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Church Clarifies "No Sex With Kids" Stance April 15, 2002 |
Archdeacon Mavis Plum is totally shocked. Really.
“I don’t know where people got the idea that the church is all about buggering little kids, maybe we should start covering that a bit more in Sunday school,” said Archdeacon Mavis Plum in a recent interview. “Maybe a new commandment would help, something catchy like ‘Thou shall not pork a preschooler.’ It would certainly help with public relations.”
Other members of th...
n the face of countless allegations of sexual misconduct among its priests, including criminal charges of child molestation and the popularity of the high-profile “Catholic Priests Gone Wild” DVD series, the Roman Catholic Church has issued a new public statement clarifying its position on grown men having sex with little kids. And the answer may surprise you: They’re against it. “I don’t know where people got the idea that the church is all about buggering little kids, maybe we should start covering that a bit more in Sunday school,” said Archdeacon Mavis Plum in a recent interview. “Maybe a new commandment would help, something catchy like ‘Thou shall not pork a preschooler.’ It would certainly help with public relations.” Other members of the church seemed more surprised by the announcement. “What?” questioned Rev. Phil Binder, shuffling an issue of Tiger Beat magazine under some papers on his desk. “Since when? What the hell else would you want to be a priest for, the dental plan? Shit.” Binder cut the interview short as he hurriedly dialed his telephone. “These recent allegations really have shocked the church community,” insisted Mavis. “I mean, who would expect that men, deprived of normal sexual outlets for a lifetime, would eventually turn to the nearest moist orifice for satisfaction? I mean, prisoners, maybe. Guys living in Wyoming, sure. Have you seen the women there? Yikes. But men of God? It’s long been assumed that the power of the holy spirit would give them the strength to overcome the inevitable pull of a young altar boy’s beautiful, untainted anus. But I guess not. The devil must really have gotten into those boys, to seduce priests like that. It’s amazing. It buggers the mind. Boggles.” Concerned parents nationwide were relieved by the announcement. Sandy Maynard of Des Plains, IA summed up the reactions of many. “I just sighed a big, relieved sigh. It’s stressful, trying to balance eternal damnation on one hand and having your kids ass-rammed on the other. Nobody wants to piss off God by not being involved in the church, you know? But to tell you the truth, I always thought those church sleepovers were a little weird. When I was a kid, I’m pretty sure the body of Christ you accepted during communion didn’t involve throbbing man-meat.” The announcement is only the first step in a plan to change the public’s perception of the Catholic Church as a NAMBLA meeting with wine. This week, motivational posters featuring popular cartoon characters and slogans like “Play it straight—don’t penetrate,” “Abstinence now: Miles of underage rectums in heaven” and “When in doubt, don’t whip it out” will be distributed to churches nationwide in an effort to help priests with the transition to a sodomy-free church experience. When asked how the church could have overlooked what must have been obvious signs of altar boy mistreatment over the years, Archdeacon Plum muttered something about not running a daycare center while frowning at the screen of his Game Boy. Bishop Theodore Rexall would not return the commune’s calls regarding the same question, or our questions about if he’s the one who can move diagonally or if that’s a Rook. the commune news hasn’t been to church in years, and have that to thank for our rock-solid sexual identity. Kendra Beuttle was until recently a meter reader for Con Ed, but was hired onto the commune staff in accordance with our new “Dodge the Electric Bill” policy for 2002.
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Muslims Protest Violent Cartoons by Fucking Shit Up Cheney Comrade Injured During Hunt for Bin Laden Stealers Wheel Win Super Bowl, Says Heavily Accented Man Colin Farrell Claims Responsibility for Groin Injury That Sidelined Kwan |
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 December 13, 2004
Burn, Bridges, BurnStrangely enough, it seems at least one person who isn't rich has benefited from the election of George W. Bush—that person is me. Make no mistake, politically, I am on the left and voted for Kerry, who is already fading from the memory like the name of that band that did the "Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm" song. But the election of Bush, as much as I hate to admit it, helped me, because Red Bagel failed to show up at the appeal hearing last week for my "indentured servitude" case, due to his barricading himself away from humankind in his bunker, and the judge actually ruled in favor of yours truly.
What does this mean? I'll cut to the chase: "Free at last, thank God almighty!" That's right, my torturous time at the commune has come to a close.
For the quick summary, I worked here once, left quite happily, then made the mistake of writing a thinly-disguised off-off-Broadway play about my time here. Bagel sued, I lost, and I couldn't pay all the odd "emotional damages" I was sued for, so in one of those creative sentencing deals, I came to work at the commune. Not happily, and not without plans for escape. Friday my escape became reality. I turned in my resignation to Gay Bagel, serving in his A.W.O.L. brother's stead, who said he was sorry to see me go. I called him a fat-headed penny-pincher who is out to turn every good thing, and bad thing, in the universe into an immoral profit.
It's all part of my "let's burn my bridges on the way out" policy....
º Last Column: A Vote For Bush is A Vote For Bush! Bush!
º more columns
Strangely enough, it seems at least one person who isn't rich has benefited from the election of George W. Bush—that person is me. Make no mistake, politically, I am on the left and voted for Kerry, who is already fading from the memory like the name of that band that did the "Mmm-mmm-mmm-mmm" song. But the election of Bush, as much as I hate to admit it, helped me, because Red Bagel failed to show up at the appeal hearing last week for my "indentured servitude" case, due to his barricading himself away from humankind in his bunker, and the judge actually ruled in favor of yours truly.
What does this mean? I'll cut to the chase: "Free at last, thank God almighty!" That's right, my torturous time at the commune has come to a close.
For the quick summary, I worked here once, left quite happily, then made the mistake of writing a thinly-disguised off-off-Broadway play about my time here. Bagel sued, I lost, and I couldn't pay all the odd "emotional damages" I was sued for, so in one of those creative sentencing deals, I came to work at the commune. Not happily, and not without plans for escape. Friday my escape became reality. I turned in my resignation to Gay Bagel, serving in his A.W.O.L. brother's stead, who said he was sorry to see me go. I called him a fat-headed penny-pincher who is out to turn every good thing, and bad thing, in the universe into an immoral profit.
It's all part of my "let's burn my bridges on the way out" policy. That's right, I'm leaving, this time for good, and wanted to make sure I never come back by finally blowing my stack at this inept bunch of geeks and freaks. Promote Raoul Dunkin, will you? Two can play the name-calling game.
First off, my friend Lil Duncan, of no relation to me. Lil, everyone knows you've had every man in this office—even Stigmata Spent, who is definitely a man—yet I'm apparently too good-looking, too normal, or possess no hideous body parts like Ted Ted's tiny wings, so I'm not good enough for your bed. Or your chair, your desk, the area under your desk, your kitchen, your apartment hallway, Bagel's desk, your parents' bed, my desk, or any of the other numerous places you've danced horizontally. So to hell with you. And everybody knows you stuff your bra more than Stigmata does.
Ramrod—I know just where that rod's rammed. You're a miserable tight-ass and all your business ventures fail because everybody, including the God you don't believe in and your own mother, hates you. I don't fear reprisal from your "evil twin" either because I live too far on the other side of town, and you can't afford the bus fare on what they pay you here.
Ted Ted… you're short. There, I've said it. If you're thinking of jumping me as I leave work tonight, you angry little fairy, I warn you right now I'm packing a flyswatter. Bring it on, I say.
And let's not forget Bludney Pludd… oh, too late. Actually, Bludney, I think you're a decent, if pitiful, member of this staff. I'm leaving some spare personality in my wastebasket when I leave, I don't need it anymore. Feel free to scrape it out.
My friend Shabozz Wertham, I'm going to say something truly devastating to your African-American pride: The Internet was invented by Al Gore, the world's whitest man. I don't care how many documents you provide, Kareem Abdul-Jabbar had nothing to do with it.
Ramon Nootles will stick his dick in anything that moves, and quite a few things that don't, if he hasn't scored in a while. You're the best reporter here, now that I'm leaving, but you still report about as well as I do after a case of beer and five whiskey sours.
Boner Cunningham masturbates, and no one here will admit it. He's doing it right now, pretending to do a chalk drawing of Ivana Folger-Whatever. And she knows exactly what he's doing—I can hardly say anything more incriminating about her than that.
As for her ex-, Mr. Nacutchacokov—Bagel's never going to bring you home. Just accept it.
I realize I'm leaving some of you out, and take that as the final insult—in an office full of pure abnormalities of human existence, you don't stand out well enough to be mentioned. And I save the finale for my lovable father figure and arch-enemy, Red Bagel himself. Red, you are a spectacular douchebag. You haven't ever come anywhere near the truth with any of your theories—if the truth were a fart, you couldn't even sniff it, that's how determined the truth and you are to avoid each other. I would wish death upon you, but it would rob me of the joy of seeing this little two-bit operation fold without my talents.
As for you, commune reader—I've got no beef with you. You've already suffered enough. Good-bye, so long, and see you nevermore. º Last Column: A Vote For Bush is A Vote For Bush! Bush!º more columns
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|  February 18, 2002
Volume 14Dear commune:
Your publication means a lot to me. I'm sure a lot of people say that, but I have a special reason. I started reading the commune in prison and it helped inspire me to straighten my life out. I'm not exactly sure how, you figure that one out for yourselves.
I managed to get out with time off for good behavior, and everything has been great since. I started dating my parole officer and recently moved in with her, making plans to be married soon. It's been a positive change for her as well, as her daughter used to be in trouble with drugs and promiscuous sex before we started dating, so everything's been great for everybody.
I do have a question, though: Is incest a real law or just a social taboo? And does that apply to consenting individuals who are not related by blood? Thanks.
Jarway Hepburn
Friedmon, CT
Dear Jarway:
According to our bathroom walls, incest is best. Your story is very encouraging to all of us at the commune. If the commune is suited to providing hope to those with dim futures behind bars, we're sure we'll be doing so for you again very soon.
the commune
Dear commune:
Howdy there! I am a professional daredevil. If it needs to be said, kids, do not try anything I do at home.
I'm a big fan of the commune. Not really, but I am a big fan of self-promotion through media outlets like the commune. I'll cut...
º Last Column: Volume 13
º more columns
Dear commune: Your publication means a lot to me. I'm sure a lot of people say that, but I have a special reason. I started reading the commune in prison and it helped inspire me to straighten my life out. I'm not exactly sure how, you figure that one out for yourselves. I managed to get out with time off for good behavior, and everything has been great since. I started dating my parole officer and recently moved in with her, making plans to be married soon. It's been a positive change for her as well, as her daughter used to be in trouble with drugs and promiscuous sex before we started dating, so everything's been great for everybody. I do have a question, though: Is incest a real law or just a social taboo? And does that apply to consenting individuals who are not related by blood? Thanks. Jarway Hepburn
Friedmon, CTDear Jarway: According to our bathroom walls, incest is best. Your story is very encouraging to all of us at the commune. If the commune is suited to providing hope to those with dim futures behind bars, we're sure we'll be doing so for you again very soon. the commune
Dear commune: Howdy there! I am a professional daredevil. If it needs to be said, kids, do not try anything I do at home. I'm a big fan of the commune. Not really, but I am a big fan of self-promotion through media outlets like the commune. I'll cut to the chase: I'm mailing myself to the commune offices in a large package. Don't worry, I've tested it before by mailing myself to the neighbor (boy, was he surprised!) and I have just enough food and water to get by safely. I also have a small TV and VCR with some rented movies and as long as I get them back in time everything should be alright. I'm sending this letter separately to let you know I'll be starting this adventure tomorrow. Hey, maybe I'm already there! Wish me luck! Vern Didactic
San Francisco, CADear Vern:
It troubles us that this letter arrived so late in the mail, judging by the postmark. Even more troubling is the fact that since the anthrax mail scares we've been soaking our packages in the pool overnight.
the commune
Dear commune: I am an aspiring magician. I need to know, how do they pull a rabbit out of a hat? At first I thought maybe there was a break-away bottom to the hat and they reach through the hat into the stand they put it on. There would also have to be a break-away top to the table and a rabbit stuffed inside. Or, if none of that was the case, a fake bottom to the hat and the rabbit is crunched inside. Then it's just a matter of making the rabbit look alive when you pull it out, which would probably be easy enough. The trick becomes even more perplexing on the Rocky & Bullwinkle Show. Bullwinkle doesn't even pull a rabbit out, it's always something weird like a lion or a rhinoceros. I can't even imagine what kind of break-away table is underneath. Maybe mirrors are used to make it look smaller. I suppose it's possible there's some kind of camera chicanery going on, but I watch closely and don't see any noticeable edits. And I have a very sharp eye. If I'm going to be a magician, though, there's one question I must know the answer to: Where can I get one of those top hats? I've never seen one at K-Mart or Sears. Cary Lupino
Texarkana, ARDear Cary:
A magician's secret weapon? Yes, but there's much more to the top hat than that.
Top hats have been the star on the top of the fashion tree since a long time ago. For an added touch of "ooh la la" nothing says fancy motherfucker like a top hat. Taco himself once suggested if you're blue and don't know where to go to, you should go where fashion sits, puttin' on the ritz. All said while wearing a keen top hat.
Top hats are verified worldwide as the easiest hat to toss off non-chalantly onto a nearby hat rack when you come in the door. And there are no other hats in the entire galaxy that look suave with a pair of white Mickey Mouse gloves. Wearing white Mickey Mouse gloves and don't want to look like a total shmoe? Try something other than a top hat you'll appear quite the buffoon.
Top hats even add a little bit of dignity to unavoidable court appearances, and that comes straight from commune editor Red Bagel himself. Always carry one in your glove compartment or trouser pockets, assuming those pockets are big enough.
the commune would also like to thank it's proud new sponsors at Malone's Top Hat Emporium. Malone's—we know fashion and even if you know fashion we probably know just a little more than you, so listen to us.
the commune
Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for the rash of teen movies starring female pop stars. Like everyone else, we're anxiously awaiting the return of music with balls. Garage bands of the world unite!º Last Column: Volume 13º more columns
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Quote of the Day“Give a man a fish, he eats today. Hide a fish in his jacket pocket and watch him go batshit trying to find where the smell's coming from.”
-John J. Jesusheimer SchmidtFortune 500 CookieTurns out your suspicions are correct and that Maurice Sendak book has been about you all this time. Peer-to-peer file-sharing claims its first victim when Metallica shows up at your house to beat the shit out of you. Remember to practice what you preach, because your preaching has been really amateur lately. Lucky numbers are all in Spanish this week.
Try again later.Top Mike Tyson Hotel Brawl Excuses| 1. | Men insulted Tyson's little yappy dog. | | 2. | "Dude reminded me that I raped his sister." | | 3. | Tyson heard bell ring in lobby. | | 4. | Victim reminded Mike of "Little Mac." | | 5. | Men taunted Tyson with their delicious-looking ears. | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 3/4/2002 Holy washed-up franchise, Batman! It's Oscar season and no lisping game bird is going to convince Roland McShyster otherwise. Pay no heed to the lies about Christmastime, the most magical time of the year is truly upon us. So let's get coked up to the gills and revel in the joy that is the month before the Oscars!
Here's your dossier on the bewildering list of nominees:
Best Picture
A Beautiful Mime -read EP review-
This film touched me in much the same way as last year's Requiem for a Dreamcast. Both were films made me stand up and shout back at the void: "Now THOSE are some...
Holy washed-up franchise, Batman! It's Oscar season and no lisping game bird is going to convince Roland McShyster otherwise. Pay no heed to the lies about Christmastime, the most magical time of the year is truly upon us. So let's get coked up to the gills and revel in the joy that is the month before the Oscars! Here's your dossier on the bewildering list of nominees: Best PictureA Beautiful Mime -read EP review-This film touched me in much the same way as last year's Requiem for a Dreamcast. Both were films made me stand up and shout back at the void: "Now THOSE are some tits!" Powerful filmmaking that has given me a new taste for women of few words… who let the cleavage do the talking. I advise you to let it change your world some time soon.
Goosefart Park
Those loveable Animal House morons are back, and this time they're stuck at a quaint Country Inn in the small English town of Goosefart Park. A surprise pick for a Best Picture nomination, but you'll be hard-pressed to find a film this year with more beaver jokes. There's a lot of raunchy humour for the whole family, but this isn't a one-sided farce. The film also brings home the important life lesson that England is stupid.
In the Bedroom
It's a bold statement, but this is probably the best film ever based on a Cream song. To be honest, I didn't understand the movie any better than I understood the tune, (psychedelic interior decorating tips? And who buys black curtains these days?) but regardless, this flick is head and heels above Kevin Costner's dismal Aqualung.
The Lords of the Ring: The Fellowship in the Ring -read EP review-
This is the year gay boxing movies stepped into the mainstream, and there is no finer example than The Lords of the Ring. If a picture is worth a thousand words, and this isn't the best picture of the year, then that means there are a thousand finer words out there somewhere, and personally I find that disbelievable. This is one of those rare movies that grabs you by your manhood and sucks you off. Or in. And as the wizened old boxing trainer Gaydar says in the film: "Sometimes you choose gay boxing. And sometimes gay boxing chooses you." I couldn't have put it better, even with 989 more words and a Polaroid.
Mule in Rouge -read EP review-
Another surprise nomination for Best Picture, as the Academy seems to have a soft spot for screwball comedies this year. This time it's a loveable Talking Mule picture that gets the surprise nod and a wink. And I know what you're thinking, that they always nominate the Talking Mule pictures but they never win the big awards. It's like an unwritten rule. But this year things could be different since there's a lot of buzz under this donkey's tail and I hear the Church of Scientology is throwing it's Hollywood weight around to secure the golden flasher for this picture.
Best Director
Don Henley, A Beautiful Mime -read EP review-
Leave it to a former Eagle to take this tale of form-fitting mime costumes all the way to the limit. Sure, he could have taken it easy, but that's not Henley's style. Being the new kid in town, director-wise, he had a lot to prove, and I for one am hoping there's no heartache for him on Oscar night. Hopefully his film will leave Academy voters with a peaceful, easy feeling, and provide them with a place to hide their lion eyes.
Ripley Scott, Black Hawk Down -read EP review-
Every film this guy does without having a space lizard or whatever spring out of his chest is a triumph in my book. I'd really be pulling for him to take home the gold this year on that basis alone if it weren't for the fact that his movie had way too much pan flute music in it for my tastes. I mean, I guess it's a depressed-bird kind of instrument, but in my opinion you can take that too far.
Robert Palmer, Goosefart Park
Three years ago it was all about foreign dictators directing films, and last year it was about rock-band movies. This year the natural progression continues and it's pop stars turning into directors, and nobody was more surprised than me to discover that this pedophile-looking limey can direct a frat comedy like nobody's business. Both this film and A Beautiful Mime make me realize how far ahead of his time Terrence Trent D'Arby really was when he directed The Thin Red Line a few years ago, really the grandfather of pop star directors. Sure, the inclusion of Power Station's Some Like it Hot in Palmer's film was a little self-serving, but I have to admit it synched up pretty well with the scene where the morons set the Inn on fire.
Peter, Paul and Mary Jackson, The Lords of the Ring: The Fellowship in the Ring -read EP review-
What's more amazing than pop stars making the successful transition to directing feature films? How about entire bands making the leap? Scoff no more my friends, because it happened while you weren't paying attention. If these 60's folkamuffins can direct the best gay boxing film ever, I can't wait to see Metallica's directorial debut this summer.
David Lynch, Mulholland Drive -read EP review-
Sure, he's crazier than a shithouse weasel, but there's no denying that some people out there enjoy the scrambled brainbatter he yanks out of his rectum every few years. Personally, I liked his films more before he decreed that all film scores should be played by throwing live fish at a piano, but you've got to admire his creative vision.
Best Actor
Russell Crowe, A Beautiful Mime -read EP review-
Really rubbing the charm thin after his role in Almost Famous, Crowe serves as a cleavage-blocking impediment to an otherwise arresting film. Back to the Louvre with you, Frenchie.
Sean Penn, I Am Sam -read EP review-
Leave it to a balls-out amazing actor like Penn to garner an Oscar nomination for the smallest of roles. Some may argue that his cameo as the fox in the box was too scant a role to deserve the Oscar nod, but I ask you this: did you ever doubt for a second that that there was really a fox in that box where Knox would not eat the green eggs and ham, would not eat them Sam I Am? I rest my case.
Geoffrey Rush, Lantana
Who?
Mr. Smith, ALI -read EP review-
Talk about taking a boring film and driving it right into the dull, lifeless ground! This is it. The American Law Institute could have salvaged some shred of an audience's attention by casting a big-name star in this plodding logjam of a film, but instead they chose to feature this faceless corporate lawyer in an unbelievably gray suit. I thought for a second this movie might turn into a Pink Floyd video but in the end it turned out that irony was not on the witness list.
Denzel Washington, Training Day -read EP review-
After a long, painful journey, Denzel finally finds his niche in this talking toddler pic. He's never had a finer moment than when he's chasing little Mikey around the apartment while he's got a shitty pair of pull-ups around his ankles (but don't ask me why Denzel was wearing pull-ups in the first place! Zing!). It just goes to show that talent can blossom late, and here Denzel is at his best since To Wong Fu…
Best Animated Film
In a surprising move by the Academy, the Best Actress category has been replaced this year by a new award for Best Animated Film. I'm sure you can imagine the endless griping that has ensued, but for what? I mean, who doesn't like cartoons?
Jimmy Nimrod: Boy Genius -read EP review-
Hands-down the funniest film of the year, and one of the main reasons you'll be hearing Roland McShyster's tortured screams echoing up from hell once we all hit the afterlife. I stand behind my actions, however, and if seeing an exploitive comedy about a retarded super-spy twelve times in the theater is a damnable offense, then damn the torpedoes and steer this cruise ship towards the Hades water park, my friends.
Mobsters, INC. -read EP review-
A computer-animated classic set in the mobster's paradise of New Jersey. A funny, fascinating, and fuggetaboutit musical for those of us who like our fellas good and our fathers godly. Or something, I don't know. Look for Joe Piscapo in his trademark insane mobster role.
Beatty and the Beast
I had the weird deja-vu feeling that I'd seen this movie before, but with all of the great new stuff they're cranking out, it's not like Disney would just rehash one of their old movies to make a few extra bucks. Anyway, it's great to see Ned Beatty working again, though to be honest sometimes I got confused about who was the Beast.
And that's a wrap! Now's it's time to bask in the afterglow while we await the ceremony itself. When will it be? Nobody knows! But that's half the fun of it. And from me to you, America, I hope it's some kind of wonderful. See you in a month!
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