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Terrorists Probably Too Hungover for New Year's AttackJanuary 5, 2004 |
Riot police, being the pessimistic bastards they are, prepare for a celebratory riot in case terrorists drop the ball
Despite the lack of festive atrocities, few can blame Western governments for a lack of preparation. Security was tighter than a duck's ass at New Year's celebrations all over the United States, with precautions taken to ensure that only revelers too drunk to carry out sophist...
omeland Security experts are blaming probable excessive alcohol consumption among Al-Qaeda members for the lack of an earth-shattering, soul-crushing, make-you-wish-you-were-born-dead terrorist attack expected last week over the New Year's holiday. Despite the recent elevation of the nation's security level to code orange ("Citrus-Flavored Death"), the New Year was rung in without incident, excepting the usual rash of DUI fatalities and celebratory gunshot deaths that are customary for this time of year.
Despite the lack of festive atrocities, few can blame Western governments for a lack of preparation. Security was tighter than a duck's ass at New Year's celebrations all over the United States, with precautions taken to ensure that only revelers too drunk to carry out sophisticated terrorist plots would be allowed to attend.
Security was especially tight-assed in Las Vegas, where field reports indicated security was also especially high and obnoxious. Thanks to FBI warnings that Al-Qaeda thinks Las Vegas is "tacky," security considerations for Fox's annual "America's Party" televised concert and shmoozeapalooza at the Venetian Resort Hotel/Casino bordered on the Orwellian. In an especially innovative precaution, Fox held a fake New Year's Eve celebration on Dec 30th, complete with a diversion concert to draw out terrorists unfamiliar with American traditions and the "Thirty days hath September" rule. Unfortunately, this security measure failed due to a lack of starpower so blatant even foreign nationals unfamiliar with western culture noticed. The faux-bash, headlined by 80's holdovers Dexy's Midnight Runners, failed to elicit the terrorist onslaught hoped for by Homeland Security heads and music fans everywhere.
"It wouldn't have been that hard to fool these guys into thinking it was a real New Year's countdown party," bitched reveler Danny Postum. "Hootie and the Blowfish probably would have been good enough, or the Pretenders. I'm just pissed I bought tickets to the wrong fucking concert."
"What is with this bullshit?" asked Aman Halazi of Jordan. "We get better bands than this in Jordan. I could pull a better concert out of my dick-hole."
Due to the unconvincing ruse, many of the bands and celebrities scheduled to appear at the actual New Year's celebration sent celebrity impersonators and sound-alike bands in their stead, a move that might have proved controversial if anyone had noticed. Metallica, Ashanti and Paris Hilton could not be reached for comment, but all seemed pissed that their impersonators had all parlayed their appearances into lucrative recording and television deals.
Meanwhile, aviation officials for British Airways have cancelled all flights between London and Washington D.C. since New Year's Eve amidst credible threats of a plane-based attack on the American capitol. Frustrated travelers, however, have been calling for evidence of the threat and proof that the pilots aren't just too hungover to fly.
"The threat against Britith.. British Airwings is real and evident," announced FBI spokesman Walter Hammel, wincing from a post-New Year's hangover. "Several names on the passenger manifolds for recent flights have match… oh Jesus… uh, matched those of gnome terrorists." Hammel quickly excused himself as he sprinted in the direction of the men's room.
While the names in question turned out to belong to an elderly Chinese woman, a six-year-old boy and a chain of donut shops, British defense analyst Paul Bever insisted the threat was real.
"Oh yeah, totallyabigdealok…" slurred Bever, reeking vividly of rum.
"Oh Jesus," moaned a remorseful Hammel, passing through the room in a daze. "I just took a shit they're going to write folk songs about. Get out of my way."
Meanwhile in America, the FBI sent out a bizarre bulletin on Christmas Eve, warning police departments nationwide to be on the lookout for any potential terrorists carrying almanacs, fact-filled books that could conceivably be used in planning terrorist attacks.
"The FBI cautions you to be on the lookout for suspicious characters seen in possession of almanacs, maps, Cliff's Notes or volumes of Encyclopedia Britannica," the statement read. "We also advise you to detain anyone asking for directions."
"Look, let's not get carried away here. They're not saying you should shoot to kill the first time you see somebody with an almanac," explained terrorism expert and terrible dancer Ted Heyman, in response to America's collectively arched eyebrow. "A wing-shot should be plenty to put any fact-seeking terrorist out of commission until well after the holidays." the commune news partied like it was 1999 this New Year's: we tried to impeach the president and crossed our fingers that another useless celebrity would fly his plane into the ocean like a big retard. Ivana Folger-Balzac rang in the new year in her customary fashion: calling everyone she knows to remind them they're now officially one year closer to death.
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U.S. bubonic plague plan hopelessly out of date
Disdain in Spain from insane pre-war weapons claims
Yale bombed, Harvard too drunk to walk home
 Tree Bark Face Turns Out to Be Likeness of Jesus Lookalike Vance Waxman |
Lost Leaves Plotlines Half-Solved in Honor of Shooting Victims MySpace to Offer Breaking News on What Ira Mankovics is Doing Right Now Alec Baldwin Records Devastating Voice Mail Message for Shooter Sony’s Poorly Timed “PS3 Price Massacre” Backfires |
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 February 18, 2002
Volume 14Dear commune:
Your publication means a lot to me. I'm sure a lot of people say that, but I have a special reason. I started reading the commune in prison and it helped inspire me to straighten my life out. I'm not exactly sure how, you figure that one out for yourselves.
I managed to get out with time off for good behavior, and everything has been great since. I started dating my parole officer and recently moved in with her, making plans to be married soon. It's been a positive change for her as well, as her daughter used to be in trouble with drugs and promiscuous sex before we started dating, so everything's been great for everybody.
I do have a question, though: Is incest a real law or just a social taboo? And does that apply to consenting individuals who are not related by blood? Thanks.
Jarway Hepburn
Friedmon, CT
Dear Jarway:
According to our bathroom walls, incest is best. Your story is very encouraging to all of us at the commune. If the commune is suited to providing hope to those with dim futures behind bars, we're sure we'll be doing so for you again very soon.
the commune
Dear commune:
Howdy there! I am a professional daredevil. If it needs to be said, kids, do not try anything I do at home.
I'm a big fan of the commune. Not really, but I am a big fan of self-promotion through media outlets like the commune. I'll cut...
º Last Column: Volume 13
º more columns
Dear commune: Your publication means a lot to me. I'm sure a lot of people say that, but I have a special reason. I started reading the commune in prison and it helped inspire me to straighten my life out. I'm not exactly sure how, you figure that one out for yourselves. I managed to get out with time off for good behavior, and everything has been great since. I started dating my parole officer and recently moved in with her, making plans to be married soon. It's been a positive change for her as well, as her daughter used to be in trouble with drugs and promiscuous sex before we started dating, so everything's been great for everybody. I do have a question, though: Is incest a real law or just a social taboo? And does that apply to consenting individuals who are not related by blood? Thanks. Jarway Hepburn
Friedmon, CTDear Jarway: According to our bathroom walls, incest is best. Your story is very encouraging to all of us at the commune. If the commune is suited to providing hope to those with dim futures behind bars, we're sure we'll be doing so for you again very soon. the commune
Dear commune: Howdy there! I am a professional daredevil. If it needs to be said, kids, do not try anything I do at home. I'm a big fan of the commune. Not really, but I am a big fan of self-promotion through media outlets like the commune. I'll cut to the chase: I'm mailing myself to the commune offices in a large package. Don't worry, I've tested it before by mailing myself to the neighbor (boy, was he surprised!) and I have just enough food and water to get by safely. I also have a small TV and VCR with some rented movies and as long as I get them back in time everything should be alright. I'm sending this letter separately to let you know I'll be starting this adventure tomorrow. Hey, maybe I'm already there! Wish me luck! Vern Didactic
San Francisco, CADear Vern:
It troubles us that this letter arrived so late in the mail, judging by the postmark. Even more troubling is the fact that since the anthrax mail scares we've been soaking our packages in the pool overnight.
the commune
Dear commune: I am an aspiring magician. I need to know, how do they pull a rabbit out of a hat? At first I thought maybe there was a break-away bottom to the hat and they reach through the hat into the stand they put it on. There would also have to be a break-away top to the table and a rabbit stuffed inside. Or, if none of that was the case, a fake bottom to the hat and the rabbit is crunched inside. Then it's just a matter of making the rabbit look alive when you pull it out, which would probably be easy enough. The trick becomes even more perplexing on the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show. Bullwinkle doesn't even pull a rabbit out, it's always something weird like a lion or a rhinoceros. I can't even imagine what kind of break-away table is underneath. Maybe mirrors are used to make it look smaller. I suppose it's possible there's some kind of camera chicanery going on, but I watch closely and don't see any noticeable edits. And I have a very sharp eye. If I'm going to be a magician, though, there's one question I must know the answer to: Where can I get one of those top hats? I've never seen one at K-Mart or Sears. Cary Lupino
Texarkana, ARDear Cary:
A magician's secret weapon? Yes, but there's much more to the top hat than that.
Top hats have been the star on the top of the fashion tree since a long time ago. For an added touch of "ooh la la" nothing says fancy motherfucker like a top hat. Taco himself once suggested if you're blue and don't know where to go to, you should go where fashion sits, puttin' on the ritz. All said while wearing a keen top hat.
Top hats are verified worldwide as the easiest hat to toss off non-chalantly onto a nearby hat rack when you come in the door. And there are no other hats in the entire galaxy that look suave with a pair of white Mickey Mouse gloves. Wearing white Mickey Mouse gloves and don't want to look like a total shmoe? Try something other than a top hat you'll appear quite the buffoon.
Top hats even add a little bit of dignity to unavoidable court appearances, and that comes straight from commune editor Red Bagel himself. Always carry one in your glove compartment or trouser pockets, assuming those pockets are big enough.
the commune would also like to thank it's proud new sponsors at Malone's Top Hat Emporium. Malone's—we know fashion and even if you know fashion we probably know just a little more than you, so listen to us.
the commune
Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for the rash of teen movies starring female pop stars. Like everyone else, we're anxiously awaiting the return of music with balls. Garage bands of the world unite!º Last Column: Volume 13º more columns
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|  June 9, 2003
Mornin' Ralph, Mornin' SamWell, it seems as if another baseball season is well upon us, with the grotesquely overgrown boys of summer regaling us with their rawhide antics. This season has progressed like many others, with the Yankees and Braves keeping things safe for folks who only check the standings every couple of years, and the Mets playing a brand of baseball so ugly even the New Yorkers have noticed. I've been saying for years that trading for Mo Vaughn was a mistake, that team just hasn't been the same since he ate the middle infielders.
Last year the big controversy was steroids, when the apathetic public finally took notice after enough guys had their meat-laden arms rip out of the sockets mid-swing, drenching the field in a strange purplish blood that singed the grass. Ken Caminiti admitted to using steroids during his years as a player, which was just as shocking as Cheech and Chong dropping the bomb that they occasionally enjoyed a little toke of the reefer. Most steroid freaks only break a bat over their knee when they strike out, but Caminiti would break bats over his own throat when people pronounced his last name wrong. The league should have taken notice when he stopped wearing a cup and starting wearing a sports bra.
The big story this year is who in the hell did we send to play baseball in Detroit? I know the Red Wings are popular up there but I still say they have no business on the diamond. Get some real ballplayers up there, or at least some...
º Last Column: Stick a Fork in the Whole Damn Team
º more columns
Well, it seems as if another baseball season is well upon us, with the grotesquely overgrown boys of summer regaling us with their rawhide antics. This season has progressed like many others, with the Yankees and Braves keeping things safe for folks who only check the standings every couple of years, and the Mets playing a brand of baseball so ugly even the New Yorkers have noticed. I've been saying for years that trading for Mo Vaughn was a mistake, that team just hasn't been the same since he ate the middle infielders.
Last year the big controversy was steroids, when the apathetic public finally took notice after enough guys had their meat-laden arms rip out of the sockets mid-swing, drenching the field in a strange purplish blood that singed the grass. Ken Caminiti admitted to using steroids during his years as a player, which was just as shocking as Cheech and Chong dropping the bomb that they occasionally enjoyed a little toke of the reefer. Most steroid freaks only break a bat over their knee when they strike out, but Caminiti would break bats over his own throat when people pronounced his last name wrong. The league should have taken notice when he stopped wearing a cup and starting wearing a sports bra.
The big story this year is who in the hell did we send to play baseball in Detroit? I know the Red Wings are popular up there but I still say they have no business on the diamond. Get some real ballplayers up there, or at least some semi-coordinated beer-league softball guys you pulled out of a hat, like the Devil Rays did. There's just no way major league teams should be spotting each other runs or having their outfielders play on their knees to make things competitive. If the Tigers were a movie, they wouldn't be Major League, they'd be My Left Foot.
The feel-good story of the year so far is the Expos, who are doing well playing half of their games in a stadium in San Juan, whenever there aren't live chickens running across the field. Word is the locals have never heard of baseball, but turn out in droves to see the strange men wave sticks at each other. A concession is a concession, though, and Puerto Rican fans even got into the MLB spirit by hitting Carl Everett in the head with a radish last week. He wasn't even playing, I hear he was just in town for the world-class cockfighting. It's truly a strange world for the man who doesn't believe in dinosaurs.
People were even getting excited about the Royals this year, but that's only because everybody else in the league is on the disabled list. I don't know who let all these crybabies into the sport, but lately the MLB is like a dodgeball game at a fat camp.
Everybody's talking about Roger Clemens' 300th win, which is about as fun as watching an asshole win at cards. Not that I'm saying Clemens cheats, but if you were playing poker with some guy who suddenly hit you in the head with the five of diamonds, there'd be some eyebrows raised. I hear that as a token of gratitude the Yankees are going to trade him to Detroit for a Cadillac. Go Tigers.
I went to a Twins game last week and Torii Hunter caught a tee shirt they were trying to air-cannon into the stands, that guy's an asshole.
I'll keep you updated on my attempts to get on the Yankee payroll this season. I can still play a little left field, and it's not like they've ever heard the phrase "expense control." So wish me luck, and if you see Steinbrenner, tell him I go to bed every night at 7.
Thanks. º Last Column: Stick a Fork in the Whole Damn Teamº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Speak when you are angry and you'll make the best speech you will ever regret. Speak when you are extremely angry and you'll really regret it—all stuttering and shit, like Porky Pig. And they'll just make fun of you. I know I would.”
-Ambruce FierceFortune 500 CookieStick it where the sun don't shine—that's the only way you'll be sure it glows in the dark. Does this look like medium rare to you? Take it back or there goes your tip. If you could ask God one question, don't make it, "Who farted?" Take a self-time out this week, but don't just waste it by yourself; extract the time itself from the timeline, so you can put it back wherever you want. Lucky legends this week: Sasquatch, the Jersey Devil, Abominable Snowman, and other Bigfoot rip-offs.
Try again later.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | How Do You Keep a Moron in Suspense? | | 2. | Uncle Macho's Naked Lunch | | 3. | Grenades Are from Granada and other Historical Nuggets | | 4. | Raoul Dunkin: Pussyfoot | | 5. | The Best of Wrinkly Raisin Breasts | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 12/10/2001 What it is, America? Entertainment Police is back and on the attack with another two-weeks' worth of tips and whatnot as to the goings-on in the Entertainment world. And what a crazy world it is these days, what with the economy on recess and everyone getting Amway in the mail and all. Look, I know you came here for the reviews, to find out what to do with that Jefferson that's been burning a hole in your pocket, so I won't delay any further. On to the movies!
In Theaters Now:
Not Another Ween Movie
Ha! Those musically irreverent Ween brothers are back in their fifth film, regardless of what the title might lead you to believe. This time they're taking on the smash hit Titanic with this...
What it is, America? Entertainment Police is back and on the attack with another two-weeks' worth of tips and whatnot as to the goings-on in the Entertainment world. And what a crazy world it is these days, what with the economy on recess and everyone getting Amway in the mail and all. Look, I know you came here for the reviews, to find out what to do with that Jefferson that's been burning a hole in your pocket, so I won't delay any further. On to the movies!
In Theaters Now:
Not Another Ween Movie
Ha! Those musically irreverent Ween brothers are back in their fifth film, regardless of what the title might lead you to believe. This time they're taking on the smash hit Titanic with this lampooning (or is it serious? or are they crazy?) musical full of memorable song-and-dance numbers like "My Heart Will Go On Sale", "Hey Iceburg (Shithead)", "Go Pull a Nickel Out Your Ass, Steve" and "Somebody Please Fish My Icy Nuts Out of the Atlantic".
Ocean's 11
The sad tale of the last remaining Phoenix brother, who was incinerated this past July in a Bar-be-cue gone bad on his eleventh birthday. Like his brother River and his sister Delta before him, he lived too fast, too young, and left a good-looking pre-pubescent corpse. This tribute is a fine send-off as he sulks his way up to the big detox in the sky.
The Royal Tennis Bums
Every king and queen's worst nightmare is to have their progeny grow up to be nothing but long-haired polycarbonalium racquet-wielding tennis bums, cruising the courts looking for the cheap thrill of a pick-up match and taking pictures with their scofflaw Rebel SLR cameras. But just that is the lot for the rulers of the conveniently-created kingdom of Bumcock, who send their kids to a strict uppity tennis camp for the summer, thinking the regimentation will sap their love of the game. Instead, the royal shits beat the tennis slobs at the camp across the lake and learn something valuable about themselves in the process: they're rich.
Vanilla Sky
Only a lumpy-skulled nut-tugger like Vanilla Ice would have the grotesquely swollen balls to write himself into the history of the space program in this supposedly autobiographical picture about his childhood dream of launching a rocket and his later top-level work for NASA. Not to mention that the theme song is just Elton John's "Rocket Man" with a tambourine line added. Almost as disgusting as his last two films: "A Dream With Wings: The Orville and Vanilla Wright Story" and "Yo, I Wrote the Star-Spangled Banner".
Now on Video:
Karen Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars
If you thought last season of Allie McBeal was scary, wait until you witness this harrowing tale of anorexia, bulimia and gas-station candy bar sales. Beat to the punch by "The Karen Carpenter Story" a few years back, but I hear this one has vampires and shit, so it's probably a better popcorn anorexia movie.
Maid
That meaty dude you loved so much for Swingers and Deep Throat, Jon Favorite, is back in this hilarious lark about a hapless palooka who has to go to New York and dress up as a sexy French maid to win the girl of his dreams. It turns out that impersonating the maid at his belle-to-be's mansion is harder than it looks, and many explosively comedic situations result. Probably my favorite scene is the New Year's Eve party where no less than a half-dozen male guests try to take Jon back to the servants' quarters for some deep cleaning, and he discovers that the maid who he knocked out and put on a bus to Florida had been shining more than a few knobs around the mansion.
Pearl Harbor
Finally a WWII film that tells the real story of how we took on the Japanese at Pearl Harbor and kicked their skinny little tails, heaving bombs up into the trunks of their planes when they weren't looking. Man, I would have loved to see the looks on their faces when those bombs went off. Some irresponsible networks actually played the film footage of the attack backwards, leading many Americans to believe that Japan actually tried to bomb us on that fateful day. Right, like they'd try to bomb us! Think about it people: they're just a tiny little island. We could just go over there and blow over all their little rice paper houses with a big fan or something. Don't be so naĂŻve.
Television:
Woolf Lake (CBS)
As always, CBS takes the high road in its effort to keep its audience (average age 92) thrilled with the most boring programming available. This particular time, you've got to respect their literary credentials. Each week members of the Woolf Lake book club get together and discuss how much they enjoyed their latest reading assignment. No stars, per se, unless you count Virginia Woolf (the show's namesake), Henry James, Mark Twain, or Agatha Christie. And of course, nobody does.
The Agency (CBS)
The black eye network continues to make its 21st century comeback with this hot new sitcom adapted from that infomercial about the ad agency with the new IBM computers. Who can blame them? Few television network shows had such well-developed characters as the fat guy from accounting and that old guy who was afraid of getting on the internet. Some advice from Roland M: Drop that boring soccer mom who keeps whining about sending out e-mail memos, that pony won't play ball more than one episode.
Maybe it's Me (WB)
Give up now, Survivor! The ultimate reality show is here, and who would have thought the WB would have it? Six horrible hack stand-up comedians are put onto a set where each week they throw out the script and try to ad-lib each other out of the spotlight! The gag: They've all been told they're starring in a new sitcom, while the truth is that when it's over, only one of them can go on to star in a third-rate WB sitcom with lousy writing next season! Unless the other five get put into their own ABC shows or something.
Video Games:
The Sims Hot Date (PC)
Call me a whacko with no sense of humor, but paying $30 just to get a box with a rubber glove and Jergens lotion in it doesn't sit well with me, folks at Electronic Arts. I bet you assholes are the ones who unscrew the salt shaker at KFC whenever I'm dining in. Fuckers.
Metallica Solitude (PS2)
Everyone who knows games (and I do) has been waiting forever for this huge arrival for the Playstation 2, and it finally arrives, about ten years too late. I've never been a big fan of Metallica or their lead singer Snake, so maybe it's my fault this computerized version of their biggest video is a let down. Not bad, but playing as a crumpled old man digging your way out of some futuristic prison while morbid arpeggio music plays in the background isn't my idea of high-speed gaming.
Alone in the Dark 4 (DC)
Those fuckers at Electronic Arts are making "games" for Dreamcast now. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I come after you with a goddamn shotgun, you butt-humping jerkwipes. May you rot in hell. In the meantime, I've got a nice set of dish gloves and more Jergens lotion than anybody needs. Electronic Arts can lick my salty parts.
Well, I hope that all turned your world upside-down, I know it did mine. We'll be back in six days short of a fortnight to rain entertainment manna down on your unsuspecting heads one more time. Watch for it.   |
