Special Investigator to Interrogate Al Qaeda Prisoners

he White House announced today that a special investigator has been chosen by Attorney General John Ashcroft to question Al Qaeda prisoners being held at Guantanamo Bay, Cuba. After much consideration, Ashcroft's choice was San Francisco detective "Dirty" Harry Callahan.

"Callahan is one of the best interrogators anywhere," Ashcroft told reporters. "For an investigation of this caliber, we decided to call in someone outside the FBI and CIA to take over the questioning at this point."

Controversy surrounds Callahan, who has been labeled by the ACLU and Serial Killers' Trade Union as a "dangerous, reckless monster" who will stop at nothing until he gets what he wants.

"Say what you will," Ashcroft responded to the charges, "Callahan gets results."

Inspector Callahan, who has earned the nickname "Dirty" Harry among his colleagues, fielded a few questions after Ashcroft's introduction.

A reporter from the Washington Post confronted Callahan about charges of brutality and the disregard for procedure, particularly concerning First Amendment rights. Squinting, Callahan leaned into the microphone and whispered menacingly, "What about the rights of those two buildings?"

Ashcroft began chuckling under his breath until he tumbled out of his chair.

White House officials confirmed Callahan would be traveling to Guantanamo Bay immediately to begin his interrogation of the Al Qaeda "ragheads," in his words. Already Callahan has begun his plan, requesting five minutes alone with each prisoner unsupervised, which was immediately granted by the Ashcroft.

Assisting Callahan in matters of interrogation will be his recently-assigned partner, also from San Francisco, Ruiz de Santo. De Santo, a young officer fresh from the beat to the detective squad, is excited about his opportunity to work with Callahan.

"Sure, he's a little gruff," De Santo said with a cheery smile, "but underneath that I'm sure he's a good guy. You wait and see. After all this I'm going to invite him over to the house for dinner with the wife and kids. He'll be a family man by the time we're done, I'll bet my life on it."

Callahan has recently aroused controversy by calling the trial of alleged Al Qaeda terrorist Richard Reid a "sham" and proposing trials of terrorists be cut short so they could be taken out back and shot on live television. Civil rights advocates were outraged, especially at Callahan's suggestion that current airline policies for dealing with unruly passengers be replaced.

"When I see a whacko trying to light his shoe bomb on fire, I shoot the bastard, that's my policy," stated Callahan.

The White House is optimistic that Callahan will retrieve valuable information that could lead to the dismantling of the Al Qaeda terrorist network, and perhaps even the capture of Osama bin Laden.

"By the time Callahan's through with one of those guys," President Bush said, "we'll know everything from where he was born to how many times his girlfriend farts in bed. The terrorist being questioned, I mean, not Callahan."

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I am royally bummed, good people. I can say that without fear of contradiction. For one, because anyone can verify how true it is, and two, because I'm simply not afraid of contradictions anymore. The therapy is working. I can't control when someone else disagrees, so I just have to let it go and move on with my life.

But back to business—my bummed nature. It's nothing too severe, but I'm quite disappointed that I've exhausted my supply of Haitian cigarettes. I knew they wouldn't last forever, but I had no idea they would go so fast. It seems no sooner had I stepped off the plane than I completely emptied my little baggy full. What a shame.

I should explain myself, since I haven't informed you of my wonderful find yet. On vacation in Haiti with the Mrs., my Mrs., just in case you wondered, I discovered the one high-quality product they make in Haiti: cigarettes. If you think you've smoked wonderful, mind-blowing tobacco before, good people, you haven't smoked anything like Haitian tobacco. It makes your mind come alive with possibilities, and suddenly everything becomes funnier and more important than it previously had been. Now that's good tobacco.

In truth, I had intended to do more on my honeymoon—parasail, scuba dive, leave the hotel in some fashion, but I had to let Mrs. Finger run off by herself, because I so enjoyed sitting in my room, smoking Haitian tobacco and watching cartoons on television. It is that good, my friends. You can bet I packed a healthy supply of handrolled—they're all handrolled down there—cigarettes before I came back to the States.

I worried about having trouble with them on the plane, if you know what I mean—smoking's prohibited. Well, of course, I knew it would be difficult to resist the fine, fresh flavor of Haitian tobacco for the entire plane ride, so I taped all my cigarettes under my armpits before departing for home. The customs official gave me an odd look when he searched me, and I was worried he might jostle them loose and, well, I'd start smoking all 635 of them right away, right there in the airport. Ha! What a sight that would have been. But he didn't even touch them, really. So I got back to our fine country with all my cigarettes intact.

But, alas, they're all gone now. I've never been much of a smoker, really, even though I like to try new things and I always do what people on TV do. These are good, though, I smelled them at a party the first night I was in the country and knew I had to try them. Still, as I said, they're gone now. I finished the last one two days ago and have been, how you might say, "jonesing" for a new one ever since. I've tried regular cigarettes in their stead, but none of them have that smooth, uplifting feeling of real Haitian tobacco.

I'm not saying I'm desperate or anything, but I have taken to driving around bad neighborhoods, looking for Haitians who can hook me up, give me just a little "fix"—since I do feel like I need a tune-up that only satisfying Haitian tobacco can give me. When I see a Haitian, I roll down the window and yell, "Smoke, smoke!" I hope I'm not underestimating their language skills, they may even speak English, but how am I to know that? I'm just anxious to get my hands on some of their nifty cigarettes, and don't have time for lengthy conversation.

Lee says he knows a fellow in some sort of "joint" that knows a guy who can get me Haitian tobacco. Not that I don't believe him, but I worry he's holding out on me, in some fashion. I told him I have the money, or I will by the time I get my next paycheck, or I get paid for the TV that I sold to the neighbor. Right now I need just a little taste—the taste of fine Haitian tobacco.

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Dear commune:

My name is Kent and I am 8 years old. I am doing a biography on President George W. Bush and I would like to know all about him. Please tell me everything about him, like where was he born, how did he become president, and what does the president do?

I think the commune is a great news website.

Kent Birkell
Ohgett, Utah


Dear "Kent":

Nice try, Al Qaeda! Sounds like a good plan right off the bat, doesn't it? Write to some unsuspecting, poorly-run news organization, like the commune, and pretend to be a grade-schooler so you can get all the elusive secret information about the leader of the free world. Well, suck on it instead, dickless!

You aren't getting free information from us, Al-Shabib. You made two mistakes in your otherwise-brilliant plan. For one, you referred to George W. Bush as the president without quotation marks—you're either a Republican or a terrorist, and either way we don't trust you. And second, the commune—a great news website? You must not be from this country.

We hope your little dirty bomb or whatever goes off during construction and leaves you a dirty smear, terrorist asshole.

In the off chance you are a real 8-year-old who just doesn't know enough about the "president" or the commune's "news" department, we offer sincere apologies. Terrorist asshole.

the commune

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Editor's Note: the commune news is not responsible for the wind beneath your wings, so quit blaming us for it, maybe it was the dog.

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