| Loves That Woman ';
$dunkin='2005/0328/';
$dunkintitle='Highway to Hell';
$edit='2003/1222/';
$fanmail='2005/0516/';
$fanmailtitle='Volume 63';
$finger='2005/0822/';
$fingertitle='To Hell With This Desk';
$fortune='2002/020121/';
$goocher='2005/0711/';
$goochertitle='Gwar of the Worlds';
$hanes='2005/0704/';
$hanestitle='Pink is Not for Men';
$hartwig='2005/0606/';
$hartwigtitle='Parade';
$hooper='2005/0228/';
$hoopertitle='Vernon Hooper’s Fifth Syphilis';
$hurley='2005/0404/';
$hurleytitle='Time of Healing';
$kroeger='2005/0822/';
$kroegertitle='Charity Case';
$loser='2005/0822/';
$losertitle='Lost Leavings';
$ned='2003/0818/';
$nedtitle='Cyantology';
$pickle='2002/020513/';
$pickletitle='State of the Art';
$poet='2005/0704/';
$police='2005/0822/';
$polio='2005/0822/';
$poliotitle='WEASELS-B-GON';
$rent='2005/0829/';
$renttitle='For the Last Time Deidrebane, Those Aren’t the Feds';
$reynolds='2005/0425/';
$reynoldstitle='A Series of Unfortunate Evans';
$hartwig='2004/1206/';
$hartwigtitle='O Captain!';
$sickhead='2004/0419/';
$sickheadtitle='The Legendary Spot of Coco Hobari McSteve';
$ted='2005/0530/';
$tedtitle='The New War on Poverty';
$vanslyke='2005/0606/';
$vanslyketitle='Health Food is Full of Shit';
$zender='2005/0425/';
$zendertitle='The Sixth commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting';
?> | 
 January 24, 2005 |
Washington, DC Junior Bacon French protestors celebrate Bush's second term
"All who live in tyranny and hopelessness can know: the United States will not ignore your oppression, or excuse your oppressors. Except North Korea, or other oil-free regions not worth our time," Bush said in his speech, according to the Zaire Free Press. American papers instead ran lead stories Friday on Saturn's frozen, gas-soaked moon Titan, as well as the religious debate over the sexual orientation of Spongebob Squa...
eorge W. Bush was theoretically sworn in as the 43rd president of the United States last Thursday, in a ceremony that went completely unwatched in his native country. Foreign media debated the content of Bush's speech, while American scientists debated the age-old question, "If the president gives a speech and nobody bothers to tune in, does it make a sound?"
"All who live in tyranny and hopelessness can know: the United States will not ignore your oppression, or excuse your oppressors. Except North Korea, or other oil-free regions not worth our time," Bush said in his speech, according to the Zaire Free Press. American papers instead ran lead stories Friday on Saturn's frozen, gas-soaked moon Titan, as well as the religious debate over the sexual orientation of Spongebob Squarepants.
While some are blaming the lack of viewer interest on American political apathy, others point out that Bush's approval rating of 49 percent is unprecedentedly low for a president being sworn in, despite his very recent victory in the November election. Not only historically bad for a re-elected president, Bush's approval ratings are believed to be the lowest for any president ever at the time of his inauguration, and appear to indicate that at least 4% of the population voted for the president in November in spite of neither liking the man nor approving of the job he had done. Whether this figure should stand as an indictment of the voting public, or just former Democratic challenger John Kerry, is unclear. Bush supporters still put a positive spin on the numbers, however, explaining that those 49% probably really, really approve of the president a lot.
Neither Bush supporters nor detractors could be bothered much by the president's speech, however. Supporters complained that the replay of the speech ran right into Thursday night powerhouses The Apprentice and CSI: Crime Scene Investigations, setting Bush up to lose in a battle against more entertaining programs. Bush detractors explained that they'd rather have their skin removed by hyenas than have to watch that beef-brained cowboy flap his chops for ten whole seconds. Undecideds apparently spent the evening making handicrafts.
In Mena, Saudi Arabia, 2.5 million Muslims gathered to throw rocks at a picture of Bush on Thursday, celebrating the U.S. President's victorious second term with a traditional stoning and screamed curses about the devil.
Most of Europe was similarly excited, spending the hours after Bush's inauguration visiting churches, bars, and other places of comfort from deep spiritual despair. Numerous organized protests of the Bush presidency were held, most strangely enough in countries where Bush is not the president.
Americans seemed more surprised that anything had happened at all, asking confused questions about if it was time to vote again or if there was a part of an inauguration where you could speak up if you knew some reason that guy shouldn't be president, like the part in weddings. Others explained that they were fresh out of that not-apathy thing, or were saving their energy for the next soul-crushing election in 2008. the commune news knew there was an inauguration this week, we just thought they were opening a new Denny's and went to the wrong place. Lil Duncan is the commune's Washington correspondent and in-office air hockey champion, a fact she has yet to realize is related less to skill than to low-cut cleavage. Come to think of it, that comment could apply to either Washington corresponding or air hockey.
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commune brokers suggest investing in the firm Snoopy promotes
Microsoft promises to eradicate spam and free thought by 2006
Wal-Mart stockholders foolishly price-match K-Mart stock
Large undecided voter population in Japanese election lack honor
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Chief Justice Rehnquist: Dead as Disco at 80 he world sighed a mournful “Oh” upon hearing of the death of Chief Justice William Rehnquist, who led the U.S. Supreme Court for 19 years and formed the holy conservative trinity of the court. Rehnquist is the second justice to retire from the Supreme Court this year, and never to be outdone, Rehnquist chose the more dramatic exit method of death in office.
The Chief Justice announced his diagnosis of thyroid cancer last year and his refusal to retire from the Supreme Court, angering liberals and conservatives alike by his reluctance to make the playing field more interesting. Never one to quit, Rehnquist had suffered greatly in recent months from radiation for his cancer treatment and a tracheotomy, actually performed by an over-anxious boyscout on a visit to the nation’s capitol. Kansas City Royals Win Little League World Series n the midst of one of the most embarrassing seasons in baseball history, the lowly Kansas City Royals saved some face this week, defeating the defending champions from Willemstad, Curacao in a stunning upset to claim their first Little League World Series title. Kansas City took the game 7-6 on first baseman Matt Stairs’ takeout of Curacao catcher Willie Rifaela during a collision at the plate in the bottom of the 11th inning. Rifaela held onto the ball, but Stairs was ruled safe since Rifaela flew off the playing field at the moment of impact. “Willie gave it a hell of an effort,” praised Curacao manager Vernon Isabella. “Especially considering he was outweighed by nearly 200 pounds in the collision. If he hadn’t come out of his shoes like that when the American hit him, I think we could have held on to win the game.” “Female Sex Patch” Nothing But Dermal Tequila Shooters Constipation Drug Pulled; Results Not Shitty Enough |
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 March 5, 2007
I See No Need for Spring TrainingPitchers and catchers have reported, and I say it's about damn time. Every job I've ever taken the winter off from has canned my ass, so what makes these prima donnas so special? I refuse to root for any player who doesn't spend his winter driving a bus down in the Mexican winter league or wielding a shammy at my local car wash. As you might imagine, I don't root much.
And as if these manicured Mollies didn't have it easy enough, now they get to spend the next several weeks thinking about maybe starting to get ready to play a kids' game while working on their tans and playing grab-ass with half the male population of the Dominican Republic. Find me another profession, anywhere, where workers get to spend a good solid month goofing off and farting around down in Florida before they even have to start "working," if you can call shooting steroids into your teeth and hitting line drives at Steve Trachsel all day "work."
And who the hell decided to call this "Spring" training? I don't know where you live, but around here winter's just getting started. The last few months were just winter's way of saying "Howdy Doo?" I expect at least three more solid months of raining ice and frozen spinal fluid before the sun comes out again.
Regardless, baseball is carrying on as if it were hospitable outside, so we have little choice but to play along and take a jaundiced gander at what the upcoming season holds in store.
The Cubs show up at spring...
º Last Column: Stan Abernathie's Picks to Suck
º more columns
Pitchers and catchers have reported, and I say it's about damn time. Every job I've ever taken the winter off from has canned my ass, so what makes these prima donnas so special? I refuse to root for any player who doesn't spend his winter driving a bus down in the Mexican winter league or wielding a shammy at my local car wash. As you might imagine, I don't root much. And as if these manicured Mollies didn't have it easy enough, now they get to spend the next several weeks thinking about maybe starting to get ready to play a kids' game while working on their tans and playing grab-ass with half the male population of the Dominican Republic. Find me another profession, anywhere, where workers get to spend a good solid month goofing off and farting around down in Florida before they even have to start "working," if you can call shooting steroids into your teeth and hitting line drives at Steve Trachsel all day "work." And who the hell decided to call this "Spring" training? I don't know where you live, but around here winter's just getting started. The last few months were just winter's way of saying "Howdy Doo?" I expect at least three more solid months of raining ice and frozen spinal fluid before the sun comes out again. Regardless, baseball is carrying on as if it were hospitable outside, so we have little choice but to play along and take a jaundiced gander at what the upcoming season holds in store. The Cubs show up at spring training this year amidst high hopes and nervous anticipation. After spending a record number of greenbacks this offseason in hopes of buying a title, fans know the Cubs are going to blow it somehow, but everyone is excited to see how they do it this time. Can the Cubs pull off another miracle collapse, or will they let their fans down by bringing a World Championship to Chicago? It hasn't happened since 1908, but the thought still wakes up many a Cubs fan in the middle of the night in a cold, terror-stank sweat. What about the Yankees? The Yanks were embarrassed yet again in 2006 by failing to bring home their yearly trophy, which went instead to... whoever won last year. Don't pretend you remember who it was. Instead of their usual winter routine of shanghaiing all the competition's best talent over the offseason, the boys from New York took a different tack this year, instead casting off assholes like a hot air balloon sinking toward shark-infested pudding. First to go was historic malcontent Gary Sheffield, who was thrown to the Tigers like a Christian sightseeing in Rome. Next came Randy Johnson, the world's tallest asshole according to Guinness, who was sent back to the desert trailer park from whence he came in exchange for two jock straps and a copy of "Girls Gone Wild: Greenland." Somewhere in the mix Jared Wright was also shoved drunk onto a bus headed for Baltimore, a fine thanks for all the hard work he did in raising the Yanks' ERA to league average over the last few years. The Giants handed former Oakland ace Barry Zito a blank check this winter and told him to fill in whatever he thought was fair, then shit blood for three weeks straight after seeing the figure Zito and secret agent Scott Boras had inked in. Ten bucks says they don't repeat that same mistake next offseason, when the contracts are up for several of their stadium's Haitian pretzel venders. Regardless, the Giants will be a better team for having Zito and his yoga dipshit shtick on board, but unfortunately the relevant question there is "Better than what?" and the answer is the Royals. Sorry, gays and other assorted San Fran residents. The Royals also got a lot better this offseason, throwing money blindly at the free-agent class until some of it stuck to a guy nobody had ever heard of before. Too bad the relevant question with them is also "Better than what?" and the answer is the Topeka Devil Dogs on acid. The Red Sox spent a massive pile of cash on Japanese import Becky Matsuzaka, though through a clever accounting loophole managed not to give the player any of it. American batters likely aren't ready for Matsuzaka's patented kamikaze pitch, which involves the pitcher charging home plate and diving through the strike zone with the ball in his back pocket. Matsuzaka, however, is unlikely to be ready for teammate Manny Ramirez, who so far has played all his spring training innings wearing a wedding dress that once belonged to Mariel Hemmingway. The Red Sox are poised to out-weird the competition this year, just like they did in their championship 2004 season. Everybody else? They got worse. Sucks to be a fan, I know. º Last Column: Stan Abernathie's Picks to Suckº more columns
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|  October 27, 2003
commune StoryI've never been forthcoming about the commune's history, I freely admit. As far as I was concerned, how we got here isn't an issue. I prefer not to dwell on the past, unless we're talking about the time-traveling carpetbaggers who foiled the Bay of Pigs invasion. When it comes to the commune, where it came from is better off unknown, like the creation of hot dogs. Until recently, that is. With the death of my father Duke Bagel, and the impending legal action by my brother for control of the commune, it's quite clear I need to establish why the commune is mine, no matter what paper and lawyers say.
Unfortunately, this involves the unpleasant history between me and my father, which is the major reason I've not discussed the commune openly with many people before now. It is true my father owned the commune, legally, the original commune and therefore the name and likenesses. To an extent. Father was a wealthynaire, the exact figure of his wealth unknown to virtually everybody. Who knew there was so much money to be made in smoked buffalo meat? Well, my father did. It was no mere accident he began selling the delicious product just before the animal was declared endangered. It was a risky illegal venture, sure, but there's no money to be made in playing it safe, he always used to say.
I was not a blood relation to Duke Bagel, which is to say Duke himself did not give birth to me. I was adopted, a nasty a-word right up there with abortion and Agnes...
º Last Column: Boys, You're All Pretty
º more columns
I've never been forthcoming about the commune's history, I freely admit. As far as I was concerned, how we got here isn't an issue. I prefer not to dwell on the past, unless we're talking about the time-traveling carpetbaggers who foiled the Bay of Pigs invasion. When it comes to the commune, where it came from is better off unknown, like the creation of hot dogs. Until recently, that is. With the death of my father Duke Bagel, and the impending legal action by my brother for control of the commune, it's quite clear I need to establish why the commune is mine, no matter what paper and lawyers say.
Unfortunately, this involves the unpleasant history between me and my father, which is the major reason I've not discussed the commune openly with many people before now. It is true my father owned the commune, legally, the original commune and therefore the name and likenesses. To an extent. Father was a wealthynaire, the exact figure of his wealth unknown to virtually everybody. Who knew there was so much money to be made in smoked buffalo meat? Well, my father did. It was no mere accident he began selling the delicious product just before the animal was declared endangered. It was a risky illegal venture, sure, but there's no money to be made in playing it safe, he always used to say.
I was not a blood relation to Duke Bagel, which is to say Duke himself did not give birth to me. I was adopted, a nasty a-word right up there with abortion and Agnes Moorehead, for me. But after my simple beginnings as an island boy, Duke adopted me into the fold and made me a Bagel, just as sure as he was, and always told me I was no better or worse than my brother Gay, except for we were entirely unrelated.
Still, despite my deep affection for the old twisto, I had my destiny set before me. I knew conspiracy and intrigue and getting the truth to the American people would be my path, and not buffalo smoking. This caused a rift between my father we never recovered from. The buffalo smoking empire was left to Gay, his protégé, while I only received one thing from my father, some forgotten old commune once owned by a dumb Indian, which is to say the native couldn't talk, though just between you and me he wasn't all that bright either, to lose it to my dad.
the commune, as it was called, has been mine since that day. If there is any doubt, its humble origins as a refugee from the white man, until a white man swindled the found out of it, was only the starting place. Once I took custody of the commune, a throwaway gift from my father, it was my idea to draw people in with news and columns written on the back of other brochures. From there I found my true calling, and though the names and faces have changed over the years—except for loyal medicine man Sully, who has been our Marketing VP since day one—we have kept spirit to the simple beginnings I created and kept true to one ideal: People will believe anything, if only you tell it to them.
Well, of course, the buffalo smoking empire mostly went down in flames over the years through mismanagement. Gay, in his infinite direct opposite of wisdom, refused to admit mango-flavored smoked buffalo had no future, and entirely screwed himself out of the industry. Dad may have been senile in his final years, but no one was senile enough not to notice. He wished me well in a letter written on a prostitute he sent me, and all but started clearly the commune was mine. And he was proud of me, sort of.
However, this is not enough for Gay. Even if he is my brother, though unrelated, I will not roll over in the interest of family peace and allow him to wrest from my control what I have worked so hard and worked others into their graves to build. the commune is all that I have in the world, and the millions I made from our underground casino, and I refuse to give it up. Or the casino. If Gay wants to take it from me, he's got a fight before him.
And now, I request a moment of silence for my dead dad. You can talk if you want to, but make sure you write and tell me you were silent for a bit. I appreciate it. º Last Column: Boys, You're All Prettyº more columns
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Quote of the Day“I have a dream… uh… nope, drawing a blank. It was clear as a fuckin' bell this morning, I swear to God. There was something about dolphins, that's all I can remember right now.”
-"King" Luther MartensFortune 500 CookieDon't be so hard on yourself, we all know mama told you not to come, but it ain't so easy when the bitch got titties til' Tuesday. Also, don't give up your dream of eating a tree like it was an ice cream sandwich, we've been charging admission. This week's lucky cancers: fingernail cancer, breath cancer, split ends cancer, silicone implant cancer.
Try again later.Top 5 Worst Things to Hear in a Blackout| 1. | Let's play Guess Who's Not Wearing Pants? | | 2. | Did you ever hear how electricity was invented? Funny story… | | 3. | We'll find our way out by lighting my farts. | | 4. | Say, this feels like a tumor. | | 5. | Wow, we're trapped in an elevator with Ashton Kutcher! | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 4/1/2002 Welcome back, Americanos, I hope the Oscar season left you with a smile on your face and twinkle in your eye. Here in Entertainment Policeland it's back to business as usual, sorting through the wheat to find the entertainment chaff and keeping a sharp eye on Wynona Ryder all the while. I don't know about you, but the last thing I need is some hat-stealing Hollywood brat bringing the heat down on my own private Idaho. But you didn't come here to be reminded of the harsh realities of the real world, so down with the downers and up with the Ask Roland!
Q. Rolaid, I have to admit that I was disappointed to check your column after I heard of the death of Chuck Jones, only to find that you hadn't written any kind of retrospective honoring this true Hollywood legend....
Welcome back, Americanos, I hope the Oscar season left you with a smile on your face and twinkle in your eye. Here in Entertainment Policeland it's back to business as usual, sorting through the wheat to find the entertainment chaff and keeping a sharp eye on Wynona Ryder all the while. I don't know about you, but the last thing I need is some hat-stealing Hollywood brat bringing the heat down on my own private Idaho. But you didn't come here to be reminded of the harsh realities of the real world, so down with the downers and up with the Ask Roland!
Q. Rolaid, I have to admit that I was disappointed to check your column after I heard of the death of Chuck Jones, only to find that you hadn't written any kind of retrospective honoring this true Hollywood legend. What gives, man? You too good for Chuck Jones or something?
Arty Luther, Moose Bend, ON
A. Arty, Chuck Jones truly was a Hollywood legend as you say, and karate-kicking men of his caliber really are few and far between. I'll never forget the fierce ass-kicking he delivered in Delta Force 2: Operation Stranglehold. And he always did it with a certain panache, a certain tang. I've been meaning to get around to writing a heart-warming retrospective for him since I heard the news. But the truth is I recently got a sticky hand out of a gumball machine in front of the grocery store and that's really been dominating my free time as of late. Sorry.
Q. Roland, what's this bullcrack about them having to rename the new Austin Powers movie because the bigwigs decided Goldmember (the original title) would confuse audiences who had entered a time warp and thought they were going to the theater to see the original Bond picture? What the crap, Roland?
Marcus Gomer, San Ysidro, CA
A. I'm right there with you, Marcus. This is poop of the highest degree. Only moviegoers bent out of their minds on pharmaceutical-grade nerve gas (and the elderly) could have confused the new Austin Powers flick with the original James Bond picture Goldthingy. To make matters worse, this is a blatantly hypocritical move on the parts of the bigwigs who allowed the release of In the Bedroom, which moviegoers will forever be confusing with countless films, including: In the Army, In the Basement, In the Closet, In the Bass Barn, Inna Gadda de Vito, Vinnie Bedhead, Over the River and Through the Woods to Grandmother's Bedroom, Sin: the Bedroom, In a Bad Way, In Her Bad Womb: Deadly Mothers 3, Rin Tin Tin in the Boardroom, and Shaft in Africa. Not to mention cloning Ashely Judd and passing the clone off as a separate actress named Charlize Theron.
Movie reviews? I thought you'd never ask!
In Theaters Now:
All About the Berenstains
Even as a kid, you always knew it was just a matter of time before that loveable bear family went honey-nuts and tore into a crime spree. And this is the film that I think best captures what it would really be like if brother bear and sister bear both copped a massive coke habit and had to venture out of the forest to score a fix. Personally, I had envisioned a little more carnage but I guess in the end it's really a children's film so it's understandable that they'd tone down the reality of a bear attack on a Manhattan bank a little bit.
Ice Age
The eighth (and hopefully last) film in Vanilla Ice's self-styled and increasingly ludicrous "I'm the Prophet" series rewrites history with an eye for crediting Vanilla with every evolutionary leap in the history of mankind. This time around we're treated to a barely-coherent plot that was obviously stolen from a Sprite commercial, featuring Vanilla as some kind of supernatural man-god who ruled prehistoric times and could only think to use his power to have saber-toothed tigers bring him Zimas. The laughable proceedings are considerably rocked up by Ice's completely original theme song for the film, She's Cold As (*ding*) Ice, raising this picture an almost-imperceptible notch above past efforts Icecalibur and Vanilla of Arabia.
Mentident Evil
Really a novel idea here: What if a toothpaste manufacturer got fed up with their lot in life as an also-ran behind Gleem and Close-Up (the red-headed stepchildren of the toothpaste industry) and decided "The hell with it! We're putting out an Undead flavor!" Sound far-fetched? It might if the same thing hadn't happened in France last year. There probably won't be a lot of Oscar nominations thrown at this film, but there are enough exploding zombie torsos to keep all but the most bloodthirsty housewives happy, so I give it a "yes".
Picnic Room
Ah, Jodie Foster, what happened to you? Sorry film fans, but it seems like everybody is pussing out on us all at once here, as everyone's favorite action heroine and director David Finger (Fight Cuba) have turned in a film that's quite possibly the most boring thing you've ever seen. I suppose there's some appeal for audiences who are really hungry, but I personally need more suspense in a film than whether or not someone's going to pass the marmalade.
Pig Trouble
I think the movie studios are just now getting to the bottom of the sack of hate-mail they got after they put out "Babe" and didn't bother to let anyone know the movie was about a pig, of all things. Sure, it was a big hit, but how many guys went to that movie expecting to see Cameron Diaz or somebody get naked on the big screen and instead they got two hours of talking pork chops? I don't even want to count. Anyway, it looks like the studios have finally adopted the more sensible policy of marking their pig movies more clearly, and for that I applaud them. As for this specific film, how the hell should I know? Once bitten by a pig movie, twice shy my friends.
Now on Video:
Joy Ride
Shameless product-placement film based around the dish soap. This one might actually attain cult classic status because it is so ridiculous. The premise: a bunch of demographically diverse early-20's friends head on a road trip to Mexico to get soap when their local grocer runs out of Joy and they refuse to settle for the alternatives. A coming of age ensues. In the end, the film is almost redeemed by the chemistry between Katie Holmes and the rapper DMX. Almost.
K-PAX
Kevin Spacey is the DJ for this lite-rock station that broadcasts from deep space. Has kind of a Good Morning, Viet Cong appeal to it, but more than anything it pissed me off to think that the whole universe is listening to Matchbox 20. Yuck.
Sexy Bees
This funny CGI cross between Antz and Basic Instinct has got its laughing pants on, but I'm not sure if kids are going to be able to follow the "Is the murderous lesbian Queen wearing panties or not?" subplot.
Television:
Looks like old Roland McS got so wrapped up in the Oscars he forgot to do anything else with his TV in the meantime. Sorry for the lack of TV and Games, but I'm sure you weren't missing anything. Now let's see what you're not missing!
Gag the Bunny (Fox)
In the tradition of the envelope-pushing Queer Factor on Fox, this reality gameshow terrorizes Playboy playmates by kidnapping them, hauling them away in serial killer-style vans, tying them in dimly-lit basements in small farmhouses, and see who can escape first. And these girls are really in it to win, either that or they haven't been told their primetime TV game show contestants.
Baby Bop (CBS)
Not only is the entire CBS audience doddering senile old folks, now the programming execs are, too. How else could former PBS Barney co-star, the walking muppet stand-up comedian Baby Bop, get his own sitcom. I just don't buy this goofy dinosaur as a father of three and a sports column writer. Is he even old enough? Is it a he or she? I guess if you're on CBS these aren't important questions. Not up my alley, though.
Anal Reaming Controls the Universe
Now this is up my alley! But even the commune won't let me tell you what it's about. Just watch it. Yeah, it's on Fox, but these guys have absolutely nothing to lose. Trust me, every show will be doing this next year. I know I will be.
Video Games:
Freedom Force (PC)
PC gaming comes back hard with this innovative game about Honduran rebels. YOU are el capitan, YOU train the troops, YOU are the only thing standing between the evils of capitalism and the everlasting peace of communist revolution. Not available in the United States.
Resident Devo (Gamecube)
Anybody else hear Nintendo's last gasps? I thought hanging on to Mario and Luigi by the cahones was showing how out of touch they are, now they go and come up with this game based on the early '80s band. You're a landlord who rents a bunch of new apartments to these New Wave noisemakers, then have to evict them when you catch them whipping it. I'm not sure what they are, but they are not men.
Might & Management IX (PC)
PC gaming comes back hard again! This is the 13th game about a retired wizard who takes over managing a Denny's, but I guess 13 is a lucky number because they finally got it right! It's one hell of a strategy game from start to finish, if I ever finish it. You choose when to throw the old fries out or introduce the pita fajita to your thousands of customers. The fantastic designer program allows you to create your own
restaurant layout, complete with playland for kids and nap area for yourself.
That's all for this month, consumeritas! I hope it rolled your oats this time around and that I'll see your sunny faces next time the Entertainment Police wagon comes rollicking into town. Until then!
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