merica added a new addition this Fourth of July when it officially signed the papers declaring Mexico part of the United States.

"This is a glorious day for all Americans," said President Bush, for possibly the billionth time. "We have added a beautiful section of land to America's backyard, as well as taking out the 36^th 'surprise Axis of Evil' country. As soon as we finished with Nepal, we were going to fix things up there. That will certainly save us some time."

The purchase of Mexico happened quickly last week when it suddenly became available. Mexico, believed once owned by Spain until it won its independence on Sept. 16, 1821, was actually owned by an American named Merle Switzer. Switzer (1763-1817) was a traveling spice salesman who operated the route between Spain and Mexico. On one of his excursions, he apparently took the papers from Mexico from King Ferdinand VII to settle an outstanding debt; it was believed Ferdinand loved his oregano to excess.

According to Switzer descendent Orville A. Switzer, after Merle retired, "He meant to get down and check the place out thoroughly, as well as inform them he was the new landlord, but just never got around to it. He did have bad knees."

The elder Switzer passed away, he left his property including the Mexico ownership papers to his heir, who then passed it on to his heir. All were oblivious as to the nature of the documents, which were in Spanish, and were only kept because of the clever "Bless This Mess" hand-stenciled message Merle Switzer had written on the back. The frame family heirloom eventually came to Orville A. Switzer, who thought it was time to upgrade to a professional wooden plaque declaring the mess blessed. But when he extracted the document from the frame, Orville, who learned partial Spanish from his daughter's boyfriend, Miguel, deciphered the importance of the document. He then took it to a swap meet.

"I figured, 'Hey, this is Mexico. Everybody knows where it is and it's already pretty much self-maintaining. I ought to be able to get a couple bucks out of it. But I knew they'd screw me over if I took it to a pawn shop, so I asked my friend Arnold to sell it for me at his belt buckle table at Florida's Biggest Swap Meet."

Jeb Bush, governor of Florida and a regular attendee of his state's Biggest Swap Meet, spotted the documents while browsing the belt buckles, asked Arnold Plegg about them, and immediately called his brother on the cell phone. Within a few short hours, with a plea to hold the documents rather than sell them before the president could arrive, George Bush had showed up at the swap meet and paid the $78 out of his emergency presidential expense account.

Once the papers were signed over on July 4, 2002, the president quickly told the American people of their new acquisition in a televised speech that interrupted Court-TV's "Red, White and NYPD Blue" Marathon.

Details were sketchy at the time of press, but emergency sessions of Congress had been called to speculate on the value of Mexico, whether it was possible to re-sell the documents for a higher price, or use the land for some other purpose. When reminded Mexico already had a large population, the president insisted that they'd be taken care of, though he didn't specify if he meant that in the motherly or mafia fashion.

omeone came frighteningly close to having their ass handed to them Friday when commune correspondent Ted Ted became enraged upon receiving another in a seemingly endless string of junk e-mails.

The last of the e-mails came to Ted Ted with the subject header "Re: Our discussion on Diplomas" from a mailer unknown to Ted Ted using the name Charlene Plumb, most likely an alias. The e-mail, unread by Ted Ted, contained nothing in itself to inflame the reporter, but was indeed the third from the so-called Charlene Plumb with the exact same subject header in one day. On top of that, the e-mail from Plumb was a finale in a series of non-stop e-mails for months on end.

When the commune first received an Internet connection, in November of 2001, the entire office, Ted Ted included, was excited about the prospect of traveling the Net and communicating with long-distance and long-dead relatives via e-mail. When the latter proved impossible, e-mail at least seemed like an improvement on the old-fashioned postal service delivery of letters. But like the regular mail, the Internet proved to have its share of unwanted mail.

Fortunately, Ted Ted managed to regain control of his anger thanks to a series of breathing exercises taught to him by a monk who rents office space above the commune, thus preventing him from going "nucking futs," as the monk's hilarious T-shirt stated. Ted Ted then return the monitor to the desk and closed the window, though by that time the keyboard was irretrievable.

Just so he will not further tax his anger management system, Ted Ted wished to inform all potential junk e-mailers that he has no need of their services. He has no need for a college diploma, everyone at the commune functions fine without one. He does not need a second mortgage, he has no first mortgage, indeed he has no home and lives in the cupboard at the commune. And, being new to the Internet, Ted Ted definitely does not need DSL, unless DSL is some kind of Internet speak for Drunken Spanish Ladies.

Ted Ted does not need a radar detector to avoid speeding tickets. He doesn't want to spy on his boss and/or employees. He has no need for the illegal CD they banned from eBay. There is no need at present time for a law degree or tax refund experts. There is no foolproof making money scheme Ted Ted wants to be part of right now. He does not want to lose weight naturally, supernaturally, or any way at all.

Ted Ted does not want to improve his sex life; having one is enough for him right now. He does not want to see all-nude celebs or real video of Brittney Spears caught giving blow jobs. He does not want to see the J-Lo nipple slip or up Jennifer Aniston's skirt; at least, if he does, he can surely find a better way to do it than paying money to some anonymous Internet hack. He does not want to stay hard for days at a time nor does he want a dick as big as a California Redwood. Above all else, he does not want bigger breasts naturally, at least not in the way you're describing.

Finally, Ted Ted has no need for a million e-mail addresses so he can waste his life wasting real working people's time with his assholic invasions of privacy. He leaves that to you all, at least until he can track you down and murder you while you sleep.

Dear commune:

I have recently opened up a shoe shop in the Seattle area. I specialize in selling shoes to the odd-shaped footed lady for fellow. People I know where quick to offer names for the store, such as "Deformafeet" and "Freak Foot Apparel". After these names were offered, I stressed to my friends the importance of not humiliating and belittling your customer base. They agreed with me and remarked I would be quite a good businessman.

After settling on "Seattle Sam's Specialty Shoe Shop" I was admittedly a little disappointed with the turnout. The Seattle area is not as booming with odd-footed consumers as I originally thought. I have three toes on my left foot, the pinky toe of which is half a foot long, so I know the pain of going to regular shoe shops and the importance of finding a shoe store to fit your needs.

I want to advertise to a national audience and I think that the commune is the way to go. the commune readers probably have all sorts of odd-shaped limbs and body parts, and I can help them out with their footwear needs. How much does it cost to advertise on the commune website?

Samuel Carey Loopett
Seattle, Washington


Dear Samuel:

It's difficult to say how much advertising costs. Of our sponsors, only the big networks UPC and MCTV pay us in dollar amounts, each paying us $1,000 a month for their advertising spots. If that's too much for you, don't worry, the commune has unique payment programs for our advertising partners. U Ignorant pays us back with all the free degrees we need and the Handimaster 3000 folks have done all the woodwork and blowtorch repair we need around the office, at least they did until they burned down the payroll office. Now they open jars and mow our lawns when needed.

Your product sounds fascinating to us, perhaps we can work something out. Lil Duncan in particular would like to know if you can provide her with a pair of red cowboy boots with "hot stuff" stenciled on the side, size 23 men's. She would also like to use the alias "Marina Stamos".

We must say, however, we disagree with your statements about humiliating and belittling your customer base. We've had no problems at all with it from the shitheads who read our work.

the commune

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Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for calling you or anyone else shitheads. Sure, it may seem that way to the untrained eye, but only a real moron would think... enh. On second thought, just pretend you never read this page.

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