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Popular '80s Trend of Fearing Nuclear Annihilation BackAtomic death scare no longer out of style June 10, 2002 |
Pakistan commune Imaging Dept. Possibly coming soon to everything near you. 80s music and personalities have come back to the spotlight in recent years; '80s catchphrases, '80s TV shows have had highly-rated reunion specials. Now the ultimate '80s calling card is back in a big way: Nuclear annihilation.
Nothing quite summed up the '80s to those who remember it like L.A. Law, Richard Marx songs on the radio, the ever-looming threat of atomic destruction. With the fall of the Soviet Union and the end of the Reagan administration, however, the Cold War and the madness of nuclear annihilation passed into history, like razor-thin ties and Nia Peeples. Until now!
War on Terror, Sept. 11th, Al Qaeda, Terror Alert, India, Pakistanâall words that add up to a big return for atomic Armageddon. A whole new generation is experiencing the ic...
80s music and personalities have come back to the spotlight in recent years; '80s catchphrases, '80s TV shows have had highly-rated reunion specials. Now the ultimate '80s calling card is back in a big way: Nuclear annihilation.
Nothing quite summed up the '80s to those who remember it like L.A. Law, Richard Marx songs on the radio, the ever-looming threat of atomic destruction. With the fall of the Soviet Union and the end of the Reagan administration, however, the Cold War and the madness of nuclear annihilation passed into history, like razor-thin ties and Nia Peeples. Until now!
War on Terror, Sept. 11th, Al Qaeda, Terror Alert, India, Pakistanâall words that add up to a big return for atomic Armageddon. A whole new generation is experiencing the icy fear that, at any moment, the sky could turn red and rain death from above. A feeling most baby-boomers thought they would never live to feel again.
"I knew all the Reagan kids were communists or homos," said '80s nostalgia-lover and General Foods employee Ruby Tuesday. "Who knew there were more Bushes out there, even dumber and more terrifying than Reagan himself?"
But giving all the credit to one man for the resurgence in possible nuclear retaliation might be morally satisfying, but would be overlooking the heightened animosity throughout the world. Religious-based hate, intolerance, imagine or assumed grievances by the dozens, and we can't forget the re-emergence of decades-old historical-based conflicts.
The current heated debate between India and Pakistan over the disputed territory of Kashmir provides the biggest potential for nuclear destruction since the Bay of Pigs. Perhaps encouraged by the paranoia in the air following the Sept. 11th terrorist attacks, old territorial arguments over which country has claim to Kashmir sparked talk of nuclear war with the newly-nuclear capable countries.
But nuclear destruction fans aren't pinning their hopes on that bad blood alone; Osama bin Laden and his Al Qaeda group are possibly still out there, very active, and possibly capable of a nuclear assault of their own, and the likely target is on the continental United States.
"It's a fantastic new century for us '80s buffs," said '80s Preservation Society President Rold Hansard. "First there was that Laverne and Shirley reunion movie, then that Facts of Life reunion movie. Alf is back, even if it's just for commercials, but now that ultimate hallmark of the '80sâthe threat of nuclear Armageddonâis back, and I couldn't be more pleased, as well as terrified." the commune news thrives on the thrill of the hunt, or perhaps just Hunt's ketchup. Ramon Nootles is now available in duck flavor.
| McDonald's Settles Case Over Nasty Food June 10, 2002 |
McDonald's posted an apology on their Web site Wednesday for misrepresenting its sandwiches as edible. cDonaldâs Corp. has agreed to donate $10 million to consumer groups to settle lawsuits filed against the chain for mislabeling its food as fresh and tasty.
McDonaldâs also posted an apology on its Web site, acknowledging that mistakes were made in communicating to customers about the edibility of its food. The worldwide chain has been selling burgers and sandwiches not suitable for adults since the early 1950âs.
âWe sincerely apologize for any hardship or lousy meals that these miscommunications have caused among our billions of customers,â the company said in an apology posted June 1 on the Web site.
Seattle attorney Harish Bharti said Tuesday that a judge gave his tentative approval of the deal last month while bitterly chewing on a Quart...
cDonaldâs Corp. has agreed to donate $10 million to consumer groups to settle lawsuits filed against the chain for mislabeling its food as fresh and tasty. McDonaldâs also posted an apology on its Web site, acknowledging that mistakes were made in communicating to customers about the edibility of its food. The worldwide chain has been selling burgers and sandwiches not suitable for adults since the early 1950âs. âWe sincerely apologize for any hardship or lousy meals that these miscommunications have caused among our billions of customers,â the company said in an apology posted June 1 on the Web site. Seattle attorney Harish Bharti said Tuesday that a judge gave his tentative approval of the deal last month while bitterly chewing on a Quarter Pounder with Cheese. âThis is McNasty,â the judge added. McDonaldâs spokeswoman Anna Rozenich said the money the company will be paying out will go to watchdog organizations that fight for truth in advertising and other issues linked to concerns raised by the consumers, including the poaching of endangered species and psychological trauma caused by life-sized ceramic clowns. McDonaldâs was first sued in Seattle last year by three customers who expected to be able to eat the Extra Value Meals they purchased at a Seattle-area McDonaldâs restaurant, not realizing they were purchasing pet toys. The trend caught on, and lawsuits were subsequently filed in Illinois, California, New Jersey and Texas. The lawsuits were filed on behalf of any customer who ate at a McDonaldâs restaurant after 1971. That was the year the company first started showing adults eating McDonalds sandwiches in its ads and commercials, a feat considered impossible by many. âOur slogan has long been, âDelivering the taste youâve come to expect from McDonaldâsâ,â said Rozenich. âWe still believe this to be a true statement. What that taste is has never been specified in a legal context.â As part of the lawsuit, the consumer group Pants on Fire pushed to have McDonaldâs slogan changed to the more accurate âOur fries are pretty good, but Iâd stay away from anything claiming to contain meat,â which was turned down by the judge. Pants on Fire first came into the public spotlight in 1996, when they sued to have Bank of Americaâs national slogan changed to âFuck you and your piddling little checking account.â McDonaldâs customers nationwide reacted with joy at the news of the settlement. âItâs about fuckinâ time,â said Harvey McNeil of Des Plains, Iowa. âLook at that picture,â McNeil said, gesturing toward the menu, which pictured a succulent, juicy Big Mac sitting on a slab of marble next to a bushel of fresh tomatoes and lettuce. âNow look at this,â McNeil continued, opening his cardboard Big Mac container to reveal the pathetic, lopsided mess within. âIt looks like somebody shit this out of a tube of Big Macs,â McNeil announced. âIâd take this back but they guy up there doesnât speak any English.â âThe fast food industry is unique in that it has little accountability,â said attorney Bharti. âIf you bought a toaster and found it to be malformed and unappealing inside the box, youâd take it back and demand a refund. The manufacturer could never stay in business. But fast food restaurants thrive on rushed customers and a reliably inept staff to prevent any kind of feedback loop that would hurt business. Itâs an enviable racket.â âMcDonaldâs listens to its customers and has vowed to make a change for the better,â claimed Rozenich with something close to a straight face. âThis $10 million settlement is something McDonaldâs takes very seriously, it will take us at least seven minutes to make that money back.â the commune news is presented with closed captioning for the hearing impaired. What? Itâs not? What? What? Sorry, we canât hear you! Ramrod Hurley isnât married to actress Elizabeth Hurley, but thanks you for the sexual fantasy material.
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June 24, 2002 Cesarean Sections are Overratedthe commune's Omar Bricks goes looking for an Uptown girl Piss on the shitdick who says Omar Bricks doesn't have any culture; I went to the opera last weekend. I picked up a ticket from some guy in a pillow-quilted jacket down by the bus station on the way home on Friday, and Saturday night I was there at the opera house, dressed to the nines in the flashiest translucent shirt any of those crusty old shits had ever seen.
I told whoever's grandpa it was taking the tickets that I wanted to be seated in the Cesarean Section, because I hadn't had time to stop by the sporting goods store to pick up any binoculars on the way over and Omar Bricks doesn't pay good money not to enjoy an opera with all four senses. I'd wanted to swing by Kleggman's to get a pair of those gigantic 'nocs you see the cops use in the movies, the ones that are so ...
º Last Column: Miracle in a Bottle º more columns
Piss on the shitdick who says Omar Bricks doesn't have any culture; I went to the opera last weekend. I picked up a ticket from some guy in a pillow-quilted jacket down by the bus station on the way home on Friday, and Saturday night I was there at the opera house, dressed to the nines in the flashiest translucent shirt any of those crusty old shits had ever seen.
I told whoever's grandpa it was taking the tickets that I wanted to be seated in the Cesarean Section, because I hadn't had time to stop by the sporting goods store to pick up any binoculars on the way over and Omar Bricks doesn't pay good money not to enjoy an opera with all four senses. I'd wanted to swing by Kleggman's to get a pair of those gigantic 'nocs you see the cops use in the movies, the ones that are so damn big you can see what the dude ate for lunch when he hits those high notes, you know what I'm talking about? Now that's fuckin' opera. But my bus doesn't swing over that way and I'm not about to hoof it ten blocks just so I can count the fat rolls on some chick in a Viking helmet. And there's no point in wasting a night sitting up in the nosebleeds where you'll never see the beer guy again after the first act anyway.
Turns out the crusty old bastard thought I was kidding, as if Omar Bricks looks like he couldn't afford the good seats. Which is totally true, but where the hell does he get off? Lucky for him he reminded me of the dad from Diff'rent Strokes or else I might have had to egg his mansion. We discussed the matter for a while and conferred with some security personnel before we all decided to settle it with a footrace. I got to the good seats first, fair and square, with only a minimum of old-lady-pushing involved, but they turned out to be sore losers and I spent the rest of the night in a bar down the street.
Some guy I was talking to at the bar was telling me that a Cesarean Section is actually an operation where they surgically remove the baby from a pregnant chick's stomach. That was about the nastiest thing I'd ever heard in my life and I was sure the guy was making it up, but turns out he was right. I hope he knew I was kidding about his sister's porn career. But seriously, what in the hell is the world coming to these days? Are people now even too lazy to shit out the baby when it's ripe?
Next thing you know we'll all have colostomy bags so we don't miss any of the funny commercials on TV. Then everybody will be happy as sperm whales until they're in the middle of a Seinfeld when they realize their shit bag's topped off. We'll have to invent some kind of reverse pizza delivery guys to come around and pick up the bags on demand. "We'll be there in 30 minutes or less, or your dialysis is free!" What a life. Sure, it'll make for some funny soccer bloopers, but talk about your messy Armageddon-style bicycle accidents. Or skydiving mishaps, yeeich.
I don't know, it may sound like a utopia to you, but I think it'll end up being more trouble than it's worth. All of a sudden they'll be kicking you out of the opera because your shit bag doesn't match your tux. Sound hard to believe? They're already closer than you think, and I should know. If Prince can show up at the MTV Video Awards with his ass all hanging out, who are these guys to say shower sandals are inappropriate attire for their lousy little opera? It's not like I was performing or anything.
But that's the future for you. A couple of fatasses up on a stage, screaming in Italian while an army of old farts sit in the audience, benignly crapping away in their color-coordinated shit bags. Jesus. I'd move to Canada if it didn't mean going metric.
You can go on ahead and go softly into that goodnight if it suits you, but the bastards can have Omar Bricks' voluntary bowel movements when they pry them from his cold, dead fingers.
Bricks out. º Last Column: Miracle in a Bottleº more columns |
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Quote of the Day“How does it feel? To be on your own? With no direction home? Not even an amber alert? And nobody's bound to look in this van, so keep quiet and just try to enjoy yourself.”
-Bobby Molesterman, now doing 15-25Fortune 500 CookieNobody thought it was funny when you said you snorted your dad's ashes, so it's best not to mention going bowling with your mom's skillâyour first instinct was right, nobody gets your sense of humor. Tough love is not the only kind of love, except in prison, so you'd better learn to like it. Lucky Strikesâsmoke 'em if you got 'em.
Try again later.Top 5 Concessions to Iran for Freeing British Prisoners1. | Give Iranian cricket team real shot at the World Cup | 2. | Current prisoners traded for Ian MacKellen, who can hopefully deliver more convincing confession | 3. | Just one more season of Ricky Gervais' The Office | 4. | Three words: Spandau Ballet Reunion | 5. | Stab at pissing off the second-largest military force in the West before taking on the biggest not as successful as expected | |
| Stock Market Takes a Major Shit BY southern elvis brandon 6/10/2002 The Negative Sum of NumbersThere was something disappointing about going home from New York Art College. A depression set in as soon as Smythe drove his middle-class luxury car across the borders of his old California hometown, Burnt Pines. He was here to spend a few weeks of his summer vacation before flying first class to Europe to live life as a starving artist, where he would make a killing.
Mom and dad couldn't meet Smythe at the airport because he wanted it to be a surprise. Also, they were emotionally distant and mom was haunted by the sexual abuse of Smythe by an uncle that she couldn't prevent; but mostly because it was supposed to be a surprise.
Only one person knew about Smythe coming in, his best friend Eddie "Big Fucking Junkie" Joneser. Eddie was supposed to meet Smythe at the...
There was something disappointing about going home from New York Art College. A depression set in as soon as Smythe drove his middle-class luxury car across the borders of his old California hometown, Burnt Pines. He was here to spend a few weeks of his summer vacation before flying first class to Europe to live life as a starving artist, where he would make a killing.
Mom and dad couldn't meet Smythe at the airport because he wanted it to be a surprise. Also, they were emotionally distant and mom was haunted by the sexual abuse of Smythe by an uncle that she couldn't prevent; but mostly because it was supposed to be a surprise.
Only one person knew about Smythe coming in, his best friend Eddie "Big Fucking Junkie" Joneser. Eddie was supposed to meet Smythe at the airport, but once again, Eddie had let him down. Smythe was forced to fly back to New York City and drive all the way back in his car. You'd think after all this time he'd be used to Eddie letting him down. It was something he had never gotten used to.
Smythe went to Eddie's parents' house, where there was a huge hub-bub going on. Apparently, there was a party in full gear! Shit. Just like Eddie. Saturday afternoon and the party is still going on.
Parking his car, Smythe walked around back and found the yard full of fat degenerates. Ugly, down-trodden, just aching for a fix or to gamble or have sex with a dead person, no way of telling how far these people had slid from society's ranks.
"Where's Eddie?" demanded Smythe. People were confused and a little frightened, one was pregnant, and a guy eventually pointed toward the house.
Smythe stormed through the house, bumping into freak after weirdo, until he found the upstairs bathroom. Two guys were standing around doing God knew what, holding cocktails and waiting outside the bathroom. Smythe kicked it in, and inside, to his suspicions, he found Eddie sitting on the toilet.
"Jesus!" said Eddie, pulling up his pants. "You scared me, Smythe! I had to pinch one off!"
"Stop the act, Eddie," Smythe commanded, looking in the toilet for drugs. "I know you flushed the drugs down the toilet. And then pooed in there so I wouldn't search too good. Why, Eddie?"
"Iâ"
"Shut-up! I don't want to hear your lies anymore." And he didn't. Smythe dragged Eddie out by the arm as Eddie continued trying to pull his pants up. Smythe tossed him to the floor, as one of the suited guys entered the bathroom.
"C'mon, man, be cool!" pleaded Eddie.
"Knock off the act, Eddie, you're a junkie!" snapped Smythe. "I know you're jealous of me. I went to Art College, Eddie, it doesn't mean I don't still love you like a brother. If you want to be jealous, that's fine, but don't lose yourself in these ridiculous drugs. You're killing yourself."
"I told you, I don't take drugs!" said Eddie.
"Fuck you, Eddie," said Smythe, in a language that would have disappointed his mother. "You not only take drugs, you make them! Everybody knows it, it's no secret."
"I told you this before, man, I make an acid-reflux inhibitor. And I don't make it myself, I'm just CEO of the company that makes it. It's over-the-counterâ"
"Aaaah!" screamed Smythe, grabbing his head like James Dean. "Stop the lies, Eddie!"
"It's the truth, you dick," said Eddie, standing up again and straightening his tie. "And for the last time, I'm not jealous of you going to Art School. I told you, I graduated six years ago with a Masters in Business Management from Princeton. Now if you're done interrupting the company picnic, I've got a three-legged race to win."
It was too much for Smythe. He let Eddie exit in peace, talking to another guy in a suit about fourth quarter earnings and appeasing stockholders. He just wanted to walk away, but Smythe knew if he didn't do something Eddie would be dead before he was 30. Next month. |