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Colin Powell An Ass Man

March 18, 2002
Washington, D.C.
Ansel Evans
Oh, yeah, Secretary of State likey
U
.S. Secretary of State Colin Powell answered an M-TV audience's question on the show Be Heard: An M-TV Global Discussion With Colin Powell that, despite contradictory claims by friends and gossipers, he is indeed an ass man.

"Sure enough," Powell said, addressing a room full of inquisitive teen-agers and fine ladies, "I am, always have been, and always will be a connoisseur of sweet asses."

"Don't get me wrong," Powell continued, "I love every part of a tasty young lady—and I do mean every part. But if you nailed me down, oh, I don't know, say held a gun to my hand and demanded to know… it's true, folks. I'm a rear admiral."

Previous statements from sources close to the Secretary of State have suggested he loves big and bouncy titties, ...Read more...


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September 30, 2002

Click for Biography

I Do Not Like Green Eggs and Ham

Few were happier than good Samaritan Rok Finger when Lee came out of his coma. Sure, Camembert appeared happy about it—a little too happy, if you ask me. But I was the one who had loaded him up with alcohol and convinced him real men can knock back a few dozen Harvey Wallbangers and then drive with no problem, so the guilt was more than enough to make me hope for him to pull through—and when he did, I expected a few questions. Where am I? How did I get back here? Why didn't you take me to a hospital? Why can't that kid walk? But this is not what I expected.

Lee after the crash did not really seem all that different from Lee before the crash (let's refer to him as Lee B.C.). Yes, he's taken to speaking in rhyme and wearing a three-foot peppermint-striped hat, but I thought it a phase we all go through. What really bothers me is he won't answer to Lee anymore and insists I eat rotten meat and eggs.

Okay, they may not actually be rotten, but they're bright green. You tell me what your first assessment is of the quality of this ham and eggs he's pushing. I wake up, my first guilt-free sleep in a week (besides my afternoon naps), and find Lee cooking breakfast. Fantastic! It appeared at first the crash actually improved him—the old Lee never cooked breakfast, woke up early, paid rent or bathed. I considered taking Camembert for a ride like Jeff Bridges took Rosie Perez in Fearless, hoping for the same great results as with Lee; or Rosie...Read more...


º Last Column: Wasted Away in Mormonville
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September 2, 2002

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Lube the Tuber

I've got the word "cambria" stuck in my head for some reason. No idea what it means. Some sort of strange deja-vu like when you think you should recognize a name and then two weeks later it turns out that was the guy you shot accidentally while turkey hunting. No leads yet on this one, though, and I haven't been turkey hunting in years.

Few things are more unsettling than waking up in the middle of the night and finding yourself floating naked in the middle of outer space, like the baby at the end of 2001. The movie, not the year. Shit if that wouldn't have been scary, waking up one December morning to see a giant baby up there in the sky and suddenly regretting every time you'd ever covered a baby in turtle wax and set it loose on your hood to wax your car. Who'd have thought the payback time would come so soon? Crimeny.

But like I said, I'm talking about the movie, with me floating in space instead of the baby. Neither dreaming nor awake in the traditional sense. Just staring down at the earth like it was a giant jawbreaker, glancing down at the thin, whispy umbilical cord that attaches you to the planet and thinking "Hmmm."

With your next thought you ponder your situation and realize that, in a symbolic sense, the earth represents the realm of your waking consciousness. No, really. The cloud layer girdling the globe keeps you warm and safe within the atmosphere, but at all times there remains the possibility of slipping undetected...Read more...


º Last Column: Herman's Hermits: Your Dad's Got Crabs, Eddie
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Milestones
1965: commune columnist Rok Finger coins the slang term "Dingleberry" at a father-son picnic attended solely by his numerous illegitimate offspring.
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View Past Columns
BY Jonas J. Cullogan
5/23/2005
The Prunes of Ignominy
Luke walked up the road in his one-dollar suit, which came with shoes but he had to pay extra for the socks. The right sock was fourteen cents, but the left cost a little more since they sewed a penny into the heel for good luck, which made them very uncomfortable for walking. As a result, Luke wasn't wearing the socks, but he kept them stuffed into his seven-cent underwear for impressive effect.

The suit didn't come with a shirt, a fact that Luke wished he had noticed before he'd given his old shirt to an elephant to use as a handkerchief. His old pants, those were gone too since they'd been made into a makeshift diaper for an incontinent horse ten miles back, but Luke had no worries about that since the new pants were just fine.

Granted, a dollar was a lot of money...Read more...

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