President Bush Calls for A "Paranoid, Trigger-Happy America"

"Caution is our enemy," states President.

October 1, 2001

Washington, DC

Emilio Berternie/AP

President Bush: Friggin' losing it

rade Center and the Pentagon, President George "Nightmare" Bush has urged for Americans to unite and create a "paranoid, trigger-happy America."

"Now, in this, our greatest moment," the President said Wednesday following the attacks, "it is important that our bloodlust reach critical levels. I'm so fucking angry I could shit a Buick. And I think all of America should follow suit."

Smoking a cigarette with an inch of ash still on the end, nervously loosening his tie and squinting through bloodshot eyes, the president promised swift and "all-out awesome" retaliation against "anybody; make that everybody. They're all going down this time."

"Some Americans have understandably tried to get on with their lives, to grieve for the victims and recapture some sense of normalcy. I urge restraint in this matter at this time. This is not the time to calmly and logically turn to religion, family, or community. Now is the time to pissing apeshit."

Bush finished his press conference by throwing up his desk and punching out a window in the Oval office.

Later, around 4:30 a.m., the president stumbled out onto the lawn with a pistol in hand, firing blindly at the sky and screaming, "I'm right here! I'm right here, you fucking monsters! Come and get it! If you dare!"

A visibly shaken, tearful President Bush was then escorted by Defense Secretary Donald Rumsfeld back into the White House, a blanket wrapped around his shoulders.

President Bush continued to encourage the nation from a small, dimly-lit room in an unreleased location three days later.

"The high demand for guns, firearms, flags, and gas has been spectacular. The call has been made for quick, thoughtless action. For rage and violence. The American people, as always, have answered the call.

"What was that?" the president asked with wide eyes darting about the dank cellar. "Did you hear that?"

He then fired several shots into a nearby secret service agent who reportedly had a "weird glint in his eye."

the commune News would like to take this opportunity to express our love for America by flying our Confederate flag at half-mast until further notice. Ivan "Scooter" Nacutchacokov is American as apple pie and has never even been to the Midwest, so you can stop with the dirty looks people.

American Afghans Apprehended, Interred In Camps

Controversial concentration pounds activated

October 1, 2001

Plimpton, CT

Ramrod Hurley

Interred Afghan American Kiwi

n a controversial move, Congress has barely passed a bill allowing the arrest and internment of thousands of American-born Afghans in "government pounds."

The Afghan, a popular breed of mid-size long-haired dog, was reportedly introduced to America several years ago by Chinese guys who brought them here originally to eat them, reported commune Research Editor Griswald Dreck. Also, horses were originally introduced to our country as indentured servants.

Dog Fancy magazine estimates the number of interred Afghans could reach 5,000 before the end of the week. Already several Afghans face additional charges of disobeying the new law by not reporting their whereabouts.

"We said, 'Sit. Stay.' And these dogs have disobeyed," said Attorney General John Ashcr...

October 15, 2001

Lookin' a Gassed Horse in the Mouse

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Nedwrinkle Nedmiller has a dream, ladies and gentlementarians. It is a dream that one day a giant mouse will come to town driving a fire truck, and everyone will give that mouse money, but Nedmiller will be out of money. Ned spent all his money buying cream pies to throw at the governor on the Eve of Meringue, a holiday tradition that goes back as far as the settlin' days, when the wild coyotes played Frisbee in the prairies and them prairie dogs done pushed a couch into the river and nobody can get their undershorts washed for Sunday churchin' because of it. Goddamn them prairie dogs.

In this dream Nedmonkey's got no cash to be givin to the fire-truck driving mouse, and is feeling right ashamed because of it. The rest of the town is having a grand old time, giving the firetruck mouse their tens and twenties, their fives and their rare commemorative eight dollar bills that were minted so folks wouldn't have to break a twenty when they're renting rollerskates for the annual Holy Molar-Rink skating party to promote good teeth and God and all. Though Ned always had to break a 20 anyways since he liked to get his skates sharpened and his incisors capped on a yearly basis.

So every damned body is forking over their greenbacks to the fire-truck driving mouse, little kids be smashing open their pigglybanks with little newborn puppies and women older than Union Steel are prying open them change purses to fling their buffalo nickels at the mouse. And there's Nedrumple, penniless and excluded, feelin' like a polo jockey on prom night.

So Ned hops on the back of a pair of safety scissors that're waltzin down the street, and rides them lefties to Giant Land, where things is bigger than average. Ned sneaks into a giant's house and steals himself a gigantic mousetrap from the giant's attic. On the way out, Ned hears a boomin' voice speak out "Feeb Flies Fort Fumes! I Smell the Cologne of an Old Spice Man!" but Nedrip is purely an ambergris kind of Nedmiller so the biggun must've been speaking to another tiny man come visiting from the Land of Average-Sized Things. Anyhow, t'was not Ned's concern so he made his way back home via a hole in the Time-Life Conundrum, picking up some butterfly milk on the way home.

Once back in the Land of Things Not So Large, Ned set up them giant mouse-trap in the middle of Rhubarb street, aimin' to teach that giant mouse a lesson about comin' to town and acceptin' money from everybody on days when Nedro was flush out of funds. Ned was about to think up a brilliant plan to lure them mouse into them hinged contraption of doom when out of nowhere the governor came running up to see if the mouse would take Mastercard. The gov'ner done stepped in one of Ned's cream pies, which stuck to his shoe and he stumbled right into the giant mouse trap, which cut him in half like a giant fellow bent on making a meal of governors.

It was as tragic a scene as Ned has been witness to in the last three-quarters of an hour, but when that trap came down on the governor, just before he was divided into two equal half-governors, he let out a squeak just like a giant mouse would be expected to do, resulting in such comedy that Ned and the giant mouse laughed themselves half silly. Having bonded so completely, Ned and the giant mouse went and sat on top of the great pyramid and ate giant flavored gumdrops, best friends from that day forward. Until moments later when Ned was woken up quite unexpectedly by crabs a-nibblin' on his toes and the dreamtime was done. Ned Nedmiller has this dream.

º Last Column: Rubber Ain't My Brother
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Milestones

1992: Ramon Nootles is married in Las Vegas. It is not the last wedding for Nootles, nor his last in Las Vegas, nor his last making heavy use of alcohol and strippers.

Now Hiring

Hooker. Must pretend to be girlfriend while bosses are visiting. Live with handsome bachelor, no sex involved, go on crazy shopping expeditions with high potential for comedy. Should be capable of winning people over with down-to-earth personality. If successful, will go on to become full-time beard for obviously gay attractive man.

Top Box Office

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5.	Freddie Prinze Jr. Smiles Dumbly For 90 Minutes

Report: â€™Osamaâ€™ Least Popular Name for American Babies

BY roland mcshyster

10/1/2001

Welcome back to Entertainment Police, gents and gentiles, I hope you came hungry for some fresh whinin' and opinin'. We've got a new batch of movies for you to ogle and unlike the last batch, we promise these won't turn out to be Gremlins. But before we get to that, let's take a moment for America's favorite back-and-forth: Ask Roland!

Q. I recently watched the film "Hannibal" and have to admit that I was troubled by the pigs who eat people. I live next-door to a pig farm and ever since I saw that movie, I am afraid of those pigs. Sometimes, at night, I can see them looking at me through the fence with their greedy little pig eyes, and I can only imagine that they're thinking that I'd be good to eat with some scrambled eggs and biscuits. Roland, can you set the record s...