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7/22/26   
Eczema in journalism
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'; ?>
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

Ashcroft Leads Hands-On Instruction Team

January 21, 2002
Hindquarter, VA
Alexa Doogle
At-risk youths await anti-terrorist training
A
ll it took was one crying 10-year-old boy spotted bolting out of a prominent federal office, wearing what appeared to be darkly-stained lederhosen, to signal a surprising new twist in the ongoing war against terrorism.

Citing a need to "keep American boys on their toes and pure from the effects of Islamic terrorists," Attorney General John Ashcroft, in an impromptu press conference yesterday, unveiled a plan to teach young men from the ages of 8 to 15 how to recognize the signs that they are being, or are about to be, recruited, seduced and/or molested by Muslim fanatics. In an unprecedented gesture of self-sacrifice, and sweating profusely as he spoke, the Attorney General said that he has taken it upon himself to personally teach "as many boys as I possibly can."
Read more...


Kevin Bacon comes to aid of town that banned raves

New cell phone/boning knife combo a painful tech hit

Alec Baldwin Records Devastating Voice Mail Message for Shooter

Kutztown 13 loses gang war to Flora & Faunae Club



August 19, 2002

Click for Biography

Tornado

"There's nothing like a good tornado to put the fear of nature into you. The Hartwig family had their tornado experience back in the early '40s, in the days of us vs. the Germans and Japanese. You'd almost think God was a Nazi, throwing a big heapin' tornado on top of a hardworking American family.

We were doing evening living room things—us kids playing our favorite game, Flapper Smacking—while mom sewed bodybags for the boys overseas and Dad read the paper. Then, Dad looked out the window and raised his eyebrows, the warning to us all like an air raid drill.

The sky outside had turned a frightening Prince-colored purple. It had grown darker and darker by the second, a terrible foreboding like a fat man in a dark suit walking on a miniature Lego city, which I think is hilarious. I'm cracking up just thinking about it. But this storm coming on quick was no laughing matter. It was a peeing-your-pants matter.

'To the underground shelter!' shouted Dad, then ran ahead of us outside to the tornado cellar. We all followed, except Goose, who was getting out his kite and running out to meet the storm like Captain Ahab meeting his whale.

We all climbed inside and Dad barricaded the entrance with wood and nails. We told him it wasn't necessary, but he said tornadoes were sneaky enough to undo mere latches and closed doors. He also said tornadoes were taking all the American jobs and had murdered good Americans at the Alamo. Read more...


º Last Column: Invisible
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January 19, 2004

Click for Biography

A New Hope

Here's something that'll get you thinking, talk about a "Mr Rogers was a sniper in 'Nam"-level surprise. Thanks to commune editor's-brother Gay Bagel's mandate that we boost commune readership and revenue up from absolute zero Kelvin in 2004, it's been officially mandated by the powers obese that I quit writing about my epic saga to get a goddamned car. Apparently Bagay (as I like to call him in print and roadside graffiti) thinks my column may be alienating readers who are too rich to ever have to worry about not having a car, and if they don't read the site we can't siphon their accounts dry of funds electronically while they surf.

I don't know the details, if that's just advertising lingo or if we're actually hoovering out bank notes over the telephone line while those poor rich saps try to figure out what in the hell Boris Utzov is talking about or what. But either way Bagay thinks we've catered to the Salisbury steak set too much in the past, when we should be writing for dudes who order off the menu at Taco Bell and use silver spoons to eat their civet cat pudding.

Normally I'd have my ass chapped by the man giving my creative freedom a titty-twister like that, but from what I hear most of the staff received similar warnings. From the mandate that Lil Duncan start banging celebrity scumbags instead of her usual unknown variety, to the new "no accepting collect calls from international jails" rule (AKA the Ivan Nacutchacokov Accord), everyone...Read more...


º Last Column: Wipeout
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North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie

View Past Columns
BY Orson Welch
11/7/2005
Can’t talk. Too many movies. Choking on own bile. On to the reviews.

Now on DVD:

Star Wars, Episode III: Revenge of the Sith
Here it is at last: The end of George Lucas’ career. The quote/unquote "final" installment in the Star Wars series, at least until ten years more of anonymity and misty-eyed recollections on the original trilogy bring Lucas to write three more, sandwiched somewhere between the first Star Wars and Lucas’ days as a geeky college student. I believe Lucas opted for the subtitle "Revenge of the Sith" because you couldn’t put "Shitloads of Lightsaber Fights" on the posters. Believe me, even the diehard fans will get sick of the constant onslaught of fights. How atrocious is the dialogue? Not as bad as the...Read more...

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