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Bin Laden Fails to Show Up for Terrorism Awards ShowOctober 29, 2001 |
Washington, DC Junior Bacon Even Destiny's Child's sizzling performance was not enough to bring the reclusive Saudi out of hiding
“Obviously, we’re sad to see not one of the big winners this year turned out,” said Special Forces Commander Joe Don Dawson, presenter of this year’s Outstanding Terrorist Event award. “It’s a huge shame. But really, it was sort of a longshot anyway. I mean, that they’d show up.”
Dawson then gave a hand signal and several dozen black-clad commandoes rappelled down the side of the auditorium walls, disassembling their weapons and moving single file to the exits.
<...
ast night’s Academy of Terrorism Awards show was a disappointment to all, as the coveted Terrorist of the Year award was won by no-show Osama bin Laden. The awards show, held at the Pentagon in Washington, D.C., in fact failed to supply any of the terrorists who won awards. “Obviously, we’re sad to see not one of the big winners this year turned out,” said Special Forces Commander Joe Don Dawson, presenter of this year’s Outstanding Terrorist Event award. “It’s a huge shame. But really, it was sort of a longshot anyway. I mean, that they’d show up.” Dawson then gave a hand signal and several dozen black-clad commandoes rappelled down the side of the auditorium walls, disassembling their weapons and moving single file to the exits. Some news sources have claimed the Terrorism Awards show is an overt attempt to lure bin Laden and other Al Qaeda terrorist network officials out of hiding so the U.S. government can apprehend them. “Who told you—“ started President George W. Bush, then correcting himself in a calm manner, responded, “Of course not. The Academy of Terrorism presents these awards annually for outstanding, uh… you know, excellencism in the field of terrorism and such.” According to other news sources, despite the president’s claim, this is the first year on record for the Terrorism Awards show. In fact, no address for the Academy of Terrorism could be verified, and names given as leaders of the Academy are all obvious joke names like “Seymour Cox” and “Jacques Trap.” If the Academy of Terrorism and the Awards show are both genuine, it stands as a great coincidence all recipients of this year’s “Boomie” awards were also on the U.S. Most Wanted Terrorists list recently released by President Bush. the commune news is never as “news” as you want it to be and certainly not as much “commune” as you were expecting. Lil Duncan runs a tight ship here, boys, and no one gets off without her permission.
 | God Drops Ball on GiantsAlmighty's boner ends Giants' playoff hopes. October 15, 2001 |
San Francisco, CA Noonan Pricely/AP Barry Bonds monopolizing God's time lately.
"Yeah, I guess I kind of fucked up on that one," Mr. Being said with a sheepish, omniscient grin. "What happened was, I got so excited by seeing Barry Bonds break McGwire's home run record that I like totally forgot that they needed to win that night to stay in the pennant race. The plan had been for them to win all three games against the Dodgers, while...
he Supreme Being, variously known throughout the world as God, Jehovah, Allah and other aliases, admits to fumbling the San Francisco Giants' chances for post-season play in the recent Friday night game against the Los Angeles Dodgers. It was a mistake that was more costly than -- and almost as memorable as -- the time Jose Canseco had a fly ball bounce off his head and over the fence for a home run. Score that E-Almighty One.
"Yeah, I guess I kind of fucked up on that one," Mr. Being said with a sheepish, omniscient grin. "What happened was, I got so excited by seeing Barry Bonds break McGwire's home run record that I like totally forgot that they needed to win that night to stay in the pennant race. The plan had been for them to win all three games against the Dodgers, while I was going to have Arizona lose a couple to the Milwaukee Brewers, then I would favor the Giants in the one-game playoff against Arizona, but I guess that's all just academic now."
God admitted that He was a bit sidetracked by Bonds' repeated entreaties for help in breaking the home run mark, and his pointing to the sky and thanking Him every time he crossed home plate.
"We got caught up in a couple of those 'You da man,' 'No, YOU da man!' exchanges, and I just lost track of the larger scheme of things. Plus, I was still pretty pissed at the failure of the Houston Astros to pitch to him until the very last at-bat of that series down at Enron Field, and I've been busy devising ways for them to suffer next season. How does a plague of locusts in the infield and a couple of nine-game losing streaks for that bunch of Nancy-boys sound?"
When it was pointed out that Houston made the playoffs this year by virtue of the Giants having lost, He replied, with a hint of irritation, "Look, just because I'm omniscient doesn't mean I can be everywhere at once, all right?"
Another factor, God said, was the length of the game. He also suggested that alcohol may have played a part in his team-deflating error.
"Man, that game went hella long," He said, while shaking his eternally unfathomable head. "Excuse me, I should've said 'hecka long,' heh. But besides that, I'd had a few brewskies by the time the late innings arrived. In fact, quite a few, to say the least. So, you know, I was maybe a little asleep at the switch. But hey, at least I wasn't driving or operating heavy machinery, if you know what I'm saying."
The Lord then abruptly ended the interview, saying he had a lot on his mind lately, and really just needed "a couple aspirin and some quiet down time." Reporters were left with His spokes-object, a charred and smoldering bush that refused to answer any further questions. the commune news would like to take this opportunity to make it clear that we don't have any goddamned children, so you can kindly shove that bumpersticker up your sactimonious collective ass, thank you very much. Also, you have a tail light out. If Wallace E. Watermelon had any friends at all -- even one -- he'd ask them to call him "Wally." Do you know anyone that's looking for a friend to call Wally?
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 October 29, 2001 The Boy No Bigger Than a Claritin PillOnce upon a time there was a happy couple who could not, you know, have a kid. They went to doctor after doctor until they found one who told them he could help her get pregnant, but neither the husband nor wife were happy with his suggestion and she slapped him curtly. A magical fairy appeared to them one night when they had downed a quart of Vermouth each and made them a promise.
"I can give you a son," the fairy said, "but he will be a small boy. Though smallish in stature, however, he will have the biggest heart you have ever seen."
The couple profusely thanked the fairy and gave her a generous gratuity. Sure enough, within a month the wife was pregnant.
When their son was born, months later, they were surprised as hell when the boy was n...
º Last Column: The Cobbler's Son
º more columns
Once upon a time there was a happy couple who could not, you know, have a kid. They went to doctor after doctor until they found one who told them he could help her get pregnant, but neither the husband nor wife were happy with his suggestion and she slapped him curtly. A magical fairy appeared to them one night when they had downed a quart of Vermouth each and made them a promise.
"I can give you a son," the fairy said, "but he will be a small boy. Though smallish in stature, however, he will have the biggest heart you have ever seen."
The couple profusely thanked the fairy and gave her a generous gratuity. Sure enough, within a month the wife was pregnant.
When their son was born, months later, they were surprised as hell when the boy was no bigger than a Claritin pill. The father said something to the effect of, "Jesus, I know she said he'd be small, but I thought she meant Dudley Moore small, not Tom & Jerry small…"
The boy was very loving, but his parents neglected him. They were not cruel people, it was just so easy to forget about the boy no bigger than a Claritin pill. He slept in a matchbox, he drove a Matchbox, and trying to shop for him, well, forget it.
One day the fat evil landlord came to the old house and told the couple that they could not keep their son in the house, it defied some sort of anarchist zoning rule of the time and they would have to move or kick him out. It was unbelievable to the couple, who did not want to lose their son or their house, the house even more so.
Before they had a chance to make a decision, though, the boy no bigger than a Claritin pill jumped down the throat of the fat landlord with a toothpick in hand and began to wreak havoc on his gastro-intestinal track. The boy carved his way through the fat man's stomach, up though his lungs, and severed all the cords to his heart, though by that time the sheer pain of it all had killed the fat bastard.
Eventually the parents of the boy no bigger than a Claritin pill carved open the landlord's chest and retrieved their son, and by damn, sure enough, between his teensy hands he had the biggest heart any of them had ever seen. They were much appreciative, and more than a little terrified. º Last Column: The Cobbler's Sonº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“Do unto others how you would do unto somebody who you knew for sure would do the same stuff back to you that you did to them, only in reverse. On second thought… just be nice, okay asshole?”
-Beazus Frist, CPAFortune 500 CookieNobody likes a smartass… wait a minute, everybody loves a smartass. It's you they don't like. In an effort to make your personality more rounded and appealing, try learning the Tibetan Touch of Death this week. Remember, God made it hard to get your tongue into your own ass for a good reason. This week's lucky prescriptions: Cockgromax, Deuglycontin, Halitosinex, Slopecia, Lilpenihance, Fucoft.
Try again later.What Was That Guy Screaming?| 1. | Four fewer years! Four fewer years! | | 2. | "Don't Worry, Be Happy" Bobby McFerrin, 1988 | | 3. | I think I'd notice if my hearing aid battery had died, you crusty old bitch! | | 4. | Rectum? I nearly destroyed his anus! | | 5. | I have difficulty modulating my voice! | |
|   CNN Charged with Leaking Vital Information BY roland mcshyster 10/29/2001 Sweet Jesus America, are you back again already? It looks like Uncle Roland will have to dig deep into his bag of goodies for some tender morsels to keep you entertainment hounds happy! How about we start with everyone's favorite Quid Pro Bono, Ask Roland?
Q. I've been an avid fan of yours since back in your days of writing movie reviews for the Radio Shack employee newsletter, and even your brief stint as a film reviewer for Trucker Girls Magazine. Looking through my collection of your reviews recently, I was startled to discover that you gave "Cock-Gobbling Space Sluts" a four-star review when you were writing for TGM. Excuse me? Were we watching the same movie? Only a truly desperate fan of low-budget erotic science fiction comedies would find this...
Sweet Jesus America, are you back again already? It looks like Uncle Roland will have to dig deep into his bag of goodies for some tender morsels to keep you entertainment hounds happy! How about we start with everyone's favorite Quid Pro Bono, Ask Roland?
Q. I've been an avid fan of yours since back in your days of writing movie reviews for the Radio Shack employee newsletter, and even your brief stint as a film reviewer for Trucker Girls Magazine. Looking through my collection of your reviews recently, I was startled to discover that you gave "Cock-Gobbling Space Sluts" a four-star review when you were writing for TGM. Excuse me? Were we watching the same movie? Only a truly desperate fan of low-budget erotic science fiction comedies would find this cavalcade of clearly faked Venusian orgasms and unconvincing prosthetic Martian hard-ons anything less than tiresome. And where's the internal logic? So the mischievous vibra-doodles need to hide in Linda Sproket's cleavage to survive the journey through deep space so they can sneak into Luke Dorkmer's pants, but Stud Astroglide and Gina Galaxy apparently don't need to breathe while copulating on the moon's barren surface? There's no air on the moon, Roland. Oh, and also, are there any plans in the works for a book of your movie reviews to be published?
Duke Rainfever, Lost Meadow, Maine
A. Thanks for the letter, Duke. It's always heartening, and a bit suffocating, to know you have fans who have been following your career so closely. I take it from your collection that you're both a Radio Shack employee and a frequent reader of Biker Girls Magazine, and from your return address stamp that you live in Maine. The question I have for you, Duke, is which set of fingerprints on the envelope are yours: the big, smudged greasy ones or the smaller, more delicate prints with the tighter swirls? I have a bet going with some friends at the FBI on this one—Christmas might come early for Roland this year! And lastly: Stay the hell out of my car.
Q. On a recent trip to the theater to see David Lynch's new romantic comedy "Mulholland Dive", I was plagued by one nagging question throughout the film's generous 400 minute running time. And that question is this: "What the fuck?". Thought maybe you could help, thanks.
Carny Viceroy, Tumult, Florida
A. Your question is an understandable one, Carny. There are two important things to remember when watching any David Lynch film. The first is that Lynch did a gargantuan quantity of drugs early in his career and is now considered to be mildly retarded. Did you ever see that "this is your brain on drugs" commercial several years back? They actually used David Lynch's brain for that commercial, no lie. As a result, Lynch's films are best enjoyed after drinking a bottle of shoe polish and setting your feet on fire, as the director intended. The second thing is that it's best to remember that all of Lynch's films are originally shot in Portuguese, underwater and backwards, then they are translated back by migrant workers, dubbed into English by the cast of "Saved by the Bell", run forward and spliced together with Mexican soap operas at random intervals. So to best follow a Lynch film, it's recommended that you have an illegal immigrant friend watch the film for you, then describe it to you through two tin cans attached by a waxed bit of string. If you missed any of those directions, don't worry. They're reprinted on the DVD packaging for "Lost Highway", which was actually about the Spanish Civil War.
Now for the movies!
In Theaters Now:
From Hell
Good God! This isn't the touching Christmas fable I remembered as a child! I think they've pulled a fast one on you and I, America.
Iron Monkey
A completely yawn-worth action epic that pits the Beastie Boys and their fake karate antics against a gang of futuristic numbskulls, set against the backdrop of a post-apocalyptic New Jersey suburb. What do you mean it's not post-apocalyptic?
Mulholland Drive
Confirmed nutbag director David Lynch finally teams up with an actor who's talents match and compliment his own: Sylvester Stallone. Sure, the movie is the same backwards mindfuck that Lynch's last 13 films have been (some say he never recovered from the intense drug-fueled filming schedule of his first hit, "Dumbo"), but finally we're given someone interesting to look at up on the screen while all of the Shriners are running around and playing croquet with Ann Margret's balls. Sly pulls off every albino midget enema scene with dignity and style, and he's got a skull that could stop a runaway trolley car to boot. I'm looking for these two to team up again, maybe on the next James Bond film if we're lucky.
Riding in Cars with Boys
Britney Spears' acting debut reminds me of the innocent days of cherry cokes and sock hops, when every children's film didn't end with the heroine in a three-way Asian gang bang. Not much happens in the film, but that's precisely as it should be in films made for teenagers, lest they get any bright ideas. As ever, Spears is a sterling role model of decorum and taste, teaching young girls that it's better to be respected for your mind
than ogled for your body, and that it's okay to wait for marriage before you go down on an entire soccer team on live national television.
Now on Video:
About Adam
Here's some free advice to first-time director Adam Curry: If you're going to shoot a biographical documentary, it's probably best to choke down a pinch of humility and make it about someone slightly more fascinating than yourself. Also: I hear that every hairdresser in the nation is on a mission to search out and destroy that hair, dude.
Along Came a Spider
I've said it before and I'll keep saying it again until these slow-witted Hollywood types get the message: ENOUGH WITH THE INTERNET MOVIES ALREADY! They apparently didn't get the hint from the millions of people who didn't turn out to see other 'net thrillers like "The Net", "Cookie's Fortune", "Bandwidth on the Run", "James Baud in Golden-ISP" and "Summer of Spam", not to mention NWA's controversial "FTP" video. Whoever thought a 90 minute thriller could hinge on the suspense of whether or not a website would get indexed by search engines or not needs to dial-up the real world sometime soon.
Freddie Got Fingered
Less ballsy moves have ruined the careers of bigger stars, so you have to applaud loveable meathead Freddie Prinz Jr's foray into the brightly-colored world of gay porn. Even if everybody knew it was going to happen sooner or later.
With a Friend Like Harry
Funny bio picture about Harry Houdini's best friend Mick Rabbie, who remained affable and good-natured throughout a lifetime of being ditched at parties and dinners by Houdini, who could never refuse the challenge of escaping from anywhere and everywhere. There's a great whorehouse scene here that I won't ruin for you by telling too much about the hermaphrodite in the closet.
Television:
Continuing my run down of this year's new shows:
Scrubs (NBC)
Only Spike Lee could make racism and ghetto danger so darn funny! A couple of white MIT graduates
move into the middle of gang territory in L.A. One's sloppy, one's a stuffed shirt, but if either leaves the
apartment wearing blue or red they'll be dead! I usually don't laugh at white guys being threatened by
gang members and insulted constantly, but when it's funny it's funny! Way to go for this daring new
sitcom!
Philly (ABC)
Yikes! Somebody call ABC and tell them the day of the cute kid and his horse is over. I don't know
what possessed them to replace tough-talking crime drama "N.Y.P.D. Nude" with this sugary third-rate
Black Stallion, but the guys in Programming ought to be hung up by their novelty corporate
neckties. Get with it, people! The plots are lame, the kid is ugly, and the horse can't act. Say good-bye
to this Awful World of Disney hour.
Accordion Jim (ABC)
This year ABC must stand for "All Bound for Cancellation." What's the most annoying instrument on the
face of the planet? The accordion! And who's the master of the accordion? Who cares! Turns out it's
some guy named Jim and ABC has given him a half-hour variety and sketch comedy show that's so
popular these days. But mark my words and small dollar bills, this son of a gun is going nowhere. One
more second of that trilling blowhard sound and I'd smash my T.V.! Not to mention the accordion
drives me nuts, too.
Video Games:
Woo-hoo! What a time to be a game enthusiast! Because they're making a whale's ass load of games!
Let's just skim some of my favorites quickly, eh?
Tony Hawk Prosecutor 2 (Playstation 2)
Playstation brings their successful courtroom simulator to the all-powerful PS2, and it doesn't
disappoint! The defense attorneys are real bastards this time out, but only you, as world-class
criminal prosecutor Tony Hawk, can womp them on the head with a writ of habeas corpus
so def as to make them think twice about taking the Bar exam!
Devil May Cry (Playstation 2)
No telling how the geniuses at PS2 got a game about the bombing of Afghanistan out so quick, but
more power to those ace patriots! It's your job to find and destroy Mr. O-some-asshole bin Laden
himself using the military's top bombadiers. Just hit every cave you can find, and when that fails, bomb
everything within the border! Unlike other games of the same type, there's no penalty at all for bombing
civilian targets, so have at!
Final Fantasy Tac Tics (Playstation)
I usually love to give a game a chance, but I just didn't get this one, folks. Maybe I lack vision, but I
don't see breath-freshening candy making a successful transition to the video game consoles, though
maybe the limited power of the Playstation wasn't a good platform to start out on. Just between you
and me, the disc itself tastes like shit, too.
That'll have to do for now, gents and wo-gents. Check back in two weeks for more entertaining
bits shaken out of the nation's toaster!   |
