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January 6, 2003
Click for Biography

Ushering in a New commune Era

by Ramrod Hurley
Call me Ramrod.

If I ever had an autobiography, it would start that way. The autobiography is uncertain, but what is certain is that, for the time being, this column is my personal property. It's the soapbox from which you will learn about Ramrod Hurley— likes, dislikes, things I don't really care about. Well, maybe not the latter. It can best be stated this way: That I have reported the news in the past; now it's my turn to tell everyone what I think of that news.

I'm also now the Editor of the commune. The Editor is sort of like a special effects maker in a movie—if it's terrible, I'll get the blame; if it's good, I'll never see the credit. I'll be a ghost-like figure, but since I can't tell you there I can let you know here, that the commune news will reach he...Read more...

º Last Column: A Mission of Utmost Impertinence
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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.
Now Hiring
Doormat. Co-dependant with poor sense of boundaries needed to do the work of three men and two women, allowing the commune to do our part in this jobless recovery. Cot in back available for qualified applicant.
Top Reasons for Honking
1.Air-horn busted
2.Thought I saw nipples
3.Rat-in-road! Rat-in-road!
4.Song needed a horn part
5.Lonely
6.That bumper sticker is right!
7.Fluent in Morse code and proud of it
8.Needed to clear path on sidewalk
9.I know that guy!
10.Because I can
Last Issue
View Past Columns
BY marcella whitmore
6/24/2002
Space Pioneers
Life on earth did not much agree
with Rufus McGee
and Magilicutty Sneed.
Two young boys, American as can be:
American as trees, or Apples Dupree.
On summer days they dreamed,
on winter nights they schemed,
lying there on their
flat-slanted backs,
staring up at
the clouds in great number,
shivering and cursing
the humorless cold,
and wishing they hadn't slept through summer.

They would've rafted down the river like gall stones in a liver,
carefree as retards on a home-fashioned raft,
except that they lived down the river three blocks and a sliver
from a factory that made cheese dust for Kraft.
So instead of paddling and singing about eyes that were stinging
a...Read more...