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Emmitt Smith Let Go in Wake of ALF RumorsMarch 3, 2003 |
Emmitt Smith, shortly after breaking Walter Payton's rushing record in 2002, gives a thank-you gesture to a special cat-eating friend in the audience (inset).
"Everyone is more than a little curious about his relationship with ALF," said an anonymous Cowboy, dressed as a cowboy. "We're not suggesting there's more to it than it seems, but c'mon—it's weird. If it were that guy from Max Headroom or Morton Downey, Jr., it would be strange, but nobody would really think twice. Is it '80s nostalgia? What's going on there?"
Other...
ports fans were surprised by this week's announcement that Emmitt Smith would not return to the Dallas Cowboys for another season. Cowboys management and affiliates were quick to say Smith's talents were not diminishing, and the prime factor in their consideration was the running back's $9.8 million salary. However, some are pointing a finger to Smith's life off the field as the real cause.
"Everyone is more than a little curious about his relationship with ALF," said an anonymous Cowboy, dressed as a cowboy. "We're not suggesting there's more to it than it seems, but c'mon—it's weird. If it were that guy from Max Headroom or Morton Downey, Jr., it would be strange, but nobody would really think twice. Is it '80s nostalgia? What's going on there?"
Others are also alluding to Emmitt Smith's alleged friendship with '80s celebrity/puppet alien ALF as a trouble spot that turned Cowboys management against him. Smith and the puppet met on the set of a long-distance phone commercial last year and have reportedly been close friends since. Many close acquaintances of both insist the two share an innocent friendship, attending sporting events, barbecues, and enjoying movie rental marathons together; but as a high-profile sports celebrity in a country where human-puppet relationships are under close scrutiny, some say Smith has left too much unsaid for the comfort of many sports fans.
"Everybody's wondering about Dallas Cowboy Emmitt Smith and 4-foot sitcom hairball ALF!" reported a recent gossip-column we copied word for word. " They claim it's all just fun, but you can't believe everything ALF says! When was the last time you saw a four-time All-Pro and Super Bowl MVP bar-hopping with a cat-eating Muppet? You can forgive our curiosity, I'm sure!"
While some would feel better with clarification from Smith or his felt cohort, others insist it isn't public business.
"Whatever Emmitt and Grover do by themselves is their business," said Cowboy quarterback Quincy Carter. "He's a stand-up guy and one of the best players in the NFL. That thing he hangs out with gives me the creeps, yeah, and I want to punch its face in when it tells me to dial 10-10-321, but none of that makes a difference when you need a first-class running back. They never should have let him go."
In a phone interview, someone claiming to be ALF attempted to set the record straight.
"This is ridiculous, and everyone knows it," said the Melmackian. "Why would anyone sign up for one of those outrageous programs and be obligated to pay premium prices when they could dial 10-10-321 from anywhere and save major bucks on long-distance? All calls for 7 cents a minute, no weird schedules to remember, no hidden charges! That's a lot of money you can save—and that's a lot of cats!"
The phone was suddenly cut off after the sound of a door being broken open, and the heavy sound of punching ensued, leading us to believe Carter had broken in and made good on his threat to punch the puppet's face in. the commune news is the leader in rushing in our building, or perhaps the Russian leader… it's hard to remember. Boner Cunningham covers teens and sports for the commune—if there's ever breaking news on Sport Billy it goes to him without question.
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Egyptian flight crashes without terrorist help, thank you very much
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Crude oil prices continue to fart in America's face
 Several Newscasters Fired for Reporting Death of Don Ho |
Mohammed Confesses to 9/11 Attacks, “Falling Down A Lot” During Interrogations Castro Announces 2008 Candidacy; Clinton, Obama Drop Out of Race Conditions at Walter Reed Upgraded to “Nightmarishly Clive Barker-esque” Unveiling of First Black Disney Character Raises Some Concerns |
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 May 3, 2004
I'm GreatA wise man once said, "Greatness is not measured in words, but in actions." That was me! I said that.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm great. I'm always saying wise stuff like what I just said. It's not a one-time thing or anything. Some people, I'm not naming names, but you're lucky to get two, three wise sayings out of them in their whole lifetime. I pop off stuff like that in my sleep, at least once a day. No kidding, ask people who know me.
A lot of people attribute my intelligence to a good upbringing, but it probably has more to do with my natural insight into virtually all things. I'm what you could call street educated, since I've never been to college and dropped out of high school. My philosophy is you don't need some stodgy professor in some building to teach you about the world. I've made the world my classroom, and I have perfect attendance. I know things instinctively, like how many Senates we have in Congress and how planes work. Here's a hint: It's the jets and the wings. I didn't need anybody to tell me that.
The trouble with people not me, they lack the confidence to realize they know everything they really need to. If you're going to be a doctor or something like that, yeah, you probably want to take a few years of school or whatever—not that I couldn't do it, but I'd hate to be put on the spot if I needed to know something. But for the rest of us, if you're insightful like me, we already know most of...
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A wise man once said, "Greatness is not measured in words, but in actions." That was me! I said that.
Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I'm great. I'm always saying wise stuff like what I just said. It's not a one-time thing or anything. Some people, I'm not naming names, but you're lucky to get two, three wise sayings out of them in their whole lifetime. I pop off stuff like that in my sleep, at least once a day. No kidding, ask people who know me.
A lot of people attribute my intelligence to a good upbringing, but it probably has more to do with my natural insight into virtually all things. I'm what you could call street educated, since I've never been to college and dropped out of high school. My philosophy is you don't need some stodgy professor in some building to teach you about the world. I've made the world my classroom, and I have perfect attendance. I know things instinctively, like how many Senates we have in Congress and how planes work. Here's a hint: It's the jets and the wings. I didn't need anybody to tell me that.
The trouble with people not me, they lack the confidence to realize they know everything they really need to. If you're going to be a doctor or something like that, yeah, you probably want to take a few years of school or whatever—not that I couldn't do it, but I'd hate to be put on the spot if I needed to know something. But for the rest of us, if you're insightful like me, we already know most of the stuff we need to know. I've laid carpet in my own apartment. I can do practically anything.
To be truly great, though, you've got to get along well with other people, and I get along with everybody. There's not a day goes by I don't talk to someone who I consider a friend. Whether they're coming to me with their problems, seeking my help, or just chatting me up, I've always got a minute to spare for anybody. Sometimes they've got something bugging them and I give them advice. They're like, "Awoll, someone got my sister pregnant." And they ask if it was me, and I tell them it wasn't, but I know what they really want is reassurance—and some help! I tell them stay the course, man, everything is cool. Or that they need to learn to live with changes. Either one of those is usually all anybody needs.
But I'm a fun guy, too. I've got friends who, all we do is go out drinking together. We'll see each other once a week or once a night and go out and get hammered, just for kicks, because life is short and you've got to know how to live. A few times some of my buddies have come up to me at my telemarketing job and they've been really depressed, so we go out for a beer together during lunch. I'm always there for the friends who need me.
Not that I'm all Mr. Nice Guy. If you cross me, you may regret it. Anybody who wants to make me or my friends and family feel bad is public enemy number one—don't try to tell me I can't chase my dreams or I can't park there. Cynics like you are just sore because you wasted your talents not following your dreams. Another thing I hate is people who tell you you're wrong. They'll tell you how you mispronounced words, they'll say you don't know what you're talking about, or tell you the directions you gave to the Safeway were way off. I say, shut-up! Does it make you feel big to make other people look small? You're just a show-off.
I suppose I got a teensy weensy temper. Even the most perfect people have the occasional vice. It doesn't mean I'm not still great. º Last Column: A Love Powerful Enough to Destroy the Worldº more columns
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|  November 10, 2003
First ServedGreetings, future faithful readers. Let's not waste time on lengthy introductions and sappy sob stories. I say we jump right in to what's bothering me.
I say it's high time someone regulated network TV. You can no longer tell if shows are supposed to be funny or serious. Let's do something about that.
Don Knotts is dead. Just accept it, people.
Does the president even know the meaning of the word "kinetic"? I'm not so sure he does, and I'm not the first person to say so.
What do they call people born in Lima? You're either a Liman or a Limese, there's no two ways around it. It's about time someone clarified this. I will not refer to them as people of the country of Lima.
I'm still waiting for my first love to die. Not in the metaphorical sense. I long for the day she no longer walks the earth. Sad, but true.
I'm all for cutting the military budget if it leads to reduced surplus sales of atomic weapons and other goodies.
No one, in any country, should be forced to pay $10 for a hamburger. It's just cruel.
Say what you will, I'm still holding out for the return of the cassette tape. People once said Cher's time was long over, too. You know how that turned out.
If you were in India, circa 1948, what would you do?
The hardest thing for a man to admit is he is always flaccid. I'm not yet there.
People are still running with scissors. Did...
º Last Column: A Love Powerful Enough to Destroy the World
º more columns
Greetings, future faithful readers. Let's not waste time on lengthy introductions and sappy sob stories. I say we jump right in to what's bothering me.
I say it's high time someone regulated network TV. You can no longer tell if shows are supposed to be funny or serious. Let's do something about that.
Don Knotts is dead. Just accept it, people.
Does the president even know the meaning of the word "kinetic"? I'm not so sure he does, and I'm not the first person to say so.
What do they call people born in Lima? You're either a Liman or a Limese, there's no two ways around it. It's about time someone clarified this. I will not refer to them as people of the country of Lima.
I'm still waiting for my first love to die. Not in the metaphorical sense. I long for the day she no longer walks the earth. Sad, but true.
I'm all for cutting the military budget if it leads to reduced surplus sales of atomic weapons and other goodies.
No one, in any country, should be forced to pay $10 for a hamburger. It's just cruel.
Say what you will, I'm still holding out for the return of the cassette tape. People once said Cher's time was long over, too. You know how that turned out.
If you were in India, circa 1948, what would you do?
The hardest thing for a man to admit is he is always flaccid. I'm not yet there.
People are still running with scissors. Did we learn nothing from Afterschool specials?
Some people out there will say and do anything just to make someone else feel bad. This makes all of us better Americans in the long run, I'm convinced.
It's a tragedy there is no national holiday for Amerigo Vespucci. No sane man can argue otherwise.
Few comedians out there currently are taking full advantage of drug humor. It's just plain funny.
I have never, in my life, seen anyone finish a full bag of microwave popcorn. You can tell me otherwise, but I think you're full of hot air.
Have you ever read The Bible? God, is that thing preachy. I get it already, just get to the story.
A few years ago, every channel was showing Third Rock From the Sun. Now, not so much. What does that say about our country?
If you belch, you say, "Excuse me." If you fart, you say, "Look out!" It's just good manners.
I'm starting to think this whole "clipping your fingernails" thing is just a way to line some fat cat's pockets.
No one ever asks, "Where were you when that old Flying Walenda died?" But I remember. Boy, do I ever.
Under this tough exterior is a scared and small little man, who brays and rants so loudly to cover up for the fact he feels lost in the crowd. But you'll never find me admitting to it.
Nachos… with cheese. God bless whoever made these things.
If a hat with two cans of beer on the sides is good, a hat with two tall cans of beer must be better. It's simple mathematics, people.
Okay, you've had your fill. Meet me here later and we'll do this again. º Last Column: A Love Powerful Enough to Destroy the Worldº more columns
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Milestones2001: Bogus office psychic Mazie the chicken predicts radical arab terrorists will attack giant silver towers and a military stronghold on Sept. 10th. An angry Red Bagel eventually takes away her predictions column.Now HiringNanny. Traditional English dress and accent required, none of that rough Brooklyn flower bullshit. Strong musical training and good voice a must. Should be able to rhyme easily, even if only creating nonsensical words in most of songs. We provide spoonfuls of sugar and medicine, as well as company umbrella. Three references needed. Top Cruel New Rumors| 1. | Gay people can't whistle | | 2. | Tennessee quarter shows state trooper harassing black motorist | | 3. | French Stewart not actually French | | 4. | Cats love vodka | | 5. | Donald Trump is secret owner of McDonald's chain | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY R.L. Kuntz 4/25/2005 Charlie and the Fudge PackersThere were these two old farts living in a farty old house and they were Grandpa and Grandma. And before they were dusty and old they had children who grew up like weeds and had a son, but not with each other. And that son was Charlie Pugmuck. Forget all the rest of them, this is Charlie's story.
The rest of the Pugmucks are just there to show that Charlie lived in a crowded house with no money, on account of being poor. They were so poor that all they could get Charlie for his birthday every year was a single piece of fudge, which he had to chew up and then spit back into the wrapper, so they could wrap it back up and sell it to an even poorer family down the block. Charlie looked forward to his birthday fudge all year but sometimes he wondered who was chewing on it before...
There were these two old farts living in a farty old house and they were Grandpa and Grandma. And before they were dusty and old they had children who grew up like weeds and had a son, but not with each other. And that son was Charlie Pugmuck. Forget all the rest of them, this is Charlie's story.
The rest of the Pugmucks are just there to show that Charlie lived in a crowded house with no money, on account of being poor. They were so poor that all they could get Charlie for his birthday every year was a single piece of fudge, which he had to chew up and then spit back into the wrapper, so they could wrap it back up and sell it to an even poorer family down the block. Charlie looked forward to his birthday fudge all year but sometimes he wondered who was chewing on it before it got to him. He hoped it wasn't more than a few people.
So you can imagine Charlie's surprise when one year he was the lucky boy who got the fudge that was contaminated with the E. Spori Chrysanthemum bacteria. And as part of the legal settlement he got to tour the fudge factory, every boy's dream after his dreams of being a famous football player or president or going to a toy factory have been ground into the dust by cold, cruel reality. Charlie liked fudge.
Charlie saved up for months collecting bottle tops and wishing well pennies and tiny scraps of aluminum foil to be able to buy a pair of pants to wear to the factory that didn't smell like hot dogshit. In the end, the pants store didn't want anything to do with the bottle tops or aluminum foil, but they just so happened to be having a "Get These Pants Out of Here Sale" where tragically unfashionable trousers were being sold for 99 cents a piece. And it just so happened that over the months, Charlie had fished exactly 98 pennies out of the muck at the bottom of the wishing well and from urinals in the bathrooms of bars around town, so in the end he had to hit the store keeper with a bottle and steal the pants, but it was okay because he really wanted to see that fudge factory.
When the magical day finally came, Charlie could hardly contain his excitement. He was so excited that morning he could barely eat the bowl of twigs and surplus marshmallows his mother had lovingly prepared for him as a special breakfast. His hands were shaking too much from malnutrition—and excitement!
On the way to the factory, Charlie had his dad let him out of the wheelbarrow a half-mile from the factory, since Charlie didn't want the other kids on the tour to know his family couldn't afford a car or servants to push him around in a nicer wheelbarrow. Charlie walked the rest of the way, careful not to ruin the nice new shoes his grandfather had made him out of bread bags and duct tape just that morning.
All of Charlie's efforts at putting on an illusion of not being desperately poor turned out to be for naught, however. Upon Charlie's arrival, the factory manager, the magically mysterious Mr. Wanker, told Charlie that no one was allowed to wear pants inside the fudge factory, a strange rule but one that somehow added to the fun of the fudge factory atmosphere. Unfortunately, Charlie hadn't had enough time or bottles to steal himself any proper new underwear for the trip, and he was embarrassed that all the other snotty rich kids on the tour made fun of the gently used disposable diaper he wore inside out as underwear, owing to his poorness.
But all of this would be quickly forgotten once Charlie caught an eyeful of the glorious fudge packing going on inside.
For more of this great story, buy R.L. Kuntz's magical
Charlie and the Fudge Packers   |
