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April 23, 2007 |
Blacksburg, VA Junior Bacon Va. Tech students mourn for the thousands of innocents killed during the U.S. occupation of Iraq. Just kidding, it’s another Verne Troyer fan shrine. irginia Tech officials revealed Monday that last week’s on-campus massacre, which resulted in 33 deaths and countless injuries, may have been related to a cultural exchange the university was participating in with the Iraqi city of Baghdad.
“We thought it might be enlightening for students to experience a day in the life of an average Iraqi,” explained University President Charles W. Steger. “To feel the effects of U.S. foreign policy firsthand. But let me be very clear when I explain that we had no idea the exchange would be so literal. And none of us can even begin to understand how this was possible. That old gypsy woman was very vague about the details.”
The particulars of the exchange are sketchy, but field reports indicate that Baghdad residents sp...
irginia Tech officials revealed Monday that last week’s on-campus massacre, which resulted in 33 deaths and countless injuries, may have been related to a cultural exchange the university was participating in with the Iraqi city of Baghdad.
“We thought it might be enlightening for students to experience a day in the life of an average Iraqi,” explained University President Charles W. Steger. “To feel the effects of U.S. foreign policy firsthand. But let me be very clear when I explain that we had no idea the exchange would be so literal. And none of us can even begin to understand how this was possible. That old gypsy woman was very vague about the details.”
The particulars of the exchange are sketchy, but field reports indicate that Baghdad residents spent Monday attending beer-bong blowouts and date raping drunken sorority girls to the sounds of Dave Matthews Band. Va. Tech students arguably got the shittier end of the deal, spending the day coping with the kinds of heartbreaking carnage and mayhem normally reserved for everyone living in Iraq.
“Bah,” dismissed Iraqi horse gelder Jassim al-Ogedi. “Thirty-three dead? That is a good day in Baghdad. After the Americans opened the Pandora’s Box of pure, unfiltered living hell in Iraq, we thank Allah for every day that the death toll stays in the double digits.”
Iraqi insurgents were also displeased with the exchange and the resultant American media frenzy, which they could never hope to inspire even by killing every man, woman and child in the entire nation of Iraq.
“Hey! Assholes! We just blew up a children’s hospital! What do you guys need, a videotaped manifesto?” griped an insurgent whose given name translates as “Abdul with the Yellow Dog,” we think. “Christ! We kill more people than that by lunchtime, and where are we? Page seven? Four years of this shit and we still have fewer inches of newsprint than Don Imus. Fuck you guys.”
In response, Iraqi insurgents have set to work on a menacing, 30-story-tall killbot, which runs on the blood of the innocent, shoots dazzling fireworks, plays MP3s and comes preloaded with Madonna’s latest album. So far this development has only been reported in the U.S. magazine Popular Mechanics.
Few can offer non-humorous theories as to how the Va. Tech shooter fits into the U.S./Iraqi cultural exchange, however. The gunman, whom the commune refuses to name out of a desire not to make the cockknocker any more undeservedly famous than he already is, plus he’s got some bullshit ching chong name so we could just make something up and you’d never know any different, was not known to have any gypsy ties or to have been politically aware beyond what he had seen on South Park.
Some have gone so far as to argue that the shootings were a coincidence, based on the fact that no one has been able to connect the massacre specifically to the ineptitude of the Bush administration. Time, however, may return a different verdict. the commune news is proud of our distinction as the only U.S. news source that didn’t go berserk with exploitative coverage of the Va. Tech shootings. It must be noted, however, that our planned feature “Inside the Guns that the Dude Used,” was only scrapped because no one in this office can draw a recognizable handgun to save their lives. Ivana Folger-Balzac unfortunately arrived at the scene too late to be victim number thirty-four.
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NAMBLA threatens to sue P2P child porn file sharers
Automatic bread-butterer butters wrong goddamned side
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Turkey to Block Offensive Websites; commune Offers Pre-Emptive “Fuck You” Obama to Change Spelling of Name to oBAMa for Maximum Impact Oasis, Killers Combine Forces to Ruin Sgt. Pepper’s for Everyone Global Warming Poses Threat to National Parks, Says WWF’s “Machoman” Savage |
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 June 23, 2003
SARS: Our Middle Finger to ChinaImagine my disappointment to be on the road, without access to my column, when all the news about SARS was thick in the air. There's nothing worse for a conspiracy theorist than to be stuck in the middle of nowhere without a soapbox when a new disease breaks out.
A lot of people were talking about the WHERE with SARS: Hong Kong, Singapore, Canada. But no one bothered asking WHY—well, obviously I did, but it didn't do me very much good in the Motel 6 off Hwy 29. The cleaning lady only spoke Russian, or was having a religious experience, either is a plausible answer.
Yes, Americans—always ask why? Why SARS? Why China? Why? Because we like you.
A lot of you will probably say that a new strain of flu is not surprising. You say continual adaptations in flu viruses happens all the time. You say in a country of however many-billion people the spread of a new strain of flu is reasonable to occur in such conditions. Well, quit saying that. You're stomping all over my reasoning.
The truth is, SARS is no accident, and it's no naturally-occurring flu. SARS is, frankly, a big fuck you to the Chinese, courtesy of the U.S. All courtesy of President Bush. No, not the second Iraq war Bush, the first one, the one who was elected.
President "Wimp" Bush, former head of the CIA, America's crippling virus factory. Give him credit for thinking of the future—when Clinton was busy planning a strategy for the 1992 election,...
º Last Column: Bagel's Back º more columns
Imagine my disappointment to be on the road, without access to my column, when all the news about SARS was thick in the air. There's nothing worse for a conspiracy theorist than to be stuck in the middle of nowhere without a soapbox when a new disease breaks out.
A lot of people were talking about the WHERE with SARS: Hong Kong, Singapore, Canada. But no one bothered asking WHY—well, obviously I did, but it didn't do me very much good in the Motel 6 off Hwy 29. The cleaning lady only spoke Russian, or was having a religious experience, either is a plausible answer.
Yes, Americans—always ask why? Why SARS? Why China? Why? Because we like you.
A lot of you will probably say that a new strain of flu is not surprising. You say continual adaptations in flu viruses happens all the time. You say in a country of however many-billion people the spread of a new strain of flu is reasonable to occur in such conditions. Well, quit saying that. You're stomping all over my reasoning.
The truth is, SARS is no accident, and it's no naturally-occurring flu. SARS is, frankly, a big fuck you to the Chinese, courtesy of the U.S. All courtesy of President Bush. No, not the second Iraq war Bush, the first one, the one who was elected.
President "Wimp" Bush, former head of the CIA, America's crippling virus factory. Give him credit for thinking of the future—when Clinton was busy planning a strategy for the 1992 election, Bush had already put the Gulf War behind him and was aiming for the 1997 return of Hong Kong to China. Nothing burns a presidential ass more than having to give up territory that rightfully belongs to them, so Bush wanted to make sure China got both barrels of Hong Kong when they got it. That's when they developed SARS in the CIA labs.
As military men know, SARS is code for "Served the Asshole Right, Sarge"—lingo for when a guy tries to sneak away from battle and steps on a landmine, or any sort of similar scenario when you can say the same phrase. Bush himself picked the name for the virus, that's how hands-on he was.
Things got bungled up when Clinton got into office, however, since he was always too busy scouting poontang to worry about all the little time-relevant traps the previous Bush had set up. Bush had even set up a plan to turn Bosnia into the world's biggest Wal-Mart, but Clinton spilled some Big Mac sauce on it and forever ruined the project.
So while Jackie Chan and Chow Yun-Fat were all getting the hell out of dodge in time for the "big Chinese handover," as I just phrased it, the SARS plan was lapsing dramatically. All the chemical agents were in place, they just hadn't been activated by magic button. Bush planned to have his predecessor in place to set off the disease, but hadn't planned on becoming immensely unpopular.
Then, late last year, with his alleged son in the White House, old Bush takes a break out from dog track betting to call up his boy and asks him to push the big green button under the desk—explaining any of the details would have confused the pseudo-president, as all of his aids have come to realize. But the junior Bush made the button go push-push and—bazoom!—China's got the fever for the flavor of surgical masks. º Last Column: Bagel's Backº more columns
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|  December 9, 2002
There Was No Way to TellThe tree hopped down from the hill
and he dashed through the field.
The sun had been peeled
and the clouds were as plump
as a Chinaman's rump.
A squirrel was asleep on a branch,
he awoke with a blanch
and he turned a stark white
when the fright
leapt up from his toes like a flash.
A duck somersaulted through the grass,
he was stoned off his ass
on crackers.
No, no, quackers!
The duck thought this funny as he saulted.
So he missed it when the tree ran by,
though a fly
saw it twelve dozen times
because that's the kind of eyes
God gave him, we surmise
he got bored after five.
When Luchas, who was chewing on a fig
he had pulled from his wig,
saw the tree he cashed it in.
In the seat of his pants,
where a platoon of ants
quickly voted to find a new place to live.
Sanchel thought the thing was a dream,
so she couldn't help but scream
when she saw the tree had ice cream.
"A looper! A looper on the loose!"
cried a tri-colored goose
when he saw the tree streak nakedly by.
"Ah-ah?" said poor Renal from the South
as ham fell from his mouth.
When the tree stepped on right-foot blue
he forgot how to chew,
his Twister picnic interrupted.
The scientist was taken aback
while on her date with Lumber...
º Last Column: Through the Colon of a Whale º more columns
The tree hopped down from the hill
and he dashed through the field.
The sun had been peeled
and the clouds were as plump
as a Chinaman's rump.
A squirrel was asleep on a branch,
he awoke with a blanch
and he turned a stark white
when the fright
leapt up from his toes like a flash.
A duck somersaulted through the grass,
he was stoned off his ass
on crackers.
No, no, quackers!
The duck thought this funny as he saulted.
So he missed it when the tree ran by,
though a fly
saw it twelve dozen times
because that's the kind of eyes
God gave him, we surmise
he got bored after five.
When Luchas, who was chewing on a fig
he had pulled from his wig,
saw the tree he cashed it in.
In the seat of his pants,
where a platoon of ants
quickly voted to find a new place to live.
Sanchel thought the thing was a dream,
so she couldn't help but scream
when she saw the tree had ice cream.
"A looper! A looper on the loose!"
cried a tri-colored goose
when he saw the tree streak nakedly by.
"Ah-ah?" said poor Renal from the South
as ham fell from his mouth.
When the tree stepped on right-foot blue
he forgot how to chew,
his Twister picnic interrupted.
The scientist was taken aback
while on her date with Lumber Jack.
"This cannot be! I must investigate!"
But she for one ran too slow and too late,
for Jack jumped up in a haste
and with axe in had, he took up chase.
This parade was quite the sight to see.
A dozen lit out for the tree,
sure that magical lands awaited.
But when the tree dove trunk-first in the river,
the group gave up with a toe-dip and a shiver,
their curiosity abated.
After all, let's not get carried away here. º Last Column: Through the Colon of a Whaleº more columns
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Milestones2001: Red Bagel foolishly promises paid vacations next year, only to be later surprised the commune still in business at that time.Now HiringRoadie. Duties include setting up mics, antagonizing audience hours before band comes on, picking up busty ladies of legal age for private band business. No pay, work for throwaway ladies.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | Test the Durability of Your Training Bra | | 2. | Desperate Housewives: This Decade's Max Headroom? | | 3. | Drug Free Vs. Free Drugs | | 4. | 10 Questions for Marcel Marceau | | 5. | Uncle Macho's Fried-Right-the-First-Time Beans | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Orson Welch 5/3/2004 I'm too sickened to even lecture you today. Someone killed Gorodon, my level 4 elf yesterday. I dedicate this column to his memory, and may Chet, our Dungeon Master, spend eternity plagued by the harm he's done.
In Theaters
The Last Samurai
I have a feeling I would have found the next-to-last samurai much more plausible. Come, watch Hollywood's attempt to make a foreign film, playing by their own rules. Producers very much wanted a movie filled with the epic scope of Kurosawa's huge samurai epics, but didn't want to force American audiences to stare at a scary, unknown face of someone not white for a whole two hours. Enter Tom Cruise, and exit Orson Welch.
Calendar Girls
Clearly...
I'm too sickened to even lecture you today. Someone killed Gorodon, my level 4 elf yesterday. I dedicate this column to his memory, and may Chet, our Dungeon Master, spend eternity plagued by the harm he's done.
In Theaters
The Last Samurai
I have a feeling I would have found the next-to-last samurai much more plausible. Come, watch Hollywood's attempt to make a foreign film, playing by their own rules. Producers very much wanted a movie filled with the epic scope of Kurosawa's huge samurai epics, but didn't want to force American audiences to stare at a scary, unknown face of someone not white for a whole two hours. Enter Tom Cruise, and exit Orson Welch.
Calendar Girls
Clearly the failure of this movie demonstrates how much audiences wanted to think about old women naked. Take the articulate storytelling of Showgirls and add to it the sex appeal of Cocoon, then ship it straight to video because your theater will be empty. Frankly, it's hard to understand the reasoning here—two hours of nude women is misogynistic, add forty years to all of them and suddenly you have a warm chick flick? Decide what you want, ladies, then get back to us.
Girl With a Pearl Earring
A costume drama with no drama. The title is also the name of a painting, and the film would be hard to distinguish from it since neither moves very much. I've seen Girl With a Pearl Necklace and it wasn't much on plot, but at least it had a big finish. Still, if watching big-name actors ponce around in stockings and bustles, speaking with accents in dull tones makes an artsy film for you, this movie fits all qualifications. Watch it instead of C.S.I. one night and feel like a well-rounded person.
That's all for me. Until next time, remember: They don't make movies like they used to, and even then they didn't really impress me much.   |