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 February 9, 2004 |
President Bush (inset) makes eerie noises to underscore the pressing danger of the rogue M64 galaxy
âLook! Up in the sky!â shouted Bush, pointing upward in mock terror. âWeâre all going to die!â
According to White House press secretary Scott McClellan, the airborne terror President Bush cringed beneath before darting out of the room was the âEvil Eyeâ galaxy, a distant cluster of stars recently photographed by the Hubble space telescope, which according to Bush staffers will soon spell our mortal demise.
âThe President cannot stress enough the importance of putting aside divisive squabbling involving lost jobs or unnecessary invasions,â ...
aced with tough questions about the economy and pre-war intelligence failures this week, President Bush interrupted a press conference Thursday with an unusual display of astronomical panic.
âLook! Up in the sky!â shouted Bush, pointing upward in mock terror. âWeâre all going to die!â
According to White House press secretary Scott McClellan, the airborne terror President Bush cringed beneath before darting out of the room was the âEvil Eyeâ galaxy, a distant cluster of stars recently photographed by the Hubble space telescope, which according to Bush staffers will soon spell our mortal demise.
âThe President cannot stress enough the importance of putting aside divisive squabbling involving lost jobs or unnecessary invasions,â explained McClellan. âOur very lives may be in his hands this day, and itâs time for the American people to band together with the president, now and through this coming November to repel this terrible threat to the American way of life.â
All available scientists and high-school educated adults have dismissed the presidentâs claims that the Messier 64 galaxy, known as the âEvil Eyeâ for an unusual appearance caused by stars and interstellar gas rotating in opposite directions, will within the next ten months attempt to suck the United States of America off the globe like a small child sucking the sticker off an orange. While no scientific evidence exists to suggest this is even the remotest of possibilities, President Bush remains steadfast in his message.
âHoly shit, run for your lives!â Bush screamed before ducking out of the room during a press conference on Saturday, shortly after being asked to reconcile conflicting statements heâd made about rolling back last yearâs tax cuts.
Political pundits have observed that Bushâs obsession with the M64 galaxy began shortly after the results of a recent AP poll were released, showing the president had taken a sharp nosedive in public opinion after a month of Democratic presidential candidates pointing out his ample flaws. For the first time during Bushâs term, polls showed more Americans likely to vote against the president than for him, and similar polls showed Bush losing to Democratic presidential hopeful and dead man walking John Kerry in head-to-head voting. Bush staffers refute these claims, however, pointing out that Poles are unreliable and often the butt of stereotypical humor.
Other results of the AP polls show Bushâs numbers across the board as down sharply from one month ago, signaling that the presidentâs attempts to distract voters with fantastical tales of moon bases and Mars adventures were largely unsuccessful and kind of silly.
âObviously putting a man on Mars didnât turn peopleâs cranks as much as the president had hoped,â commented political strategist Vaughn Casey. âSo Bush has wisely returned to his âGreatest Hitsâ playbook in an effort to parlay national paranoia into a second term. Itâs a longshot, sure, but if the president could convince average Americans that Al Qaeda actually posed a serious threat in their everyday lives, then I suppose some kind of sucking space monster isnât really a giant leap of faith from there.â
Further requests to question the president as to the scientific basis of his fears were turned down on the grounds that Messier 64 might be listening. the commune news must admit, weâve been terrified of galaxies ever since owning a 1961 Ford Galaxie with a bum transmission in the late 80âs. Lil Duncan is the communeâs Washington correspondent and resident joie di vie, which we think is French for hose hound.
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 October 29, 2001
Penpal"In my younger days I had a penpal named LeShandy. He was a boy roughly the same age and lived in a faraway place I had never heard of called Iceland.
Sometimes he would mention, to my surprise, that Iceland was very, very green. And he had been to Greenland once and it was covered with ice. He asked his father why this was the case and his father had told him that the Vikings once plundered both Iceland and Greenland.
They had gone to Greenland and found it unpleasant, rough terrain. They went to Iceland next and liked it very much, like that little bear with the just-right porridge and all. They didn't want anybody to take the place they wanted to live, so they called the green land Iceland and the ice land Greenland.
I told LeShandy his dad was a liar and he had made the entire story up because he didn't know why. LeShandy got very angry and never wrote me back, either that or he lost my address or died or something.
I've never had a penpal since, unless you count that little girl from El Salvador that I sent all that pocket change to. I can't remember her name but I know she needed a lot of innoculations and ate her weight in grain every week, the squat little...
º Last Column: Penny Candy
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"In my younger days I had a penpal named LeShandy. He was a boy roughly the same age and lived in a faraway place I had never heard of called Iceland.
Sometimes he would mention, to my surprise, that Iceland was very, very green. And he had been to Greenland once and it was covered with ice. He asked his father why this was the case and his father had told him that the Vikings once plundered both Iceland and Greenland.
They had gone to Greenland and found it unpleasant, rough terrain. They went to Iceland next and liked it very much, like that little bear with the just-right porridge and all. They didn't want anybody to take the place they wanted to live, so they called the green land Iceland and the ice land Greenland.
I told LeShandy his dad was a liar and he had made the entire story up because he didn't know why. LeShandy got very angry and never wrote me back, either that or he lost my address or died or something.
I've never had a penpal since, unless you count that little girl from El Salvador that I sent all that pocket change to. I can't remember her name but I know she needed a lot of innoculations and ate her weight in grain every week, the squat little pig." º Last Column: Penny Candyº more columns
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|  December 13, 2004
The Search for Mrs. RightI am an old-fashioned guy, and by that, this time, I do not mean that is my drink of choice. I have traditional values, as anyone who knows me can tell. You know this, good people. And just as ice must melt back to its natural state, not-ice, I must find a woman to complete half of the Rok Finger/unknown woman couple. It is my natural state to be with someone else. As someone once said, "a man needs a maid," and boy, did it piss off feminists.
Unable to deal with the bar scene, or anything that would have "scene" added to its description, I sought the old reliable method of Internet dating. Of course, not at first. At first I attempted to write a classified ad. I consider myself something of a master of the classified ad. I unloaded over 65 free kittens, two old lawnmowers, and a refrigerator that no longer kept things cool through mastery of the classified ad. And I composed my most charming classified ad when searching for the most valuable property of allâa wife.
"Wanted: Woman, female only. BGOCMWCMWAH [Backyard Grill-Owning Currently-Married Whitish-Colored Man Who Adores Hyphenating] seeks SHITHEAD
[Single Highly-Interested Total Hottie Eager for Action and Dancing] to marry without meeting. Must be able to tolerate the handicapped and enjoy being bossed around. Owning a motorcycle a plus. Send pictures (of you on motorcycle)."
Since I received no responses, except for a few teens only eager for hi-jinks, I can only assume...
º Last Column: The Passion of Camembert
º more columns
I am an old-fashioned guy, and by that, this time, I do not mean that is my drink of choice. I have traditional values, as anyone who knows me can tell. You know this, good people. And just as ice must melt back to its natural state, not-ice, I must find a woman to complete half of the Rok Finger/unknown woman couple. It is my natural state to be with someone else. As someone once said, "a man needs a maid," and boy, did it piss off feminists.
Unable to deal with the bar scene, or anything that would have "scene" added to its description, I sought the old reliable method of Internet dating. Of course, not at first. At first I attempted to write a classified ad. I consider myself something of a master of the classified ad. I unloaded over 65 free kittens, two old lawnmowers, and a refrigerator that no longer kept things cool through mastery of the classified ad. And I composed my most charming classified ad when searching for the most valuable property of allâa wife.
"Wanted: Woman, female only. BGOCMWCMWAH [Backyard Grill-Owning Currently-Married Whitish-Colored Man Who Adores Hyphenating] seeks SHITHEAD
[Single Highly-Interested Total Hottie Eager for Action and Dancing] to marry without meeting. Must be able to tolerate the handicapped and enjoy being bossed around. Owning a motorcycle a plus. Send pictures (of you on motorcycle)."
Since I received no responses, except for a few teens only eager for hi-jinks, I can only assume women have stopped reading the newspaper altogether. Thank you very much, Lifetime.
However, I will not be discouraged. After all, I met my last wife over the Internet, didn't I? And we're still married. What a strange and charming thing it is. The Internet, I meanâthe wife is a foul-mouthed harpy. So I immediately hooked up with a matchmaking site, called WebTouch. With a name like that, how could it not deliver everything I want?
It's all very warm and personal, as you sit at home in a dark room lit by a glowing computer screen and fill out the blank spaces on a form to find the woman of your dreams. Actually, the woman in my dreams is 9-foot tall and chases me while swinging a cat by its tail, trying to strike me down, so I'm seeking someone better than the woman of my dreams. There's quite a lot of choices, too, so don't go overboard. I found when I put made "doesn't go to the bathroom" one of my requirements, I got very few responses. I suppose we all have to be a little open-minded. So I changed it to "seldom goes to bathroom."
I also told them I didn't want any foreigners, no one of a different religion, must be very pretty, must be very trim and shapely, without opinions, or at least keeps all opinions to self, will worship me with every step I take and keep her head bowed as I walk ahead of her, and if possible, will let me name her.
I'm too demanding, you say? To hell with you, good people. I say there's no point in listing all your desires in a perfect woman if you're going to wimp out and "accept" flaws. I also say "Why buy the cow when you can get the milk for free?" Because I think that's quite funny, and my father once owned a cow.
And to those of you who say I'll never get any responses when asking for so much, I say shows what you know. I've already received a wonderful opening email from the elegant Lady Buttsfree, who lives in Somewhereland, England, or as I know her, the good lady writing from 2funnypricks@hotmail.com. She's a princess, and though it's early in our email exchange, she's already suggesting I move into her castle. I'm waiting for her to send a picture, of course, and she will, once they come in from the beauty contest she just won.
True love, you've found Rok Finger again! º Last Column: The Passion of Camembertº more columns
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Quote of the Day“I have not yet begun to fight! When I have begun, it will look quite different. Fists will be flying about, and you will hear a high-pitched whistling sort of sound that will actually be a scream. In factâI'll make a little hand gesture to let you know. When you see that, that will let you know I'm fighting.”
-John Paul Jones RingoFortune 500 CookieLove is a relative term, but even that nugget won't save your ass if you pork your cousin. Stay away from salty snacks this week, even if it means tunneling underground. Try wearing your watch on the other armâmaybe that's your problem. This week's lucky names: Alexia. Ephyn. Scatman. Toolio.
Try again later.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | Six College Courses for Retards and Sorority Girls | | 2. | Tanks: Why Can't We Drive 'Em? | | 3. | Uncle Macho's Pure Gristle Hamburgers | | 4. | Music Piracy: Are You a Fucking Thief? | | 5. | Critic's Corner: The Sailboat My Husband Painted | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 3/7/2005 Hold the onions, America. Roland McShyster is in a "here" kind of mood and there ain't no mountain high enough to stop me from reviewing this week's new releases. Maybe Rushmore. That's a pretty tall mountain. What's that one in Korea? K12? Leave it up to the Koreans to name a mountain with numbers. The Asians have always had an inherent prejudice against people who can't do math. Maybe those two mountains, and possibly a few others to be on the safe side, could keep me from reviewing this week's batch of Hollywood's finest. But your average mountain? No way. So on to the movies:
In Theaters Now:
Be Cool
Finally, somebody has made a movie out of the legendary Peter Gabriel song about not being a dork. An inspiration to many, the song will...
Hold the onions, America. Roland McShyster is in a "here" kind of mood and there ain't no mountain high enough to stop me from reviewing this week's new releases. Maybe Rushmore. That's a pretty tall mountain. What's that one in Korea? K12? Leave it up to the Koreans to name a mountain with numbers. The Asians have always had an inherent prejudice against people who can't do math. Maybe those two mountains, and possibly a few others to be on the safe side, could keep me from reviewing this week's batch of Hollywood's finest. But your average mountain? No way. So on to the movies:
In Theaters Now:
Be Cool
Finally, somebody has made a movie out of the legendary Peter Gabriel song about not being a dork. An inspiration to many, the song will surely now find a new audience among people who don't listen to lyrics unless they're being spoken like dialogue by John Travolta. And though the song does lose something by being stretched to two-hour movie length, and the producers thoughtlessly forgot to cast Gabriel in any of the main roles, a song this important can afford to lose some juice and get a little shit-smudged and still make an impact.
Constantinople
Canoe Reeves, mute half-brother of the late Christopher Reeves (the actor-hero who inspired the world by falling off a horse), stars in Constantinople, the moviefied story of a troubled man tortured by the fact that he hasn't been able to get that insanely catchy They Might Be Giants song out of his head since 1990. Performing a trick he learned from Arnold "GoBot" Schwartzreneger, Reeves again displays his knack for choosing roles that turn his "effortless" acting style into a positive, much like the video game character he played to raves of "bare competence" in The Matrix Diaries.
This time around he's believable as an insomniac who's too tired to act or emote in any discernable way, and the results pay off big time. If you're him that is, because he probably got paid a lot of money since they didn't have to fire him for grievous non-acting during the making of the film. For the rest of us, the results only pay off if you bet some friend he couldn't go through his whole life without seeing Canoe Reeves' dongle.
Cursed
Christina "The Godfather" Ricci stars in this story of a girl who's really, really sorry for swearing, in the entertainment industry's latest slobbering attempt to prove they're really, really sorry that Janet Jackson has tits. I was initially very excited when I heard this movie was coming out, because I thought it was going to be the story of the guy who invented cursive handwriting. Now that's a story I've been dying to see, where have they been hiding this genius and when will get he finally get his due? Laugh if you want, but that shit saves some serious time. Whoever it was should have his face on the nickel, I say. Piss on Jefferson, or at least get him "movin' on up" to the dime or something.
Son of MASK
For the love of 80's nostalgia, somebody finally got around to making a feature film about the Mobile Armored Strike Kommand, the legendary 80's cartoon series of toy commercials that taught kids a Camero could fly if you just thought to open the doors while driving. MASK immortalized the 80's catchphrase "Illusion is the Ultimate Weapon," and featured cars that turned into shit, but in a way that just missed infringing upon the copyright of the Transformers. The original was actually a milestone of bastardization, mixing the Transformers and G.I. Joe in balanced proportions to horn in equally on the toy sales of each.
The new film version is a capable adaptation, though a little heavy on the product placement for my tastes. However, in this instance, a strong case could be made for the movie needing to be heavy on product placement in order to be true to the original source material. While it's inevitable that some oil company's name would end up on the gas station that turns into the MASK team's Boulder Mountain fortress, the movie drags when Bruce Sato keeps having the fortress turn back into a gas station so he can buy more of Shell's addictively delicious beef jerky. Also curious was the studio's choice to name this film Son of MASK, apparently an attempt to distance it from the outdated 80's original and its gang of illiterate (Kommand?) freedom fighters. Regardless, you could do worse picking a movie to see this weekend, and probably will.
And that's all the stink they could put on it this week, America. Hope you had the time of your life, and I hope to God that it didn't involve Patrick Swayze. Until next time, folks. You can bet real American money I'll be back here in two more weeks, reviewing my little Entertainment Policing heart out. Wild monkeys couldn't drag me away, and I'd beat the banana custard out of them if they tried.   |
