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 February 7, 2005 |
Washington, D.C. Courtesy Sânooze The offending web site, shown here in miniature as a part of the communeâs efforts to reduce world suffering
âSânooze is some funny shit,â explained uncharacteristically laid-back DoD worker Pvt.Thom Vogelsang, who was soon afterward court-marshaled for unruly facial hair. âI donât care what anybody says. That piece we did on giving pacifists rat-poison enchiladas was da bomb.â
âNobody reads our site,â complained Sânoo...
he U.S. Department of Defense has come under fire this week after launching Sânooze, a news parody web site featuring a lighthearted look at the dayâs events through the prism of the Pentagonâs unique brand of humor. Liberal watchdogs have criticized the site as a potentially dangerous outlet for government propaganda, while everyone else has been complaining that itâs not nearly as funny as The Onion.
â Sânooze is some funny shit,â explained uncharacteristically laid-back DoD worker Pvt.Thom Vogelsang, who was soon afterward court-marshaled for unruly facial hair. âI donât care what anybody says. That piece we did on giving pacifists rat-poison enchiladas was da bomb.â
âNobody reads our site,â complained Sânooze head writer Lt. Col. Danish Marks. âOur site stats suck. The Onionâs got more ads on it than a NASCAR stock car and theyâve still got hits like Usher. Iâd love to be within smelling distance of that kind of traffic. But just because weâre the Pentagon, everybody thinks we canât have a hilariously irreverent take on the news.â
Concerned citizens with too much time on their hands have pointed out the potential propagandic dangers of the site, referring to the fact that Sânooze is run by U.S. military troops trained in âinformation warfare.â Other, less politically-paranoid citizens have alternately pointed out the failed-humor dangers of the site, being that it is run by U.S. military troops trained in âinformation warfare.â
Complaints to Pentagon Inspector General Joseph Schmitz recently initiated a thorough review of the siteâs contents, which Schmitz summarized as âamusingish.â
âJesus. Did you see their first issue?â blasphemed freelance media critic Rutherford B. Goods. âThey had a feature where you could add âfunnyâ captions to the Abu Ghraib photos, and an essay contest about how pacifism is for fags. I didnât laugh so hard my sides didnât hurt.â
Yet another wave of criticism has come at the Pentagon from humorless Americans who were tricked by the siteâs lack of successful humor into regarding Sânooze as a legitimate news source. The siteâs recent headline of âIraqis Demand RecountâNot Enough Civilians Killedâ sparked a flood of angry emails from readers who had missed the Pentagonâs tiny-type disclaimer of âSponsored by the U.S. Department of Defense: You been punkâd, bitch!â at the bottom of the page, therefore missing the âjoke.â No one is quite sure what to make of the fact that most of the angry readers were in favor of a tragic recount.
âSure, everybody can make fun of the government all the live-long day, but now that we want to get in on the fun, itâs a crime against humanity,â complained project head Maj. Dean Veiner. â Entertainment Weekly actually said that, âa crime against humanity.â I liked them better when they didnât do web site reviews.â
commune media critics Roland McShyster and Orson Welch were both asked to review the site for this article, but the results were unfortunately deemed unsuitable for publication. For one, McShyster seems to have reviewed the similarly-named www.sâmores.com web site instead, and Welchâs review was so bitter that commune lawyers feared it would violate the stateâs Hate Crimes Act of 2000. the commune news has always loved a good party. Wait, parody? Fuck that shit. Lil Duncan is the communeâs Washington correspondent and originator of the joke about how many mice it takes to screw in a light bulb. Two, but donât ask us how they got in there.
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British Nearly Affected by London Terror Attacks ith their famously stoic façade put to the ultimate test, Londoners came through with flying colors this week, failing to register the slightest emotion in the face of stunning terror attacks on the citys mass transit system that left 50 dead and over 700 wounded. Oh yes, it was quite a mess, explained commuter Harold Alburn, who was aboard one of the bombed subway trains and only survived due to being caked in a human cocoon formed by the flaming remains of his fellow passengers. That rail lines going to be down for weeks, you have to assume. Jackson Prosecution Produces Bloody Glove he Michael Jackson trial escalated to the seventh level of hooplah Friday as prosecutors introduced into evidence a bloody sequined gloved that had not been previously revealed publicly. The defense requested a recess, to which the witty judge replied that no one had been good enough to deserve recess, but they would take a brief break. It gave the Jackson defense, led by attorney and Warhol knock-off Thomas Mesereau, a chance to recover from the five-fingered blow. Oasis, Killers Combine Forces to Ruin Sgt. Peppers for Everyone Global Warming Poses Threat to National Parks, Says WWFs Machoman Savage |
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 September 1, 2003
You Look Like An Asshole: The History of Fads Vol. 2The gaudiest fad of the 1950's had to be the 3D movie. The early 50's were a desperate time for Hollywood studios, as audiences were staying at home on their big fat asses in record numbers and movies were faring poorly in competition with television and communist witch hunts. Studio execs were willing to try anything to get more people into the theaters, even toying with the notion of making films that weren't big fetid balls of dung. But before they could go that far, the studio heads at Universal discovered that they'd accidentally made the same movie twice.
Universal had bankrolled The Hungry Jungle, which featured a young Charles Bronson running like hell away from man-eating tigers for two hours, and at the same time they had inadvertently financed D.A. Steuben's cannibal tiger picture Run Like Blood. Rather than shelling out promotional funds for both films to wastefully compete against each other, the studio decided to play both of them, simultaneously, on the same screen. That way they could cover up their gaffe while boasting twice as many stars running away from twice as many man-eating tigers in one movie. Like I said, these were desperate times and it should be noted that back then, guys couldn't hold their liquor.
Unfortunately the "movie" didn't make any sense when played this way, but this was only a minor setback. A young Universal intern soon discovered that thanks to poor quality control each of the films was tinted...
º Last Column: You Look Like An Asshole: The History of Fads Vol. 1
º more columns
The gaudiest fad of the 1950's had to be the 3D movie. The early 50's were a desperate time for Hollywood studios, as audiences were staying at home on their big fat asses in record numbers and movies were faring poorly in competition with television and communist witch hunts. Studio execs were willing to try anything to get more people into the theaters, even toying with the notion of making films that weren't big fetid balls of dung. But before they could go that far, the studio heads at Universal discovered that they'd accidentally made the same movie twice.
Universal had bankrolled The Hungry Jungle, which featured a young Charles Bronson running like hell away from man-eating tigers for two hours, and at the same time they had inadvertently financed D.A. Steuben's cannibal tiger picture Run Like Blood. Rather than shelling out promotional funds for both films to wastefully compete against each other, the studio decided to play both of them, simultaneously, on the same screen. That way they could cover up their gaffe while boasting twice as many stars running away from twice as many man-eating tigers in one movie. Like I said, these were desperate times and it should be noted that back then, guys couldn't hold their liquor.
Unfortunately the "movie" didn't make any sense when played this way, but this was only a minor setback. A young Universal intern soon discovered that thanks to poor quality control each of the films was tinted a slightly different color, and if you watched the composite film while wearing a pair of the red and blue "Wacky Glasses" given away free in boxes Oat Shmote kids' cereal, it came out kind of sort-of in 3D. The intern was thanked for his input, then immediately fired since he was obviously stealing from the studio to be able to afford drugs that good.
The idea stuck though, and the composite film Hung Like a Jungle was released in 3D as a promotional gimmick in 1952. The movie was a gigantic hit, with the 3D technology making audiences sicker than a dog on a Ferris wheel, an experience many filmgoers petrified by the boring 1950's seemed to enjoy. All summer long, audiences suffered through a kind of nausea they wouldn't experience again until The English Patient was released in 1996. The trend caught on like wildfire, and fifteen more films were released in 3D during the next three days, most of them soft-core pornos. Unfortunately for Hollywood, 3D movies were soon banned since public health officials couldn't be convinced that hundreds of moviegoers spending two hours drenched in their own vomit was just good clean fun.
Deprived of 3D cheesecake by The Man's uptight cronies, American youths in the 50's were eager for a new thing to come along and waste their time. Thanks to Australian DUI king Chuckie Dubing, they didn't have to wait long. Dubing discovered the boomerang while pulling the body of a dead aborigine off the hood of his car during a drunken one-man rally race through the outback one night in 1953. The strange crooked stick struck Dubing's fancy, and he extrapolated that it must be a hunting stick used to kill wild game birds in the bush. Dubing further extrapolated that its crooked design must allow the stick to curve in the air and return to its thrower, and this is the concept he sold to Wham-o later that year. In actuality, the aborigine was just carrying it because he wanted to show his family the funny crooked stick he had found under a tree.
Regardless, Wham-o mass-produced copies of the stick as a children's toy, and within a year millions of "boomerangs" (the name came from Dubing's approximation of the sound the aborigine made hitting his car) had been sold despite the fact that nobody anywhere had ever had one fly back to them after being thrown. Wham-o deserves a great deal of credit, however, for recognizing that few would risk appearing physically inept by claiming that the boomerang just flew kind of lopsided and herky-jerky into your neighbor's bay window every time you threw it.
Probably the only 1950's fad that ended up being worth three-quarters of a damn was the PEZ dispenser. The candies themselves had been around in Europe for twenty years, sold hilariously to American tourists who didn't know PEZ was the German word for piss. It wasn't until 1952, however, that Germany got revenge on America for kicking their evil little asses by marketing the PEZ candy in irresistible dispensers with the heads of popular political figures on top. Before long, Americans couldn't help themselves but eat candy out of Franklin Roosevelt's neck, making true Hitler's cryptic vow from 1941 that nobody had understood at the time. Eventually over the years, political bitterness died down and American children were eating candy out of Henry Winkler and Kermit the Frog's necks as well, continuing a bizarre tradition that rivals any of the crazy shit the Orient ever dreamt up.
That'll have to do for the 50's, although I wanted to go into how they pulled the first batch of Silly Putty out of a Yak's ass; there just isn't time. Keep an eye peeled for future columns, when we'll take a look at how other generations wasted their time between wars and the occasional worthwhile dance craze. º Last Column: You Look Like An Asshole: The History of Fads Vol. 1º more columns
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|  June 20, 2005
A Throat Too DeepEvery true conspiracy-buster like myself has one big, secret wish: A real inside source that can't stop talking.
To which I say: "Be careful what you wish for!"
Sir, I have such a source, and this guy simply can't shut up. I don't know if it's a psychological ailment or just a simple case of verbal diarrhea, but I've found the source that can't stop giving. It's like that duck that can't stop laying golden eggs, and if there isn't such a fairy tale, there should be. Honestly, I never thought there was anything worse than a source that stonewalls you, that gives you nothing (we in fact call these sources "non-sources"), but this blabbermouth has got the dirt on everybody and can't wait to share it.
It sounded like my fondest wish when a connection of mine, let's call him Scottie, because that would really offend his Scottish heritage, calls me up with what he calls "the greatest source in the world." I should have known something was wrong, because the last time I talked to this connection he was quite pissed off because I kept calling him "Scottie." But I've run cold on the trail of the Biggest Conspiracy of the World (or BCW, as us fans call it), so I was anxious for anything to start me up again.
I met with this guy, and first it was like that golden egg-laying duck, and I was like the duck's owner, and quite happy. This was last week, and with all that stuff in the media about the "real Deep Throat" going around, I...
º Last Column: The Siege of Paris
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Every true conspiracy-buster like myself has one big, secret wish: A real inside source that can't stop talking.
To which I say: "Be careful what you wish for!"
Sir, I have such a source, and this guy simply can't shut up. I don't know if it's a psychological ailment or just a simple case of verbal diarrhea, but I've found the source that can't stop giving. It's like that duck that can't stop laying golden eggs, and if there isn't such a fairy tale, there should be. Honestly, I never thought there was anything worse than a source that stonewalls you, that gives you nothing (we in fact call these sources "non-sources"), but this blabbermouth has got the dirt on everybody and can't wait to share it.
It sounded like my fondest wish when a connection of mine, let's call him Scottie, because that would really offend his Scottish heritage, calls me up with what he calls "the greatest source in the world." I should have known something was wrong, because the last time I talked to this connection he was quite pissed off because I kept calling him "Scottie." But I've run cold on the trail of the Biggest Conspiracy of the World (or BCW, as us fans call it), so I was anxious for anything to start me up again.
I met with this guy, and first it was like that golden egg-laying duck, and I was like the duck's owner, and quite happy. This was last week, and with all that stuff in the media about the "real Deep Throat" going around, I thought it might be highly complimentary and something of an honor to call this guy "Deep Throat II." By the way, for those of you who don't know, that guy Mark Felt has also claimed to have flown from New York to Paris before Lindbergh and has also taken credit for carving Mount Rushmore. He's a bit of an attention hog, so don't believe the hype.
Back to my Deep Throatâthis guy started talking faster than I could write it down. And as my hand cramped from taking long, life-endangering notes, I kept waiting for this guy to stop and tell me to "follow the money," or some such snappy, cryptic advice. No such luck. He had everything. He talked about Bush's involvement in the Illuminati in detail, showed me the "late" John F. Kennedy's tax records for the past 30 years, and even detailed who won last week's bi-election to select a new treasurer in the Illuminati's super-secret inner circle, which even the rest of the Illuminati doesn't know about. And I'm thinking, after a minute or two, "Shut up!" I mean, sir, do I or do I not have to have something to unravel myself?
There's a fine art to being a whistleblower. You give the whistle a low toot, a short, yet sweet and satisfying quick breath's worth. You don't keep blowing until everyone's eardrums are shattered and you've worn out your welcome. I tried, again and again, to subtly suggest to this guy maybe his life was in danger by giving me so much information at once, but he probably couldn't hear me over his outlining of the under-the-table deal with the U.N. to hand over the West Coast to the Serbian Empire. Fuck this, I thought, I can only take so much juicy information.
I told Deep Throat II I'd get back with him, and since then I've just tried to stay away from my phone. Does me no goodâhe keeps leaving bits about the New World Order on my answering machine. I'm like, take the hint, jackass! No wonder the real rulers of this world want him dead. He probably ruined every secret conspiracy he was ever invited into.
As for me, I think I'm just going to tear up all the notes I took from him and start back at square one. It might take me a lot longer, but at least there's some real game involved. Nobody likes having it all handed to you, am I right? º Last Column: The Siege of Parisº more columns
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Milestones1983: Red Bagel is thrown out of a casino for counting cards. He is not cheating, merely trying to settle a bet with a friend on how many decks the casino uses.Now HiringJames Bondian Action Hero. Must be proficient in fire arms and small mechanical gadgets with ridiculous capabilities. Responsibilities include killing unnamed lackeys and doing battle with bizarre supervillians of non-distinct European origin. Good benefits, adventure, and pussy galore. Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | Test the Durability of Your Training Bra | | 2. | Desperate Housewives: This Decade's Max Headroom? | | 3. | Drug Free Vs. Free Drugs | | 4. | 10 Questions for Marcel Marceau | | 5. | Uncle Macho's Fried-Right-the-First-Time Beans | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 9/30/2002 Happy Birthday, America!
Yeah, I know it's a little late, but some crackhead stole my Dayplanner, so what can you do? We've got eight different kinds of fun coming your way from Entertainment Policeland today, so I hope you're ready. No, that's not a scientific figure and it probably wouldn't stand up to academic scrutiny, but goddammit, we're here to have fun. Leave your nit-picky bummer vibe at the door. We're doing what we can here to get through these Dark Ages of Autumn movie entertainment, and we need your oppressive lab coat act like Traci Lords needs a milk mustache. So let's all get with the program here. On to the movies!
In Theaters
Moonlight Miles
Remember back...
Happy Birthday, America!
Yeah, I know it's a little late, but some crackhead stole my Dayplanner, so what can you do? We've got eight different kinds of fun coming your way from Entertainment Policeland today, so I hope you're ready. No, that's not a scientific figure and it probably wouldn't stand up to academic scrutiny, but goddammit, we're here to have fun. Leave your nit-picky bummer vibe at the door. We're doing what we can here to get through these Dark Ages of Autumn movie entertainment, and we need your oppressive lab coat act like Traci Lords needs a milk mustache. So let's all get with the program here. On to the movies!
In Theaters
Moonlight Miles
Remember back when Dustin Hoffman was in good movies all the time? It seemed like he just wandered from set to set, dropping in to add a few lines to whatever movies looked good. No? Honestly, neither do I, but people tell me it happened. The last thing I liked him in was Hook, that basketball movie with Tommy Davidson, but it wasn't that long ago that he was winning Best Retard Oscars left and right and people said his name louder than they do now. I only found out he was in this movie because his sister was sitting behind me in the theater and she wouldn't shut up about it. Anyway, this movie is fine as entertainment if you're really in the mood to see something about a guy working two jobs at once, which I suppose is a mood people get in sometimes. I thought it was kind of slow myself. They tried to spice it up a bit with some Elton John tunes, but none of them were the Crocodile Hunter song, so I can't say how well that worked. If you ask me, I think Hoffman needs to spice up his own career a bit, maybe by playing a superhero or something. I'm sure there's got to be at least a few of those left, like The Wriggler or Captain Pants or something like that he could sink his teeth into.
Red Dragon
Some people keep on pumping even when the tit done come up dry, and now we can officially add our friends at the Silence of the Lambs franchise to that list. Sure, I think Hannibal Lecter opening up a Chinese restaurant is a clever twist for a new film in this face-eating British Royalty saga, but in case anyone fell asleep before the end of the last one, or crapped out while they were reading the book, he got his hand cut off at the end. And if there's one rule of thumb that every restaurant guide and Fodor's book has in common, it's don't eat at an Asian restaurant where the cook only has one hand. Hell, I don't think Hannibal could even eat Asian food, since you need one hand to work the chopsticks and the other hand to push food onto the chopsticks, otherwise those things are worthless.
Sweet Homo Alabama
See, now this is great. I always have a gay old time every time I travel to the South, since that's just the way they swing it down there. It's not my way, but I'm not about to be the one to suggest we do things Chicago-style when I'm visiting Rome, if you know what I mean. I'm not sure what exactly Chicago-style is, maybe deep dish or something, but the point is that it's not very gay. Unlike the South, which is as homo till the cows come home. And you know, it's about time somebody made a movie about the big gay pool party that the South really is. You might get a different idea watching the news and from books and whatever, but then you get down there and Holy Homo Moses. If you can't get your crops dusted in the South then brother, it just ain't happening. This film does a good job capturing the verve and the sass of the South, though I think they scaled back on the drag queens a bit to make it more palatable for uptight Northern audiences.
The Tuxedo
It's a formula that has worked in the James Bond movies for eons: if the suit is nice enough, it doesn't really matter what boob actor you stick in it for the "motor home cart-wheeling off the cliff oops your fly is open perfect ten swan dive into a glass of French spring water" scene. That suit has been the star of Bond pictures for generations, and somebody finally caught on and spun it off into its own franchise. This time they've blanched spastic Chinese superstar Jackie Chan into the penguin suit, and his brand of "move really fast and pretend it's karate" antics translate well to this rubber-stamped genre. Chan fans will all be satisfied, as the 14 year-olds and the repressed Asian men in the audience get to see some almost-exposed breasts, Jackie falls down a ladder a few times and he uses a nerf ball to beat up a guy who looks kind of like Jet Li. Moviegoers looking for more plot, however, might be somewhat disappointed to find that the film's dialogue is made up entirely of fight noises, like "Ha! Huah! Sho! Nananana! Oooow!"
That's what we've got for you this week, America. Keep coming back next week and you might win a prize or something! I don't know, I'm not in charge of the prizes. It sounds like fun though, maybe we could give away a drug boat or a plate of nachos, something to spice up the week. I'll ask around, there might be some office chairs we're not using or a fax machine that's not chained down. You never know, you could be a winner and nobody bothered to tell you. I'll get back to you on that one.    |
