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Box-Traveling Moron Somehow News September 15, 2003 |
Dallas, TX COUNTY FAIR NOVELTY Self-mailer Charles McKinley makes “going postal” news again
Authorities believe McKinley had help from at least one co-worker at the New York warehouse where he is employed, since it is extremely difficult to nail yourself into a shipping crate from the inside. The homesick McKinley, too broke to afford an airline ticket, came up with the idea after a friend complimented him on his ability to avoid buying a car by stowing away in other drivers’ trunks in order to get around town. McKinley also remembered a similar idea working in a humorous MC 900 Ft. Jesus video he’d seen years before.
McKinley took neither food...
hipping clerk Charles McKinley mailed himself from New York to Dallas in a shipping crate last week, as was reported by every major news outlet on Tuesday in the face of an apparent total lack of actual news. Authorities believe McKinley had help from at least one co-worker at the New York warehouse where he is employed, since it is extremely difficult to nail yourself into a shipping crate from the inside. The homesick McKinley, too broke to afford an airline ticket, came up with the idea after a friend complimented him on his ability to avoid buying a car by stowing away in other drivers’ trunks in order to get around town. McKinley also remembered a similar idea working in a humorous MC 900 Ft. Jesus video he’d seen years before. McKinley took neither food nor water along with him for the 15-hour journey, only a broken cell-phone and a Game Boy Advance for which he soon lamented not buying a backlight. “I brought my cell phone, even though that piece of shit’s been broken for two weeks, just in case we got up in space and all of a sudden I had service again,” explained McKinley. “That’dve been sweet, because I could call up Charles and be like ‘Yo whatup dog, I’m calling you from a box in space and shit!’ There’s no way Charles would believe that, man, he’d think I was drunk or something. But he’dve been wrong. I wish I was drunk, that probably would’ve made the fifteen hours in the dark with knees all crammed up in my face go faster now that I think about it. But yeah, I brought my cell phone because I think it’s the battery that’s all jacked from the time I dropped it in that toilet at the bar, and I figure it might not have enough juice to pull down the phone calls from the satellites all the way to the ground, you know? But maybe it’ll work on the plane ‘cuz we’re closer to the satellites and all that. But no dice, piece of shit was still busted.” Embarrassed federal officials are still trying to determine how McKinley made it through airport security, which presumably has some kind of dogs or something that check to make sure crates being shipped don’t smell like sweaty morons. Officials refused to speculate what security measures might be in place to prevent this kind of occurrence, though they neither confirmed nor denied that a funny way to test would be to drop all packages from a height of several feet to see if any of them screamed. Upon arriving at his parents’ suburban Dallas home, McKinley busted out of the crate with a crowbar, scaring the holy shit out of a deliveryman who thought he was dropping off a huge shipment of Triscuits. “I thought it was funny that the thing smelled like a big box of snack crackers and B.O., but I still didn’t expect some weirdo to bust out like a jackass-in the-box,” explained deliveryman Billy Ray Thomas. “And yeah, the rumors are true, I may have screamed kind of like a girl when he popped out. And then I called the cops on my cell phone because, hey man, fuck you!” When the police arrived they arrested McKinley on an unrelated charge of passing bad checks and sneaking onto a train in a large duffel bag. Federal officials are also considering charges of “stowing away on a plane,” the violation of a law created in the 1940’s to give police characters more to do in Warner Bros. cartoons. Asked how much he saved by traveling in the cargo hold, McKinley made it clear that his employer had unwittingly footed the bill for his low-budget odyssey. “Oh shit man, I couldn’t afford to mail a box that heavy. You have any idea what that must cost? Damn. I just traveled cross-country in a crate, Jack, do I look like I’m made of money?” the commune news loves a low-budget fare as much as the next guy, but we draw the line at putting on a Great Dane costume and traveling in the belly of the plane in a dog carrier. Anything more than that is just weird. Ivana Folger-Balzac is a first-class pain in the ass, but we’re not sure whether or not that entitles her to free ticket upgrades.
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FDA: Celebrex has incredibly effective lobby
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Lost Scout Earns Coveted �Distract the National Media� Badge House Democrats Uneasy During Rare Trip Outside Big Ratings Prompts ABC to Seek More Dancing Handicapped Shows Strychnine Dog Food: Where Can You Buy It? |
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 June 1, 2003
Volume 44Dear commune:
Aren’t you just tired of all this bullshit?
Reggie Shaw
Dove Plains, GA
Dear Reggie:
We know exactly what you’re talking about. Those fussy pricks downstairs at Crochet! magazine need to be put in their goddamned place. First they have the gall to involve the police in our staff’s hallowed Annual Pogo Stick Race semifinals. We here at the commune may be a passionate bunch, given to boisterous arguments and cataclysmic displays of machismo, but we’ve never been unable to resolve our own pogo race photo finish disputes among ourselves. Sure, small-arms fire is sometimes involved, but cooler heads and Russian Roulette always prevail.
And speaking of meddling, who are they to say who can and who can’t keep livestock in the building’s common areas? They automatically assume it’s the commune’s goats that have been shitting in the elevator. As if their staff is above suspicion. The pricks.
Anyway, thanks for understanding. Sometimes the commune just needs to vent.
the...
º Last Column: Volume 43
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Dear commune: Aren’t you just tired of all this bullshit? Reggie Shaw
Dove Plains, GA Dear Reggie:
We know exactly what you’re talking about. Those fussy pricks downstairs at Crochet! magazine need to be put in their goddamned place. First they have the gall to involve the police in our staff’s hallowed Annual Pogo Stick Race semifinals. We here at the commune may be a passionate bunch, given to boisterous arguments and cataclysmic displays of machismo, but we’ve never been unable to resolve our own pogo race photo finish disputes among ourselves. Sure, small-arms fire is sometimes involved, but cooler heads and Russian Roulette always prevail.
And speaking of meddling, who are they to say who can and who can’t keep livestock in the building’s common areas? They automatically assume it’s the commune’s goats that have been shitting in the elevator. As if their staff is above suspicion. The pricks.
Anyway, thanks for understanding. Sometimes the commune just needs to vent.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for those embarrassing Capri pants all the girls are wearing these days. We’re guessing a sauna mishap was responsible for those ridiculous things. But we do look forward to making snide remarks when we’re looking at photo albums ten years from now, just for the record.º Last Column: Volume 43º more columns
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|  April 23, 2007
Kibbles 'n ShitAny of you hear about this poisoned dog food scare? I don't know how long this shit's been going on, I only found out when they cut into KNTZ's rock block on Thursday night to announce that Spuds MacKenzie was dead, from an Alpo overdose. At first I was like, yeah, bullshit, that dog drank enough Budweiser to put a Kennedy in the ground, but then my neighbor Mitch said something about feeding his dogs nothing but deer meat until the epidemic blew over. He said that's why he'd spent the whole night driving drunk in the woods, hoping to hit a Bigfoot or something he could tell his dogs was deer meat. That was after he went to the zoo to shoot a deer and they turned him away because you need some kind of permit or something to hunt at the zoo. You really do learn something new every day.
Anyway, Mitch may be a lot of things, but he sure as hell doesn't follow directions, so I was pretty sure the tainted dog food noise was for real. And Foghat barfs and shits all over the place more than enough already when he's healthy, I can't afford however many of those shit-eating Roomba robots it would take to keep up with him if he caught Ass-Dropitis, or whatever this new dog plague is.
They didn't say on the radio which brands of dog food were tainted, but I wasn't taking any chances, so I threw out all the Chuck Wagon in the house immediately. I've never been comfortable with how much that name sounds like Upchuck Wagon anyway. And Iams was right out, too, because...
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Any of you hear about this poisoned dog food scare? I don't know how long this shit's been going on, I only found out when they cut into KNTZ's rock block on Thursday night to announce that Spuds MacKenzie was dead, from an Alpo overdose. At first I was like, yeah, bullshit, that dog drank enough Budweiser to put a Kennedy in the ground, but then my neighbor Mitch said something about feeding his dogs nothing but deer meat until the epidemic blew over. He said that's why he'd spent the whole night driving drunk in the woods, hoping to hit a Bigfoot or something he could tell his dogs was deer meat. That was after he went to the zoo to shoot a deer and they turned him away because you need some kind of permit or something to hunt at the zoo. You really do learn something new every day. Anyway, Mitch may be a lot of things, but he sure as hell doesn't follow directions, so I was pretty sure the tainted dog food noise was for real. And Foghat barfs and shits all over the place more than enough already when he's healthy, I can't afford however many of those shit-eating Roomba robots it would take to keep up with him if he caught Ass-Dropitis, or whatever this new dog plague is. They didn't say on the radio which brands of dog food were tainted, but I wasn't taking any chances, so I threw out all the Chuck Wagon in the house immediately. I've never been comfortable with how much that name sounds like Upchuck Wagon anyway. And Iams was right out, too, because that name sounds like somebody was writing "I am sick" but dropped dead before they could finish. Too suspicious. Science Diet was nixed as well, because I've never liked the idea of scientists experimenting on my dog. Leave that shit for the rabbits and half a cow or whatever they do. I mean, what if the experiment this week is to see what happens to dogs when they eat ground-up Nerf balls? I ain't bankrolling that shit. In the end I decided Kibbles 'n Bits was the way to go, even though I have no idea what a kibble is, but that's all Foghat will eat anyway. But how to know if the dog food was safe? I figured there was only one way to be sure: I'd have to try it myself. This isn't as gross as it sounds, after all, what do you think Cocoa Puffs are? You can make anything taste good if you add enough chocolate. The shit really wasn't that bad, and the milk helped. But half an hour later I was feeling like Andre the Giant had crawled inside my nutsack and died. And Foghat wasn't looking too hot either, just laying there on the couch, watching World's Wildest Police Chases, barely moving. True, that's his normal state of being, but normally he hasn't just eaten an assload of possibly-tainted dog food. So I did the only thing a responsible dog owner could do: I rushed Foghat to the emergency room. And you know what? We waited in line for three hours at that fucked-up place, like there was going to be a roller coaster or something, before somebody told me they don't treat dogs at the emergency room any more and I had to find a vet. Goddamn this luck. Well, guess what I found out at the VFW? Yep, those motherfuckers have sworn off curing dogs as well. Isn't there anybody in this whole goddamned town with the balls to de-sick my dog? After that I blacked out, and woke up on my couch back home. Turns out Foghat had dragged me all the way back home because he was missing Nanny 911, so I guess he got over whatever he was dying from. True, my car was still over at the VFW, and all my clothes were ruined from being dragged all the way across town by a dog with a saliva problem, but I was mostly just happy that Foghat was okay. Then I threw up from the bottom of my balls. Don't eat dog food, it's bullshit for people. Bricks out. º Last Column: Driving My Life Awayº more columns
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Quote of the Day“To sleep, perchance to dream. As long as I do not dream of being pursued by that creepy Duracell robot family, for that shit was truly too much for a soul to endure.”
-Robert ShakenspearFortune 500 CookieDo not take the road less traveled, 'cause the toll is complete bullshit. If everyone jumped off a bridge, would you? Your mother will finally find out this week. Two brutal assaults is a coincidence, three is a lack of self-control. Expect to be broken hearted this week, as the writing on the bathroom wall foretold. Lucky numbers all make a sum of 9.
Try again later.Top Excuses for Ugly Hat| 1. | Gift from Mom | | 2. | Draws Attention Away From Big Fat Ass | | 3. | Chicks Dig It | | 4. | Hides Goiter | | 5. | 2 for 1 Ugly Hat Sale | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 5/12/2003 Time to stretch whatever you need to stretch, America, we're gearing up for the Summer Blockbuster season. Take your time, though, since nothing looks worse on a time-off request form than the term "pulled scrotum." Ouch. Once you're good and loose we'll warm up with a few of the opening salvos in this summer's "War Against Just Staying Home and Downloading MP3s All the Time," as the industry has dubbed it. Or as we like to call it here, "Operation: Rehash."
In Theaters
The Lizzie McGuire Movie
Leave it to Disney to put a happy-assed spin on anything, including the bitch who chop-sueyed her family with an axe and then wrote a song about it. Equal parts American Bandstand Psycho,...
Time to stretch whatever you need to stretch, America, we're gearing up for the Summer Blockbuster season. Take your time, though, since nothing looks worse on a time-off request form than the term "pulled scrotum." Ouch. Once you're good and loose we'll warm up with a few of the opening salvos in this summer's "War Against Just Staying Home and Downloading MP3s All the Time," as the industry has dubbed it. Or as we like to call it here, "Operation: Rehash."
In Theaters
The Lizzie McGuire Movie
Leave it to Disney to put a happy-assed spin on anything, including the bitch who chop-sueyed her family with an axe and then wrote a song about it. Equal parts American Bandstand Psycho, Britney's Dance Barmitzfa and every Nickelodeon movie ever, the film is a singing, dancing, cute-boy-kissing good time that pauses briefly for ass-chopping parent slaughter mayhem between the mall shopping spree and a hilarious visit to Buckingham Palace. It's all in good fun, but I warn you that if this one does well, an animated Disney musical about the Holocaust is sure to follow. Scoff all you want, but I'd bet cash money they've got sketches of singing showerheads and songs like "Life's a Gas" waiting in the wings.
Owning Mahowny
Eventually you have to stop numbering Police Academy sequels since people are going to start thinking the title refers to the name of a submarine or something and get confused. So you have to applaud the producers of the series for heading that train-wreck off at the pass by naming Police Academy… whatever number this is Owning Mahowny instead. Sure, the premise is some bullshit about an eligible-bachelor auction gone wrong, but at least they had the good sense to leave Steve Guttenberg in the deep freeze and instead tap pudgy white chameleon Philip "Feed Me Seymour" Dustin Hoffman for the role. The resulting movie still sucks, but it sucks in a different way than you'd expect.
The Real Cancun
Just when you think the girls have gone as wild as they're going to go, the big smut machine in the sky serves up another steaming helping of underage skank. The real question isn't when we as a culture are going to get enough of seeing the same drunk 17-year-old's well-traveled funbags. It's when are the religious weirdos going to run out of abortion clinics to bomb and have to turn their attention to Sony and Bicardi, the major contributors to this home video skankery? Unfortunately it won't happen any time soon, not while being opposed to anything disgusting is still considered unpatriotic. Instead, I predict 10 years from now we'll have a reality show about these loose co-eds trying to keep their fiancées from catching wind of the cock-soaked debauchery of their youth at their own bachelor parties. Now there's some potential for drama.
Whale Rider
Probably as topical as a movie can get, this tear-jerker revolves around one grieving family's battle to collect on their departed father's life insurance policy, even though he voided the thing by eclipsing the policy's gross tonnage ceiling as specified in the little-known "Whale Rider" of the title. A probing drama that asks important questions about where to draw the line between just really goddamned fat and legally culpable obesity. In the end, we learn that a person who's made themselves too fat to breathe is still a person, and love knows no gross tonnage ceiling.
X2: X-Men United
Even a cynical Hollywood insider such as myself dropped his Maxim when he heard they were doing the sequel to Spike Lee's Malcolm X as a comic book action movie. That takes some serious AC/DC-sized balls, my friends. Even Ben Kingsley's nasty turn in the controversial Gandhi sequel Sexy Beast pales in comparison to these robust cajones. Man. But in all fairness, when you think about it, the notion of racial justice being restored in America by a crew of ass-kicking circus freaks of confusingly mixed ancestry just seems like common sense. Sure, they made both magnet-assed Malcolm and his wheelchair-bound arch-nemesis Professor MLK a little too white in an attempt to sell them to suburban moviegoers, but if people are going to insist that skin color doesn't matter, then they really shouldn't complain when everybody in the movies is white. That's a little hypocritical when you think about it. Regardless, even with the unfortunate product tie-in angle of making Werewolf a pilot for United Airlines in his spare time, the film did kick a lot of ass-shaped racial injustice.
And that's the that we were here to deal with this week, Americanos. Now you've got only 14 short days to prepare yourself for your next dose of Entertainment Police, so get preparing! If you don't think that's enough time, well that's just tough. I used to accept reader requests to postpone the column in the past, if they were for a good reason, but it soon degraded to requests like "You suck!" and "Up your mother's ass!" so now we just stick to the strict biweekly schedule. Sorry a few rotten apples had to ruin the pie-pocket for everyone.    |
