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Bagel Accepts Man of the Year Awardcommune Editor receives esteemed award for third time December 24, 2001 |
t’s been a tremendous year for heroes and villains. In its final months, 2001 became filled with turmoil and struggle for many throughout the world. People were called upon to do what they could for the cause of freedom, and many were ready to do what they could. But for the third annual presentation of the commune’s “You the Man of the Year” Award, one nominee stood out above the others: commune Editor Red Bagel.
“I’m delighted and surprised by this good fortune,” said Bagel, accepting the award at a black-tie ceremony held in his apartment. “I don’t know if I’m a hero. I certainly couldn’t say if I’m The Man or not. But this recognition means very much to me. I thank you all.”
Not only was Red Bagel recognized as The Man for 20...
t’s been a tremendous year for heroes and villains. In its final months, 2001 became filled with turmoil and struggle for many throughout the world. People were called upon to do what they could for the cause of freedom, and many were ready to do what they could. But for the third annual presentation of the commune’s “You the Man of the Year” Award, one nominee stood out above the others: commune Editor Red Bagel. “I’m delighted and surprised by this good fortune,” said Bagel, accepting the award at a black-tie ceremony held in his apartment. “I don’t know if I’m a hero. I certainly couldn’t say if I’m The Man or not. But this recognition means very much to me. I thank you all.” Not only was Red Bagel recognized as The Man for 2001, it was a special YTMOTY (or “Yitmotty”) for Bagel: His third. “Of course it’s a special feeling to be admired by those in the community where you live and work,” Bagel told Ivan Nacutchacokov, bleary-eyed and wavering over by the punch bowl, “and to think that after all these years your contribution isn’t forgotten, well… it warms your heart.” The “You the Man of the Year” Award was conceived in 1999 by Bagel as a way the commune could make a statement about those in the national and international community who work hard to change their world for the better. Every year in December, names suggested for the newest Yitmotty recipient are submitted directly to Bagel’s inbox by the staff members of the commune. Of those long and varied possibilities, the commune Editor chooses one that stands above the rest and he (or she) receives the year’s “You the Man of the Year” Award. Bagel knows better than anyone the competition was fierce. “It’s been a difficult year for everyone,” said Bagel, much better with some coffee in him. “We got to see what people, Americans especially, were really capable of when their mettle was tested. Among others who were worthy of the ‘You the Man of the Year’ Award were: George Bush, Rudolph Giuliani, Colin Powell, Dan Rather, Justin Timberlake, Ashley Judd, your mother, Superman, Hu Cum Inpants, and the commune’s own Omar Bricks. I’m delighted I was chosen, for whatever reason.” Bagel, a stern face in the world of Internet news, is known for his tough journalistic standards and killer fashion sense. He founded the commune in 1999 as a way to deliver alternative sources for news directly to the world. His achievements in 2001 include organizing the commune staff with multiple firings, strengthening the commune deadline so a new edition is published every two weeks, and correctly calling a bluff when all the guy had was a pair of 10’s. Ever optimistic, Bagel hopes to get the commune to a daily schedule in 2002, as well as publish his own autobiography and write the music for the movie version, which he plans on calling Hot For Teacher: The Red Bagel Story. the commune news stays on, even while swimming. Lil Duncan is a senior commune correspondent and looks better in a pair of thigh-high boots than anybody else at the commune, except Stigmata Spent and maybe Ted Ted.
 | Woman Sues Wal-Mart Over Snippy GreeterIrate shopper trouble with a capital T December 24, 2001 |
Cankersore, IN Chelton Rancor Mrs. Wang returning a $5 bill to Walmart customer service because of "unacceptable doodling"
Mrs. Anita Wang, of nearby Uvulaville, said that she had been in Wal-Mart three times in the last week, and that the greeter, a Ms. Diana Dwart, had ignored her on one occasion, greeted her with "just a flat smile and a close-mouthed 'mm-hmm'" on another visit, and was "downright snippy" the last time she went in the store.
"I mean, what do they pay that woman to do? To greet people, right?" asked Mrs. Wang. "Then why doesn't she greet me when I walk in there? Why doesn't she say hello, how are you, or something like that? I've watched her, and she always says ...
frequent Wal-Mart shopper alleges that the woman hired as a greeter at her local outlet is "not very friendly" to her, and is taking the chain to court for restitution for what she terms "mental distress."
Mrs. Anita Wang, of nearby Uvulaville, said that she had been in Wal-Mart three times in the last week, and that the greeter, a Ms. Diana Dwart, had ignored her on one occasion, greeted her with "just a flat smile and a close-mouthed 'mm-hmm'" on another visit, and was "downright snippy" the last time she went in the store.
"I mean, what do they pay that woman to do? To greet people, right?" asked Mrs. Wang. "Then why doesn't she greet me when I walk in there? Why doesn't she say hello, how are you, or something like that? I've watched her, and she always says hello to other shoppers. But when I come in, you'd think I was bringing the plague in with me. She looks the other way, she turns her nose up, and the last time I was there – and this was really the last straw for me – she actually sneered when I said hello first! Well, I just couldn't believe that Wal-Mart would hire someone that rude, but when I went to complain to the manager, he just looked at me like I was crazy. Like it was my fault that their employee was nasty to me! That's when I decided to take my case to court."
Asked to comment, Ms. Dwart said that Mrs. Wang has been a long-time problem at that particular store, and is well-known to management as "trouble with a capital T."
"She's been a burr in my bee-hind for years now," said Dwart. "If you ask me, she's not right in the head. She comes in here every week and complains about something. Last week, she went off about us not having 'blue-light specials' anymore. When we told her that was K-Mart, and not Wal-Mart, she started raising holy heck, and told us she was going to sue us all. The week before that, it was something about the soft-serve ice cream being too soft. It's always something with her."
When informed of Ms. Dwart's comments, Mrs. Wang responded by jumping up and down and shrieking, "She said that? Oooh, I'm going to sue all of them, I'm going to sue them until I own that company, and then I'm going to fire her fat b-u-t-t!" After approximately twenty minutes of this behavior, paramedics were called and Mrs. Wang was given a heavy dose of tranquilizers.
No court date has yet been announced for Mrs. Wang's civil action. Bludney Plud is The Reporter Formerly Known as Wallace E. Watermelon. When announcing his name change, Watermelon/Plud said, to no one in particular, "I know none of you bastards ever gave two shits about me before, but now there's a new Mr. Macho in town, and his name is Plud. Bludney Plud! Let's see how you treat me NOW!"He made a few subsequent comments, but was drowned out by the chirping of nearby crickets.
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 December 24, 2001 I Don't Believe in Santa Claus Anymorethe commune's Santa Claus Has A Serious Case of Self-Denial I hate to sound like a party pooper, or even worse, like I've grown cynical, but I have to admit that this year will be known for me as the year I stopped believing in Santa Claus.
It wasn't any one particular thing, just a series of things that built up until I said, "You know what? I'm fed up. Every year I keep asking for stuff I never get and there's too much proof. There is no Santa Claus."
Kids line up around the block to sit on my lap and tell me what they want for Christmas. And this isn't any one place, it's every town and every city everywhere all over the world. How is Santa supposed to be in all those places at once, you tell me that? It's just physically impossible. Some of them don't even look like me, they'll be Asian guys or black guys or occasional...
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I hate to sound like a party pooper, or even worse, like I've grown cynical, but I have to admit that this year will be known for me as the year I stopped believing in Santa Claus.
It wasn't any one particular thing, just a series of things that built up until I said, "You know what? I'm fed up. Every year I keep asking for stuff I never get and there's too much proof. There is no Santa Claus."
Kids line up around the block to sit on my lap and tell me what they want for Christmas. And this isn't any one place, it's every town and every city everywhere all over the world. How is Santa supposed to be in all those places at once, you tell me that? It's just physically impossible. Some of them don't even look like me, they'll be Asian guys or black guys or occasionally a woman or something. Nothing wrong with that, of course, I just think it's obvious most of them—oh, let's face it, all of them—are guys in suits pretending to be me. Well, there goes Christmas, kids. You just told some minimum wage former stockboy what you want for Christmas. That helps.
This thing about the flying reindeer, too, it's complete baloney. Reindeer? Flying? Now if the story was that Santa had magical kid-loving dragons whose back he rode on, that would be pretty cool and believable. But you can see reindeer anywhere. Go ahead, push one off a roof, tie one to the back of your Cadillac and pull it five hundred yards at 60 mph, of all the things it will do it won't fly. If there's ever a time to go ahead and fly, that would be it, and they don't.
Who makes all these friggin' toys, too? Sure, in the days of the wooden rocking horse and the worthless rag doll with buttons for eyes, I could see that being the product of some elfin workforce laboring away in freezing conditions, but what about these cell phones, Playstation 2 consoles, Casio keyboards, and computers these kids are getting these days? Forget the difficulty in building toys that require high-tech skill, let's just ask about Star Wars figures or Pokemon cards or something. Not that elves couldn't make that stuff, but they'd be in violation of serious international copyright laws. You're talking about one bad-ass criminal St. Nick there.
He must be trained in some shady business to infiltrate houses all over the world. How many houses have chimneys these days? Santa's out there squeezing down air ventilation pipes, under locked doors, through keyholes, through sealed windows, all sorts of unimaginable stuff. Forget laughing with a "Ho, ho, ho," the Santa they're talking about must be a scary Eugene Tooms X-Files motherfucker.
And how many kids throughout the world? How many houses, how many presents? One guy doing all this stuff in one night? Even including time zones and expanding it out to a full 24 hours to get all this done, one guy, I don't care how mystical his ass is, will be finishing that job. Forget it. Not in one year, certainly not in one day.
I'm not even leaving the house this Christmas. It's too confounding to think about. I'll probably just stay in with Mrs. Claus, sit around the fireplace and lick candycanes, maybe watch that Charlie Brown Christmas special on DVD or something, catch It's A Wonderful Life if it's even playing and just take it easy this year. Get a good night's sleep for once and check out the Day After Christmas sales if I get up early enough on the 26th. The only person I'm going to be asking for anything from is Mrs. Claus. If Santa can do all this other amazing crap he can read minds as well, so maybe he'll bring me that Palm V I've been eyeing in the Office Depot newspaper supplements. But he probably won't be happy because all I'm thinking this year is there is no Santa Claus, sorry if that pisses off the time-bending B&E reindeer pilot himself. º Last Column: Nick at Nite Marathons are Responsible for My Lifeº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“God help them that help themselves to my lemony cookies, for they is to be sorrowing at the whup I be borrowing from they ass.”
-Benji "Cookie Monster" FranklinFortune 500 CookieLove is a relative term, but even that nugget won't save your ass if you pork your cousin. Stay away from salty snacks this week, even if it means tunneling underground. Try wearing your watch on the other arm—maybe that's your problem. This week's lucky names: Alexia. Ephyn. Scatman. Toolio.
Try again later.Top Overzealous Reagan-Tribute Headlines| 1. | Reagan Great, As Far As We Can Remember | | 2. | Former President Freed Slaves, Banished All Injustice Forever | | 3. | "Honest Ron" Beloved by Homos, Hobos & Commies | | 4. | Ray Charles Loses Will to Live after Reagan's Passing | | 5. | Reagan Ended WWI during 8th Birthday Party | |
|   Osama bin Laden Captured After Rubber Band Connecting Torso to Legs Snaps BY roland mcshyster 12/24/2001 Ho ho ho, America! Season's greetings and welcome to a special Christmas edition of "Entertainment Police". What makes it special, you ask? I'm not sure, but it's Christmas Eve so why the hell don't you step off my balls, alright? Damn. If I'd known you were going to be like this I wouldn't have worn my new shirt. Why don't we just skip straight ahead to the "Ask Roland" before somebody blows a snot rocket in my eggnog, alright?
Q. Hey Roland, man, what have you been smoking? They must have some powerful drugs up there in commune land, because you forgot to review the greatest movie of all time: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone! You been living under a rock or something, man? This thing's bigger than Mama Cass retaining water! They should send some Magicals and Mug...
Ho ho ho, America! Season's greetings and welcome to a special Christmas edition of "Entertainment Police". What makes it special, you ask? I'm not sure, but it's Christmas Eve so why the hell don't you step off my balls, alright? Damn. If I'd known you were going to be like this I wouldn't have worn my new shirt. Why don't we just skip straight ahead to the "Ask Roland" before somebody blows a snot rocket in my eggnog, alright?
Q. Hey Roland, man, what have you been smoking? They must have some powerful drugs up there in commune land, because you forgot to review the greatest movie of all time: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone! You been living under a rock or something, man? This thing's bigger than Mama Cass retaining water! They should send some Magicals and Muggles and some shit over to your place to give you a wake-up call. Fuck you, dude!
Marty Ramart, Luger, Oregon
A. Nice try, Marty. This reminds me of that "You should review E.T." joke that was going around several years back. Right, like they'd name a big-shot movie "E.T." What's that supposed to stand for? Evil Turkeys? Sounds like a bomb to me. If that was going to be a hit it would have to stand for "Enormous Tits" and it's not like we're in Europe here. Here in America we like our sex classy, like in "Bram Stoker's Dracula" or "Showgirls". I give you points for creativity in making up a title though, what's your movie supposed to be about? A wizard trying to pass his gallstones? Bombs away, Marty!
Q. Hey Roland. I just got done watching the second season of The Sopranos on DVD and I have to admit that I was surprised by the death of Salvatore "Big Pussy" Bompensiero. But even more than that, I'm curious as to how you get to be a big mob guy with a nickname like "Big Pussy". The last time I checked, that wasn't a compliment. I called an Italian guy "Big Pussy" at a bar one time and he hit me with a table. Is this just bad writing or is this some La Cosa Nostra secret that I don't know about?
Mersh Lauben, Ripe Grove, Wisconsin
A. Good question, Mersh. While many of us have watched this show faithfully, riveted by the exploits of these big fat singing Italians, few know the behind-the-scenes stories of how the characters came to be. Everyone knows that the lead character of Tony Soprano is based on rough-and-tumble opera bad-boy Lucky Pavoratti, who once beat up a small child for a candy bar during a layover at a train station in Europe. But what few know is that the character of "Big Pussy" Bompensiero is based on real-life opera fatass Flaccid "Big Pussy" Domino, who opens his mouth so wide when he sings that a cat once jumped down his throat after the tuna sandwich he'd eaten for lunch. Hence the nickname, and the occasional weak meows while he's singing. Personally, I can't wait for them to base a Soprano character on the third member of their trio, the certifiably hot Tia Carerra, who sings pretty good for a skinny chick.
Now that that's out of the way, let's talk movies!
In Theaters Now:
ALI
Listen, I looked the other way when the religious right got fed up with the current state of insipid, bumbling, amoral Hollywood movies and started making their own insipid, bumbling, moral films. Apparently "Super Jesus Christ Brothers" and "The Last Temptation Island of Christ" weren't enough for them, but that's fine, let them throw their money into making films that only the heavily stoned or alarmingly elderly will pay to see. But now that lawyers nationwide have decided that they should cut out the middleman and make courtroom dramas themselves, I have to ask: Where do you draw the line? Who's going to want their own movies next? Women? Black people? Fatties? Anyway, that's all beside the point, since whoever thought the American Law Institute was a good subject for a movie needs to be held in contempt of entertainment.
Jimmy Nimrod, Boy Genius
Okay, now I'll be the first one to admit that this, and any other, comedy about a retarded kid who thinks he's an inventor and super-spy is in bad taste. But you can punch my one-way Amtrak ticket to hell because this is the funniest movie of the year. You'll laugh until you need head restraints and a drool cup yourself when Jimmy unveils inventions like the dumpling gun and the magic "poop-to-pudding beam", or when Jimmy's secret spy pictures of the Russian operatives turn out to be just out-of-focus shots of his privates. I only hope the massive karmic debt wracked up by this film falls on the filmmakers themselves for making it, and not us for laughing because I plan on seeing it twice more this weekend.
The Lords of the Ring: The Fellowship in the Ring
I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb when I say this has got to be the most heavily anticipated gay boxing movie, ever. Finally a filmmaker has the cajones to address the obvious sexual tension that ensues when two men in their shorts pound each other's asses for an hour in front of thousands of spectators. Most boxing films to date (except the notable lesbian opus "Raging Bull") have drawn the line at hugging in the ring, but this brave film shatters that barrier with passionate open-mouth kissing during the fight's dramatic climax. Certainly more satisfying than the usual "beat 'em up" ending. Sensitive direction, fabulous costumes and Hector "Macho" Camacho's first inside-the-ring kiss make this a gay boxing film for the ages.
Now on Video:
Mule in Rouge
Scoot over Francis, there's a new mule in the spotlight! Loveable Moonie Margot Kidder stars in this hilarious farce produced by hubby, Mr. "Mission: Important" himself, Tom Cruise. Margot's brother Vlasik from Croatia needs a green card to stay in the country, so with the help of a farmer with a heart of gold, they dress up a mule like a woman to fool the immigration officials and pose as Vlasik's wife. The only thing is, Vlasik doesn't realize she's a mule! You can just imagine the comedy that comes shooting out that hole.
The Center of the World
Once again, those megalomaniacs in Omaha, Nebraska have tipped their hand and wildly overstated their case for tourism for yet another year. To hear these people talk you'd think that Omaha was the fashion, culture and banking capital of the free world. Every year they put out a new movie trying to rope suckers into visiting the Cornhusker state. This one is about on par with last year's "Omaha Spring Break" and "Nebraska: The Wet T-Shirt State" from the year before, but none can compare with their audacious 1992 entry: "Omaha: Everyone Gets a Blowjob".
Scary Movie 2
Generic-brand movies are all the rage this year, and why not? Their plain-text posters are easy to read, the admissions are cheap, and who's to say that once you get inside, they're not the same as the more expensive brand-name pictures? Who wants to pay for all of that expensive packaging and advertising anyway?
Television:
The Amazing Racist (CBS)
The network that brought you hilarious bigot Archie Bunker is hoping lightning strikes twice with this hour-long drama about a loveable Louisiana state legislator who always says the wrong thing, to the horror of his politcally correct spin doctors.
The Tick (Fox)
The terrifying Edgar Allen Poe story about a clock that won't let its owner forget the murder he committed doesn't exactly make for hit sitcom material. The star power of Tom Wopat is wasted and the show is neither funny nor scary. What a huge disappointment from the network that shook things up with groundbreaking shows like Married to Children and The Tex-Mex Files.
The Garbageman (CBS)
CBS turns to the tried and true formula for success again with this show about an amateur sleuth. In this case, a smart trash-talking garbage man (James Earl Jones) finds a dead body in a dumpster every week which leads him on a brand new mystery to find out whodunnit. Predictable? Maybe. Successful? Sure 'nuff! I'm predicting the biggest hit for CBS since Murder She Dead.
Video Games:
Forever Kingdom (PS2)
This game is, of course, based on that syndicated show about a guy who's a cop by day and a king of a small mediterranean country by night. Not bad, some fun moments, but the fact the show was canceled years ago doesn't get me very excited to play it. Just shows how long it takes to program stuff for that Playstation 2.
Blood Wake (XB)
Nauseating game where you're a teen-ager trying to find out why there's so much blood in your nocturnal emissions. I've never been into that zombie-fighting role player game crap in the first place, but this one hit a little too close to home for me. Trust me, dude, just cut down to three or four times a week and everything ought to be fine.
NBA Inside Driver 2002 (XB)
For all of you people who say there's never been a successful game playing as Shaquille O'Neil's chauffeur… you keep on saying it. This dillhole game is as boring as driving games get. Where to next, Mr. O'Neil? Nike endorsement deal? Kazaam sequel negotiations? Recording studio for another rap album? Yessir, your 10-foot-tall holiness. What a biter.
Okay, America. May you sleep tight tonight with visions of sugarbeets dancing in your head, and I hope Santa brings you everything you've ever dreamed of. Unless you've been dreaming of writing entertainment reviews for the commune. If that's the case, then fuck right off. And Merry Christmas.   |
