ednesday's attacks in the Iraqi city of Fallujah, in which four former US soldiers were killed in a terrorist ambush before their bodies were dismembered, dragged behind cars and hung from a bridge by an angry mob, created a conundrum for television networks faced with the tough moral question of how to best profit from these shocking images.

"If we show them, we make a shitload of money," explained ABC News spokesperson Al Reuben. "If we don't show them, maybe we can claim the moral high ground and make a shitload of money down the line. It's a tough call."

Least troubled by the moral quandary was Fox News, whose plans to strap a helmet-cam to one of the dead bodies were scrapped when the angry mob grew impatient waiting for technicians to get a reading on the gray levels.

"Americans have a right to see this footage," opined Fox News Executive Producer Leonard Williams. "And we have the right to boost our ratings through the fuckin' roof by being the first to show the really awful parts that make you want to throw up. If anybody out there was blindly discharging a firearm into their Arab neighbor's house yesterday, you know they were watching hard-hitting Fox News."

Other networks took the debate more seriously, holding off on showing the footage through the morning, and then gradually releasing more and more of the horrible images throughout the day as it became apparent that Internet sites were kicking their ratings in the balls by showing the Fallujah footage uncut. By Wednesday evening the gloves were off and charred bodies were seen dangling from the Euphrates River bridge on most major networks.

"We really didn't want to show the footage of those kids beating the guy's flaming corpse with their shoes," explained CBS Evening News spokesperson Clint Adams. "But then we realized, 'Jesus Christ, we're losing money here!' I feel truly bad for the families of these men, and any children who may have been forever scarred by these images, but come on. You know how much money we made off that Somalia footage? Shit."

While the long-term impact of these images is yet to be seen, experts speculate that the American people being reminded that "Oh yeah, war is really ugly and horrible and stuff" can only harm the president's chances for reelection in November, not to mention driving the final nail into the coffin of Iraqi tourism.

"We owe it to future history to inform the American people of what's really going on over there," offered Marcus Graves of ABC News. "Maybe because of this footage being in the collective memory, next time we'll think twice about going to war again."

When asked by the commune news if he was shitting us, Graves admitted that yeah, he kind of was, but it sounds a lot better than saying you make your living selling people grisly video death. No argument here.

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

Dear commune:

Congratulations! You have been selected from the population of high school students for inclusion in this year's Who's Who of American High School Students.

Not just anyone walks away with this prize. The esteemed selection committee, made up of teachers, parents, corporate executives and our cousins, study the records of millions of high school students to find those well-rounded students with high academic marks, extra-curricular activities, and minimal acne. And you fit into that category.

Do not forget to celebrate this occasion with the purchase of a hardbound copy of Who's Who of American High School Students for $39.95 using the included purchase form. Don't let your relatives and loved ones be left out either—select the quantity option for as many copies as you want, and they can all enjoy your success.

The Who's Who of American High School Students
Selection Committee/Sales Team


Dear WWoAHSS:

This sounds like a complete scam to us. Some privately-run company deems us an extraordinary student and wants to sell us a $40 book (or several $40 books) to bask in the glory?

Perhaps we should stress our incredulity by saying we're a collective organization, an alternative news source, and not a high school student in the first place. It's a little ridiculous to see how we could have all gone to high school under one identity, right?
Still, it will look real good on our high school transcripts. Sign us up for one—no! Two. Two. Maybe we'll get more at a later date.

the commune

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Dear commune:

Hi there. I'm Chevy Chase and you're not.

Just kidding. I only wanted to write in and say how much I love the commune, I think it's great. It's the last place I turn for informative news, heh.

I'm not sure if I'm your first celebrity letter or not, but it would be great to fill that place on the commune wall of fame. I've seen some of those news articles you've got about celebrities like Paul McCartney and Jewel, so all I can ask ahead of time… go easy on me! Heh.

Okay, the jig's up. I'm not Chevy Chase, and you're not either, but I'm actually Chevy Chase lookalike Fred Coogan. I should say professional Chevy Chase lookalike, I get paid to show up at business meetings and such and pretend to be Chevy Chase for a good laugh.

Still, I bet I had you going there!

Fred Coogan

Milwaukee, WI


Dear Fred:

Thank you for your delightful attempt at deception. In the future, might we suggest something like… oh, I don't know… a picture included or something? It's hard to say your beer-stained hand-scribbled letter actually had us fooled for longer than two seconds. Although Red Bagel himself thinks you are Chevy Chase just trying to disguise your tracks halfway through an ill-conceived letter. Already we feel it was ill-conceived to print it, but we're short on material.

the commune

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Dear commune:

Ed Phillips here again. I am being brutally beaten by a gathering a villagers armed with torches. I would appreciate any help I can get from you, thank you kindly.
Also, I figure I can put an educational spin on all this asking the kids out there to never leave the house in a small European village with bolts on your neck. Especially a house that looks like a castle. Thanks again.

Ed Phillips
Hackensack, NJ

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Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for starting the fire. We've heard it's been burning since the world's been turning, though judging by the quick denial you might want to take another look at Billy Joel.

º Last Column: Volume 16
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Recently I was navigating the vast, frozen expanse of the Internet in an attempt to find out what exactly Ma Bell knows about yours truly. I'd heard some scary shit from Griswald Dreck about how people online know everything about your life, from how much mustard you like on your pretzels to how many times you've shaved your sack. I've always been a man who protects his privacy, unless there's a free prize involved, so I was curious to find out what exactly the nosy world knows about Omar Bricks.

My first stop was the Internet search engines, which proved fruitless as lunch at Arby's. The only match that even came up was for a building material wholesaler in Texas. To be honest I was a little disappointed, I'd been hoping for maybe a real-time webcam that showed me sitting there at the computer, looking at a real-time webcam that showed me sitting there at the computer… and on and on endlessly like that Pink Floyd album or that time in college when I put two mirrors really close together and stuck my head in-between them. But instead, nothing. No credit-card numbers, no lists of my favorite CDs, and no photos of me hang gliding naked in Mexico. I've never actually been hang gliding, but I thought someone might have spliced my face into an awesome photo of some crazy fucker freeballin' it over the desert cliffs in Cancun, you know? I could have gone for that.

After my rich fantasy basically had its underwear yanked up the asscrack, I decided to check out some alternative sources of information. Next came the online white pages. I figured maybe my home address would be up there somewhere with a link to a map and a note about the spare key that's hidden on top of my doormat. Some kind of scary invasion-of-privacy shit like that to really make the search worthwhile, you know? Well fill out that fantasy in your own heads as you so desire, because it turns out I'm not even listed. Apparently as far as the Internet is concerned, Omar Bricks isn't worth stalking or roping into a pyramid scheme. It's like I don't even exist in their eyes, which makes me feel kind of like a time traveler with no identity and it makes me wonder what I could get away with. I could probably paint my name in block capitals on the side of the bank after I walked out with my pants stuffed full of cash, and it wouldn't matter. What are the cops going to do, look me up online? Shit.

A funny thing did come up when I was searching the white pages, though. I wasn't in there, but I'll be goddamned if there wasn't another Omar Bricks listed! No lie! Some lucky bastard living out in Sudsbury, MA. What kind of bizarre mind-bending shit is that? Could we have been separated at birth? Just thinking about how I'd lived my entire life not knowing that there was another Omar Bricks running around kind of creeped me out. What if he was out there wearing a Thompson Twins tee-shirt or something and making me look like a total dink? This was a serious liability, the Omar Bricks street cred was in the hands of some guy who could be into collecting dolls for all I knew.

This needed to be investigated with a quickness, so I sent Omar a post card and before I knew it we had exchanged several letters about what it's like to live the Omar Bricks life. Turns out he was a pretty decent cat, maybe a little too into the quarters from all of the different states, but to be honest I was just happy he wasn't a famous ballet dancer or anything. Before long we made plans to meet in person and I flew out to Massachusetts for the weekend.

And it was a great trip, Omar and I hung loose and had the kind of fun that only two people with the same name can have. We went to the airport and had ourselves paged, then got into a fake karate fight at the ticket desk after a long staged argument about who was the real Omar Bricks. After security escorted us out we went home and Omar had a great idea about calling a radio call-in show. I went out to the phone in the hall and called the same show, and we spent a half an hour arguing for and against abortion with the show's host. The dude almost went out of his ass between the fact that both of his callers had the same name and were calling from the same town, and the fact that they probably don't get a lot of calls about abortion on AutoTalk.

After that we were pretty strapped for ideas until Omar realized we could really raise some hell by trading lives for a month and acting like nothing had happened. I thought it was a great idea, but Omar's girlfriend got all uptight about the whole thing and we had to settle for setting Omar up with double food stamps at the local welfare office. Not quite the grand caper we had envisioned originally, but still pretty handy when you need some baby formula or a rack of lamb or something.

After the weekend was over I had to come home, I think to the relief of Omar's girlfriend. I returned to a world that felt a little smaller and a little less Omar Bricksish. But although there's only one Omar to carry the load in these parts, it gives me peace to know that there's another O.B. out there, somewhere, keeping it Bricks. Not to mention that I started a couple of credit cards in his name while I was out there. Voice-activated deck chairs, here I come! Bricks out.

º Last Column: Just Say No to Rabid Dogs
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