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Negative Ads Nastiest EverMarch 15, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Snapper McGee's TV One the first in this season's line of vicious political "snaps." n what some broadcasters are calling "news," negative ads have come from both camps lately attacking the leading presidential candidates George W. Bush and John Kerry. Making the ads particularly noticeable is the level of enmity and unfounded allegation passing muster in attempts to gain early lead in the presidential race.
Democratic debates for the past several weeks, indeed as early as they started, painted unpleasant, however true, pictures of President Bush as a "man" out of touch with the people and leading America down a path toward unjustified war and economic chaos. Bush, sitting on a monster-sized war chest of campaign finance, reserved specific retaliations until John Kerry emerged as the Democratic front-runner. Many theorize Bush was urged to action by comments ...
n what some broadcasters are calling "news," negative ads have come from both camps lately attacking the leading presidential candidates George W. Bush and John Kerry. Making the ads particularly noticeable is the level of enmity and unfounded allegation passing muster in attempts to gain early lead in the presidential race.
Democratic debates for the past several weeks, indeed as early as they started, painted unpleasant, however true, pictures of President Bush as a "man" out of touch with the people and leading America down a path toward unjustified war and economic chaos. Bush, sitting on a monster-sized war chest of campaign finance, reserved specific retaliations until John Kerry emerged as the Democratic front-runner. Many theorize Bush was urged to action by comments made by Kerry calling allegations on his defense record as false and referring to those behind the ads as "the most crooked" "lying group I've ever seen." The Bush campaign demanded and apology, and 50 lashes with a leather whip—no, 60! 100! 100 lashes!
The Democratic campaign refused to apologize, and were outraged when an ad began running Friday in major markets, following Thursday's historic terror attack in Madrid which killed 200 people. The ad showed President Bush laying a wreath at the Spanish embassy with an ominous voice narrating: "Thursday, when Spain was the victim of terrorists, President Bush was in the White House all day. Several people saw him. Where was John Kerry?"
Representatives of the Kerry campaign, teen-agers working the phones, described the attacks as "unbelievable bullshit." Campaign insiders suggest the "vicious character" attack inspired the release of a television ad they had originally thought too harsh for airing. The ad uses headlines and quotes from a Los Angeles Times story pointing to a division of intelligence in the Pentagon that privately briefed the White House on Iraq's alleged weapons of mass destruction, and may have been broken the chain of command and been responsible for the failure of intelligence. The Kerry campaign comment on the story was in text: "WtF?" Those knowledgeable in abbreviations inform us the letters mean "What the fuck?"
The Bush campaign hit back Saturday, with a speculative radio ad featuring the same ominous voice, saying, "You know, they never did catch the killer of Jon Benet Ramsey. John Kerry—you ever been to Colorado?" The ultimate insult, according to insult experts, was the added tag: "John Kerry: Soft on defense, sweet on little girls?"
Democrat campaign spokespeople described their candidate as "super-pissed," but promised retribution in the form of ads that would "tell it like it is." Sunday morning found the airing in metro markets of a hastily-assembled new Kerry ad. In it, aerial photographs of Roswell, New Mexico play to accompanying voice-over. "People are hearing a lot of things about Area 51. And the president hasn't been very forth-coming on what's there. If it's nothing special, why don't we get to see it? But if there's an evil alien menace lurking in the heart of New Mexico… what will it look like?" At which point a super-imposed picture of the president in his jet fighter suit appears on the screen. "George W. Bush. A pilot… but not of our planes."
Also joining the advertising this week was Ralph Nader's under-funded campaign, who passed around a flip book to supporters in town halls. In it, as one flips the pages, a stick figure appears to dance, while text at the bottom of the page indicts the other major campaigns: "The two-party system has the same old song and dance." the commune is currently on a waiting list to receive the flip book when everyone else is done with it. the commune news believes in running a positive campaign against our opponents, and that's why we can say we're positive the folks at Crochet! magazine have bizarre sacrificial rituals every night when the rest of us are heading home. Bludney Pludd is nothing but negative, and doesn't even have enough confidence to disagree with all the nasty things we say about him.
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Senator Wins Lottery, Quits "Shitty Job" epublican Senator Judd Gregg finally ran into a big steaming pile of luck Wednesday when he matched 5 of 6 Powerball numbers and won a lottery jackpot of $853,492. Gregg immediately called Vice-President Dick Cheney to let his boss know he would not be coming into work. “It’s about friggin’ time I got some good luck,” Gregg told reporters in front of his home in his home state of New Hampshire. Gregg waved his winning ticket in the air frantically and laughed. “Eat it, taxpayers! I’m gonna be my own boss from now on!” Gregg, who chairs the Senate Budget Committee and spent more than $2 million in his last re-election campaign, did admit to some sour grapes in not winning the $340 million jackpot won by an Oregon player in the same lottery. the commune's Fall Gadget Guide t’s almost the time of year to start pretending you’re Christmas shopping while you look for swanky new shit for yourself, and the commune is there for you with our first-ever annual Fall Gadget Guide. Join commune Tech Correspondent Mitch Kroeger as he guides you through the bewildering wilderness of the new and the shiny. Heather Graham’s Career Found Dead in Apartment Polish Roof Falls in Following “Drinks Are on the House” Debacle |
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 June 6, 2005
The Siege of ParisEveryone I know in the conspiracy community and the Niluminati were, of course, stunned by the big bomb drop this week. And you can hardly blame us, it has to be the news everybody has been wanting to hear for years. Paris Hilton marrying Paris ???? That's insanity. Two people with the same first name can't marry each other. That's the whole reason our country has stood fast against gay marriage for so long. The notion of a Steve marrying a Steve… brr! I'm chilled to the bone just thinking about it.
Imagine all the potential disasters that would happen in that household. A man calls there, asking for Paris, and the husband flips out, yelling and screaming and threatening violence, only to find out the caller was his best friend, Buddy. Plus, think about how gross it is to get out of the shower and use your wife, Paris', monogrammed towel. Dammit! If only the two of us didn't share the same name. What I'm mainly worried about, though, is the next time I download a bootleg video of Paris having sex with someone, it better be the female one. That's all I'm saying.
I can understand her wanting to settle down, though. Her movie career is finally starting to take off, what with that Carl Jr.'s commercial getting her such fantastic acting notice. She's apparently broken ties once and for all with that troublemaker Nicole Richie, and it's about time. I'm hoping she'll do the wise thing for the next season of The Simple Life, and get a reliable...
º Last Column: Net Pirates º more columns
Everyone I know in the conspiracy community and the Niluminati were, of course, stunned by the big bomb drop this week. And you can hardly blame us, it has to be the news everybody has been wanting to hear for years. Paris Hilton marrying Paris ???? That's insanity. Two people with the same first name can't marry each other. That's the whole reason our country has stood fast against gay marriage for so long. The notion of a Steve marrying a Steve… brr! I'm chilled to the bone just thinking about it.
Imagine all the potential disasters that would happen in that household. A man calls there, asking for Paris, and the husband flips out, yelling and screaming and threatening violence, only to find out the caller was his best friend, Buddy. Plus, think about how gross it is to get out of the shower and use your wife, Paris', monogrammed towel. Dammit! If only the two of us didn't share the same name. What I'm mainly worried about, though, is the next time I download a bootleg video of Paris having sex with someone, it better be the female one. That's all I'm saying.
I can understand her wanting to settle down, though. Her movie career is finally starting to take off, what with that Carl Jr.'s commercial getting her such fantastic acting notice. She's apparently broken ties once and for all with that troublemaker Nicole Richie, and it's about time. I'm hoping she'll do the wise thing for the next season of The Simple Life, and get a reliable new influence like Kelly Clarkson to co-star. And, this is neither here nor there, but they should have to work in a Denny's all season. I have a hunch that would be classic TV in the making.
I have additional worries about Paris Hilton settling down once and for all, even though I think it might be in her best interest. I hope she doesn't balloon up like Elle MacPherson once she's married. A lot of super-models just let themselves go and lose their classic toothpick shape. But with a husband sharing the same name, plus him not being famous and multi-talented like her, that has to cause some torment, which always causes heavy drinking, which causes great preservation of eternal thinness. So that's working for her.
Interesting about this "Deep Throat" thing, too. Some people may have guessed Paris Hilton was actually Deep Throat, but that was another video entirely, rest assured. Plus, I don't think she knows anything about Washington politics, part of that younger generation that thinks politics are queer. I was surprised by Felt's admission, I had always suspected Linda Lovelace, Misty Sugar, or White House Counsel John Dean. Actually, I really wanted it to be Jimmy Dean, just for a real twist, but that wasn't too likely. I'm not sure how an actor and sausage magnate would be privilege to such information, but as I said, it was more a fantasy than anything else.
We in the conspiracy-cracking business owe a real debt to Mark Felt, not only for expanding our sexual consciousness, but for helping to bring down a president and making us feel, at last, like we could break some of these conspiracies, if we stayed on them long enough. I was a young cub reporter at the time, and I wish Felt had had enough confidence to come to me with the story, instead of Joanne Woodward and Leonard Bernstein. They should give him the biggest tribute of all, since bringing down the president helped launch Woodward's acting career, and Bernstein spent the rest of his life recording the tales of the Watergate conspiracy in his successful series of Bernstein Bears books. What I couldn't have done with such information.
Let's just say it would have been me in that Paris Hilton video then, not some jackass with a camera. º Last Column: Net Piratesº more columns
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|  December 10, 2001
Things You Think When You're on Fire"Great Burping Furbies!" screamed the Dane wearing the hat of flames. Whoozat? Whazis? Time takes a moment to shave it's kneecaps. Everything slows, like molasses out a chipmunk's nose. You remember the time you were on the Ferris Wheel at the fair, and your great grandma barfed sawdust over the side, and when the wind kicked up it looked like a swarm of whiteflies chasing a fat little boy through the Midway. Good Gremlin Gonads, what am I thinking this for? Now? I need medical punctuation! An apostrophe! An apostle! Someone take me to Sea World, and don't spare the pistons!
No no no, them teeter-totters won't get you to the hospital today. Them's union totters. Jimmeny Jumpropes! Look at the headlamps on that brunette! Wait. I smell burning man-hair. Am I still on fire? Great Tidy Wipers, I am! Shitbells and Josephine! Somebody get me a Handiwipe and a Shasta! I'm too young to provide heat for cooking and recreation!
You remember the time you saw a donkey catch on fire at a propane-tank-throwing contest when you were just a boy. Good Lord Wencelas, was that donkey meat stringy. You never forgot the look on that donkey's face when he looked at you, all on-fire and the like, and recited word for word a report you gave in the third grade from a book about asparagus.
Suddenly you regret using the fire extinguisher to frost those giant mini-wheats you made in the garage. You consider buying an off-season airline ticket to Bort, a small town in...
º Last Column: The Tale of the Burping German º more columns
"Great Burping Furbies!" screamed the Dane wearing the hat of flames. Whoozat? Whazis? Time takes a moment to shave it's kneecaps. Everything slows, like molasses out a chipmunk's nose. You remember the time you were on the Ferris Wheel at the fair, and your great grandma barfed sawdust over the side, and when the wind kicked up it looked like a swarm of whiteflies chasing a fat little boy through the Midway. Good Gremlin Gonads, what am I thinking this for? Now? I need medical punctuation! An apostrophe! An apostle! Someone take me to Sea World, and don't spare the pistons! No no no, them teeter-totters won't get you to the hospital today. Them's union totters. Jimmeny Jumpropes! Look at the headlamps on that brunette! Wait. I smell burning man-hair. Am I still on fire? Great Tidy Wipers, I am! Shitbells and Josephine! Somebody get me a Handiwipe and a Shasta! I'm too young to provide heat for cooking and recreation! You remember the time you saw a donkey catch on fire at a propane-tank-throwing contest when you were just a boy. Good Lord Wencelas, was that donkey meat stringy. You never forgot the look on that donkey's face when he looked at you, all on-fire and the like, and recited word for word a report you gave in the third grade from a book about asparagus. Suddenly you regret using the fire extinguisher to frost those giant mini-wheats you made in the garage. You consider buying an off-season airline ticket to Bort, a small town in Manitoba that surely has snow by this time of the year. But remember what happened the last time you tried to buy a ticket while on fire? You might as well try ordering ranch dressing on your applesauce. Damn damn damn. You finally understand all them paintins with the meltin' clocks and horseheads and whatnot. No wonder them giraffes was on fire, they must've been trying to hook up a paintball gun to a lawnmower, too! Clever goddamn giraffes! Damn if it isn't hot in here. Right about then you scream somethin' in Spanish and dive headfirst into the picklin' tank, but turns out them cucumbers is more flammables than they look on the radio, cause the whole damn contraption goes up like a ricepaper hut on Arson Day. Sweet Stammering Dandies! Nedder's having lunch with Joan of Arc! Now most usual times you're on fire, you have some revelations about the meanings of life or how to cut them lawn with a helicopter but there's rarely enough time to put but two of those to use before some well-meaning passer-by douses you with a garden-hose (or, if you wander into a football stadium, them huge buckets of Gatorade) and you have to start her all over again. Damn-jabney. Sometimes there aren't enough hours in a day. º Last Column: The Tale of the Burping Germanº more columns
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Quote of the Day“Learning without thought is labor lost; except in public schools, where it keeps most teachers employed.”
-Confused-ass CarmenFortune 500 CookieYou'll have a brush with death this week, and that fucker has some of the yellowest teeth you've ever seen, so make sure you go first. This time the lyrics to the song you're pretending to know the words to actually are "Watermelon, Watermelon, Watermelon." You'll make the most expensive movie ever made in your kitchen this week, for ten dollars. Lucky strikes, camels, kools, and bel-airs.
Try again later.Top Amish Profanities1. | God look upon that hammer with a distainful eye! | 2. | Shnnniiggrrleeeppf! | 3. | I wouldn't mind raising 35 slightly inbred children with that woman. | 4. | May your beard itch. | 5. | Cock-Fucking Bitch of a Basket! | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY Roland McShyster 1/24/2005 Can you smell that, America? I'm not talking about the Oscars buzz; I think there might be a gas leak in my office. But do gas leaks usually smell like strawberries? Exactly. I think this may be some kind of fruit-hallucinating gas. The most deadly kind of them all. Because few people investigate a hallucinated fruit smell before it's too late. I'll leave you to the movie reviews, loyal readers, I'm off to buy a canary.
In Theaters Now:
The Alligator
Finally Martin Scorsese has stopped playing it safe with this bold tale of the visionary genius who made all those polo shirts with the little alligator on the breast, but then went too far and tried to make a gigantic wooden alligator to scare the queen. We all knew there was a movie in there...
Can you smell that, America? I'm not talking about the Oscars buzz; I think there might be a gas leak in my office. But do gas leaks usually smell like strawberries? Exactly. I think this may be some kind of fruit-hallucinating gas. The most deadly kind of them all. Because few people investigate a hallucinated fruit smell before it's too late. I'll leave you to the movie reviews, loyal readers, I'm off to buy a canary.
In Theaters Now:
The Alligator
Finally Martin Scorsese has stopped playing it safe with this bold tale of the visionary genius who made all those polo shirts with the little alligator on the breast, but then went too far and tried to make a gigantic wooden alligator to scare the queen. We all knew there was a movie in there somewhere, and Scorsese found it by throwing out most of the facts and molding the rest out of an unrelated movie he was already working on. The cast really responds, and Leonardo DiCaprio was clearly paid for this participation this time around. Will it all be enough to finally bring Scorsese his coveted Best Costumes Oscar? Only time will tell.
Fat Albert
They had to make a deal with Bill Cosby to do it, but the Hollywood cartel has finally created the most insulting Albert Einstein biopic ever made. Hollywood's blinding hatred of Einstein has a long and storied history, dating back to the German scientist refusing to sell Hollywood the movie rights to his special theory of relativity, and punctuated by a long string of bitter Einstein-bashing biopic films released by Hollywood over the years, including Young Einstein, Hair and Weird Science. But Hollywood's latest handiwork tops them all, pulling out the big guns by accusing Einstein of being everything from overweight to a bad actor. I for one was surprised Hollywood decided to tempt the fates one more time, I sure wouldn't want some genius ghost sitting around in the afterlife, dreaming up ways to give me the bad hair day from hell.
Million Dollar Baby
No doubt you're already smelling the Oscar buzz surrounding this one, since the Academy loves babies. Unless you're smelling an actual baby. In that case, ew. The Academy also loves Clint Eastwood, because he's a mean, flinty-eyed motherfucker who often pays back disloyalty with a random gutshot, so it's love him or probably die. But Eastwood doesn't know Roland McShyster from a Polish Mount Shasta, so I'm free to point out that two old farts boxing over a precocious talking baby that got rich on Linux stock sounds like two shitty movie ideas sharing time in a sock. Do I feel lucky, punk? Hell no, I just had to sit through your whole movie, how lucky can I be?
Meet the Froggers
Video games are the new candy crack in Hollywood this year, and movie studio executives are falling over each other to make the next… the next… uh, the first decent video game movie ever. Most will no doubt turn out like Meet the Froggers, a movie that gives a bad name to surreal, misguided entertainment. The film follows a day in the life of a family that built their house by the side of a bridgeless, alligator-infested river full of pissed-off ducks, which to even get to you have to run across a freeway so busy it has an entire lane just for hauling-ass bulldozers. Granted, after all the bad movies they've made, it is entertaining to watch DeNiro, Hoffman, Stiller and especially Barbara Streisand get lane-changed like a Jackson Pollack painting, but the thrill wears off quickly when the actors keep returning after they've been killed. The director hasn't been born yet who can make a thrilling movie out of a one-level Atari game, but given the dangerously low number of nostalgic TV shows Hollywood has left to make into shitty movies, he'd better get his ass in gear.
Glad you enjoyed the views and reviews, America. But here's one more before you go: watch out for hawks. Did you know those things eat canaries? That's right. So even though you can tie a string around a canary's neck and have him fly home behind you like a kite, all things considered it's probably best to take the pet store guy up on his cage recommendation. Live and learn, America. See you next time.   |