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Texans to Rain Clouds: Don't Mess with TexasJuly 8, 2002 |
New Braunfels, TX Junior Bacon Mother nature has picked the wrong state to mess with this time esponding to a week of heavy rains and severe flooding that has destroyed more than 200 homes and forced the evacuation of thousands of residents, Texans statewide have banded together to take back their state from Mother Nature. Seeking to live out the meaning of their state creed, "Don't Mess with Texas," Texans have waged an all-out war on the storm systems that have pummeled their state in recent days.
"First, it started out with some hooting and hollering, just letting off some steam after my house got washed down the river with all my guns still inside," explained New Braunfels resident Stymie Rauch. "Then when my pickup got washed away too, that struck me as personal and enough was enough so I gave them rain clouds a good what-for. I'll admit, there was some blue langua...
esponding to a week of heavy rains and severe flooding that has destroyed more than 200 homes and forced the evacuation of thousands of residents, Texans statewide have banded together to take back their state from Mother Nature. Seeking to live out the meaning of their state creed, "Don't Mess with Texas," Texans have waged an all-out war on the storm systems that have pummeled their state in recent days.
"First, it started out with some hooting and hollering, just letting off some steam after my house got washed down the river with all my guns still inside," explained New Braunfels resident Stymie Rauch. "Then when my pickup got washed away too, that struck me as personal and enough was enough so I gave them rain clouds a good what-for. I'll admit, there was some blue language involved that you aren't likely to hear at a nun's funeral. But them rain clouds knew what, they had it comin."
Inspired by Rauch's example, other New Braunfels residents swore and threw rocks at the clouds from the roofs of their homes, which were each comfortably stocked with several cases of lite beer and battery-powered television sets in case of a longer-than-usual flood.
New Braunfelite John Richard Stubing elevated the protest to an armed conflict when he begin firing his shotgun into the sky, signaling that he was mad as hell and also out of Frito dip. Neighbors cheered from their rooftops and an unknown hillrod waved a Texas state flag in support from a rowboat he was piloting up Honeysuckle Lane.
Word of the New Braunfels resistance movement spread like Billy Ray Cyrus haircuts across the state and within hours groups of armed Texans were wading through the streets and brandishing firearms in several Central Texas towns. Clever commemorative tee-shirts were printed up in record time featuring the cloud-mocking catchphrase "G'on Now, Git" and by nightfall country singer Toby Keith had released a timely single entitled "Mother Nature Ain't No Mother of Mine (The Pissed-off Texan)."
By Saturday, calls had been made to former Texas governor and current U.S. president by default George W. Bush to dispatch the U.S. nuclear arsenal in response to the clouds' aggressions against the people of Texas. Current governor Rick Perry publicly supported the use of nuclear force and all other necessary holy hell to send a message to the storm front. Perry summed up the state government's position as "Be you a cloud or be you from Amarillo, you know that when you rattle the big dog's cage, that big dog just might give you a bite for your troubles. Look out, weather."
Some Texas activists, however, were not content to wait for the wheels of government to get around to turning. Saturday afternoon, Patrick Scott, the president of cable television's The Weather Channel, was kidnapped from his Atlanta home. A letter described as "sort of like a ransom note" was discovered at the scene, though only the phrase "We gotcha by the balls now!" has been released to the press.
Meanwhile, residents across the state waged war on Mother Nature into the evening on Saturday, pulling down trees with pickup trucks, stomping on flowers and spraying aerosol products straight into the sky. A man was arrested near San Antonio for feeding chili to penguins at the zoo and a grassroots movement took hold among Texans who defiantly refused to cut up their six-pack rings before discarding them.
However, by Sunday a soggy and hung-over Texas awoke feeling plum tuckered out and noticeably less defiant. Talk had turned to the wisdom of passive resistance in the struggle against Mother Nature. Sunday conversations were dominated by discussion of magazine-drying techniques and boasts of homes to be rebuilt bigger and better in the exact same spots, only with game rooms and hot tubs this time around. Other Texas discussed the feasibility of developing waterproof bubble-domes to cover houses or outfitting trailer homes with pontoons.
Meteorologists had previously predicted a few more days of heavy rain for Central Texas, followed by dry weather, but are now withholding their Texas forecasts until Patrick Scott is returned safely. the commune news is like neither a raven nor a writing desk, but does like a good riddle from time to time. Not to mention feeling a strange affinity toward ads for Jacuzzis and teeth whiteners. Ivan Nacutchacokov greatly appreciates the travel opportunities his commune job affords him, and has sent Red Bagel a pair of water-logged ruined sneakers as a token of his gratitude.
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Bush’s MySpace Page Traffic Way Down Plans for Tallest Ferris Wheel Scrapped; Yao-Ming Too Busy to Turn It Entwistle Pleads Not Guilty of Murder, Last Several Who Albums Condi Rice Hates the Way She Smiles in Pictures |
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 May 28, 2007
Lobbying for the 368-Day WeekendOnce again we are celebrating the best kind of weekend, good people—a 4-day weekend. Is there anything better in the great scheme of things than having to work one day less than usual. Of course. There's the 4-day weekend. Praise be to whatever genius created this thing, having only three days of actual work at my job before another, if somewhat disappointingly short weekend, comes around. And there's always that one week when the commune was shut down for Red Bagel's circumcision—that was a sort of gloomy vacation, but the kid survived and our fearless editor was cleared of all charges. Still, I have an idea that will blows your socks all the way up to your hands so you look like a lazy puppeteer: The 368-day weekend.
Are you aware that 2007 ends on a Monday? Good people, this gives us an amazing opportunity to demonstrate that America still knows how to have fun. Let us take that weekend before the last Monday in 2007 and start the longest weekend the world has ever seen. A 368-day weekend! I'm not joking, I wouldn't even know how to joke about something like that, I take my weekends far too seriously. Do you know how many barbecues you could have in 368 days? How many exhibitions of dangerous fireworks? How many days you could mow the lawn, shirtless, enticing the female neighbors? Just think about all the nights you could stay up researching bus tickets to Albany until 3 in the morning, carefree about the stack of work waiting for you on your...
º Last Column: Rain, Rain, Go Straight to Hell º more columns
Once again we are celebrating the best kind of weekend, good people—a 4-day weekend. Is there anything better in the great scheme of things than having to work one day less than usual. Of course. There's the 4-day weekend. Praise be to whatever genius created this thing, having only three days of actual work at my job before another, if somewhat disappointingly short weekend, comes around. And there's always that one week when the commune was shut down for Red Bagel's circumcision—that was a sort of gloomy vacation, but the kid survived and our fearless editor was cleared of all charges. Still, I have an idea that will blows your socks all the way up to your hands so you look like a lazy puppeteer: The 368-day weekend. Are you aware that 2007 ends on a Monday? Good people, this gives us an amazing opportunity to demonstrate that America still knows how to have fun. Let us take that weekend before the last Monday in 2007 and start the longest weekend the world has ever seen. A 368-day weekend! I'm not joking, I wouldn't even know how to joke about something like that, I take my weekends far too seriously. Do you know how many barbecues you could have in 368 days? How many exhibitions of dangerous fireworks? How many days you could mow the lawn, shirtless, enticing the female neighbors? Just think about all the nights you could stay up researching bus tickets to Albany until 3 in the morning, carefree about the stack of work waiting for you on your desk back at that miserable office? Believe me, I love my job. If it wasn't for my job, I would feel I lacked definition, and had no purpose in the world. It's doing whatever it is I do that makes me who I am. Still, that aside, it's a soul-sucking, worthless, abysmal darkness having to work day-in, day-out. It saps the very will to live out of me thinking of the things I love in my life and how I can't do any of them because I have to spend 40 hours a week performing some bullshit function to keep our crass commercial society steaming along, crushing the innocent under its tracks. So nothing perks me up like a long weekend! And a 368-day weekend would be the longest ever. Imagine: You leave from work on the evening of December 29, 2007 (and it's been a wonderfully short Christmas week anyway) and you return on Thursday, January 1, 2009. Wait—coming back to work on New Year's Day? I don't think so! By necessity, this plan has to be a 369-day weekend! Good Snapple, this plan keeps getting better by the minute! 369 days it is. I'm not blind to the practical difficulties of such a plan. I'm well aware that if the banks don't function in 2008, if the farmers don't grow food and the grocers don't stock it, if the power company just shuts down for the entire year, it might cause a less-than-enjoyable weekend. I say bullocks! Which is British for bullshit. Whenever I have a long weekend I can just do a few columns ahead of time, or play catch up when I get back. Why don't we do that? Everybody stock up all the food you can in December 2007, and buy a lot of batteries and gasoline generators. I have a laptop with a battery, so I should still be able to get on the computer. But who wants to? It's a weekend! This prettyboy's not working for the weekend. Forget the dreary drag of the office, let go of that boring drive to work every day— we can hold the presidential election in 2009. The president can't do the country any more damage if we're all at home watching The A-Team on TV Land. All I'm saying is think about it, Americans. I just might go ahead and take the "long weekend" myself if no one else wants to do it. Feel free to stop by the regal Finger estate to see my wife, Ginger, sunning in the deck chairs and good ol' Rok himself mowing the lawn. Check out my pecs. º Last Column: Rain, Rain, Go Straight to Hellº more columns
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|  May 9, 2005
You Don't Know Dickman (Vol. 3)America's favorite love-it-all reviewer from Spineless Magazine has the scoop on this summer's hot-to-trot blockbusters… and we've got the scoop on Dickman! Actually, we just paid him a standard fee. He's previewed this year's big summer blockbusters and here's his unbiased reviews!
Kingdom of Heaven
"I'm converted! A Kingdom of Heaven is waiting for you—at your local theater! At last, there's a reward in this lifetime!"
Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
"It's Star Wars-tastic! So good you'll wish it wasn't the last one! But it is. I'm getting in line now for the special effects explosion of the lifetime! Makes all the other five movies look wretched by comparison! Jed-I love it!"
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
"Bradgelina! Yum! The world's most beautiful super-spies make love and war! Based on a Hitchcock film that didn't have quite-so-sexy celebrities, Mr. and Mrs. Smith may just be good enough to break up your marriage!"
War of the Worlds
"The war is over—and earth won! Set your movie dial on 'Cruise control' this summer! A Spielbergin' good time! The aliens are coming, but we can stop just by giving them this movie—'cause it kicks ass!"
Charlie & the Chocolate Factory
"Hot damn, a remake! The world's hot new Jesus, Johnny Depp, is throwing all his...
º Last Column: You Don't Know Dickman (Vol. 2) º more columns
America's favorite love-it-all reviewer from Spineless Magazine has the scoop on this summer's hot-to-trot blockbusters… and we've got the scoop on Dickman! Actually, we just paid him a standard fee. He's previewed this year's big summer blockbusters and here's his unbiased reviews!
Kingdom of Heaven
"I'm converted! A Kingdom of Heaven is waiting for you—at your local theater! At last, there's a reward in this lifetime!"
Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
"It's Star Wars-tastic! So good you'll wish it wasn't the last one! But it is. I'm getting in line now for the special effects explosion of the lifetime! Makes all the other five movies look wretched by comparison! Jed-I love it!"
Mr. and Mrs. Smith
"Bradgelina! Yum! The world's most beautiful super-spies make love and war! Based on a Hitchcock film that didn't have quite-so-sexy celebrities, Mr. and Mrs. Smith may just be good enough to break up your marriage!"
War of the Worlds
"The war is over—and earth won! Set your movie dial on 'Cruise control' this summer! A Spielbergin' good time! The aliens are coming, but we can stop just by giving them this movie—'cause it kicks ass!"
Charlie & the Chocolate Factory
"Hot damn, a remake! The world's hot new Jesus, Johnny Depp, is throwing all his old awards in the trash just to make room for the Oscar he'll win with this role! Burton? Depp? Pure nitro-glycerin and oily rags!"
Fantastic Four
"Talk about good Four-tune! Jessica Alba is hot, hot, hot as the sister of the fire guy. Look Four-ward to this big-ass blockbuster release—it's based on a comic book!"
Batman Begins
"If this is how Batman Begins, I can't wait to see him end! Light up the bat signal this summer! This caped crusader is Bat-ting a thousand! Christopher Nolan puts the 'man' back in Batman!"
The Honeymooners
" The Honeymooners are back and black! Cedric the Entertainer lives up to his name—the 'Entertainer' part. Jackie Gleason wishes he could get out of his grave to grab a ticket to this 'blackbuster' hit!"
The Bad News Bears
"Good news for people who love Bad News—the Bears are back in town! Billy Bob Thornton is his funniest since Sling Blade in this awesome-tacular sports saga! I'm hoping to get Bad News every summer! Don't run from these Bears!"
The Dukes of Hazzard
"A movie that could be Hazzard-ous to your health! This summer, put up your Dukes for Dukes! Jessica Simpson can slide into my car through the window anytime!!! It's remake-tacular!"
Deuce Bigalow: European Gigolo
"A stunning and moving follow-up to the never-ending Deuce Bigalow saga! Based on the poignant series of novels, Deuce Bigalow is pure dynamite, and I'm ready to set it on fire! Rob Schneider blows (insert explosion here) the screen away!" º Last Column: You Don't Know Dickman (Vol. 2)º more columns
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Quote of the Day“We'll meet again. You might say that's impossible, since people can only meet once, but they haven't factored in my patented time machine and early-onset Alzheimer's.”
-Capt. Don Spacegain, Year 3054Fortune 500 CookieNow's the perfect time to launch your alternative news website. Thursday's haul proves your friend's theory that the Halloween is really the only lucrative time for trick-or-treating. For your information, he's going to shoot his old woman down 'cause he caught her messing 'round with some other man; you don't need to know everything. Lucky son of a bitch.
Try again later.Top Cruel New Rumors| 1. | Gay people can't whistle | | 2. | Tennessee quarter shows state trooper harassing black motorist | | 3. | French Stewart not actually French | | 4. | Cats love vodka | | 5. | Donald Trump is secret owner of McDonald's chain | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Red Bagel 7/11/2005 A Fistul of Tannenbaum, Chapter 15: Knight on FireEditor'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...
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 different words in English. The villagers were basically idiots.
"You told me not that you were a witch, Sir Gen-General!" said Sir Punkrock. He shook his head and clucked his tongue. A tinny echo came out of his knight's helmet. "What kind of king makes a witch a knight? Not the good kind, I'd bet."
"Listen, you fuck," growled Jed, "you've got to stop these villagers. If I'm burned alive I'll never be able to live until I'm 103. And history will be changed. The consequences could be disastrous."
"I suppose that's possible, but they're quite an angry mob," said Sir Punkrock. "I'm not really in the mood to get in their way. I guess you'll have to help yourself."
Jed frantically tried to chew through the ropes binding him, but his neck couldn't reach around his back without a great deal of pain and killing him. He succeeded in chewing through his beard, but that didn't help him at all. He again implored the people.
"Please! Find your mercy within and cut me free!"
"Mercy? Mercy?" said a repetitious man, pointing accusingly. "We have no mercy for the likes of you! A male witch—it's nasty! And that explains perfectly why you can produce fire and why you wanted to help free that female witch!" The man felt the need to repeat the facts because he secretly worried he had rushed the prosecution on weak material evidence.
"Burn the witch!" shouted a truly ugly man.
"You mustn't burn me!" Jed again screamed. "I'm from the future! I come from a time much better than yours, where we can make fire with small devices and watch TV with digital signals. I came back in time through magic. I'm not a witch!"
"Oh. You should have said that originally," said the ugly man, helping to untie Jed from the burning pole. "You'll have to excuse our fervor. We get very mob-like when we see things that aren't easily explainable. But good luck with the time-traveling thing."
The lead prosecutor mob guy pointed to the original witch, a fire already lit under her. "And this hag? She is a fellow time-traveler, one of yours?"
"No, she is probably some witch," said Foster, pocketing his lighter once again. "If you don't mind, I've got to book. Sir Punkrock… we are to go to the castle now?"
Sir Punkrock had been reading a baudy limerick, and didn't hear. But he pulled it all together and escorted Jed, who he thought was named Sir Gen-General, to the castle of Arthur, King of England and Everything. This time, they were not interrupted.
A large man in shining golden armor came forward from a decorative throne. Everyone bowed to him and called him their king. He carried a mighty sword they all called Excalibur, and on his shield was embossed the name "Arthur." Jed could tell by the man's swagger he was someone very high up in King Arthur's court.
"Good sir knight," said the unknown man, "I am Arthur, King of England and Everything."
Next Chapter: King of England and Everything   |