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4/18/26   
commune fever: die from it!
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God: May 21, 2007
East Heaven, Afterlife
Assad the Unseen
The recently deceased Rev. Falwell, seen here contemplating a hasty inner conversion to atheism
R
eports from the afterlife indicate the Reverend Jerry Falwell, who died last Tuesday after smelling one of his own farts, has indeed gone on to meet his maker, validating his lifetime of religious conviction. The reverend was, however, shocked and dismayed to discover this creator is, in fact, a large, friendly purple creature with a head ornament shaped like an inverted triangle, rather than the cloud-surfing white dude Falwell had been expecting.

Upon spying the return of his beloved son, whom God had not seen in over 73 years, the deity shouted an excited greeting of “Eh-Oh, Falwell!” before attempting to embrace the reverend, who recoiled in horror.

Eyewitness accounts indicate a stunned Falwell then began to shout Bible verse and incoherent, mouth-foaming nonsense. G...Read more...


Germany announces "extermination" program for spam

Grief-stricken Bush Sr. throws self out of plane

Economy on the way to recovery, absolute for real no joking this time

Stupid Mexican dog talks but not in English



April 2, 2007

Click for Biography

Rain, Rain, Go Straight to Hell

Things have been gloomier than usual here at the commune offices, as Flatbush, New Jersey goes through another rain-drenched March. Some have always admired rain, looked into the gloomy darkness overhead and the water fluttering down from the sky and seen it as some kind of cleansing of the earth, a washing-away of the dust and grime coating the planet and the nourishing of its lush green life. I say that's horseshit. Rain is nothing but the entire population of a city, state, or country being thrown into the swimming pool a teaspoon full at a time.

God's laughing at us when it rains. That's right—I accept the Judeo-Christian concept of God, and sometimes He's a right asshole. If He's so perfect, couldn't he find a more productive way of doing whatever rain has to do? Why make plants that grow in the middle of a landlocked mass need water at all? It makes less sense than a movie starring Adam Sandler as a romantic lead. God's capable of making spiders, who reproduce with hundreds of offspring and spin elaborate webs to feed themselves, but the best he could do to get water around to all the soil is just to drop it out of the sky. I'm surprised He stopped there. Why not just have chicken wings plunge from the clouds whenever people need feeding? Hold your mouths open like turkeys staring at the sky, spit out the bones, there's no need to even take lunch. It's better than getting soaking wet through some ill-conceived water delivery system.

Imagine the...Read more...


º Last Column: I Don't Cotton to Spandex
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April 18, 2005

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I, Robot Builder

Well well well, I have come to learn a few things about myself in these past few weeks, but nothing more important than this: I will never smoke PCP again. Unless it's free.

I've spent the past six weeks roaming the Earth, which later turned out to be my apartment, with my invincible quarter-sized right hand midget, Nevil. And because I spent most of my nearly two-month binge higher than Rodney King on payday, I was able to discover two important things.

One, I cannot stop a car moving at top speed with my face, as I may have wildly boasted in the past. And secondly, but most importantly, I am a master robot builder.

Now I use the word master somewhat loosely, because I've only built one. But oh what a robot she... he... s/h/it was.

The idea came to me while smoking pure PCP out of a trumpet I found in the trash, and watching that futuristic movie where Will Smith hunts down robots while wearing old school Converse sneakers. Now, I don't know if you've ever worn a pair of those, but whether you have or not, take it from me: They suck fuckin' whale dork. I say the future's looking pretty goddamned bleak when they can build robots that look and move like humans, but still can't make a pair of comfortable basketball shoes.

It was right about this time that I jumped up out of the bathtub and exclaimed "Holy shit!" That happens all the time, but this time in particular I capped off the gesture by dashing naked into...Read more...


º Last Column: Yuppies Aren't Real
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Milestones
1998: Future turncoat Raoul Dunkin joins the burgeoning commune staff, blatantly lying about his desire to learn more about alternative journalism and liking Red Bagel's haircut.
Now Hiring
Taxi Driver. Duties include awaiting passengers, driving passengers to and from desired locations, growing increasingly paranoid, cutting hair in extreme fashion and shooting pimps in bloody finale.
Top New Orleans Rebuilding Proposals
1.Houseboats for all!
2.Move entire city to Ames, Iowa, just to see what happens
3.Dig city another 20 feet lower, install Plexiglas ceiling for viewing marine life
4.Pave over city to create parking lot for Atlanta SuperTarget
5.Fuck it, the place was way too French anyway
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 Lindsay Green
12/6/2004
New Diet!
Quiet!

I'm going on a new diet!

Now don't deny it,
you know you wanna try it!
Because a diet's way easier to do
when the whole big world's
on it with you!

Gonna lose that baby fat
that's been lurking around my tummy
like a tapeworm
wrapped 'round a mummy!
No more fat hanging around my belly
like an unwelcome bowl full of jelly!

And my new diet's political too!
No more dolphin tuna for you-know-who!
World poverty? Gonna defeat it!
World suffering? Not gonna eat it!

No carbs for me,
And no nards for me neither!
I'm so hungry I could eat
the gonads off a nomad!
But that would make me so sad
since they're high in...Read more...

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