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Bring Your Drugs to Work Day an Arresting SuccessMay 2, 2005
Washington, D.C.
Ansel Evans
the commune apologizes on behalf of Ansel Evans for this extremely bizarre photo, which the photographer claims captures the “essence” of the story in a way we could never understand
L
aw enforcement officials are bursting with pride this week over the results of the first annual Bring Your Drugs to Work Day, an unqualified success that nabbed over 3 million drug users at their places of employment nationwide. The controversial sting operation, brainchild of DEA wunderkind Dickie Milkweed, snared millions of Americans who thought the “holiday” was a long-overdue relaxing of uptight social mores and restrictions about showing up to work as high as a beautiful kite.

“Gotcha, stoners!” celebrated Milkweed, sipping a virgin club soda triumphantly, giving a mocking thumbs-up to the camera and performing an awkward little dance obviously not benefited by any groove-enhancing drug use.

“This is a great day for Tootie,” slurred c...Read more...


Virgin claims record loss; record was 45 of Marvin Gaye's Sexual Healing

Serial Killer's Neighbor: "He just wouldn't shut up about serial killing."

Iran's plan to renew nuclear program inspires hard-ons with 24 producers

Anything can be microwaved instead of cooked, says lazy bastard



April 15, 2002

Click for Biography

Slice of Life

"Once in a while someone will ask me, 'Samuel L. Hartwig, what's your view of life?' I'll usually say the same thing: I'm paying you for the entire hour, doctor, you should be answering my damn questions.

I do have an answer, though: Life is just like a picnic. Everybody shows up expecting a piece of the pie. Some rush the picnic table, some walk to the picnic table. Some trample and pound on your brother Goose and say it's because they worried there wouldn't be enough pie for everyone, but you suspect it's because Goose likes to flash gang signals. Then you finally get to the picnic table yourself—not the fastest, not the slowest, but you get there just the same.

And the damn pie is all eaten up! What's with that? It's a friggin' picnic, mom, you should have known everybody was going to want pie. You were making one, was two pies beyond your pie-making capacity? 'Cause that's a pretty shitty pie-making capacity, if you ask me.

Then mom tells you she did make two pies, and you feel a little sheepish and realize it was all a big fuss for nothing. You step right up and cut into your slice of the pie, that was there all along.

'This is coconut, mom!' you scream at her. What's wrong with coconut? Oh, nothing, only it fucking kills me dead. That might be a slight problem. I'm your own son and you don't know I'm allergic to coconut? Nice. Just great. You couldn't save one piece of blueberry pie that would not kill me but...Read more...


º Last Column: The Room
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December 10, 2001

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Your Honor, the Whole Damn Vending Machine in the Hall is Out of Order

One night several weeks ago, I got home after a grueling day of communing to find a strange-assed envelope in my mail box, wedged between the usual offer for Sea Monkeys and a Carmen Electra poster catalog. At first I thought I might have won a Harley or maybe my report card from the third grade had finally shown up. No such luck. When I studied the return-address more closely, I realized it was from the Jury Commissioner's Office, and that could only mean one thing.

The game was on.

Ever since the I was in shortpants, watching my dad do battle with unseenfoes over the telephone line, I'd waited for this day. The time had come to do what any honest, red-blooded American would do when they got the call: to match wits with the American justice system and try like hell to get out of jury duty. This is what our fathers have fought and died for time and time again, compadres: the right to outsmart The Man and avoid having to find parking downtown.

I decided to warm up by trying my old stand-by dodge. I called the number listed on the back of the summons and, in a bone-chilling facsimile of my mother's voice, told the jury duty operator that Omar would be unable to make it, because he had the measles or some shit. Looking back now, it was probably throwing that "or some shit" on the end that sunk my subterfuge, because the operator said I'd have to reschedule for another date. I thought fast and tried adding on that I had whiskey-dick as...Read more...


º Last Column: A Three Hour Tour of Conspiracy
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Quote of the Day
“I can't quit you babe… you got me locked into a 24-month exclusive contraaaaact… oh yes you do oh yes you do… your early termination fees are givin' me the blues… I been on hold so long baby now so long now ba-by yeah… I know you're on the line with a-nother man and it's breakin my heeeeart in two…”

-Naked Mole Rat Jefferson
Fortune 500 Cookie
You will find true love this week, but you'll return it because it smells funny. Try using words like "adage" and "usage" less frequently; you think it makes you sound smart, everybody else thinks you're turning into Pauly Shore. Don't hesitate to fire blindly into a crowd of strangers this week: hesitation can be deadly. This week's lucky trucks: ice cream, any variety being washed by bikini babes, Gaelic Motors' 4WD Clover, any whose manufacturers don't run commercials claiming they're "like Iraq."

Try again later.
Top 5 commune Features This Week
1.Saved By the Bell: Tragedy in America's High Schools
2.Politics and Strange Bedfellows: Who's Sleeping With Farm Animals on Capitol Hill
3.Uncle Macho's Fried-Right-the-First-Time Beans
4.Mark McGwire's All-Nude Review
5.Prince: The Exclusive Interview With the Famous Recluse We Couldn't Get
Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

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

View Past Columns
BY Hank Pavik
5/26/2003
The L.I.E. Renovelized
"Welcome to the L.I.E.," said the wise-looking man who was only wise-looking because the program made him that way, and was only a man because the program had a hard time making long hair that looked real.

Necco stood and looked at the man dubiously. Sure, he'd come here to blue-screen the whole L.I.E. for good, to tear the whole system down like a lousy set of Venetian blinds and set his people free. And yeah, the people hated him. They thought he was a prick who was full of himself and wore those leather pants everyone hated. But he'd show them. He'd free their damned minds and do it using karate. Yeah, that'd be awesome. Karate.

"I see you were expecting someone else," interrupted the wise-looking man, or WLM. "Perhaps a climactic karate fight for the fate of...Read more...

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