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Bush Declares Environment Part of 'Axis of Evil'November 25, 2002 |
Washington, DC Whit Pistol Environment-siding traitors, either wearing masks or genetically misbread to look like Bush, make a lot of hooplah to support terrorism.
"It's like some villain out of that new James Bond movie, which opens tomorrow," said Bush at a meeting with oil lobbyists and business friends Thursday. "The environment is threatening the safety of America and our way of life by taking from us what is ours. The reason oil and gas is so expensive—doesn't that just make ya mean mad?—is all because th...
n his brashest act against ecological ideologies yet, President Bush declared the environment to be part of the "axis of evil" that includes Iraq, Iran, and North Korea. The environment, said Bush, in a speech written for him by a college buddy he hired, has conspired to deprive America of its much-needed fossil fuels and energy with blatant threats to "cut off" the availability of these fuels and deprive the world of oxygen.
"It's like some villain out of that new James Bond movie, which opens tomorrow," said Bush at a meeting with oil lobbyists and business friends Thursday. "The environment is threatening the safety of America and our way of life by taking from us what is ours. The reason oil and gas is so expensive—doesn't that just make ya mean mad?—is all because the environment has decided to hold out for better treatment and reduced emissions and stuff. I say we stand up and tell them where we stand!"
Afterwards, in response to reporters' questions if he was out of his mind, Bush stated: "I am in full possession of all my facilities, and I want to keep it that way. We must act now to crush the evil regime of the environment. All these threats to America, from earthquakes to hurricanes, it's all the environment's fault. I will not allow this assault on Homeland Security TM to continue by 'Mother Nature' and her axis of evil buddies."
The White House has stated its opposition to the 1997 Kyoto Protocol, signed by environment-friendly former president Bill Clinton. The Kyoto Protocol is an international treaty in which the United States pledged, with other countries, to reduce dangerous greenhouse gas emissions by seven percent in an effort to help the environment. Bush's assertion is that the Kyoto Protocol will be a threat to the recovery of the economy, which thrives much better when businesses run rampant and unchecked, left to police themselves in areas of deadly emissions. Bush elaborated Thursday that to obey the Kyoto Protocol is to play right into nature's diabolical plan to extort America.
"It is high time," said Bush, then pausing to laugh as he realized he said "high," "that America stop coddling terrorists like the environment. They're our emissions and we can make them if we want. And it's high time Mother Nature stopped holding back on the fossil fuels—we all know you got more. You know what we call someone who dishes out a little bit o' goodies and then stops all of a sudden? A tease, that's what."
The environment, according to Bush aides, has caused America to curb its business such as automobile manufacturing, logging and textile manufacturing, and nuclear arms production. The environment is also believed responsible for mudslides, tornadoes and tropical storms, earthquakes, and other "natural disasters," and the White House is warning it that the heat will only go up until the environment ceases its actions.
America's demands: Unlimited fossil fuels, quicker replacement of oxygen, warmer climate in the winter and colder climate in the summer, and as many trees as we can chop down and turn into furniture.
"We're through jumping through your hoops, environment," said an angry Bush, addressing the sky. "Get rid of all this terror, and the way this whole city stinks. If you don't, we have no alternanative but to consult the U.N.—" Bush and a few buddies laughed in each other's directions. "…and take action against this direct threat to our safety. Remember, we know where you keep your rainforests." the commune news is not a friend to the environment, as that weird smell emanating from Rok Finger should tell anyone. Lil Duncan is a sex machine, only this one doesn't rip your member off like that faulty Thai pump we bought—yeeouch!
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 October 29, 2001
Migglio the MonkeyWhen Ned was a boy he liked few things more than throwin' rocks at boats down on the shores of the ol' Pomak river. Them boats would steam on by, their big paddlewheels a splooshin' along like so many scum filters in the aquariums. The ladies in their hoopty skirts and the gentlemanly types in their bowties and ice cream suits would wave to Ned from the boats, holdin' them Martinis and smilin' like it was time to get a picture taken to send to some poor kids in Somnabiqua so they'd know who was the folks sent them all that pocket change and lil' bits of crackers and rice kernels. Them folks would smile and wave at little Neddy, and Ned would sure as April rains throw rocks at them peoples and try to knock them right out of their four-dollar shoes. When Ned was especially small, his flung rocks only made it about half-way and them ladies and gentlemen would laugh at Ned, pointing their fingers and breaking sweet wind in his direction. But each year that went by them peoples laughed a little less and looked a little more concerned, and some of them even took to carryin' umbrellas out on the deck in case Ned should hit a growins spurt and gain some extra yardage.
Finally, when Ned was eight he was able to fling them rocks right up onto the decks of them boats, and them peoples who formerly had been laughin' would yell and duck and sometimes throw rocks, and deck chairs, and Cuban waiters back at Ned. These were high times, and Ned would often find himself on the...
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When Ned was a boy he liked few things more than throwin' rocks at boats down on the shores of the ol' Pomak river. Them boats would steam on by, their big paddlewheels a splooshin' along like so many scum filters in the aquariums. The ladies in their hoopty skirts and the gentlemanly types in their bowties and ice cream suits would wave to Ned from the boats, holdin' them Martinis and smilin' like it was time to get a picture taken to send to some poor kids in Somnabiqua so they'd know who was the folks sent them all that pocket change and lil' bits of crackers and rice kernels. Them folks would smile and wave at little Neddy, and Ned would sure as April rains throw rocks at them peoples and try to knock them right out of their four-dollar shoes. When Ned was especially small, his flung rocks only made it about half-way and them ladies and gentlemen would laugh at Ned, pointing their fingers and breaking sweet wind in his direction. But each year that went by them peoples laughed a little less and looked a little more concerned, and some of them even took to carryin' umbrellas out on the deck in case Ned should hit a growins spurt and gain some extra yardage.
Finally, when Ned was eight he was able to fling them rocks right up onto the decks of them boats, and them peoples who formerly had been laughin' would yell and duck and sometimes throw rocks, and deck chairs, and Cuban waiters back at Ned. These were high times, and Ned would often find himself on the banks of the Pomak, doubled over with laughter or sometimes with a gushin' head wound from a particularly well-returned stone. One time this was the case, and Ned done fell over, with laughin or with takin a head shot, it's not Ned's time to recall which it was, but when Ned was on the ground some Gypsies come along and scooped Nedder right up into a sack and onto them horses.
Them Gypsies done built a little wooden cage for Ned, just big enough for him to crouch inside, with designs and little dancin' bears painted all up it and down it. They would carry Nedro from town to town, where they'd set up a little stage in the woods and charge the townfolk a nickel to watch Ned dance and sing little songs, and play poker with a little miniature monkey named Migglio.
Neddle and Migglio was fast friends, as they bonded over knowin' that Migglio was scooped up by them Gypsies in much the same fashion, one day when he was flingin' fig newtons at the King of Morocco. Ned an' Migglio was inseperatistable in them days, sittin' in their wooden cages and singin' Al Jolsen songs in them two-part harmonies.
One day Ned and Migglio come up with a plan to escape from them Gypsies. Them caravan of Gypsies was comin' back through the town where Nedder was from, and that night after Ned and Migglio done finished their show, Migglio went and hid in a big cast-iron pot while Ned went back to his cage like nothin' was the wiser. Them plan was for that Migglio to wait until everyone was sleepin', then go an' grab the keys to Ned's cage, and they'd be off like two jackals in a bobsled.
Ned sat up an waited for them Gypsies to fall asleep, but at the same time he done gone an' fell asleep hisself. Them Gypsies woke Ned up for dinner and they all ate some monkey soup and then them Gypsies went asleep. Ned waited and waited, but Migglio never come. Late into the night, when the moon were high as an opera star in a coca farm, it donned on Nedder. That little monkey bastard! Migglio done left without Ned!
Ned decided enoughs was enoughs so he stuck he legs out through the bars of his little wooden cage, tipped it on over and scrambled out of Dodge like a turtle made of wood. When Ned got home his parents was mad at him for stayin' out for eight months without permission, on a school night no less, and for not being there to tuck in the hedgehogs at night. They busted Ned out of his wooden cage and he went to tuck them hedgehogs in, cursing that little bastard monkey Migglio all the while. º Last Column: Lookin' a Gassed Horse in the Mouseº more columns
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|  September 19, 2005
Life Among the ProlesMy first month of retirement has been a rough one. Since I'm all out of acting jobs, I've had to go looking for a new source of steady income. I mean, I still get my commune pay, but that's about as steady as the San Franciscan fault lines. And about as big as the straight population of that city.
Have you ever had to get a job before? Man, they suck. People tell you what to do and expect you to get it done or they'll fire you. If you ask them about your motivation they'll tell you to do it or you'll get fired. No subtext work at all, these guys. And very few of them cater worth a shit either. I tell you, this is the 21st century. How am I supposed to watch the register without a break when I haven't had any rye bread and pimento-less olive snacks in more than twenty minutes? Not a good way to keep your employees happy.
So in the three weeks since I announced my retirement, I've gotten jobs at Pizza Hut, K-Mart, Home Depot, Uncle Macho's Family-Style Restaurant, Target, and Bed, Bath & Beyond. I've also gotten fired from Pizza Hut, K-Mart, Home Depot, Uncle Macho's Family-Style Restaurant, Target, and Bed, Bath & Beyond. If nothing else, I'm a completist, right?
All my jobs go through the same life cycle—I get hired, things are okay for a while, and then I'm fired for no reason at all. Right now I'm working for Ms. Diffy's Jewelry, and I'm in that middle "everything's cool" phase. I'll probably get fired by tomorrow or the day...
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My first month of retirement has been a rough one. Since I'm all out of acting jobs, I've had to go looking for a new source of steady income. I mean, I still get my commune pay, but that's about as steady as the San Franciscan fault lines. And about as big as the straight population of that city.
Have you ever had to get a job before? Man, they suck. People tell you what to do and expect you to get it done or they'll fire you. If you ask them about your motivation they'll tell you to do it or you'll get fired. No subtext work at all, these guys. And very few of them cater worth a shit either. I tell you, this is the 21st century. How am I supposed to watch the register without a break when I haven't had any rye bread and pimento-less olive snacks in more than twenty minutes? Not a good way to keep your employees happy.
So in the three weeks since I announced my retirement, I've gotten jobs at Pizza Hut, K-Mart, Home Depot, Uncle Macho's Family-Style Restaurant, Target, and Bed, Bath & Beyond. I've also gotten fired from Pizza Hut, K-Mart, Home Depot, Uncle Macho's Family-Style Restaurant, Target, and Bed, Bath & Beyond. If nothing else, I'm a completist, right?
All my jobs go through the same life cycle—I get hired, things are okay for a while, and then I'm fired for no reason at all. Right now I'm working for Ms. Diffy's Jewelry, and I'm in that middle "everything's cool" phase. I'll probably get fired by tomorrow or the day after. Wednesday, if I play my cards right.
It's not as great as you'd think, working in a jewelry store. They make you sell things to people. Customers act like complete dicks and you can't tell them they can't shop there anymore. Which I don't understand, because when I'm on the other side of the counter, that's what I usually get. At least I'll know how things really work the next time some smart-ass employee tells me that bullshit.
I've never met Ms. Diffy. I guess she lives on some ranch somewhere in Arkansas, or wherever diamond magnates live. South Africa maybe. Ms. Diffy's second in command is Julie, the shift supervisor. I've been trying to get Ms. Diffy on the phone all week to let her know Julie is a real bitch who hires all her friends and treats everybody like shit, but the secretary I get on the phone at the head office keeps trying to tell me Ms. Diffy is only a corporate icon and doesn't really exist. I've heard some lame excuses to get out of showing up to work, but that takes the cake. I should probably call in sick sometime to Bagel and tell him I never existed, I'm only a corporate entity designed to sell the commune. He'd probably buy it, if you catch him early enough.
Oh, here's some more bullshit from the world of retail jewelry: Did you know you can't wear the stuff out, like, even if you have important shit going on later? You could've knocked me over with a fart when they told me that. I tried all the angles, too, like telling them it was good for the business, free advertising or whatever. I told them my doctor said I had a condition where I had to wear two pounds of diamonds or I get sick. Nothing. They knew it was all bullshit. At least the people at Uncle Macho's were more gullible, and let me wear all the chicken wings I could carry.
I'm not desperate enough to go back to acting or anything. Shit, I hope I'll never be that desperate. But I am almost ready for some major alternatives to working. Like going for a college business degree. º Last Column: The End of an Errorº more columns
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Quote of the Day“What a waste it is to lose one's mind. Or not to have a mind is being very wasteful. How true that is. Jesus, I'm wasted.”
-Dan QuayleFortune 500 CookieDon't stop thinking about tomorrow—we hear if you're late to your own castration they charge double. Anyone can be a hero to a small child, just buy a monster truck and never take your sunglasses off. Try eating more greens: we find it hilarious and it pisses off those asshole golfers. This week's lucky medical procedures not covered by Medicaid: assectomy, therapeutic genital massage, gene therapy for "itchy taint," installation of a second "failsafe" spare heart—baboon or otherwise, and goat removal.
Try again later.Top Recent Mother Mary Appearances| 1. | Wad of wet toilet paper, Gas station restroom floor, Houston TX | | 2. | Numerous, Mother Mary's Gift Shop, Albuquerque NM | | 3. | Fur pattern on Dalmatian's ass, Kingley OK | | 4. | Burrito Del Maria, Taco Bell Extra Value Menu | | 5. | Mary, Mary, ABC Thursdays | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Stanford Romald Brown 8/5/2002 Dr. Niceguy & Mr. DribblesMr. Butterbaum was sitting by his fireside one evening after dinner, well after lunch but still a long ways before the breakfast of the following day, when he was surprised to receive a visit from Poont.
"Bless me, Poont, what brings you here?" he cried, sneezing first before he cried, which is to say he spoke loudly with a desperate lilt to his voice, not actually involving tears or the tantrum of a child. Then, taking a second look at Poont, then a third, then getting around to taking his first look quite belatedly, "What ails you?" he added. "Is Dr. Niceguy ill, or acting in such a strange manner as to suggest a physiological split personality brought on by the horrible side-effects of an experimental elixir designed to stave off the sniffles?"
"Mr....
Mr. Butterbaum was sitting by his fireside one evening after dinner, well after lunch but still a long ways before the breakfast of the following day, when he was surprised to receive a visit from Poont.
"Bless me, Poont, what brings you here?" he cried, sneezing first before he cried, which is to say he spoke loudly with a desperate lilt to his voice, not actually involving tears or the tantrum of a child. Then, taking a second look at Poont, then a third, then getting around to taking his first look quite belatedly, "What ails you?" he added. "Is Dr. Niceguy ill, or acting in such a strange manner as to suggest a physiological split personality brought on by the horrible side-effects of an experimental elixir designed to stave off the sniffles?"
"Mr. Butterbaum," said the man, who this time is Poont, the one speaking, "there is something wrong." Poont left it at that for the sake of drama and making the chapter longer.
"Take a seat, and here is a glass of wine and a pair of novelty glasses for you," said the lawyer, who was Mr. Butterbaum, who was also a lawyer. "Now, take your time, put on those googly glasses and tell me plainly what you want. But don't forget to drink your wine, as it doesn't grown on trees, but rather vines, in a manner of speaking."
"You know the doctor's ways, sir," replied Poont, possibly referring to Dr. Niceguy's abject gayness. "And how he shuts himself up in cabinets when threatened, much like a ringtail lemur. Well, he's done it again; and I don't like it, sir. May my entrails be stomped out by cattle if I like it," Poont continued, quite nastily. "Mr. Butterbaum, sir, I'm afraid."
"Alright," said the lawyer, Butterbaum. "This chapter's long enough. Get to the point."
"I think there's been foul play," said Poont, mumbling and talking into his hand.
"Foul play!" cried the lawyer, startling poor Poont to his very bejesus. "My God, foul play, foul play," Butterbaum mulled the words as if tasting them in his mouth, like chicken. "Nope! The term has no meaning to me. Of what do you speak?"
"Know not I, neither do, sir," was his answer in the English of the day; "but will you come along with me and see for yourself, so as to avoid my further lengthy explanation?"
Mr. Butterbaum's only answer was to rise, belch wetly and with an embarrassed glance aside get his hat and great coat, the coat which had fathered his previous coat and grandfathered his current one; but as he did so he observed with wonder the greatness of the relief that appeared upon the butler's face like a rash, as Poont was a butler, which may or may not have been mentioned before. And also wonderful was his realization that when Poont followed, he set his glass of wine down untasted, which meant more for him, meaning Butterbaum.
It was a wild, cold, ricockulous night of March, with a pale moon, lying on her back as though she'd indulged in too much boiled cabbage and was afflicted with the westerly winds. The night also featured a flying gazebo, which was all the rage in that day. The wind made talking, not to mention kite sailing, difficult, and also flecked the blood into the face. Which is to say it made one blush, not that there was actually blood in the wind caused by the terrible misdeeds of Mr. Dribbles, which come later.
The wind seemed to have swept the streets unusually bare of garbage, streetwalkers and carneys, who were all paper-light and heavily influenced by the wind. Mr. Butterbaum for once wished for streets not so deserted; never in his life had he been conscious of so sharp a wish to see and touch his fellow-creatures; to purse upon them his manhood and laugh as their cries for help were drowned out by the cruel winds. This thought, however, he deigned to keep from Poont until such a moment when the subject of manhood pursing came up.
The square, when they got there, was all full of wind and dust, and nighttime. Poont stopped short in his tracks, turned back toward Butterbaum, and nervously removed his hat.
"Well, sir," he said, "here we are. Let me know how it all turns out."
Poont then lit out quite unexpectedly, like a ferret from a foxhole, scurrying off toward a better-lit part of town.
"Ah, shit," said the lawyer.   |
