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January 19, 2004 |
Des Moines, IA Whit Pistol Dozens of potential Iowa voters show up, excited to see a candidate not Bush, but still a little disappointed to find Sen. John Edwards (SC). n what most are calling an incredibly tight no-way race, as in "no way are any of these guys going to be president," all Democratic candidates are finding themselves beaten in Iowa Democratic Caucus polls by a write-in vote for the candidate known as only "Not Bush."
Though vagaries in the caucus system make polling unreliable, the most reliable polls show clearly the "Not Bush" candidate leading the way far ahead of the pack of current Democrats. Representatives of the Iowa caucus said they spent three days searching for the lead candidate before realizing it was not an actual person, merely a vote rejecting a supposed actual person.
Early poll results show the runner-up position still being a no-way battle between national frontrunner Howard Dean, Sen. Dick Ge...
n what most are calling an incredibly tight no-way race, as in "no way are any of these guys going to be president," all Democratic candidates are finding themselves beaten in Iowa Democratic Caucus polls by a write-in vote for the candidate known as only "Not Bush."
Though vagaries in the caucus system make polling unreliable, the most reliable polls show clearly the "Not Bush" candidate leading the way far ahead of the pack of current Democrats. Representatives of the Iowa caucus said they spent three days searching for the lead candidate before realizing it was not an actual person, merely a vote rejecting a supposed actual person.
Early poll results show the runner-up position still being a no-way battle between national frontrunner Howard Dean, Sen. Dick Gephardt, Sen. John Kerry, Sen. John Edwards, or possibly another person altogether. With all four candidates concentrating their attention on winning over undecided Iowa voters, Dean and Gephardt pulled their negative ads to focus on a more positive way to say the other candidates suck, while Kerry and Edwards both inched forward in the polls, oblivious to the fact there's no way either would ever be elected president. Running behind those four Democrats were Gen. Wesley Clark, Sen. Joe Lieberman, Sen. Carol Mosley Braun (who pulled out of the race earlier in the week), Sen. Bob Graham (who pulled out of the race months ago), a candidate known as "Not Sharpton," Al Gore (who isn't even running), Al Sharpton, and finally, Dennis Kucinich.
Iowa caucus expert Henry "Iowa" Jones felt the numbers would be representative of Iowa's opinion of the Democratic candidates, and expressed a national dissatisfaction with its political choices.
"The American people have fervently and decidedly said they do not want George Bush for their president, if these polls are any indication," said Jones. "However, we rolled out candidates that we here in Iowa would call, 'real dillies.' You can sort of see the American people collectively wincing and asking, 'Okay. Are these my only choices?'"
Jones further elaborated, when asked to fill column space. "It's quite a simple quandary. In layman's terms, the American people are hungry, but nothing we've suggested sounds good. They're not quite sure what they exactly want, but it's very likely not anything we've offered. Like saying, 'Seafood? Italian? Mexican?' And the American people are starting to think they'd rather just stay in and crack open a bag of chips, politically speaking."
However, though the news is good for no one, it's not bad for everyone. In particular, little-known independent presidential candidate Lyle Woodman stands to benefit greatly if the polls truly show how people will cast their votes in the national elections. At least, Woodman will benefit once he finishes the legal process of changing his name to "Not Bush" in October, 2004.
"I had a feeling 'Not Bush' would be a name with a lot of political weight back when I was watching the 2000 presidential election," said Woodman, tentatively referring to himself as Not. "In fact, if I remember correctly, Not Bush won in a very, very close race against the Republican candidate, Not Gore." the commune news is tired of handing out our reader's choice awards every year to our most popular columnist, None of the Above. Especially since we actually have a Hungarian Nunnuv Theobove, on staff as consultant. Raoul Dunkin is Not a Total Douchebag, at least that's the title we're reserving for him for this year's Opposite Day.
 |  IRS: Excessively Needy Girlfriends Can't Be Declared "Dependents" Elephant tagging in Malaysia: slow elephants always "it"
I'm telling you, Wanda don't live here, G
Onlookers Awkwardly Try to Ignore Really High Guy at 9/11 Memorial Who Can't Stop Laughing
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President Demands More Wheels on Airplanes learly delighted to have an offensive position at last, President Bush lashed out at “safety ign’rant” airlines and the FAA for its low-wheel requirements on commercial aircraft. According the president’s amusing new platform, safety could be increased a bunchfold with the addition of 8-10 new sets of landing gear on standard airplanes, and hopefully would prevent scenes like the dramatic emergency landing of JetBlue Flight 292 on Thursday. The commercial airline flight JetBlue 292 ran into difficulty landing when its foremost landing wheel arrogantly faced the wrong direction and forced a tense landing situation. The event was made all the more worthy of national attention when it was revealed passengers/potential victims aboard Flight 292 were watching their own ordeal on satellite television, one of the perks the airline offers passengers willing to risk becoming human charcoal on their flights. In the end, the plane landed successful, jetting down the runway covered with foam and emitting sparks in a thrilling scene of real life danger only seen previously on repeats of Jackass. Today’s Hurricanes Not Worth a Damn, Say Elderly Southerners In the aftermath of Hurricane Katrina, and the currentmath of Hurricane Rita hot on Katrina’s high heels, elderly southerners who’ve been there before are offering a reassuring voice of bitter calm to troubled Americans across the South. “Today’s hurricanes aren’t worth a hot goddamn,” groused Boca Raton resident Carter Dunlop, 88. “You all can quit your bellyaching. Back in the day, we had hurricanes to remember. I don’t recall their names or any details, but you can rest assured these latest pipsqueaks are even less noteworthy. Trust me, you’ll all hear Carter Dunlop scream like a woman when a real hurricane hits.” “Category 5? Pssh, they’ll call any old stiff breeze a hurricane nowadays,” griped Biloxi native Ted Knuck. “Back in my day, you wouldn’t cross the street for anything less then a Category 15. And that was only because it blew you across the street.” Entwistle Pleads Not Guilty of Murder, Last Several Who Albums Condi Rice Hates the Way She Smiles in Pictures |
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 July 21, 2003
Whatever Happened to the Test Tube Babies?If you're like me, you're starting to wonder if they're ever going to come out with a pill that makes everybody beautiful, or if that was just the Twilight Zone blowing smoke up our asses. You also thought that by now the world would be overrun by test-tube baby freaks, babies with super powers or at least alarmingly rounded skulls like built-in helmets from gestating in a big glass tube. Isn't that some scary shit? You bet your cold sweat nightmares it is! I'd probably be the president by now if I hadn't lost so much precious sleep to the threat of a test tube baby creeping up out of my toilet tank with piano wire in hand, yikes.
But, unless you're living on the set of a Korean horror flick or you're the late Howard Hughes, that's a future that never came true. Why?
Finding an answer to that question involves a lot of legwork spent freak hunting, which is sort of like freak dancing except you don't get to rub your crotch on a girl. The reason this freak hunting is necessary is because you can't answer the question of why there aren't any test tube baby freaks running around until you've made sure there actually aren't any. After all, for all you know your neighbors could all be test tube babies grown up, and while you're at work they have meetings in each other's living rooms about how creepy it is to live next door to the freak who got squeezed out of a vagina thirty years ago. No wonder they never invite you to their BBQs, that's a...
º Last Column: Why is Everybody Else So Fat? º more columns
If you're like me, you're starting to wonder if they're ever going to come out with a pill that makes everybody beautiful, or if that was just the Twilight Zone blowing smoke up our asses. You also thought that by now the world would be overrun by test-tube baby freaks, babies with super powers or at least alarmingly rounded skulls like built-in helmets from gestating in a big glass tube. Isn't that some scary shit? You bet your cold sweat nightmares it is! I'd probably be the president by now if I hadn't lost so much precious sleep to the threat of a test tube baby creeping up out of my toilet tank with piano wire in hand, yikes.
But, unless you're living on the set of a Korean horror flick or you're the late Howard Hughes, that's a future that never came true. Why?
Finding an answer to that question involves a lot of legwork spent freak hunting, which is sort of like freak dancing except you don't get to rub your crotch on a girl. The reason this freak hunting is necessary is because you can't answer the question of why there aren't any test tube baby freaks running around until you've made sure there actually aren't any. After all, for all you know your neighbors could all be test tube babies grown up, and while you're at work they have meetings in each other's living rooms about how creepy it is to live next door to the freak who got squeezed out of a vagina thirty years ago. No wonder they never invite you to their BBQs, that's a disgusting image.
After a quick poll of everyone who happened to be in the commune offices this afternoon, I determined with statistical certainty that there aren't any grownup test tube baby freaks out running around. Nobody in the office was a test tube baby, anyway, though editor Red Bagel recently appeared on television eating babyback ribs and Lil Duncan once was allowed to skip a roadside sobriety test because she was wearing a tube top. Granted, the commune staff constitutes a limited (in more ways that one) sample size, but it's hot outside. Also, there was a Fed-Ex guy here who was on the wrong floor and he wasn't a test tube baby either, so I say that seals the deal pretty convincingly.
So what happened to all of them? Were they rounded up as infants and processed into lunchmeat? Or did they grow up together as a bizarre clan in a cloistered and secretive governmental environment, like Utah?
While this would explain an awful lot about Utah, there's no way the government would ever leave evidence of such an Orwellian conspiracy in plain sight of any random Olympics spectator or people who got lost looking for Colorado. The government likes to save that "in plain sight" hiding trick for when aliens crash land right at the same time SNL needs a new batch of writers for the season.
Long story short, it turns out all the test tube babies are now working at McDonald's. Well, not all of them, some work at Arby's and the other fast-food chains, but they're not allowed to run the giant meat slicer so they have to have at least one normal human on the staff there to make sure nobody gets very gradually decapitated. But nine out of ten test tube babies are now plugged in behind the counter at fast food restaurants; the tenth is making sure the salad bar at Old Country Buffet has twice as many olives as anything else.
How did this come about? In recent years, all the recent immigrants with poor English skills have been opting for higher-paying customer service jobs, leaving the fast food industry in need a cheap and unreliable workforce that could be made into McNuggets if the freezer ever crapped out unexpectedly. The first test tube babies began to come of age in the late 90's, but were generally useless since it turns out the mother's umbilical cord transmits some kind of nutrients that are important for fetal brain development. So the test tube kids were basically permanently stoned all the time.
What had been a frustrating problem for the government and their caretakers was a gold-shitting goose for the fast food industry, since they'd been looking for replaceable bands of idiots to run their restaurants for years. A few small changes had to be made to accommodate the new workforce, as the tubers' domed noggins required the addition of embarrassing foam mesh baseball caps to the standard fast food uniform to keep customers from flipping out and screaming uncontrollably mid-meal. But in the end the fast food chains got their wish: workers with no will to break who were willing to scrub Horsey sauce out of booster seats for eleven cents an hour and no benefits.
And really, terrible as the jobs might be, it was a step up for the tube babies, who'd lived most of their lives in lockers like the cast of You Can't Do That on Television. The only real losers were consumers, who haven't got a fast food meal right since 1997. You ever try to order something without pickles at one of these places? I rest my case. You'd have better luck getting them to notarize your living will. One time the guy just handed me a big bag of pickles that was stapled shut, it's like dealing with the rejects from a mannequin factory. Come to think of it, I think that was in a Twilight Zone episode, too. Eerie. º Last Column: Why is Everybody Else So Fat?º more columns
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|  March 18, 2002
Family FeudDon't get me started, Shorty. You know exactly how I feel about them McEnroys across the gully. A fouler people there never was burped up onto the earth, and that's one scientific fact. When I was in shorty-pants my daddy told me about them McEnroys, givin' in me the good sense to hate them as does all God's green creatures. And dang did daddy hate them McEnroys. Like his daddy afore him and so on and so what back to the day when grand-grandpa Peter done stepped right in a big dollop of moose puddin' that grand-grandpa McEnroy did left on his porch as a early-mornin' prank of sorts. But this was one of them pranks that was destine not to get no laughs, 'cause grand-grandpa Peter was wearin' the new toot-boots he just got for Christmas a few days afore, the ones with the lyrics to "Sweet Mona May" embroidered around the back. You seen them boots Shorty, an I don't need to tell you how they was shamefully ruint. Dang if that wasn't one o' them tragedies o' bible-belt proportions.
And so it done started that my family always hate them McEnroys, and them McEnroys ain't none too fond on us, neither. As you would expect from a McEnroy, them bein' no higher than snake's ass draggin' on the asphalt. Over the years this county has seen quite a feud, with plenty o' moose puddin' left strategicaldy here an there. It's been a feud that claimed more than a few lives isself, too, like the time Bobby Mo and Steefie was blowed up tryin' to make an atom bomb out from pig dung an...
º Last Column: The Lucky Break º more columns
Don't get me started, Shorty. You know exactly how I feel about them McEnroys across the gully. A fouler people there never was burped up onto the earth, and that's one scientific fact. When I was in shorty-pants my daddy told me about them McEnroys, givin' in me the good sense to hate them as does all God's green creatures. And dang did daddy hate them McEnroys. Like his daddy afore him and so on and so what back to the day when grand-grandpa Peter done stepped right in a big dollop of moose puddin' that grand-grandpa McEnroy did left on his porch as a early-mornin' prank of sorts. But this was one of them pranks that was destine not to get no laughs, 'cause grand-grandpa Peter was wearin' the new toot-boots he just got for Christmas a few days afore, the ones with the lyrics to "Sweet Mona May" embroidered around the back. You seen them boots Shorty, an I don't need to tell you how they was shamefully ruint. Dang if that wasn't one o' them tragedies o' bible-belt proportions.
And so it done started that my family always hate them McEnroys, and them McEnroys ain't none too fond on us, neither. As you would expect from a McEnroy, them bein' no higher than snake's ass draggin' on the asphalt. Over the years this county has seen quite a feud, with plenty o' moose puddin' left strategicaldy here an there. It's been a feud that claimed more than a few lives isself, too, like the time Bobby Mo and Steefie was blowed up tryin' to make an atom bomb out from pig dung an gasoline, for what to blow up the McEnroy trailer an above-ground hot tub.
You know as well as anyone, Shorty, that I myself have had my own share o' close calls with that McEnroy clan. Remember the time a few winters back when we found that gopher done froze up solid in the ditch, and we build that catapult out from underwear elastic to shoot that frozed critter up onto the roof o' the McEnroy trailer? To this day I still think that was the best idea you ever had, Shorty. Sometimes when I've got trouble sleepin' I like to lay awake an think o' what it woulda been like if it had worked, an that critter woulda thawed in the springtime an created a powerful stink up there on that roof, an them McEnroys woulda just thought it was they own foul behinds makin' the stink. An I don't care not what nobody says, Shorty, neither o' us had any way from knowin' that icy critter was gonna come crashing down through the McEnroy roof and break botha grandma McEnroy's legs while she was sittin' there watchin' the $25,000 Pyramid.
Nobody who's not a liar can prove it was me who did put that greased pig in the McEnroy's station wagon last summer, though I will admit to laughin' the hardest when we was watchin' them try to get that pissed-off squealer to come on out o' the car. Some have said that was the best prank pulled on the McEnroys since the time my own daddy snuck in on a moonless night an covered that whole property with mouse traps. That next morning this valley sounded like a good day in Vietnam, Shorty, and a finer day our family has never seen.
Sure, the McEnroys have had they own laughs at our expense, as is to be expected in any proper feud. Like all the times they've had the law on our tails, bringin' charges of assault with a deadly carcass and grand theft of a trailer home and stalkin' or whatnot. I have to say Shorty, them McEnroys got they own style o' feudin'. It's not like a McEnroy to grease your handrail or fill up your outhouse full of locusts. They're much more fond of callin' out the law every time one o' our pranks against them ends up causin' serious property damage or cripplin' the elderly. That's just like a McEnroy, too. Always takin' the high road.
Dang if I don't hate them McEnroys, Shorty. Where's my potato gun? º Last Column: The Lucky Breakº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Glory is fleeting, but obscurity is forever. This means you, Gerardo.”
-Napoleon BugglyparteFortune 500 CookieFinally, you'll win that annual shit-talkin' contest. If the shoe fits, it still means you only have one shoe, dumbass. It may hurt, but don't worry, they can re-attach it if you put the testicle on ice quickly. Don't buy the lottery ticket this week—your money is better invested in cookie dough. Lucky marbles: steely, cat's eyes, and… uh… shit, we're fresh out of marbles.
Try again later.Top 5 Smart New Weight Loss Tips| 1. | Carbs are like the devil’s penis: Delicious but fattening. | | 2. | After a workout, treat yourself to a tasty ice cube sandwich. | | 3. | Weigh yourself after masturbating. For guys, you’ll be a little bit lighter. For the ladies, you won’t be so upset when you find out you’re still fat. | | 4. | You’re never going to lose any weight if you insist on eating every single day. | | 5. | At-home liposuction is the third-easiest surgery to perform on yourself at home, after heart valve roto-rootering and a cock transplant. | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 2/2/2004 Oh, it's you again. America. I didn't see you there. Well. Back again already, are you? Hmm. Okay then, let's do this. Let's waste no more precious eye time, ladies and men, it's time to answer the time-honored question on everyone's lips this week: What the hell was THAT??
In Theaters
Barbieshop 2: Back in Bidness
Turns out moviegoers couldn't get enough of last year's surprise hit Barbieshop, though I'm not convinced the studio actually bothered to ask anybody about this. Odds are they just saw a blip on the profits graph and reflexively turned their jackals loose making a sequel, hoping to milk all the tits out there who think sequels are better than the originals by definition, like Playstation2 versus...
Oh, it's you again. America. I didn't see you there. Well. Back again already, are you? Hmm. Okay then, let's do this. Let's waste no more precious eye time, ladies and men, it's time to answer the time-honored question on everyone's lips this week: What the hell was THAT??
In Theaters
Barbieshop 2: Back in Bidness
Turns out moviegoers couldn't get enough of last year's surprise hit Barbieshop, though I'm not convinced the studio actually bothered to ask anybody about this. Odds are they just saw a blip on the profits graph and reflexively turned their jackals loose making a sequel, hoping to milk all the tits out there who think sequels are better than the originals by definition, like Playstation2 versus Playstation without a number or how the popes keep getting bigger. Regardless of how it was made, the important thing is that it was, and now all the "doll salesmen turned barbers due to a typo at the sign factory" are back for more hair-cutting adventure. It takes a special kind of audience to wonder what a bunch of barbers from one bad movie are doing now, then pay hard-earned money to see that yep, they're still cutting hair. But America has excelled at turning out special audiences since the 1950's, when the government started putting bleach in the water supply. So go have fun.
The Big Bounce
Never has Hollywood T&A been more half-covered than in this latest Elmore Fudd adaptation, bringing the dirty old author's dirty old words to the screen in picture form. Boasting a cast of colors rivaling any box set put together by Crayola, The Big Bounce is awash with reds, yellows, purples and Morgan Freeman. With vibrant colors like these and more cleavage than The Butcher Boy, is this one film on the fast track to win Roland McShyster's coveted award for film excellence, the Rolo? Wrong again, Batman. The Big Bounce does have plenty of check marks in the positive column, and the silhouette of a curvy blonde drawn on its scorecard for sure. But it also stars Owen Wilson, and that guy's nose just creeps me out.
Miracle
What is it about hockey movies that brings out Hollywood's gay side? Of course by that I don't mean homosexual, since gay people don't know what hockey is. I mean gay, like The Mighty Ducks and The Cutting Edge, or Angels in the Outfield and Blade 2. I'm sure there are more hideous hockey-movie examples, like Skate Bait and Puck o' the Irish I could be mentioning, but won't for space considerations. Anyway, add Miracle to that list, and Kurt Russell to the list of people I'm not inviting to my Halloween party this year. Yeah, there really is a list. The real miracle here is that this thing didn't suck a hole in the ground on the way out of the studio, sheesh. Miracle's only redeeming quality is the always-classy Howie Mandel, who's fantastic under eighty-seven layers of makeup as the TV commentator guy who promised that the US Olympic hockey team was such a long shot against the Russians that if they won, he'd eat is hat. Of course they did win, and he ate his hat and got hat cancer. I love that part.
Glad you could make it, America. Actually, I made it, but I'm glad you could read it. Only it just sounds odd when you start out a paragraph saying "Glad you could read it, America." Sounds conceited or something. Weird.   |