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White House Backtracks on Bin Laden Raid StoryMay 16, 2011
Washington, D.C.
Courtesy Orion Pictures
Breaking news suggests that bin Laden may not have been blown to shit by Burt Reynolds in a hail of glorious retribution, as originally reported.
A
fter thrilling America with exciting, action-packed tales in the hours after the May 1st raid that took Osama bin Laden’s life, White House officials have issued a series of statements gradually correcting and de-awesomeing their story as additional details have arisen from talking to people who actually know what the fuck happened.

"I may have gotten carried away in my initial statements about the raid," explained White House counterterrorism head John Brennan, source of many of the erroneous stories. "It turns out that bin Laden wasn’t actually killed by Matt Damon and Christian Bale, as I originally indicated, although that would have been awesome, but rather by faceless Special Forces goons you wouldn’t know if you were drinking right next to them in a bar. Sorry. ...Read more...


Jackson case may lead to conviction, say hopeful Internet gamblers

John Hauptman edges out Bernard Gaines for 100,000 richest American slot

Bailey Savings & Loan loses $8,000

"Female Sex Patch" Nothing But Dermal Tequila Shooters



November 1, 2004

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Barf Like You Mean It

Did I mention I had to break down and get a job? Yeah, turns out the New Mexican tit isn't as milky as I had assumed and they actually expect me to drag my own load here. What a bummer. But the upshot is that I'm not entirely sure what it is I do at my new job. Hard to get too stressed out when you have no idea what's going on.

I'm working for a company that makes the nameplates that go on a certain brand of walkers for the elderly. I couldn't make that up. I'm in the office, but downstairs there's a warehouse full of boxes of little metal tags that say "GERIATRIX" on them. I wandered down there once when I was trying to find the can and it was like remembering a Twilight Zone episode where you can't quite remember what the twist was. But I did survive my brief foray across the white-collar/blue-collar divide, possibly because my fuchsia shirt denoted me as a neutral party.

I definitely started here on the right week, since yesterday I just got paid to attend the company picnic. The pic-a-nic (I've been possessed by the spirit of Yogi Bear lately) was a raging blast, before it was over the lawn was soaked with keg beer and vomit. Frumpy CEOs and buttoned-down executive-types got naked and rode the mechanical bull, which turned out to actually be the third-shift supervisor from shipping. There was a contest to see who could hit a marshmallow the furthest with a golf club, and traffic was stopped on I-25 due to an unusually heavy marshmallow...Read more...


º Last Column: I Was Born to Love This Song
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April 28, 2003

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Volume 41

Dear commune:

You ever get the feeling that someone’s constantly watching you, monitoring your every move, censoring your every word? Like a cold, oppressive hand is closing around your windpipe as you speak? Like every freedom you’ve taken for granted is eroding away like a life raft made out of table salt? Like the cold bicycle seat of injustice is stuck to your ass and upper thighs? Is it just me? Am I just paranoid? Or can someone else out there feel my pain?

Sincerely,

Dabney Koonz
Bellknob, TX



Dear Dabney:

We here at the commune can most definitely relate to your feelings. If you think living under the oppressive yolk of a braindead cowboy regime with little regard for public opinion or world unity is tough, try getting a paid vacation day approved by Red Bagel or his stooge of a lapdog, Ramrod Hurley. Now try doing both at once, it’s like a double-decker club sandwich of shit. Our only reprieve is the fact that neither the powers that be in this country nor the powers that be at the commune care much for reading, so we can speak our minds as long as we don’t ever form those ideas into a slapstick cartoon with mass appeal or a country song. So, in short, Dabney: No, you’re not paranoid. The world really does have your ass in a cold metal vise.

However, we couldn’t help but notice that your letter comes to us from the fine state of Texas. So, in all likelihood you...
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º Last Column: Volume 40
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Quote of the Day
“Yes, madam, I may be drunk, but you are ugly and in the morning I shall still be drunk! Wait a minute… Okay, I've got a match for you: your butt and my face. TouchĂ©.”

-Quentin Hillchurch
Fortune 500 Cookie
Happiness is indeed a warm gun, but you're not supposed to warm it in your ass like that. If your life is lacking direction this week, we've got one word for you: North. As you have long suspected, recreational drugs are the answer. This week's lucky charms: taupe meatballs, turquoise speculums, puce gallstones, gold bullets.


Try again later.
Top 5 commune Features This Week
1.Get Un-Ugly for Summer
2.Tits: One Man's Opinion
3.Choosing the Most Out-of-Date Pictures for Your Personal Ad
4.Uncle Macho's Pure Stallion Dog Food
5.Me vs. the Turkey Vulture: How the Turkey Vulture Cheated
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 Red Bagel
7/11/2005
A Fistul of Tannenbaum, Chapter 15: Knight on Fire
Editor's Note: Last chapter, Jed Foster was blown back through time, which is not a sexual euphemism. He landed in the time of King Arthur, 20 A.J.D., and was befriended by Sir Punkrock. But on the way to the castle, Jed produced a lighter and was accused of being a male witch. Now, prepare for the hitting of shit against the fan…

Jed was bound to a pole in the ground in the least enjoyable way. The heartless rabble, who only seconds before Jed was pitying, now piled kindling at Jed's feet, with complete disregard to his expensive shoes.

"You can't burn me as a witch, you fools!" shouted Jed. "I'm a werewolf!"

But his lie was to no avail, as the villagers thought he was talking in a strange dialect that sounded exactly like...Read more...

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