acists and peckerwoods everywhere trembled as their vaunted white power fizzled out into nothingness Thursday, surprising only those blind to the inevitable fall of empires everywhere. The absurdly-called "blackout," which started in the middle of the day during perfect daylight, plunged major northeastern urban areas into a state of non-electricity, which the white media presumably prefers to compare to "primitive" black culture with the derogatory "blackout" term.

The twin Northern American albino evils, the governments of the U.S. and Canada, both spent the day blaming each other for the power failure instead of spending their time fixing the power. The working classes and underprivileged were left in the dark Thursday night, with Friday night also no luckier in getting the power turned back on in some areas. White media was "delightfully surprised" that the non-white citizens left in the dark during the night didn't spend all their time looting their own stores and robbing white people—you know, acting civilized. As you know, when non-whites rob white people, it's anti-social crime; when whites rob everyone else, it's called capitalism.

New York City mayor Whitey Whiteberg praised New Yorkers for helping each other out and not killing each other like savage animals, then went home to his out-of-state mansion or high-grade penthouse with the gasoline-powered generator or whatever digs he shammed the people out of. Meanwhile, underprivileged suffering classes in Detroit went home to unbearable heat without power Friday night. Areas of New York, Connecticut, and Ohio with their power restored were forced to refrain from air conditioning in the record heat wave.

Rumors abounded in the immediate wake of the power failures. Though the most likely source of the catastrophe is now pointing to three failed transmission lines that eventually took out the Niagara Mohawk power grid, probably stolen from early industrious Native Americans, alternative unfounded causes were spread through the Internet and urban legend grapevine. Some blamed the power outage on a threatening Internet worm that managed to topple all the nation's power grids, the equivalent of blaming it on the Candyman. Most Americans were more anxious to blame it on the brown people of the Middle East, known as terrorists for not believing in the white man's God.

President and ranking redneck George "Whitey" Bush promised the problem of the electrical outage would be investigated and, if possible, enslaved and oppressed. He went on to call the electrical power grid system "antiquated," though how that makes it different from other revered elements of white culture wasn't explained by the inferior president.

Professor of African-American Electrical Engineering and frequent drinking buddy of this reporter Muhammad Bari offered more realistic interpretations of the grid power failure.

"It's clear the fatted citizens of Rome have trusted in their failing empire far too long," said the six-time winner of home Jeopardy! "The sacred calf is ripe for slaughter, and the time for the reign of a noble citizenry is nearly upon us. Now, I'm not suggesting we go out and rip down Con Edison and the White House or anything, you know. I'm just saying, in the eyes of the great and worthy Allah, we as wage slaves built this city on rock and roll and it's ours to do with as we please."

The white president refused to comment on these perfectly legitimate questions, proving who he's really serving.

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Dear commune:

As the old parable goes, "God made dirt and dirt don’t hurt." If truer words were ever spoken, I don’t know them. They probably weren’t spoken to me.

What I’m getting at is, my girlfriend is an atheist. As you can imagine, if she doesn’t believe in God she has absolutely no confidence in the harmless practice of eating dirt, it could be arsenic or anything. Being an atheist must make the world a very scary, lawless sort of place.

So what do you say? Any tips on how I can get the woman to let me keep eating dirt?

Sincerely,

Kivin Treedink
Ludlow, MT


Dear Ronald:

We are shocked into silence and delighted by your letter, each of us for various reasons. Some latched onto the thoughtful questions on the nature of the universe and the existence of God. Others were intrigued by your use of pizza sauce to dot the i’s and lowercase j’s. It was pizza sauce, wasn’t it? We have a pool going now.

Overall, most of us were heartened by your questions because if a knob of galactic proportions such as yourself can find a girlfriend, there is still hope for those of us still single. Pass on to her our suggestion that, no matter what her shortcomings, she can clearly do much, much better. Keep reading the commune!


the commune

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Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for the publication of letters than offend you or us. Letters are picked randomly by a rat who comes out of the wall and eats bag upon bag of reader mail—whatever’s left is what we run. Blame the rats, as the saying goes.

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Every educated person knows what made the Roman Empire great: stunning architecture, great hats, and Russell Crowe. But what in the hell happened to those guys? Last we heard, they were kicking serious ass and feeding their enemies to the lions, in style. But where are they now? It's not those dorks riding around on Vespas and feeling up American tourist girls, is it? Well then, what on God's green earth happened?

The fall of the Roman Empire has fascinated historians ever since about ten minutes after it happened, and has been the subject of films ranging from There's No Place Like Rome and Romesick to Desperately Seeking Susan. But unfortunately for historians quoted on TV by local news crews checking in on the topic, the real reasons are complex and many, and really hard to boil down to an eight-second soundbite. Not that many haven't tried, ending up talking really fast for about nine seconds before the buzzer goes off and they get dunked in a vat of acid.

First, some background on the Romans: They came, they saw, and they kicked all the ass they could find.

But eventually all this kicking ass and being awesome got tiresome and the Roman Empire gradually turned into a parody of itself, like Bob Dylan in the 80's or the Harlem Globetrotters after they ran out of real competition and started hot-dogging it. Rome became cartoonishly decadent, corrupt and tacky. Morality went out of style and cities fell into disrepair. Then some asshole invited the German barbarians to the party and it was all downhill from there.

Some blame the introduction of Christianity for Rome's decline, since the new religion replaced the old bloodthirsty ways and turned the Romans into pacifists who wouldn't hurt a fly unless it was gay or of a different race, religion, or social caste. So when the invading Barbarian hoards showed up cleverly dressed as Christian missionaries with a whole lot of "motivational" axes and spears and swords and whatnot in tow, the Romans welcomed them with open arms and cider.

Others blame the opposite: moral decay, which is even more deadly than gingivitis. By the end, nearly every woman in Rome had become a prostitute, which made being married an expensive nightly proposition for men. Fat-cat emperors like Caligula were throwing lavish barf parties almost nightly, where guests would eat until they honked, eat some more, take a break to feel awful, honk a few more times, and then go swimming. Most of the Roman Empire's high society drowned as a result of these get-togethers, and the unlucky few who didn't were constantly getting hurt after slipping on all the vomit everywhere.

The wealthy who survived the Roman nightlife were all polished off by Roman plumbing, which consisted entirely of lead pipes due to the extremely popular "Get Dead with Lead" slogan of the day. The poor lucky enough not to be able to afford this deadly plumbing had to make due with the crystal clear healthy water from Rome's aqueducts.

But the poor got theirs too, only at the Colosseum, where so many men and animals were slaughtered on a daily basis that they eventually just painted the whole place red to cut down on cleaning expenses. Games would begin early in the morning, and by sundown the corpses were piled so high that the fighting floor was level with the first row of seats, allowing the lions and berserk big hairy fighting guys to spill into the crowd, causing much mayhem and entertainment. The wealthy would take this as their signal to head home and clean up for that night's barf party, preferably before the lions could get to their box seats.

Having the general public come into contact with all this carnage on a daily basis also had a negative effect on Rome's public health, as jock itch became a major problem.

Also troubling were the rising levels of alcoholism among the general public. The wealthy had always been booze hounds, but now even the working class was pissing off their duties and wandering around drunk all the time due to water having been replaced by wine in many Roman homes, thanks to a misunderstanding of Christian theology.

The Roman government was also in trouble, because everyone had a different idea about how to choose a new emperor. Every time the old one died, almost always at the hands of his confidants, spouse or children, the senate would have to go through months of hearing every harebrained idea for emperor selection that people had been cooking up over the years. Drawing straws, throwing a bouquet into the crowd, pulling a sword from a stone, the Romans would try anything. In the end, it never mattered what they decided on, since the emperor was always assassinated within two weeks and they'd have to start all over again.

Soon, the Roman currency began to devalue, since the wealthy Romans had used up all the gold to make statues of themselves, and the public was unimpressed by any of the new Roman currencies made from lettuce, chocolate, or rocks with numbers painted on them. Forgery became a huge problem because no one was certain what real money lettuce was supposed to smell like. Eventually, the Romans had to turn to salt as their main form of currency, because it was the only thing everyone liked. Pepper was used as money on the black market, but even this system was not without its flaws due to expensive sneezing epidemics.

Crime on the streets became a major problem, and citizens in major cities were constantly being mugged for any stray salt they might have in their pocket bottoms or for the salty sweat off their foreheads. The police were corrupt and could easily be bought off for a sprinkle or two.

In the end, the Roman elite pulled too many of their soldiers away from the fight with the Germanic barbarians, in order to protect them from all the lions and scary motherfuckers running loose in the Colosseum, and Rome was lost. Alaric the Goth, a big-haired barbarian fond of dramatic fashion choices, captured Rome in 410 C.E. and had the entire city painted black. This made everything all hot and uncomfortable, though, and the Barbarians eventually left after painting "ROME SUX" in big letters on the front of the Colosseum. The Romans took Rome back, though nobody really wanted it by then, and the apathetic empire would eventually fall in 476 C.E. to the German Odovacar, who just came for a visit and didn't realize he had conquered anything of note.

So what lesson are we to learn from the sad fate of the once-great Roman Empire?

Woops! Sorry, pot pie's done. No lesson this week.

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