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Cambodian Football Fans Riot, Burn Thai EmbassyFebruary 3, 2003 |
Phnom Penh, Cambodia Snapper Mcgee Furious Cambodian Raiders fans take out their fury by burning an effigy of Tampa Bay favorite Captain Stubing. ost-Super Bowl rioting continued in Cambodia, reaching its pinnacle with the torching of the Thai Embassy Wednesday. Several stores and businesses, predominately Thai-owned, were also vandalized and set afire by distraught Raiders fans.
Political pundits, whatever those are, speculate that the Cambodian people live in stressful times and frequently find their only release in American football, particularly the Oakland Raiders. For a people already hit on hard times, especially with escalating ill will between themselves and neighbors Thailand, the loss of the favored Raiders was the last straw.
Sports pundits, if any such people exist, could not be found because once we said it no one in the office could stop laughing long enough to find some.
Expe...
ost-Super Bowl rioting continued in Cambodia, reaching its pinnacle with the torching of the Thai Embassy Wednesday. Several stores and businesses, predominately Thai-owned, were also vandalized and set afire by distraught Raiders fans.
Political pundits, whatever those are, speculate that the Cambodian people live in stressful times and frequently find their only release in American football, particularly the Oakland Raiders. For a people already hit on hard times, especially with escalating ill will between themselves and neighbors Thailand, the loss of the favored Raiders was the last straw.
Sports pundits, if any such people exist, could not be found because once we said it no one in the office could stop laughing long enough to find some.
Expert sports follower Ray "Sport" William, a sports follower for 34 years and frequenter of the bar across the street from the commune offices, could sympathize with the disgusted Cambodian citizens.
"It's a damn shame, a'course," said Sport. "What you have is a real awkward situation 'cause shoddy reporting and populist politics are preying upon a people who are struggling to join a world market.
"With elections coming up in July, the Hu Sen government is whipping up nationalist frenzy to keep attention off domestic problems, including a border treaty with Vietnam that's still not signed yet. What's the best way to get a population furiously patriotic? Give them an enemy, and in this case, Thailand makes a convenient target. Now anything and everything that comes out of Thailand can be misconstrued by journalists who jump on the bandwagon, like alleged comments by some Thai actress that the Angkor Wat national monument really belonged to Thailand."
Sport could not see any immediate relief for the frenzied football fans.
"There's no hope on the horizon, I'd say. At least not until the elections have come and gone and the government is either comfortably in place and can turn the focus away from Thailand, or Sam Rainsy campaigners succeed in turning the eye back on domestic issues and unseat the Hu Sen government."
Or, as Professor of Asiatic Politics at Columbia University Dom Jutney said, "There's always next year. You can't keep Oakland down. This year Tampa Bay wanted it more. Next year it's all Raiders, baby."
The Thai Embassy in America, while not currently in flames, could not be reached for comment. Which is a polite way of saying they hung up on us repeatedly, which was really pretty thoughtless considering we were calling long distance and they charge us for the first minute whether we speak for a minute or ten seconds. A second call to determine if they would pay the charges for the first call was not received any better, which leaves us with two unpaid long distance calls.
The Cambodian Embassy was more receptive, leading us to believe they can't be all bad.
"The riots are terrible. It is sad that a collection of outraged individuals are representing Cambodia to the world in their violence, especially in this time of potential war and political difficulties in other areas of the world. It weighs heavy on this country's heart. If only Jerry Rice had succeeded on those two-point conversions." the commune news doesn't know much about Cambodia, but any country's cuisine that doesn't burn our stomach is number one to us. Foreign correspondent Ivan Nacutchacokov was in the area anyway, being spit on by North Korean nationalists nearby.
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 July 4, 2005
The Adventures of Red & RascalI have really done it now. And "it" is not a good thing in this case.
Exhibiting an unusual lack of foresight, I signed away the rights to my and Rascal's likenesses to television producers from way out west in Hollywood. Knowing Hollywood as I do, I expected some sort of daring and intellectual, if fictional, account of our conspiracy-cracking and maybe, just maybe, a few life lessons worked in between our hardline journalistic efforts. Well, needless to say, by my outraged introduction, I got nothing of the sort!
What I got, sir, was nothing but a moronic cartoon, called at this juncture, The Adventures of Red & Rascal. I was mortified. I had to look up what it meant just to be sure, and indeed I was.
Being a cartoon is bad enough, but you haven't heard the worst of it. Apparently in this show, if you can call it that, we are portrayed as quite the buffoons. Like a couple of ninnys, Rascal and I, the cartoon versions, traipse around wildly looking for Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, carrying high-powered laser weapons made to subdue either of them, should we catch them. All of which is just plain ludicrous, since current laser technology is insufficient to detain Bigfoot, of course, and if you're going to try to kill him, you'd better have more than a net and a little laser gun, I'll tell you that. Not to mention the show grievously overlooks all the Loch Ness Monster's charity work and simply paints her as a heartless...
º Last Column: A Throat Too Deep º more columns
I have really done it now. And "it" is not a good thing in this case.
Exhibiting an unusual lack of foresight, I signed away the rights to my and Rascal's likenesses to television producers from way out west in Hollywood. Knowing Hollywood as I do, I expected some sort of daring and intellectual, if fictional, account of our conspiracy-cracking and maybe, just maybe, a few life lessons worked in between our hardline journalistic efforts. Well, needless to say, by my outraged introduction, I got nothing of the sort!
What I got, sir, was nothing but a moronic cartoon, called at this juncture, The Adventures of Red & Rascal. I was mortified. I had to look up what it meant just to be sure, and indeed I was.
Being a cartoon is bad enough, but you haven't heard the worst of it. Apparently in this show, if you can call it that, we are portrayed as quite the buffoons. Like a couple of ninnys, Rascal and I, the cartoon versions, traipse around wildly looking for Bigfoot or the Loch Ness Monster, carrying high-powered laser weapons made to subdue either of them, should we catch them. All of which is just plain ludicrous, since current laser technology is insufficient to detain Bigfoot, of course, and if you're going to try to kill him, you'd better have more than a net and a little laser gun, I'll tell you that. Not to mention the show grievously overlooks all the Loch Ness Monster's charity work and simply paints her as a heartless beast. But we're forgetting the larger point, which is this thing makes me look dumb.
I checked with my lawyer, Whistles Goldman, and found out I have absolutely no recourse, since I didn't verify in my contract I wanted complete control of the project. I figured, in my defense, that they knew I was Red Bagel and would want nothing less. But apparently "should've expected it" doesn't count for anything in contract law.
I've spent years building up my reputation and now it all has to end like this. What kind of fear am I going to instill in the puppetmasters who lurk in the shadows if every Saturday morning I'm seen falling hundreds of miles into a chasm and crashing in a puff of smoke? For one thing, they'll have unrealistic expectations on how to kill me, which might not work in my benefit like you'd think. The Red Bagel they all knew beforehand was a clever and cunning adversary, not some disproportionately fat and angular idiot who shouts "Fiddlesticks!" when he's confounded. I shout "Fuck!" and anyone who knows me can tell you that.
I did get a percentage of the merchandising rights in all this, which are worth an estimated $24 million, but what does that mean to me? I've already got so much money I give boxes of it to staff members in lieu of actual birthday gifts. If that doesn't tell you how meaningless it all is to me, I don't know what will. No, the money is nothing to me. My reputation—that's stainless steel, and before now, positively uncorruptible. Not to mention it's going to make Rascal look bad, too, and I will stand for that only slightly more than the damage done to me.
Rascal is a loyal and fearless manservant, always has been since whenever I hired him. Seems like years ago, but the pay stubs don't back that up. Rascal would follow me into the gates of Hell, me safely behind by at least 30 feet, and would only come out when I okayed it. That's how dedicated he is to my service. It breaks what you might call my heart to see him maligned in such a fashion.
Still, I have to admit, that Australian accent they gave him is both dead-on and hilarious. They really did their homework, these Hollywood slimeballs. º Last Column: A Throat Too Deepº more columns
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|  December 24, 2001
Christmas"Every Christmas was the same thing at my house. Us kids hung up our socks by the chimney, except for Goose, who was not allowed to post socks anymore due to that court order from the neighborhood block association.
Dad would dress up as Santa and ask all the kids what we wanted for Christmas. Goose would want something different every year, and usually very unreasonable requests at that. One year he asked for a pie as big as the living room and another he wanted a donkey that could speak Spanish. I think Goose was convinced it was more like a contest, like 'Stump Santa!' or something, and consequently he would only get a football every year and they began to pile up in his room.
It began to grate on Dad, who kept trying to get a gift that would pacify Goose every year but Goose would always beat him. The year I got my Radio Flyer wagon and Stephanie got her Holly Hobbie doll, Goose asked for a trunk full of gunpowder. Dad came darn close that time, but on Christmas day he had to forfeit when Goose discovered it was full of dyed flour cut with real gunpowder. Made for quite an explosion anyway, and mom tried to fill the thing with meaning by saying it was like a guiding star for the baby Jesus or something, but we just thought it looked cool.
Goose won every year until that last one, when he got particularly uncreative and asked for a giant robot suit he could climb inside. Dad had to quit work and spend all day and night on it, and...
º Last Column: Moon º more columns
"Every Christmas was the same thing at my house. Us kids hung up our socks by the chimney, except for Goose, who was not allowed to post socks anymore due to that court order from the neighborhood block association.
Dad would dress up as Santa and ask all the kids what we wanted for Christmas. Goose would want something different every year, and usually very unreasonable requests at that. One year he asked for a pie as big as the living room and another he wanted a donkey that could speak Spanish. I think Goose was convinced it was more like a contest, like 'Stump Santa!' or something, and consequently he would only get a football every year and they began to pile up in his room.
It began to grate on Dad, who kept trying to get a gift that would pacify Goose every year but Goose would always beat him. The year I got my Radio Flyer wagon and Stephanie got her Holly Hobbie doll, Goose asked for a trunk full of gunpowder. Dad came darn close that time, but on Christmas day he had to forfeit when Goose discovered it was full of dyed flour cut with real gunpowder. Made for quite an explosion anyway, and mom tried to fill the thing with meaning by saying it was like a guiding star for the baby Jesus or something, but we just thought it looked cool.
Goose won every year until that last one, when he got particularly uncreative and asked for a giant robot suit he could climb inside. Dad had to quit work and spend all day and night on it, and technically only the head part could move, but it qualified under the rules Mom had established. Dad danced a jig that night, and all Goose could do was shake his robot suit head in disappointment." º Last Column: Moonº 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.Least Anticipated New TV Series| 1. | CSI Iraq | | 2. | The Farting Flannigans | | 3. | JAG's Pal | | 4. | The show where the former movie star washes up on a TV sitcom | | 5. | The Following Friends Time-Slot Show | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 12/10/2001 What it is, America? Entertainment Police is back and on the attack with another two-weeks' worth of tips and whatnot as to the goings-on in the Entertainment world. And what a crazy world it is these days, what with the economy on recess and everyone getting Amway in the mail and all. Look, I know you came here for the reviews, to find out what to do with that Jefferson that's been burning a hole in your pocket, so I won't delay any further. On to the movies!
In Theaters Now:
Not Another Ween Movie
Ha! Those musically irreverent Ween brothers are back in their fifth film, regardless of what the title might lead you to believe. This time they're taking on the smash hit Titanic with this...
What it is, America? Entertainment Police is back and on the attack with another two-weeks' worth of tips and whatnot as to the goings-on in the Entertainment world. And what a crazy world it is these days, what with the economy on recess and everyone getting Amway in the mail and all. Look, I know you came here for the reviews, to find out what to do with that Jefferson that's been burning a hole in your pocket, so I won't delay any further. On to the movies!
In Theaters Now:
Not Another Ween Movie
Ha! Those musically irreverent Ween brothers are back in their fifth film, regardless of what the title might lead you to believe. This time they're taking on the smash hit Titanic with this lampooning (or is it serious? or are they crazy?) musical full of memorable song-and-dance numbers like "My Heart Will Go On Sale", "Hey Iceburg (Shithead)", "Go Pull a Nickel Out Your Ass, Steve" and "Somebody Please Fish My Icy Nuts Out of the Atlantic".
Ocean's 11
The sad tale of the last remaining Phoenix brother, who was incinerated this past July in a Bar-be-cue gone bad on his eleventh birthday. Like his brother River and his sister Delta before him, he lived too fast, too young, and left a good-looking pre-pubescent corpse. This tribute is a fine send-off as he sulks his way up to the big detox in the sky.
The Royal Tennis Bums
Every king and queen's worst nightmare is to have their progeny grow up to be nothing but long-haired polycarbonalium racquet-wielding tennis bums, cruising the courts looking for the cheap thrill of a pick-up match and taking pictures with their scofflaw Rebel SLR cameras. But just that is the lot for the rulers of the conveniently-created kingdom of Bumcock, who send their kids to a strict uppity tennis camp for the summer, thinking the regimentation will sap their love of the game. Instead, the royal shits beat the tennis slobs at the camp across the lake and learn something valuable about themselves in the process: they're rich.
Vanilla Sky
Only a lumpy-skulled nut-tugger like Vanilla Ice would have the grotesquely swollen balls to write himself into the history of the space program in this supposedly autobiographical picture about his childhood dream of launching a rocket and his later top-level work for NASA. Not to mention that the theme song is just Elton John's "Rocket Man" with a tambourine line added. Almost as disgusting as his last two films: "A Dream With Wings: The Orville and Vanilla Wright Story" and "Yo, I Wrote the Star-Spangled Banner".
Now on Video:
Karen Carpenter's Ghosts of Mars
If you thought last season of Allie McBeal was scary, wait until you witness this harrowing tale of anorexia, bulimia and gas-station candy bar sales. Beat to the punch by "The Karen Carpenter Story" a few years back, but I hear this one has vampires and shit, so it's probably a better popcorn anorexia movie.
Maid
That meaty dude you loved so much for Swingers and Deep Throat, Jon Favorite, is back in this hilarious lark about a hapless palooka who has to go to New York and dress up as a sexy French maid to win the girl of his dreams. It turns out that impersonating the maid at his belle-to-be's mansion is harder than it looks, and many explosively comedic situations result. Probably my favorite scene is the New Year's Eve party where no less than a half-dozen male guests try to take Jon back to the servants' quarters for some deep cleaning, and he discovers that the maid who he knocked out and put on a bus to Florida had been shining more than a few knobs around the mansion.
Pearl Harbor
Finally a WWII film that tells the real story of how we took on the Japanese at Pearl Harbor and kicked their skinny little tails, heaving bombs up into the trunks of their planes when they weren't looking. Man, I would have loved to see the looks on their faces when those bombs went off. Some irresponsible networks actually played the film footage of the attack backwards, leading many Americans to believe that Japan actually tried to bomb us on that fateful day. Right, like they'd try to bomb us! Think about it people: they're just a tiny little island. We could just go over there and blow over all their little rice paper houses with a big fan or something. Don't be so naïve.
Television:
Woolf Lake (CBS)
As always, CBS takes the high road in its effort to keep its audience (average age 92) thrilled with the most boring programming available. This particular time, you've got to respect their literary credentials. Each week members of the Woolf Lake book club get together and discuss how much they enjoyed their latest reading assignment. No stars, per se, unless you count Virginia Woolf (the show's namesake), Henry James, Mark Twain, or Agatha Christie. And of course, nobody does.
The Agency (CBS)
The black eye network continues to make its 21st century comeback with this hot new sitcom adapted from that infomercial about the ad agency with the new IBM computers. Who can blame them? Few television network shows had such well-developed characters as the fat guy from accounting and that old guy who was afraid of getting on the internet. Some advice from Roland M: Drop that boring soccer mom who keeps whining about sending out e-mail memos, that pony won't play ball more than one episode.
Maybe it's Me (WB)
Give up now, Survivor! The ultimate reality show is here, and who would have thought the WB would have it? Six horrible hack stand-up comedians are put onto a set where each week they throw out the script and try to ad-lib each other out of the spotlight! The gag: They've all been told they're starring in a new sitcom, while the truth is that when it's over, only one of them can go on to star in a third-rate WB sitcom with lousy writing next season! Unless the other five get put into their own ABC shows or something.
Video Games:
The Sims Hot Date (PC)
Call me a whacko with no sense of humor, but paying $30 just to get a box with a rubber glove and Jergens lotion in it doesn't sit well with me, folks at Electronic Arts. I bet you assholes are the ones who unscrew the salt shaker at KFC whenever I'm dining in. Fuckers.
Metallica Solitude (PS2)
Everyone who knows games (and I do) has been waiting forever for this huge arrival for the Playstation 2, and it finally arrives, about ten years too late. I've never been a big fan of Metallica or their lead singer Snake, so maybe it's my fault this computerized version of their biggest video is a let down. Not bad, but playing as a crumpled old man digging your way out of some futuristic prison while morbid arpeggio music plays in the background isn't my idea of high-speed gaming.
Alone in the Dark 4 (DC)
Those fuckers at Electronic Arts are making "games" for Dreamcast now. Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, I come after you with a goddamn shotgun, you butt-humping jerkwipes. May you rot in hell. In the meantime, I've got a nice set of dish gloves and more Jergens lotion than anybody needs. Electronic Arts can lick my salty parts.
Well, I hope that all turned your world upside-down, I know it did mine. We'll be back in six days short of a fortnight to rain entertainment manna down on your unsuspecting heads one more time. Watch for it.   |