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5/3/26   
Hey, we thought you liked crap.
Loves That Woman '; $dunkin='2005/0905/'; $dunkintitle='The New Anne Frank Diary'; $edit='2003/1222/'; $fanmail='2005/1010/'; $fanmailtitle='Volume 64'; $finger='2005/1107/'; $fingertitle='Little Man with a Gun in His Hand'; $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='2005/0912/'; $hoopertitle='Seventh Heaven'; $hurley='2005/0404/'; $hurleytitle='Time of Healing'; $kroeger='2005/0822/'; $kroegertitle='Charity Case'; $loser='2005/1107/'; $losertitle='Paging Doctor Van'; $ned='2003/0818/'; $nedtitle='Cyantology'; $pickle='2002/020513/'; $pickletitle='State of the Art'; $poet='2005/1107/'; $police='2005/1128/'; $polio='2005/1107/'; $poliotitle='God’s Hands'; $rent='2005/1107/'; $renttitle='I’m Straight!'; $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='2005/1128/'; $zendertitle='The Seventh commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting'; ?>
homecommune Staff Biographiescommune news20,000 Seats Beneath the League with Stan AbernathieOr So You Thought with Red BagelBook RevoltBoris is Gay with Boris UtzovMy Friend Polio with Omar BricksMy Dearest Deidrebane with Carlisle P. ChesterfeldChild Star with Clarissa ColemanThe Best of Joel DickmanNo Shit? with Griswald DreckOne Sane Man with Raoul DunkinEditorial CartoonsFanmail from Some Flounders: Letters to the EditorGiving You the Finger with Rok FingerThe Hanes Identity with Mickey HanesSampson L. Hartwig RemembersShort ‘N’ Sweet with Stan HooperPoop of the Century with Ramrod HurleyAmerican Jesus with Mitch KroegerYou Can’t Win with Alamo CruiseFortune 500 Cookies with Mazie the ChickenManifestos of FunMe Chinese with Ned NedmillerSittin’ Around the Pickle Barrel with Shorty and JeterPoetry CoronerEntertainment Police: Movie and Television ReviewsThis Space for Rent: Guest ColumnistsGlass Ceiling Fan with Thelma ReynoldsClarise Sickhead’s Bedtime StoriesGoddammit! with Ted TedReflections of a Goocher with Stu UmbrageThe World Vs. Homer Vanslykecommune Club with Emil Zender

Shuttle Analysts: Man Was Never Meant to Fly

February 17, 2003
Houston, Texas
UNKNOWN LONG-DEAD PH
Early Americans earn God’s ire by leaving the ground they were destined for.
M
an took a collective step backward, arms behind the back, whistling, and rolling eyes when the space shuttle Columbia exploded over Texas two weeks ago. Texans, used to loud unexpected explosions, were slow to realize exactly what had happened, but some analysts are now saying it was the “fuck you” heard ‘round the world.

“Man was never meant to fly,” said shuttle analysts Thursday. “It’s clear the kind of damage that caused the shuttle’s destruction, coupled with all the obvious other signs, that we’ve overstepped our bounds greatly. I suggest we all get used to walking.”

Though the reaction may seem extreme, even for space nerds, others are saying duh—it’s about time we’ve realized it.

Biblical doomsayer and Readerâ...Read more...


Dow Reaches 13,000, Tao Reaches

Late Dr. Atkins was big fat liar

Ethiopians unanimously elect Colonel Sanders

Online scrapbooking brings boredom to the Net



December 23, 2002

Click for Biography

Everyone's Half-Assing the Christmas Spirit

Not to shit on everyone's Christmas spirit, but it just seems like no one is making an effort anymore. All year long I look forward to gathering up the toys and, quite frankly, busting my balls to get all the stuff to everyone and there doesn't seem to be much reciprocation on everyone else's part.

I'm not going to name names, but let's just talk about what some people are leaving under the tree. It used to be cookies and milk, and boy, does that ever get boring after the thousandth house, but at least they were homemade cookies and milk. These days I'm lucky if I can get some half-broken Oreos and a juicebox. I'm not saying the kids are to blame, they're probably the reason I get the Oreos, but somebody out there is just not giving a damn anymore.

You know what I want for Christmas? Well, since you ask, a big fat plate of babyback ribs sitting under the tree would be nice. Just one house, you know, not everywhere. I realize it's more of a hassle than you're used to, but at least in neighborhoods can't you get together and work something out? These cookies are going to give me a heart attack, it's really too much sugar. I have a family history of diabetes, you know. What I basically need is something high-carb 'cause I lose a lot of energy moving from house to house with a finger aside my nose. That burns calories.

And all you construction workers out there, you've got to start making the roofs a little flatter. I can't handle those...Read more...


º Last Column: If I Were a Carpenter I Would Build You a Home Out of My Heart
º more columns


February 18, 2002

Click for Biography

Welcome to My Nightmare

I've had more than my share of ups and downs in my twenty-four years on this planet. After the life I've led, I'm sure you can imagine how happy I was to get a regular gig writing for a well-known respected news source. Then those dildos at Entertainment Weekly bounced my ass back into the street. My luck always turns its nose down, given enough time. But you know the old saying, every time God farts he opens a window, and things are steadying for me again as the folks at the commune have brought me aboard to publish my column Child Star.

For anyone who doesn't know me, I'll spend this column on the long version of the introduction.

The name, for those of you who can't read bold print, is Clarissa Coleman, and as I mentioned, this column is called Child Star. I plan it to be about the perils of being raised "in the business" as those of us in the business describe it—shit, how you like that? I used the phrase while describing what it means. But picking up where I left off, this column will cover everything from my rise as a child star (see column title) to my plummet to where I'm at now. And if there's any justice, it will also chronicle current happenings as I again rise to some middling degree of sanity or something. Warzy, eh?

I may not look immediately familiar, but be assured, at one time my little dimpled face was like a machine that printed its own money in Hollywood. I first gained national attention as the little girl in the...Read more...


º Last Column: Home for the Horrordays
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Quote of the Day
“'Tis a far, far better thing I do today than I have ever done… in fact, where I'm from, I'm kind of known as an asshole.”

-Cute Little Dickens
Fortune 500 Cookie
Remember to clean your ears—a friend of ours died from not doing that, no shit. What time is it? Half-past beer-thirty. Always never forget to quit being scared to not ask questions.


Try again later.
Top Oprah Book Club Rejections
1.The Venomous Black Bitch by Phil Donahue
2.Fried Pork Cracklin's in Butter by Flanny Fragg
3.The Happy and Compliant Slave by Newt Whiteny
4.How Stella Left Her Groove Under the Seat on the Plane Ride Back by Terry McMillan
5.Fight Club by Jerry Springer
Last IssueLast Issue’s Lead News Story

North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Winston C. Mars
10/13/2003
Radiation Plantation
"Radiation Plantation,"
I spoke the information.

"Scott?"

Scott blew snot on a pink carnation.

"Ready the gammaram,
and prepare for floatation."

"Aye aye, captain,"
he replied as he spied a crustacean.

So at last we'd found it,
in the deepest of space!

This holiest of grails,
the prey in our chase…

Who'd have believed it!
Real, and true?
Nobody! But you were all wrong! And screw you!

Pausing to blink in the thick radiation,
I surveyed the scene with a keen adulation.

The orange peaks protruding from a backdrop so drab—
"Scott, now goddammit! Don't kick that space crab!"

Christ! On the cusp of a...Read more...

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