Great idea, Eisenstein. And there's the Invisible Chick… so what, big deal. I go to parties and people already can't see me there. Got that power. Then there's the Human Blowtorch. He uses his power to burn all his clothes off. I've tried that before, trust me, it's a dead end street. You just end up having to buy more clothes and neighbors file a complaint with the police department.
Then there's Dr. Fantastic, who has the greatest powers in that team. He can stretch over and pick things up. Can you imagine that? Throw the remote control out the window, who needs it? No more are the chips out of reach… ever! I wonder if that feels like work, to stretch real far. I hope not.
If I had that power… well, let's just say I've solved the problem that's always bothered mankind. No more waiting for the commercial to go to the bathroom. Sweet. º Last Column: Penitent Penitentiaryº more columns
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|  August 18, 2003
Volume 49Dear commune:
Maybe you can settle a bet for my buddy Steve and me. Say two guys are shocking each other in the nutsack with a cattle prod, with the agreement that whoever passes out first loses the bet and has to buy the other guy some chili fries, right? Okay, now if you shock Steve in the nuts and he screams like a girl so loud that you pass out from surprise, do you still lose the bet even though you never got your nuts shocked? Steve thinks you do, but I think he’s full of shit and has been sitting on a bag of ice too long. Is the commune a bunch of lesbo-bangers from the Steve camp or do you see my point?
Sincerely,
Artie Duchamp
Flatskull, NJ
Dear Artie:
Cattle prods? What are you guys, a couple of seven-year-old girls in floral-patterned dresses at a tea party? You sure you guys aren’t pulling our legs? Because we doubt you really have the nuts to shock, nice try ladies. Any two guys who were really serious about a snack-bar wager like that would take turns stuffing their nuts into a power outlet, and the first one who’s blown out the window loses. "Passing out" is pussyese for feinting, as any southern debutante knows. Quit wasting the commune’s time and write us back when you have some local press clippings to enter as evidence.
the...
º Last Column: Volume 48
º more columns
Dear commune: Maybe you can settle a bet for my buddy Steve and me. Say two guys are shocking each other in the nutsack with a cattle prod, with the agreement that whoever passes out first loses the bet and has to buy the other guy some chili fries, right? Okay, now if you shock Steve in the nuts and he screams like a girl so loud that you pass out from surprise, do you still lose the bet even though you never got your nuts shocked? Steve thinks you do, but I think he’s full of shit and has been sitting on a bag of ice too long. Is the commune a bunch of lesbo-bangers from the Steve camp or do you see my point? Sincerely, Artie Duchamp
Flatskull, NJ
Dear Artie:
Cattle prods? What are you guys, a couple of seven-year-old girls in floral-patterned dresses at a tea party? You sure you guys aren’t pulling our legs? Because we doubt you really have the nuts to shock, nice try ladies. Any two guys who were really serious about a snack-bar wager like that would take turns stuffing their nuts into a power outlet, and the first one who’s blown out the window loses. "Passing out" is pussyese for feinting, as any southern debutante knows. Quit wasting the commune’s time and write us back when you have some local press clippings to enter as evidence.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for any property or nutsack damage caused by the commune’s own brand of dubious advice. By reading this website you have agreed to the legal release that is encoded, Beautiful Mind-style, randomly throughout the site’s text and images. And just try to disprove that, brainiac.º Last Column: Volume 48º more columns
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Milestones1998: Future turncoat Raoul Dunkin joins the burgeoning commune staff, blatantly lying about his desire to learn more about alternative journalism and liking Red Bagel's haircut.Now HiringTaxi Driver. Duties include awaiting passengers, driving passengers to and from desired locations, growing increasingly paranoid, cutting hair in extreme fashion and shooting pimps in bloody finale.Top Georgian Euphemisms for Evolution| 1. | Satan's Trick | | 2. | How Stuff Grow'd Up | | 3. | Changemification | | 4. | Uppetyupping | | 5. | Magic! | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 8/19/2002 Hey is for horses, America! And since at last count, horses were unable to manipulate computer keyboards with their big, stupid paws, I'm going to go ahead and assume we've got real live people in the house tonight. So I won't be serving up any hay today people, just some hot, steaming vittles of entertainment flavor. Hopefully that sounds just about right up your alley, as the British say. And hopefully that's not some kind of nasty euphemism for sex, though I've got a bad feeling about it since nearly everything the British say is, so the odds aren't in my favor. But enough about the British! When's the last time they made a movie worth seeing? I thought not. Let's get our minds back on the great U.S. of A, and the thing we do best: selling dreams and soda pop. On to the movies!
Hey is for horses, America! And since at last count, horses were unable to manipulate computer keyboards with their big, stupid paws, I'm going to go ahead and assume we've got real live people in the house tonight. So I won't be serving up any hay today people, just some hot, steaming vittles of entertainment flavor. Hopefully that sounds just about right up your alley, as the British say. And hopefully that's not some kind of nasty euphemism for sex, though I've got a bad feeling about it since nearly everything the British say is, so the odds aren't in my favor. But enough about the British! When's the last time they made a movie worth seeing? I thought not. Let's get our minds back on the great U.S. of A, and the thing we do best: selling dreams and soda pop. On to the movies!
In Theaters
Adventures of Pluto Nash
Yet again, Eddie Murphy plays another troubled mathematical genius trapped in the body of a cartoon dog. Yawn. This time around it's on the moon, as if that's supposed to stir up our Malt-o-meal something fierce. Rosie O'Donnell co-stars as the hot young multi-ethnic thang on the lunar block, which goes a long way toward showing how little attention went into making this film. Murphy's obviously still pissed about not landing the Eddie Murphy role in the Men in Black films, but his revenge here is misguided: I highly doubt Will Smith is going to get suckered into sitting still for two hours to watch this turkey.
One Hour Photo
A picture's worth a thousand words, and if you say 'em slow enough it takes about an hour to say all one thousand. At least that's the message I got from Robin Williams' latest philosophical snorer about an annoying birthday party clown who learns the value of family when he kills one with his Suburban. Williams flees the scene of the crime with only a worn photo he pulled from the flaming wreck, a family photo that haunts him and always seems to trigger eerie harpsichord music. As you may have guessed, by the end he's learned the value of laughter, seizing the day, respecting the insane, cross-dressing and eating leafy greens. I might have been more touched if he didn't do that leprechaun voice so much.
Serving Sara
Another great cannibal comedy starring a Friends alumnus, I guess that's one formula that really can't go wrong. Matthew Perry carries in his pocket an innate likeability that makes him a natural to play the American-Psycho-next-door at the heart of this crowd-pleaser. Don't clog up your brain cells worrying about the plot, since the writers sure didn't, just know that it'll be worth your eight bucks when that stuck-up heifer Elizabeth Hurley finally gets hers in the last act. And take it from me, you haven't laughed until you've seen a surprised Perry spit a breast implant across the table at his family's Thanksgiving dinner.
Simone
It's true: great films have been made on far skimpier premises than a producer's drunken bar boast that he can make a star out of an inflatable sex doll. And for a while, this one works, making us laugh at Al Pacino's frantic bumbling attempts to make an A-list movie and recording star out of a polyurethane actress with a BJ mouth. But the comedy turns mean when Pacino's creation turns out to be a huge success, rubbing our noses in the fact that we'll pay good money to see any rubber-boobed bimbo who smells hyped and has been seen dining with Harrison Ford. It may be true, but it's a cheap shot nonetheless.
Undisputed
Look, anyone who can walk on his hands to Kansas wins my respect right away. I don't care if you make crappy movies, or you can't act your way out of an airsickness bag. You're still the man. Keep that in mind when seeing Wesley Snipes' new popcorn-muncher, a prison male-bonding picture in which Snipes spends way too much time cradled up against Ving Rhames' big, manly tit. I mean, it could be worse, you know? You could be at dinner theater.
Well folks, that's the way the shammy shakes, at least this week. Now it's time to get out there and do your patriotic duty to keep those turnstiles turnstiling. It may not always be fun, but where else can you find such a large, captive audience with which to share your fascinating cell-phone conversations? We'll be back next time with cakes, cookies and… dare I say movies? Maybe! You'll just have to check back then if you want to find out.   |
