Eagles Draft Aniston

erhaps the biggest surprise of the otherwise lackluster 2002 NFL draft was the Philadelphia Eagles' third-round choice of actress Jennifer Aniston, who co-stars as Rachel Green on the hit NBC sit-com Friends." Ms. Aniston had appeared on virtually none of the depth charts around the league prior to the draft, including the Eagles' own charts. That oversight was apparently not enough to stop the Philly club from taking the lovely actress with the 87th pick in the third round Saturday.

Player personnel assistant Weeb Tittle discussed the choice with reporters. "We've always liked her here, we just think she's a fabulous talent. We especially liked her roles in the movies Office Space and Rock Star, where she really held her own going up against the dynamic Mark Wahlberg."

Tittle went on to give a few clues as to the reasoning behind the controversial choice. "First of all, we looked at lots of film. Hours and hours of film. Of all the Friends, we thought she was far and away the most macho, the one that exhibited the most pure testosterone. The guys on that show must all be on estrogen treatments or something. I mean, take David Schwimmer, for instance. That guy is just a whiny wienie, a total wuss. Can you imagine asking him to blitz? He'd probably start crying. Matthew Perry, sheesh, that guy does more coke than the president. We don't need that on this team, we've had our share of cokeheads here in the past. And Matt LeBlanc... did you see that movie he made with the chimpanzee? He made that chimp look like a rocket scientist, like that guy, what's his name, Norman Einstein. No thank you."

"Lisa Kudrow, now," Tittle continued, "we gave her some thought, but we were afraid that her sister, the gal that played Ursula the waitress on Mad About You might want to be included in some kind of a package deal, and we didn't want that. And Courteney Cox-Arquette got some serious consideration, because we think she could probably kick some major ass, but do you know how difficult it would be to get 'Cox-Arquette' across the back of a jersey? Besides, no one can stand David Arquette, her husband. Have you seen that guy? He's almost as annoying as Carrot Top."

Asked what position they envisioned the rather-small-by-NFL-standards Aniston playing, Tittle mused, "Well, the offensive coordinator thinks she's a natural Tight End, and I tend to agree with him on that. But we both want to see what she can do with the pump fake, and how she handles play action. And our Quarterback, Donovan McNabb, would love to see her line up at center, but not if we're going to use the Shotgun formation. We also think she might be good at covering receivers, and we're all anxious to see her go up the middle. Of course it goes without saying that most of the guys are excited about getting a few one-on-one drills with her, and seeing her take that post-game shower, too."

"All in all," he concluded, "we think she'll be a big draw here, and will help put people in the stands. And that's what it's all about, isn't it? I mean that and winning games."

Tittle dismissed as simply a "publicity ploy" and "copycatting" the subsequent sixth-round drafting of actress Jane Leeves, who portrays Daphne Moon on NBC's long-running series Frasier, by the Seattle Seahawks."What's up with that?" Tittle wondered, his voice filled with scorn. "I mean, she's British, isn't she? Football to her means soccer. Those guys don't have a clue. I used to respect Coach Holmgren and his organization out there, but a move like that, well, that's just silly."

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Dear commune:

By now you realize that your highly coveted and Pulitzer Prize winning reporter, Truman Prudy, is missing. At least we're pretty sure about the Pulitzer Prize part, someone suggested it might actually be a ribbon from the State Fair, but that someone also happens to be an asshole. Regardless, this is one valuable lump of man. Perhaps you blamed his disappearance on one of his frequent and well-publicized pornography binges, where he has been known to disappear for days on end before washing up on the shores of the Mississippi or another large body of water. We assure you that this is not the case in this instance. The uncomfortable tickle you feel crawling up the back of your throat is the slow dawning of a terrible realization. That's right. Our organization has captured your precious Trudy using a clever false storefront and a large tuna net. Tremble, as is your right in this situation. Kidnapping is the name of this game, and the Pop-O-Matic bubble has been depressed, and then released.

Our ransom demands are simple: publish our enclosed manifestos and give us all of your money. All of it. None of this "one million dollars in unmarked bills" bullshit. We don't know how much money you have, so it would be silly to ask for a million if you really have two million, then we'd be cheated out of half of our rightful ransom. If it turned out that you only have three-quarters of a million, then we'd be put in the awkward position of having to return to you three-quarters of Truman Prudy, and none of us are especially excited about figuring out how to go about that business. And after all, a masked robber on the street doesn't brandish a gun and demand ten dollars of your money. They ask for it all. We'd like to think we're at least as enterprising as your common street hoodlum.

Alas, the journalistic integrity of your organization hangs in the balance. Everything that the commune stands for teeters perilously over the breech! Waver not in your steadfast dedication to what is right and good. Pay up. A nation of Truman Prudy fans are depending on you.

The Northwestern Omaha Book Club for Guys
Omaha, NE


Dear Northwestern Omaha Book Club for Guys:

After asking around the commune offices for at least an hour, we have come to the conclusion that there is a 60% chance that Truman Prudy is a commune employee of some sort. Personally, we've never heard of him or his State Fair ribbon, though it does sound impressive. Upon relaying your requests to commune editor Red Bagel, we were instructed to get the commune water cannon out of deep storage. However, we're pretty sure it's all the way in the back behind some heavy shit that hasn't been moved since forever, so we are eager to reach an alternative solution to this dilemma.

In accordance with your demands, we are willing to offer up two cans of creamed sprouts and these free promotional tickets to an upcoming screening of Little Goomba, which Roland McShyster has been using to wedge into the back door so that it doesn't lock behind him when he goes out on smoke breaks. We know you asked for all our money, but trust us when we say this is by far the better deal.

the commune

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Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for the Hammond Island barge fire, we just said it sounded like a good idea and provided the blueprints.

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"My body is like a well-oiled machine—both are really oily."

I joined a gym yesterday. I didn't know it could be court-ordered to join a gym. I suppose if nothing else it's a good warning to everyone else not to snack on pork rinds during court proceedings, but in my defense, it's not like it was a murder trial or nothing. Just manslaughter.

The gym's not so bad, really, if you know where to look. Only suckers stop at the machines with the pully slinky things or those machines where you run and never go anywhere. There was some comedian who said I don't run unless I'm being chased, but I think he was just pissed off at me for eating pork rinds while he was trying to do his act.

Gyms have hot tubs and showers and all sorts of cool things. The showers have hot water, but you have to shower with all these guys who are probably gay. They were watching me the whole time I showered. Only one of them said anything, some security guy who came up to me afterwards and said you can't take firearms into the shower, there was some law against concealed weapons in the club. I told him it was in a holster but there was no way to conceal anything while taking a shower. He didn't think it was funny and I'm on warning at the club.

I tried losing weight hundreds of times before, but I always gain it back when I start breathing again. You can try to keep it sucked in all day, but I'm telling you it doesn't work. You just turn blue and pass out, which is another thing that pisses off judges and stand-up comedians.

One time I bought one of those electric machines you hook up to your body and lose weight with electricity. I tried it on everything, and I mean everything, but I never lost any weight. Well, it made my balls shrink up to the size of peanut M&Ms but that's not the kind of thing you can brag about.

What they need is some kind of bulimia machine or something. Those bulimics lose shitloads of weight. I'm not talking a big Willy Wonka kind of contraption, just some kind of box where you spit the food after chewing all the flavor out of it. Take a chicken wing, munch on it until the flavor's gone, then spit it into the box, maybe even throw the bone in. Man, if it turned the spitty crap back into food, you'd have a million-dollar idea. But all the food lobbies would be pissed.

That reminds me, I'm out of pork rinds.

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