Fuckoff Reporter Leaves commune in Lurch

August 30, 2001

Greenwich Village, NY

Busty Thomas

Raoul Dunkin, probable male prostitute

ongtime commune political correspondent Raoul Dunkin has unexpectedly left his post at the commune in favor of hosting MTV's South Beach Jigglefest this spring break in Southern Florida. Confidential sources have it that MTV is just jerking Dunkin's chain, and that he's an asshole for believing them. Only time will tell, but once Dunkin is a washed-up Miami hobo begging for mustard packets on the streets, the commune will be there to cover this important news story.

In order to fulfill Dunkin's contractual obligations and ruin his credibility as a reporter in his absence, in the coming weeks the commune will be publishing the fragments of news stories and personal items that we found in his desk. We feel that this is in the best public and journalistic interest....

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December 8, 2003

Boris is Tripping

Hello hello, reading persons. Boris is here for column.

So much to tell of story!

Big news is Boris is Angel from Hell like in easy Wynona Ryder movie! Is true!

So exciting. But Boris must tell how these things does happen. First of it all starts with Boris decides to decorate apartment to surprise robot friend Louis. Louis is in such bad mood all times because economy thing is bad for robot jobs, no persons wants to pay to see and talk to plain robot. Them does go to movie to see Arnold robot who is exterminator thing to go back in time. This is big deal. Persons are having all so much fun with Arnold thing who is important robot president of California. So hard for Louis, who is only robot president of apartment and does not like to go back in time. If person does ask can Louis robot go back in time like exterminator Louis says he will go back in time to kick person's ass. This is funny saying thing.

So Louis is grouch all times and is not happy that Boris does leave apartment door open all night in case Similar to Skippy dog does come home. All other dogs and hobo persons does come in to eat Boris' peanut butter and make big mess, is bad thing. Boris does not get award for this idea.

So now Boris does have better thinking, decide to decorate apartment to bring happy days for Louis friend, like show with Fozzie person. First idea is to get lot of clinging wrap to cover apartment and make shining and easy to...

º Last Column: Boris is Too Old For This Shit
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January 20, 2003

Challenge of the Masked Dude

º Last Column: A High-Resolution New Year
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The new year is presenting more hurdles than some excessive hurdle-presenting device of some sort. Remember the Masked Dude?

Yes, former pro-wrestler the Masked Dude has been consistently on my ass like my former glitter-covered spandex tights. If you remember the details from my previous column, you're one up on meâ€”I had to look it up and re-read it just to remember, and it was hell finding the commune on this "internet" thing. But as I mentioned, the Masked Dude, the only 5-foot wrestler in our wrestling league, the Dandies of America, constantly sought me out to turn his zero-win record into a one-win, or higher. As the 4-Foot Nightmare, I was the shortest wrestler in the league and, in the Dude's opinion, the easiest path to victory. But I never fought the Dude, as I recovered from my wrestling infatuation long enough to resign from the D.O.A. and toss my tights to the wind, where they landed in a ladies social group and ruined everyone's evening.

But that wasn't enough for the Masked Dudeâ€”he's sought me out like a blood-sniffing hound, always seeking that victory he's so badly wanted. It was truly difficult to track me down, too, considering how I kept my wrestling identity a secret from everyone, even my wifeâ€”hell, even my cat, Makeshift. Somehow, though, the Dude found me living with Lee and Camembert and began stalking me, like next-level trailer trash ex-husband stalking, too.

As if the notes weren't bad enough, and they really weren't, kind of a disappointment, he began following me everywhere around November. I haven't mentioned it before now because, well, between the private investigators, the tax people, and teens seeking drugs, if I mentioned every time someone was stalking me I'd run out of column space. But unlike the rest, I couldn't buy off the Masked Dude or score anything strong enough to dissuade him. I reported it to the police, but once you get there attention with a firm "Listen, needledicks," they won't hear anything else you say. So I was on my own.

Finally, one night, I got home and found a message scrawled to me on the wall of my apartment hallway, in letters seven-foot high: "I CHALENJ YU, NITMAR!"

With the poor spelling and lack of context, it took a long while to decipher, I can tell you that. I feel a little bad for dumping Camembert out of bed, putting a sack over his head and beating him with a phone book, but you can understand my confusionâ€”who wouldn't assume it was their roommate when first seeing a message like that? I wanted to make sure his challenge was met with enough force to put off another one. But then I remembered Camembert spells very wellâ€”he proofreads these columns for me sometimes, like all times. And once he returned to consciousness, he assured me it must have been someone else, and not Lee either. With those two eliminated, and once I had called the staff of the commune and PETA to make sure none of them had anything to do with it, I narrowed my focus to the Masked Dude.

A challenge! To me! An opportunity to end this madness once and for all, and return to regular madness.

If you thought I'd turn it down, you don't know Rok Finger. Yessir, challenge acceptedâ€¦ as I scrawled in ten-foot letters on the outside of our building, just to show up the little prick. I even named the time and place, which I'm keeping secret, but let's just say it took me three buildings to get the entire message across and, well, it's a hefty fine.

One week from tonight, the gauntlet has been throw down. The loser has to pick it up, and Rok Finger never picks up after himself. Boo-ya!

º Last Column: A High-Resolution New Year
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Milestones

1979: A young Omar Bricks writes the first incarnation of what will eventually become his "My Friend Polio" column, originally titled "Why I Peed in the Water Fountain."

Now Hiring

Web Site Designer. Must have little to no professional experience, critical eye, delusions of grandeur, and think every current website sucks big ass compared to own Helmet fan page with FAQ. Starting pay of $90k to $250k, based on sheer swagger. Position will replace current asshole Neal, who should be finding out about thisâ€¦ just aboutâ€¦ now.

Most Misunderstood Nirvana Songs

1.	Smells Like Clean Spearmint
2.	Race Me
3.	Come as You Barf
4.	Small Pathologies
5.	Harp-Shaped Fox

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

BY Roland McShyster

8/29/2005

Holy Toledo, America. I've never been to the place, but it sounds like quite the religious Mecca. What religion? I have no idea, but if it's Ohio, it's probably Shriners. That just seems to fit. Anyway, we're back and black after a wonderful vacation from the grind of viewing and reviewing. Are you all ready for the return of The Entertainment Police? Neither are we. Tough noodles.

In Theaters Now:

The Brothel Grimm
That weird cartoon witch's dog is back, and he's running a whorehouse. Sure, it's been done before, but this time legendary director Terry Gilmore of Gilmore Girls fame is at the helm, and he knows how to weird shit up like a pro. From Time Midgets to What's Eating Gilbert's Grapes?, Gilmore has proven...