'Millions Watching Robots Battle to Death' Actually Boring

Prediction of grim futuristic bloodsports turning out to be a real letdown

February 4, 2002

New York City, NY

Junior Bacon

Killing machines destroy each other for delight of Roman-esque Americans

ulp magazines of the '50s as well as sci-fi literature and movies by the dozens accurately predicted the future of entertainment when they envisioned a day when millions of Americans would watch battles to the death between robot opponents. Few, though, imagined it would be so boring and lame.

Television shows like Comedy Central's Battle Bots and similar specials and series from around the world are proving to be the unlikely source for futuristic robot death battles. Though many differ on some points, all prove to be astoundingly dull in the destruction of technologically-advanced killing machines.

"As a boy, I anticipated with fear and wonder the day robots would be used to entertain the masses," said M.I.T. Professor of Robotics Larry Karmen, "but yeah, I didn't really see it like this. I don't even know where to start."

The robots on Battle Bots are typically remote-controlled, less than two feet tall, and are equipped with standard woodshop equipment like saws, drills, and occasionally a blowtorch of some sort. Robot operators range from dateless thirteen-year-old child prodigies to 50-year-old dateless unemployed construction workers.

"I guess the names are cool," said robot enthusiast and publisher of Future Age magazine Don Hogarth. "You have names like 'The Revolver' and 'Fireblast,' real awesome Transformer-like names. And then the robot comes out and it's like a little George Foreman grill on wheels. And you get real annoyed as it just spins around while another robot named 'Mass Destruction' hits it with a hammer on the end of a miniature crane."

"The problem is obviously related to budget," stated Professor Karmen. "Comedy Central and the British TV program its Battle Bots was based on had the right idea, but a lousy budget. Basic cable is not capable of building the 20-foot-tall fire-breathing self-running destruction machines we originally envisioned for this kind of mayhem. Most kids operating out of their garage are not going to have the kind of funding to build a competitive robot on that level, and neither are their mothers. Unless all these millionaires who are spending money to fly around the world in balloons get their stuff together and start building city-crushing robots, I don't see much improvement on the battling robot front for many years to come."

When told of the dissenting opinion of robot battle sports, Comedy Central Battle Bots star Slaughterhouse became infuriated and began to smash up its dressing room with a hammer on a tiny crane arm.

the commune news stands on the brink of a new century, and keeps pretending its falling in. Ted Ted is no longer affiliated with the Keebler division, please stop sending compliments or complaints to him.

"The Truth" Goes Unrecognized at White House

Former heavyweight champ stumps politicians

February 4, 2002

Washington, DC

Rico Pollico/the Commune

Many are disoriented when faced with "The Truth"

ormer heavyweight champion Carl "The Truth" Williams visited the Bush White House recently, at the invitation of Secretary of State Colin Powell, and no one there seemed to have a clue as to who he actually was. "The Truth" got the grand tour, meeting with the president, the vice president and many members of their respective staffs, yet all expressed puzzlement as to who he might really be or why he was there.

White House spokesman Ari Fleischer said "The Truth" looked very much a like "a guy I once hired to put up some sheet rock in my basement, and a couple times we would go off into the little closet down there to smoke crack and give each other handjobs, but other than that, I can't place him."

The president himself was similarly disinclined to speculate on the identity of his guest. "How the hell should I know?" he asked. "All them fellas look alike to me. He's not the guy who delivers the pretzels, is he? Because if he is, I got a few words of ornerification for him."

Vice president Dick Cheney, when asked if he recognized "The Truth," responded by saying that it was possible that he did, but that it would endanger national security and the ability of future vice presidents to effectively do their job if he admitted it. He went on to say that if "The Truth" were to accompany him to an undisclosed location, perhaps they could discuss the matter further by the side of a warm fireplace full of shredded documents.

Mary Matalin, Cheney's spokesperson, came closest to recognizing "The Truth" when she admitted that, "after studying him closely, he does look very much like that guy that fisted me and my serpentine husband up the ass without Vaseline one afternoon last November, but I can't be positive without James here."

Mr. Williams said that, despite the lack of recognition, he very much enjoyed his tour of the First Residence. "Muthafuckahs be livin' large here, y'all!" he was quoted as saying when the Secret Service escorted him out by way of the South Lawn. "Word, dawg, place be almost as happenin' as George Foreman's crib. Sheee-it."

the commune news is proud to say that it always recognizes The Truth when it is accompanied by a valid picture ID and a short bio. Bludney Plud, desperate for a little recognition himself, has been

February 4, 2002

Say What You Will, But I Still Don't Like Midgets

the commune's Virgil Banks gives you the tall and the short of it.

º Last Column: Conundrums Along the Mohawk
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Anyone who's known me for any length of time knows the simple truth: I don't like midgets. Woah now, hold your ripe tomatoes and ceramic bricks, I know it's not a terribly PC viewpoint, especially in these liberal, midget-friendly times. I know what you're thinking, and it's the same thing people on the street tell me every day. They tell me that it's unfair to be prejudiced against someone just because they're in a minority, and that if I really got to know some midgets, I'd realize they're not all the same. Believe me, I know and understand this argument, and can see its merits. I'm not some kind of drooling Neanderthal here. When my neighbor's dog dug under my fence and peed on my garden-hose caddy, I didn't go out and shoot every dog in the neighborhood. I just shot that one dog.

I know you can't judge a book by its cover, and that there are good and bad in every group. But I challenge you to argue that you'd take the time to read a book whose cover thoroughly creeped you out, or one that had just pissed all over the side of your house like some kind of water-witch lawn toy. I didn't think so.

It tires me when people drag out the old "prejudice" argument whenever the subject of my dislike for midgets comes up during a party or traffic encounter. The mere mention of the word practically brands you as a mini-Hitler for the rest of your life. But let's really look at what this is saying. To have prejudice is to pre-judge, that is to judge beforehand. The negative connotation of the term is that one would pass judgment on another before all relevant information has been collected. For example, just because watching one Adam Sandler movie caused you to lose faith in humanity and decimated your sperm count, it would be prejudiced of you to suggest that Sandler's next film won't be Oscar-worthy. In order to prove that you're not some kind of knuckle-dragging Archie Bunker, it becomes necessary to watch every single Adam Sandler film that comes out, even if it gives you a peptic ulcer in the process. I don't know if he originated the concept, but Sandler sure has made out like a bandit on this whole PC liberal guilt deal.

But like I was saying, whenever some midget-lover and I lock horns on this issue, I try to explain that my distaste for midgets is neither ill-informed nor unfair. Arguments concerning the fantastic virtues of midget-sized individuals and the great contributions that midgets have made over the course of history fall upon my deaf ears, as I've never suggested that midgets were not productive members of society. The simple fact of the matter is that I find their proportions creepy and unnerving. This being the very trait that makes them midgets, I hardly think my distaste constitutes any unfair previous judgment against the midgets themselves.

If anything, I think I've been more than polite to the midgets I've run across over the course of my life. Many will no doubt point to the fact that it was a midget doctor who failed to revive my mother on her death bed when I was a child. They are quick to suggest that this childhood trauma left me with an unfair bent against little people. Yet, whenever adult-sized people gather to toss midgets at bowling pins, will you find me in attendance? Most certainly not. I have never tied a midget to a kite before proceeding to drag him behind my car in some twisted midget-bashing version of parasailing. Nor have I ever cruelly used the last available booster seat at a fast food establishment merely to ensure that a deserving midget goes without. I have never once kicked a midget, nor have I ever dressed one up all in orange for the purpose of slam-dunking him through a basketball hoop.

In spite of years of backwards-talking midgets haunting my dreams and even the highly traumatic viewing of Under the Rainbow when I was a teen, when my brother Mitch choked to death on a Mike & Ike during the film's climactic midget swordfight, I have refrained from midget-bashing in all of its tempting forms. And yet, simply because I will not ferry a midget about in a specially-made tote upon my back, or allow one to marry into my family, I am seen as a monster by some. And for the most part it's not even the midgets themselves who think so, though the gross disparity in our body sizes might cause one of them to take me for a monster in a completely unrelated event.

Before you let your imagination run away with you, let it be made clear that I'm not suggesting the creation of midget death camps here. That would be completely Un-American, not to mention costly. But what would be so bad about creating a separate midget nation, more ideally suited to their smaller scale? Wouldn't the skinny portion of Idaho be perfect for such a project? It would be almost like a kind of merry theme park, where midgets could wear novel hats and curly-pointed shoes without fear of reprisal from normal-sized folks. They could lead happy and productive lives in Littleville, making toys and candy for export back to Greater America, and would no longer be at the mercy of fringe pornographers and David Lynch for employment opportunities. Normal-sized people (or "Bigguns," as they would be known) who are fond of midgets could visit on their vacations and buy midget crafts and bumper stickers, and have their pictures taken while sticking their heads into holes cut in pre-painted scenes that make them seem like the midgets for a change. It sounds pretty idyllic to me. Heck, I'd want to live there myself if the buildings and people were all normal-sized, though I guess that would kind of defeat the purpose.

For what it's worth, I'd like to add that although my distaste for midgets has raised the most controversy, I also feel the same sense of unease and nervous tension whenever I find myself around small children of similar size, and I avoid them with the same fastidiousness. However, somehow I think that this revelation will most likely earn me even more detractors, rather than serving to foster greater understanding and sympathy for my point of view. Sadly, this is the way of the world in the 21st century.

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Milestones

131 B.C.: Roman inventor Pontius creates love accidentally while trying to come up with a perfume that staves off homosexuality. Anyone who disagrees, we invite them to tell us who created love then.

Now Hiring

Barber. Staff barber sought to keep heads neat and trim, faces clean shaven, and reduce hippieness by at least 30%. Own scissors and weird Vitalis smell a plus. Controversial "tell-it-like-it-is" barbers need not apply.

Least Popular Summer Blockbusters

1.	The Matrix Redundant
2.	X3: X-Men Vs. Triple X, an all-new X-File featuring your ex-wife
3.	Finding Chemo
4.	Sylvester Stallone starring in (anything)
5.	Hollywood Homicide

American Planning Sequel to Hit Black Hawk Down

BY roland mcshyster

2/4/2002

Aloha, America! Nope, I'm not reporting to you from sunny Hawaii today but that was a pretty good guess. I'm just in a sunshine and grass skirt kind of mood today; I can't explain it. Maybe it was that Hawaiian Tropics commercial I saw the other day. Or maybe it was the Eskimo Pie I ate this morning. Actually the more I think about it, that Eskimo Pie bit doesn't make a bit of sense. Some would argue that you can't get any further away from Hawaii's welcoming shores than to be huddled in a miserable freezing igloo, gnawing on whale fat. And they're probably right, but nevertheless I link the two mentally. Maybe it's those cute little pudgy babies. Come to think of it, Eskimos and Hawaiian Islanders sure do look a lot alike. Maybe a little too much. I'm beginning to think they're running a...