Ohio Rep. Traficant Sticks to Convictions, Despite Convictions

.S. Representative James Traficant vowed not to give up his Congressional seat Thursday following the announcement of his guilty verdict on charges of bribery, racketeering, falsifying tax returns, and forcing his federal aides to dress in overalls and chew straw on his Ohio farm.

Upon hearing the guilty of verdict, Traficant, who represented himself, stated, "I accept your verdict." On the steps of the courthouse, despite his attorney's counsel, Traficant vowed to appeal the verdict.

"I refuse to accept a verdict of this nature," Traficant told the commune. "This decision, indeed these charges, have all been politically motivated. I suspect everybody involved in this trial, from the prosecution to the judge to the defense attorney to the jury is out to ruin my good name. I reject this attempt to oust me from office. I'll see to it these charges are acquitted and my attorney is disbarred."

House Minority Leader Dick Gephardt (D-Missouri) called for Traficant's resignation. Upon being told Traficant was convicted of the charges, Gephardt was unswayed and still called for his resignation.

"Mr. Traficant puts a foul mark on all congressman everywhere," said Gephardt. "His conviction on bribery charges seals the deal. He cannot be trusted to represent the people of Ohio anymore. He is exactly why people hate politicians, and has been found legally guilty of doing what everyone else is only suspected of doing."

"I might also add," continued Gephardt, "that Mr. Traficant has, in recent months, been supporting Rep. Dennis Hastert as speaker of the House. You know, Hastert? The Republican? You put it all together, eh?"

When confronted with Gephardt's statements, Traficant was resilient about keeping his seat.

"I have convictions I will not turn away from. And by convictions, I don't mean yesterday's convictions, I mean my original convictions that brought me to office." Traficant accepted an envelope from a dark-suited man which he quickly pocketed. "They have tried to convict me on these charges before, when I first began my political career. They failed then and I believe they ultimately will fail again. These are my deeply-held convictions. Once again, I mean my personal convictions, not criminal."

When questioned about the charges, Traficant spoke vaguely. "Mistakes were made. Let's just say that and nobody gets hurt."

"My only regret," continued Traficant, "was that I didn't hire bigger and burlier aides. Somebody with a little farm hand experience. At the end of the day I could've gotten twice as much done. Or hell, maybe even just hired a couple of guys to run the farm without having to pretend they work in the office. It's not like I'm running short on cash, with all the bribes and underreporting on the tax forms. But that's not a confession—I mean, that's not to say I—aw, forget it. Talk to my attorney."

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I really should consider changing the titles of these columns. The cEC (commune Enthusiasts Club, for all of you acronym-watchers!) has had way more than six meetings as of the time of this writing. About 125, according to my notes. Of course, only about half of those were attended by someone other than myself, usually my friend and cEC Torch-Bearer Sandy. Around five have had more than ourselves present, including our latest members. So that's roundabout right then… six meetings. I'll just keep the chronology in order. All of my friends know how anal I am. Which has nothing to do with being gay, so don't send emails.

We had a disastrous time with the Easter parade float, don't even ask. Let's just say we won't be contributing to anymore community affairs for a while, by order of the Shanesly city council. I probably deserve all the blame, it was my idea to watch Animal House at the meeting before the parade. Some of the more inventive members may have taken it as some sort of secret message on what I expected from the parade. In fact, that's what they told me. But we did fish the Toyota out of Lake Murty and we've seen Sandy's brother driving it around town, so the damage couldn't have been as bad as he claimed. Heh… listen to me! I make it sound like we're a couple of Omar Bricks in the club. Nothing so dramatic, really. We've only wrecked one… maybe two cars, but that's a high count.

It did get us some free attention, on the front page of the Shanesly Observer, and you know what they say about bad press. Well, Sandy says it's ruined all chances of her (and me, but mostly her) having a normal life, but she was soaking wet with lake water, so you have to give her some room for a lousy mood. I think we'll get a few new members out of it. We've already got one, if you can count the deputy who's been sitting in on our meetings ever since. He says he's there out of genuine curiosity, while Sandy (Little Miss Negativity) says he's there because he thinks we're communist insurgents.

"Where would he get that idea?" I asked her when she said that.

"Duh," she said, which is about her favorite response.

It's true, we're called the commune Enthusiasts Club, and we've made up emblems and everything and stated our club name proudly when we entered the parade. But I don't know where you get communism out of the name commune Enthusiasts Club. That's just ignorance. I told Sandy that, and she said I can tell the cops how ignorant they are while they're beating the hell out of me with rubber hoses in the back room of their "Special Terrorist Interrogation Room." Little Miss Negativity indeed.

So that's a new member. I suppose, though, if I'm going to count him I should also count Ray's parole officer. So it's either two new members or we're still at the same number. Ray, Vera, Lucas, Homeless Gary, and Sandy, who asked again not to be counted. I'm an optimist, so I say two new members! That puts us at 8, and I think once the city ban on public activity is forgotten, we'll probably double that with all the shy commune enthusiasts coming out of the woodwork.

Boy, here I am prattling on about club business and I haven't even heaped any praise on the commune yet. I wanted to commend the editors and reporters for keeping their head together on all this "Pope's dead" business. I suspected even before I read the commune's coverage that it was all a sophisticated ruse to pump up the stagnant media and hide the world-weary Pope from the public, and I was proven right, as usual. The nice thing about being a commune fan is, sooner or later, you're always proven right.

See you all next time, commune Enthusiasts!

º Last Column: The Fifth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
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"I won't join any club that would penetrate me with a member."

I've never been much of a joiner, on account I've never been let into a group. But I haven't given up on the idea of being part of an organization of some kind, especially the kind that makes me money or friends.

When I was a kid my mom tried to sign me up for everything, from 4-H to the Cub Scouts, but I kept failing the entrance exams. I was in some other youth organization my dad got me into for about a week, but my hand kept cramping up trying to do the sign. I think they were extra hard on me because of it when it came time to run the gauntlet, I didn't even get past the first sixty guys.

In school I tried to get into all the clubs, but they all had special requirements. You had to be good at something or popular or something, it was all rigged. I did find a group of kids to hang out with and everything, but they said I couldn't get into their group without a doctor's note saying I had a learning disability. Which really sucked, 'cause my doctor said I did have a learning disability, but he wouldn't write me a note since he was pissed about me eating all his tongue depressors. I say don't stick anything in my mouth if you don't want me to eat it.

I got out of high school and thought all my chances to be in a club were over, then I heard about the Kiwanis Club. They're some sort of charity or something, who cares, really, if they all get together in a building. I don't care if they worshipped goats by sticking thumbs up their asses, as long as they were a club and I could join, showing that guidance counselor once and for all who was right.

The Kiwanis were not as cool as they sounded, though. I showed up in my Kiwanis suit, complete with a little pouch on the front, and I pulled leaves out and ate them and everything, trying to fit in. Not one person in that place was dressed like a Kiwani except me, and some people even asked me what I was supposed to be, like they'd never seen a Kiwani before. Even talking with an Australian accent didn't make them any smarter. You'd think these jackasses would know the animal they named their club after. Next time I'll show up dressed as a jackass, just to embarrass them.

It probably doesn't need saying I didn't make the Kiwanis Club, but I did make bail, so everything works out alright in the end. I've had it with trying to get into a club, I'll tell you that. I've always wanted to be a part of a group of people, the kind of joes I could make friends with and share a real sense of community and shit. But I suppose I'll have to do that by starting my own club, with me as president and founder and everything. And I won't let any of those assholes in.

º Last Column: RC Dice
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