NATO Celebrates Record 34th Taliban Commander Killed

n Sunday, NATO and Afghan forces announced a new victory over rebel Taliban forces with the slaying of Taliban Commander Mullah Dadullah. More than that, NATO celebrated a personal landmark by killing the 34th consecutive Taliban Commander, the highest number of enemy forces commanders killed one after the other.

"Clearly we've demonstrated without a doubt that we can kill as many Taliban leaders as they can throw at us," said NATO spokesman Sgt. Buddy Means, as he and other NATO officials popped the cork on a bottle of wine at the Dead Taliban Commander impromptu party.

Dadullah was killed by Afghan police and army forces in Afghanistan's Helmand Province, with the help of NATO air support. He had been named head of the Taliban following the March 15th death of former Commander Zinzy Habullah, who himself had represented a then-record 33rd consecutive Taliban Commander killed, a blow that crippled anti-American Taliban forces well up to 72 hours, until Dadullah's promotion.

The Taliban, a militant Islamic group who had led Afghanistan until the U.S. invasion of 2001, as well as allegedly hid terrorist Osama Bin Laden within its borders, has since been a haven for anti-Western rebels and Democracy haters alike. Dadullah's death was described as a strike against the Taliban that will hinder the organization, and its biggest military loss since the last time NATO forces stuck it to them.

Afghan government spokesman Khaleeq Ahmad described the death of Dadullah as a military success that "will kill the morale of the [Taliban]." In a succinct summary of Afghanistan's response to the leader's death, Ahmad said, "We are happy he is not alive anymore. Before, when he was alive, we were distinctly unhappy. Since that had changed, there has been a net increase in our overall happiness. Previously, we in the Afghanistan were quite unhappy and we believe the Taliban was happy because we were not happy and he was still alive, which made him happy? Now? Not so much the happy for him and the Taliban. We, however, have experience a significant happiness gain."

"Killing one Taliban Commander was always a dream of mine," said director NATO forces in Afghanistan Gen. William Flampants Sunday. "But to kill 34? It's much more than I ever could have dreamed. And I'm keeping my fingers crossed that will get to the big 3-5 next!"U.S. general Myron Stofer described the 34th Taliban Commander killing as a "personal best," easily trouncing his previous record of 32 heads of the Iraqi insurgency.

Mullah Dadullah was preceded in death by former Taliban Commanders Zinzy Habullah, Shabba Nazuna, Rafullah Al-Badallah, Guella Transattah, Macho Kabala, Jhada Stantoplabada, Fozzy Boombozzi, Ginalla Walla, Dallah Polla Impala, Sadir Al-Funtallah, Shimi Shammy Al-Pajami, Fadabi Scradi Adi, Boomwati Al-Mahtalli, Bada Botta Bada, Grizallah Priscilla, Foolah Medulla Oblongata, Buntapa Al-Moppa, Zenyatta Mondatta, Faka Mata-Faka, Zahir Bin Lama, Tullah Donna Al-Galla, Paula Abdullah, Amir Batallah, Latka Gravas, Pinzalla Rapallah, Avatah Dudallah Dallah, Rama Bin Stattah, Allah Donbattah, Jadir Sufstata, Grallah Biz-Allah, Chad Perkins, and Famir Fallah Fallah Fallah. If you have a rhythmical name and would like to lead an anti-Western terrorist group, call the Taliban and apply immediately.

acing charges of pandering to Southerners by affecting a fake drawl when speaking to audiences in the South, presidential hopeful Hillary Clinton responded to reporters this week with an angry retort of "Shoo, I ayne got no suuthurn assent, y'all" before spitting on the floor and leaving the room.

This latest incident follows a strong trend for Clinton over the last few weeks, leading pundits to suggest she's attempting to poach votes from Democratic challenger and authentic southerner John Edwards, knowing full well that a Democrat who can't carry the South has as much of a chance at the presidency as a black man from… oh. Nevermind.

Adding fuel to the fiery allegations, Clinton appeared at a rally in Raleigh last week wearing a NASCAR hat, and proceeded to pepper her speech with references to country music songs by Clint Black and Toby Keith. Even more strikingly, Clinton spoke to a group of campaign donors in Charleston a few days later, smoking a pipe and ordering around several people of color dressed as servants onstage.

"I don't know where she gets her ideas," questioned Tim Linenbrook, Professor of Cultural Studies at Vanderbilt University in Nashville, Tennessee. "No one in recorded history, Southern or otherwise, has ever acted like Hillary apparently thinks we Southerners act. In spite of having lived in Arkansas for years, she seems to have formed her impression of the South from a mix of Deliverance and The Dukes of Hazzard."

Clinton's detractors insist this is not a new behavior for the senator from New York, citing numerous incidents in which the former first lady appeared to pander to African-American audiences by incorporating clichéd and very incorrect forms of Ebonics into her speech and adopting very broadly stereotypical behaviors. The most notorious example of which may have been an appearance in Chicago in March, when Clinton ended her speech by shouting "Fuck tha police!" and tossing buckets of KFC into the crowd.

Leaders from the Latino community in Los Angeles also took issue with Clinton's decision to issue her entire speech at that campaign stop in the form of graffiti spray-painted onto road signs above the 405 freeway.

Valley girl advocates (yes, they exist, and we found them) also charge that Clinton pulled the same trick when speaking at a fundraiser in Orange County three weeks ago, popping her gum loudly while speaking about Medicare and using the word "like" seventy-eight times over the course of four minutes.

"What-EVER," Clinton responded when questioned about her dubious Southern California speech patterns.

Political pundits across the spectrum, however, admit that they're on the edge of their seats in anticipation of Clinton's upcoming speaking engagement in Whippany, New Jersey, a town noted for its unusually high concentration of Kazak immigrants, since Clinton is rumored to do an absolutely killer Borat impression.

The most important thing we need to get clear right now is that Omar Bricks did not set the commune's roof on fire. When historians tell the story of the commune and why the whole goddamned building probably burnt down, they'd better not turn to the Bricks Excuse as a convenient solution to their own damned laziness. This has happened all too often already. Every last piece of furniture from the offices of our downstairs neighbors at Crochet! magazine goes missing one day, then turns up on eBay being sold in a "Readymade Office" auction by somebody called chxdigbrx, and all of a sudden I'm a prime suspect. Or somebody takes apart Red Bagel's new car, piece by piece, rebuilds it in his office, then wipes out into the hallway tearing mid-office donuts in the middle of the night and nobody bothers to look beyond the suspect whose wallet was found on the floorboards. Do you have any idea how many wallets I have? I can't keep track of that shit. It was probably still there from the time I tried to fit Bagel's car in the elevator as a surprise birthday present. Use your heads, people.

Any armchair Columbo worth his weight in assfat can see that the roof fire was obviously the work of Crochet! operatives. Do you think it's any coincidence that the fire was started on the roof, insuring that it'll hit our floor first, long before it ever gets to those Crochet! bastards and their precious fire-fuel-free empty offices? I think not. And who but those diabolical Crochet! skunks would think to plan it so deviously and so perfectly, to make it look like my roof-mounted potato cannon and homemade generator were the culprits? Hell, they almost had me convinced, that's how good they are. When I was up there last night, shooting potatoes out into the Flatbush night and reveling in the sweet music of airborne, starchy chaos, at first I thought it was cool as hell when the cannon started shooting those flaming spuds. Hell yeah! It wasn't part of the design, no, but some of life's greatest gifts are happy accidents like that, like the time I figured out you can sharpen your knives just by tying them to shoelaces and dragging them behind your bumper while tearing ass around the neighborhood.

But I hadn't shot more than seven or eight beautifully flammable taters arching out into the night sky before I realized those Crochet! bastards had somehow snuck in behind me, probably while I was trying to hit that hot air balloon, and had set the whole goddamned roof on fire. I got a few more shots off, no use in wasting a perfectly good potato cannon that wasn't likely to survive the fire, before I discovered the much more important fact that my shoes were on fire. Time to go.

I didn't sleep all that well last night, since I'd really liked those shoes. But the day just went from bad to worse when I got to work this morning and noticed that the building was still on fire. Everyone at the commune offices was still going about business as usual, and nobody had called the fire department because we aint a bunch of lousy snitches. The Crochet! staff was gone, big surprise there. Funny how they always seem to know when the building's on fire or dangerously brimming over with asbestos and radon.

I imagine we're going to have to evacuate at some point, once the fire sprinklers run out of water. They can't last too much longer, since we turn them on all the time when it's hot. I can't say I'll be sad to go, all those gay-assed solar panels Ramrod Hurley had installed on the roof smell like tofu when they burn, so it smells like healthy death in here. I've spent most of the morning throwing shit out the windows to save it from the fire. Okay, I've been throwing shit at the people below evacuating the building, but you can bet your ass none of those computers or fax machines or things are going to burn up in the fire, either. That's called multi-tasking.

Hold up, the rest of the staff has been playing hide-and-seek in the smoke and apparently I'm it now. I want to see how long they'll hide if I just leave and don't tell anybody. Wish me luck. Bricks out.

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