he world continues to surprise reporter Ted Ted in what he thinks he knows. Surprise event of the week occurred last Tuesday when actress and breast-delivery system Jennifer Love-Hewitt released another album that was demanded somewhere, at some time, by somebody completely unknown to Ted Ted.

The album, cock-teasingly titled Barenaked, the one-word spelling somehow making it more musical, contains tracks presumably sung by Jennifer Love-Hewitt and possibly even written, co-written, or just bought by the actress for the purpose of singing on the album. The release is the latest in a series of maddening superstar actor vanity albums by the likes of John Travolta, Telly Savalas, Joe Pesci, Sebastian Cabot, and Joey Lawrence, and the notorious William Shatner release The Transformed Man, which is actually really funny and should immediately be listened to for its covers of "Hey Mr. Tambourine Man" and "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds."

Love-Hewitt, however, who sings normally and really has nothing outstanding from Britney Spears except her brunette hair, should not be listened to. There's always the possibility that something exceptional is being recorded on Love-Hewitt's CDs that could surprise everyone and make her a huge cult hit, but it is seriously in doubt, and Ted Ted, for one, is not going to risk listening to one to be the one to find out. All likelihood points to major sucking.

The new album release, discovered during a routine search for topless actresses, may be called Barenaked but even the cover fails to live up to that. The chance that the album is nothing more than Love-Hewitt describing herself naked in vivid detail is very low, but ought to inspire a few dozen sales out there at least among her alleged fans.

Love-Hewitt's latest movie, The Tuxedo, with Jackie Chan, looks putrid, even for a Jackie Chan film. Love-Hewitt has made a career out of awful teen-age movies like I Know What You Did Last Summer and the brilliantly-named I Still Know What You Did Last Summer, which is possibly a sequel. The two best reasons to see the films—Love-Hewitt's breasts—can likely be obtained online from the thousands of fansites for the actress run by fans of her breasts, though who is buying her music is still unknown.

Claims that Ted Ted should "get over it" or "let it go," made by office wank Ramon Nootles, were immediately invalidated by the fact that Nootles is not a music fan and has standards so low he himself might own every Jennifer Love-Hewitt album ever released, and even some unreleased singles or EPs or recorded concert audio, who knows. Calls to prove he doesn't own a Jennifer Love-Hewitt CD have remained unanswered.

Love-Hewitt, apparently a well-selling star in Japan, proves once again Ted Ted's theory the Japanese will buy anything as a joke. The Japanese sense of humor, though wickedly ironic, is still a negative factor in as much as it encourages the release of Jennifer Love-Hewitt albums here in the states as well, as do the people who go to see poor-quality movies like The Tuxedo.

In its entirety, the release of the album and the continuation of Love-Hewitt's popularity at least serve as evidence in Ted Ted's belief that society's standards, even as low as they have been in the past, continue to erode hideously. More on this as it develops.

oney, the verdict is in and Hollywood is saying a resounding "Mmm-Mnnt!" to a Nebraska bank robbery in which five were killed and three were left scared out they ever-lovin' minds by three hold-up men.

The robbery happened in Norfolk, a dead town with no night life whatsoever, when the three hold-up men shot four bank employees and one civilian like they were last year's fashions and crashed through the wall in a balls-out kaboom to flee the scene. Another customer was winged in the shoulder in true Hollywood style. Police chased down the robbers in a sweet-ass manhunt that reminds this reporter of her early years. The governor authorized the use of Black Hawk helicopter in a show of force that certainly won my heart.

Yet with all of this grade-A material, don't wait for Hollywood to put this on your local theater screen.

"Frankly, most of it plays great," said Universal Vice-Vice President Armio Durkness, "the daring daylight robbery, the guns and the explosions and the Black Hawk helicopter—God, I'm wet over the Black Hawk helicopter. But the shooting of four bank people? And the customer? Bad move, guys. Makes us less sympathetic to your character. We're passing for now."

Apparently our fearsome threesome have a Master's degree in domestic terrorism, but a big fat failing grade in media savvy.

"Man, it could have been great," said MGM Studio Exec Dandelion Waters. "Three buddy bank robbers in the western United States decide to pull off that one big heist and the evil, corrupt governor—metaphorically speaking, of course—wants to bring them down so he can get re-elected. Sends out every cop in the state, even a super high-tech Airwolf-style chopper. Then they had to go and ruin it by blowing away people. Nobody wants to see that on their news and they definitely don't want to pay to see it at the theater."

Three men were arrested in a town about 76 miles away, but it could not be certain if the men were the ones they were seeking or just a couple of boy-toys doing an honest day's work. If the latter is true, this reporter needs to investigate personally.

The action and romantic notion of robbing a bank in modern America, minus the bring-me-down of the murders involved, is a dangling piece of candy that Hollywood may not resist entirely. Although reaction is slow and moviemakers aren't jumping on the wagon just yet, there is talk that maybe the story can be salvaged, with some Hollywood-sized adjustments.

"If they can make a big scarefest like the O.J. Simpson stuff into a movie, we can certainly work enough magic with the more ample material we have here," said Mike Oliphant, a stubble-faced producer at Miramax who smells like he works out often. "We dump the murders right out, that's a given—do a little more background on the characters, maybe make them three childhood friends doing it all for the memory of a friend who died too soon. You know, cancer, AIDS, that West Nile stuff is big right now. I'm starting to like it. Kind of a 'our last big shot to take the brass ring.' It's do-able."

The real story is being sought by many moviemakers right now, but only to see if there's any usable gold nuggets within. If not, Tinsel Town is famous for making their own brand of gold dust.

"If people wanted reality, they'd watch the news," said Dreamworks consultant John Dorfenfoof. "Or maybe not the news. Definitely not Fox News. But they'd watch something. Not movies."

Dear commune:

As big a fan as I am, I have to admit I'm a little disappointed with your news lately. At least as far as conspiracy angles go—Red Bagel is the only reliable source in the country, as far as I'm concerned, him and my pharmacist, and lately his columns have just been droning on about minor inconveniences. If he's going to do that, why can't Rok Finger or Stu Umbrage pick up the slack and cover the conspiracies, since Bagel's obviously doing their job.

Everything would be okay if maybe someone would make mention of all these 9-11 conspiracy theories. The French are big on the idea that America is responsible for the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks to stimulate the U.S. military budget, and I hear that and get pretty upset—Mr. Bagel, creating whacked-out stories like that is your job. Maybe I should read the French commune, hmm? They're obviously not afraid to come up with conspiracy theories. If they had a French commune, maybe called le commúne or something, I would read it. But right now it's just an empty threat.

You're lucky I enjoy reading Clarise Sickhead's Bedtime Stories to kids I don't like, otherwise I might stop reading the commune altogether. Come on, you're letting your audience down.

Emil Zender
D'Artagnan, Washington


Dear Emil:

Thanks for your literate spanking; Lil Duncan in particular enjoyed it. We have been dropping the ball here at the commune, and we'd rather be famous for our top-of-the-heap conspiracy unraveling than our dropped balls.

The truth is very few of us have seen Red Bagel in person in at least two weeks. He frequently slips his columns under the door to us in the newsroom and refuses to open the door unless we use the secret knock, which he has never shared with us. It is all proof, as far as we can guess, that Mr. Bagel is knee-deep in the darkest conspiracy yet and is simply biding his time, waiting for proof or a lack of other column material to reveal it. Dark men with large mustaches show up at odd hours and drop off brown paper bags full of documents for him, which we slide one by one under the door. The phone rings day and night and someone asks for Red Bagel, who the hell are we, and take a message, then refuses to tell us the message. It's pretty frustrating, but we respect that Mr. Bagel has never shied away from a conspiracy. More than likely whatever he is researching involves the 9-11 attacks, as well as every other major news event in the past 20 years—except for the Baby-Jessica-down-the-well thing, Mr. Bagel assures us that involved mole people and not the government.

As for the French—c'mon, Emil, they're French. If you're going to listen to the French, how are we supposed to communicate seriously with you? Maybe you should look yourself in the mirror and ask if you're not the one with the problem. Listening to the French. Pfffth. Let's not have another letter like this, Emil. We have the power to cut you off from the commune, you know—no more commune for Emil. Get your shit together, please.


the commune

---

Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible for Red Bagel. Why should we take the blame when his parents aren't going to? He has an agenda that is holy and beyond our understanding. We sure hope that's the case anyway.

º Last Column: Volume 25
º more columns