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October 24, 2005 |
Washington D.C. Whit Pistol New Hampshire Senator Judd Gregg, Powerball winner, decided to give an impromptu speech on the way home from filming an Old Navy commercial for extra spending cash. epublican Senator Judd Gregg finally ran into a big steaming pile of luck Wednesday when he matched 5 of 6 Powerball numbers and won a lottery jackpot of $853,492. Gregg immediately called Vice-President Dick Cheney to let his boss know he would not be coming into work.
"It's about friggin' time I got some good luck," Gregg told reporters in front of his home in his home state of New Hampshire. Gregg waved his winning ticket in the air frantically and laughed. "Eat it, taxpayers! I'm gonna be my own boss from now on!"
Gregg, who chairs the Senate Budget Committee and spent more than $2 million in his last re-election campaign, did admit to some sour grapes in not winning the $340 million jackpot won by an Oregon player in the same lottery.
"I wouldn't hav...
epublican Senator Judd Gregg finally ran into a big steaming pile of luck Wednesday when he matched 5 of 6 Powerball numbers and won a lottery jackpot of $853,492. Gregg immediately called Vice-President Dick Cheney to let his boss know he would not be coming into work. "It's about friggin' time I got some good luck," Gregg told reporters in front of his home in his home state of New Hampshire. Gregg waved his winning ticket in the air frantically and laughed. "Eat it, taxpayers! I'm gonna be my own boss from now on!" Gregg, who chairs the Senate Budget Committee and spent more than $2 million in his last re-election campaign, did admit to some sour grapes in not winning the $340 million jackpot won by an Oregon player in the same lottery. "I wouldn't have minded some of that sweet cash," snickered Gregg, who didn't bother dressing up for the press conferences. Wearing a pair of cutoff jeans, brown flip-flops, and a Senate Budget Committee muscle T, Gregg added, "I only play the lottery when it gets into real money like that. I could've used it more than that Oregon guy. What do they even have in Oregon? I bet he uses that money to move to a kick-ass state like New Hampshire." Though Gregg's announced resignation would be effective immediately, officials at the Republican Party Headquarters, the very mouth of hell, claimed Gregg would soon recant his resignation, and chalked it up to "lottery euphoria." "He does this all the time," said RNC spokesperson Phyllis Harbor. "Last year he fixed up an old Geo of his and sold it and told Cheney he was quitting. Just a few months ago he called in because a banking error in his favor left $3,000 extra in his account. Or maybe that was a beauty contest he won… I may be getting confused with a Monopoly game we played in the office last night. But frankly, Mr. Gregg is fairly high-strung for a Senator. He quit one time when the Sci-Fi Channel had a Twilight Zone marathon on. He ended up taking a sick day and just came in regular. No big deal." Fellow Budget Committee member Sen. Kent Conrad (D, North Dakota) confirmed Sen. Gregg has a tendency to overreact in financial situations. "He was going around everywhere in town just a few months ago, trying to raise $300 million for some 'project' he was putting together. When I asked him about it, it turns out he wanted to open a bait shop by the interstate so he could quit this 'lousy job' and be his own boss. I reminded him he's a millionaire already, and he had perhaps overestimated the amount of start-up capital it takes to open a bait shop. But that's Judd for you. He doesn't take well to numbers." Gregg himself answered some questions by phone, and was so far staying resolved in his plans to leave the Senate. "Forget it. I'm quitting this shitty job. I might give 'em some notice—till the end of the week at least. But come Friday, no joke, I'm outta here." Gregg made a whistling sound to punctuate his impending exit, and the sound of Rosanne playing on Nick-At-Nite could be heard. "Between the lotto money and some stocks and shit I could sell, I might finally be able to buy a partnership in a bowling alley like I've always wanted. I'm so ready to be my own boss it's not even funny." The soon-to-be-ex-Senator was kind enough to respond to all questions, but no one here thought to ask what a Senator is doing playing the lottery anyway. the commune news doesn't play the lottery because it's all just a popularity contest. Ramon Nootles has never won any popularity contests, mostly due to him being an unrelenting asshole.
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 Castro Announces 2008 Candidacy; Clinton, Obama Drop Out of Race |
Controversial Rockwell Painting Found in Collection of War Criminal Spielberg Giuliani Woos Conservative Base By Killing Arab Bush Admonishes Tornado’s Cut and Run Policy |
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 July 7, 2003
Volume 46Dear commune:
If "God Don’t Make No Junk," then how do you explain the Oak Ridge Boys? They suck.
Sincerely,
Norman Turner Falling River, VT
Dear Norman:
The paradox you’ve hit upon is one of many caused by a shoddy translation of the Bible from its original Aramaic. The passage you’re quoting is thought by most modern scholars to be more correctly translated as: "Good God, how much did ye pay for this shithole?" which is what the lord said the first time he saw Peter’s house. Scholars think Peter’s place must really have been a dump, as it was vile enough to offend a savior who had been born in a barn. Speaking of which, "Werest thou born in a barn?" is another popular Bible quote, which referred to Jesus’ annoying habit of leaving the door open wherever he went.
the...
º Last Column: Volume 45 º more columns
Dear commune: If "God Don’t Make No Junk," then how do you explain the Oak Ridge Boys? They suck. Sincerely, Norman Turner Falling River, VT Dear Norman:
The paradox you’ve hit upon is one of many caused by a shoddy translation of the Bible from its original Aramaic. The passage you’re quoting is thought by most modern scholars to be more correctly translated as: "Good God, how much did ye pay for this shithole?" which is what the lord said the first time he saw Peter’s house. Scholars think Peter’s place must really have been a dump, as it was vile enough to offend a savior who had been born in a barn. Speaking of which, "Werest thou born in a barn?" is another popular Bible quote, which referred to Jesus’ annoying habit of leaving the door open wherever he went.
the commune Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for curds, whey, or any other ethnic divisions which may be present in your cottage cheese. As the saying goes, you bought your cheese, now eat it with apple slices.º Last Column: Volume 45º more columns
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|  March 31, 2003
Volume 39Dear commune:
Chuck Weinert writing in to say that I crap bigger than you. I mean that literally and it’s a serious problem in my life. I’ve gone through three divorces and countless trailer homes because of this problem, and I’ve been blacklisted by the local plumbers’ union. You may think I’m joking, but right now I’ve got a crap on deck that would cripple a lesser man.
No one can say when this problem started, and doctors have been hesitant to investigate for fear of losing expensive medical equipment. I don’t know what exactly I expect the commune to do about this, but my guru suggested that it might make me feel better if I could share my plight with others. So there you go.
Chuck Weinert Toebush, VA
Dear Chuck:
Thank you for sharing your fascinating story with our readers and staff, who are one and the same. We hope that this helps you in your journey through life. However, our guru tells us that discussing the matter further would run the risk of crapping up our Chi, and we can’t risk that since the results from our most recent chakraoscopy were not entirely encouraging.
the...
º Last Column: Volume 38 º more columns
Dear commune: Chuck Weinert writing in to say that I crap bigger than you. I mean that literally and it’s a serious problem in my life. I’ve gone through three divorces and countless trailer homes because of this problem, and I’ve been blacklisted by the local plumbers’ union. You may think I’m joking, but right now I’ve got a crap on deck that would cripple a lesser man. No one can say when this problem started, and doctors have been hesitant to investigate for fear of losing expensive medical equipment. I don’t know what exactly I expect the commune to do about this, but my guru suggested that it might make me feel better if I could share my plight with others. So there you go. Chuck Weinert Toebush, VA Dear Chuck:
Thank you for sharing your fascinating story with our readers and staff, who are one and the same. We hope that this helps you in your journey through life. However, our guru tells us that discussing the matter further would run the risk of crapping up our Chi, and we can’t risk that since the results from our most recent chakraoscopy were not entirely encouraging.
the commune Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for your dull, oafish eyes or the glacial pace at which you react to life stimuli. Which is why it is so easy for us to make light of your behavior, delightfully free from feelings of guilt.º Last Column: Volume 38º more columns
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Quote of the Day“The good die first. Then, the not-so good. Then the ugly. Strike that, the ugly should die first. Can I start again? If there are any good left, don't kill them yet, we've still got some uglies over here.”
-Billiam SwordswartFortune 500 CookieThe next time you give a dog as a gift, why don't you try poking some holes in the cellophane, ay handyman? Here's something to chew on: gum. Remember: you can't hurry love, but you can get your ass in motion when you're blocking the express lane, chunky. This week's lucky ducks: Donald, Daffy, Dontrelle, Fukka.
Try again later.Worst-Selling Breakfast Cereals| 1. | Scroats! | | 2. | Branimal Crackers | | 3. | Frosted Mini-Thins | | 4. | Too Much Fibre | | 5. | Vitamin Pill Crunch | | 6. | Unlucky Leprechaun Pocket Fuzz | | 7. | Byproducts | | 8. | Easter Peeps in Milk (milk included) | | 9. | You’ve Got Crabs | | 10. | Beano: The Cereal | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Dr. Whoot 12/22/2003 Some Fuck Stole ChristmasIt was on all-hallowed Christmas Eve it happened. In the middle of the night, in the coldest of December airs, some fuck came down the chimney of every stinking house and stole Christmas right from under the sleeping noses of the whole goddamn town.
People awoke all a-clatter from their dreams of sugarplums and shit and found every single piece of valuable merchandise had been lifted during the night. Even the sentimental crap, homemade decorations and what, had disappeared without so much as a fingerprint. Detectives in the 9th precinct were shithouse. The best investigator in property crimes was put on the case, Detective Jethro Davies.
Davies scouted the crime scenes, which was every house in the entire damn town, and had owners and family members making a...
It was on all-hallowed Christmas Eve it happened. In the middle of the night, in the coldest of December airs, some fuck came down the chimney of every stinking house and stole Christmas right from under the sleeping noses of the whole goddamn town.
People awoke all a-clatter from their dreams of sugarplums and shit and found every single piece of valuable merchandise had been lifted during the night. Even the sentimental crap, homemade decorations and what, had disappeared without so much as a fingerprint. Detectives in the 9th precinct were shithouse. The best investigator in property crimes was put on the case, Detective Jethro Davies.
Davies scouted the crime scenes, which was every house in the entire damn town, and had owners and family members making a detailed list of all stolen goods. They requested FBI help on the case, but on Dec, 25th it was hard to get Washington moving, no matter how big the crime. Davies scowled as he knelt under the mantle in a house where once hung stockings, garland, Christmas cards, and those little ball things.
"This guy went apeshit all over the whole town," growled Davies. "Tell me, Mendez—what kind of sick fuck goes through a whole town in one night, carts off roughly 6,000 pounds worth of valuable merchandise, and doesn't leave a fingerprint?"
Mendez shook his head and held his mouth. "I think I'm going to be sick!" He vomited all over the crime scene. Davies stepped back, then patted him on the back.
"It's okay, Mendez. If it doesn't affect you, you ain't human."
All available detectives were called in to canvas the crime scenes in the first 72 hours. Everyone acted with haste and forced jolly, dimly considering in their heads the sick fuck could already be hundreds of miles away from here by now.
Davies and secondary detective Ted Geisel went over the evidence together in a late-night session.
"Anything unusual in the report?" asked Davies.
"Pretty much the same everywhere chief," said the detective. "Every house—tinsel, decorations, trees, all the trees. Every goddamn present you could ask for. This freak will be rolling in it tonight. One house reported their fucking Christmas dinner had been stolen. Roast beef with all the trimmings."
"Beef? That looks like an 's.'"
Then the news came over the police scanner: A suspect on old Grouch Hill was being pursued, wanted for questioning. A ghost-white look shot over Davies' face.
"They got him. They got the son of a bitch."
"We'd better hurry," said Geisel, stepping up and grabbing his jacket from the chair. "That was broadcast over the scanner. Every hillbilly with a shotgun in fifty miles is going to be looking to put two shots in that fuck's back. Let's roll."
Even on the way to the car they realized they were already too late. Pick-ups and El Caminos by the dozen were rolling out of drive-ways, every seat stocked with pissed off townspeople who saw no Christmas that day. They were hooting and hollering, ready to take their yuletide cheer out of someone's ass. There was no way enough policeman could be assembled to stem the violence in time. That Christmas-stealing fuck, whoever he was, would be experiencing frontier justice tonight.
For more of this great story, buy Dr. Whoot's Some Fuck stole Christmas   |