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Sniper Supsects Appear in Court Looking Like ShitMuhammad, Malvo look like they've been sleeping in a car or something November 11, 2002 |
Orange in November? Sorry boys, Halloween was last week.
"I have to admit I was a little disappointed," admitted Manassas housewife Thelma Russel. "I thought they might show up in some snazzy three-piece suits with silk handkerchiefs in the pocket, you know. Like Al Capone in that commercial for condoms. Something stylish that suggests they're above it all, you know? The kinds of guys ...
merica's least popular gunslingers since Young Guns 2, John Allen Muhammad and Lee Boyd Malvo, shocked an unshockable nation Friday, showing up in court looking like a couple of bagboys from an underperforming Food Lion in dumpy orange jumpsuits marked by a palpable lack of panache. Teased by weeks of anticipation and speculation, and frankly expecting more, America scrunched up its nose at the sight of these two decidedly un-dapper Dillingers.
"I have to admit I was a little disappointed," admitted Manassas housewife Thelma Russel. "I thought they might show up in some snazzy three-piece suits with silk handkerchiefs in the pocket, you know. Like Al Capone in that commercial for condoms. Something stylish that suggests they're above it all, you know? The kinds of guys you love to hate, but admire in spite of yourself. But these guys? Sheesh. I wouldn't even leave the house looking like that. Didn't they know they were going to be on TV? I guess it just says something about the state of our criminals these days. Pretty sad."
Muhammad, the supposed mastermind behind the duo's shooting spree, looked like he had failed to master the bathroom mirror that morning, sporting a nappy hairdo to make Kobe Bryant proud. A shaving kit had apparently also eluded him, as well as the fundamental principles of beauty rest. Too many nights spent on the lamb had left his eyes sporting more bags than a Tony Bennett concert, and this reporter suspects the county hoosegow must have been fresh out of cucumber wraps that week.
Muhammad's one "E" for effort came in the posture department, a welcome relief from his partner Malvo's parade of slouches. While Muhammad often looked like he had just sat on a fireplace poker, Malvo had more slouches on display than the 2002 Mets. This reporter had heard it said that Muhammad was able to dominate the young Malvo thanks to the latter's lack of a spine, yet I had no idea they meant it in the strictest clinical sense. This is one boy I wouldn't want to face in the Twister world championships, and not just because he'd probably shoot my ass if I won. I'm surprised they didn't have to cart him into the courtroom in a wheelbarrow.
Malvo's mauve jumpsuit was a welcome contrast to the teeth-clenching Hazmat orange of Muhammad's ensemble, but any chance the teen had of pulling off a courtroom fashion coup ala the lovely Ms. Winona Ryder was dashed by his grotesquely shambolic addition of gigantic white bunny slippers to complete the outfit. I don't know how he managed to sneak those past the prison guards, but they definitely should have put the fear of Mr. Blackwell into that young man, like they're paid to do.
Malvo seems more than happy to provide the much-needed comic relief in this trial, between his footwear choices, hilarious fake Jamaican accent and last month's slapstick falling-through-the-ceiling escape attempt, which was straight out of National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation. Though if this trial is going to be remembered as anything more than yet another case of "Gun-Crazy Loon and His Funny Teenage Sex Slave," they're going to need to dig up another accomplice.
And preferably one who knows that Armani's not a branch of the Italian military. the commune news is a strictly pacifist organization, and we condone only the shooting of bullshit, intravenous drugs and war criminals. Lil Duncan wasn't assigned to this story, but she happened to be in Manassas on vacation when it happened. Rumor has it she was looking to see if the town lived up to its tantalizing name.
 | Scientists Discover Massive Burrito at Center of GalaxyUnexpected entrée sets off grumble in tummy of astronomical community October 28, 2002 |
Marquette, Michigan Imagining Dept. The space burrito, if of the breakfast variety, could decide the "chicken vs. the egg" debate forever. Unless there’s a massive space chicken someplace.
"I was staying late in the lab one night, after everybody else had gone home," stated the lab’s head astronomer, Bruce Coltrane. "And I was getting pretty tired and hungry so I was about to shut off the telescopes and get some late-night BBQ when I caught sight of something on the screen that didn’t seem quite right."
"At first I thought somebody must’ve taped another one of those pictures cut out of a Maxim to the screen, since the guys are pretty funny ...
stronomers at Michigan’s Northern Peninsula Basalt College went public today with observations made near the cloudy heart of the Milky Way Galaxy, which have indicated with near certainty the existence of a massive central space burrito, a theoretical Mexican entrée that had previously eluded detection.
"I was staying late in the lab one night, after everybody else had gone home," stated the lab’s head astronomer, Bruce Coltrane. "And I was getting pretty tired and hungry so I was about to shut off the telescopes and get some late-night BBQ when I caught sight of something on the screen that didn’t seem quite right."
"At first I thought somebody must’ve taped another one of those pictures cut out of a Maxim to the screen, since the guys are pretty funny about that kind of stuff. I could tell you stories about the time we thought we found Carmen Electra orbiting Chiron. What a crazy week! But this time, when I checked closer, it couldn’t be denied. We were dealing with the genuine article here. I caught my breath, looked closer, and fuck a duck, man! That thing’s a giant burrito!"
"And then I laughed, ’cause, man, what a crazy thing to say! Shiiit."
"Bruce is the man. If he said he saw a gigantic burrito 500 times the size of the sun out in the middle of the Milky Way, then that’s good enough for me," said fellow astronomer and goatee advocate Mark Fitch. "Sign me up for the Burrito Cult or whatever the deal’s going to be now. I’ll put on the velcro sneakers and drink the blue Kool-Aid when the burrito swings by the earth to pick up the true believers. Fuck it, man, whatever."
Since having its state funding cut in 1994, Northern Peninsula Basalt College’s astronomy program has led the nation in startling astronomical discoveries. Among those include Animal Planet, Orion’s Tits and the St. Bernard of Delta 7.
When asked what he thinks of the astronomy community’s opinion of the Northern Peninsula Basalt astronomy department, Fitch was philsophical. "Eh, fuck ’em. What do they know, with their giant telescopes and their fancy degrees and all that noise? Without street smarts, all that shit is useless anyway."
"As far as I know, this is the first time someone’s found anything like this," offered Coltrane. "I mean, they’ve probably found Mexican food out in space before, but this big? Tacquitos, maybe. And what if they found one like a million years ago, before anybody knew what a burrito was? What would they call it? A space tube? And back then they didn’t have big-assed telescopes like we’ve got now. They might have mistaken it for a Chimichanga. Maybe? Make that probably."
"It might be difficult for the layman to understand how such a thing could exist. But trust me when I say that the universe is full of all kinds of strange and mysterious shwag," continued Coltrane, backed by a poster of Copernicus smoking the moon in a water bong.
Fitch and Coltrane were wary of careless speculation, but both agreed that a manned mission to explore the burrito was practically inevitable.
"Who knows what mysteries could be wrapped up in that tortilla?" pondered Coltrane. "Like, how many layers has that thing got? And does it have guacamole? I hate guacamole. But who made it, and why haven’t they eaten it yet? That’s one to blow your mind. But even just on the practical level, we’ve got to get some guys up there. We’re talking beans the size of foreign cars. Poor people could live in those things, and then eat their houses."
Fitch agreed, as he licked his lips and distractedly eyed the heavens. the commune news works hard for the money, so we sure hope you don’t consider that a complete blowjob. Ramon Nootles is every mother’s worst nightmare, and one very unlucky girl’s Mystery Date.
| Study finds low I.Q. causes lead paint eating, not other way around |
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 November 11, 2002 Volume 29Dear commune:
Just writing in to make you privy to the word, dudes. I just rocked the vote today by voting for that righteous fucker Red Bagel for State Assemblyman. True, I'm not exactly sure what a State Assemblyman is supposed to do, but whatever it is, I'm sure my man Bagel will do the fuck out of it. Whether it's putting shit together that the state needs, like futons and bookcases and all that, or if it's talking in front of a bunch of kids crammed together in a cafeteria, whatever kind of assembly it means I know Bagel's gonna tear it a new asshole, commune style. Shit yeah.
True, I hated assemblies myself when I was a kid, but that was mostly because there wasn't some nut up there talking about Vietnam and doing magic tricks and shit. That's some madness that ...
º Last Column: Volume 28
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Dear commune: Just writing in to make you privy to the word, dudes. I just rocked the vote today by voting for that righteous fucker Red Bagel for State Assemblyman. True, I'm not exactly sure what a State Assemblyman is supposed to do, but whatever it is, I'm sure my man Bagel will do the fuck out of it. Whether it's putting shit together that the state needs, like futons and bookcases and all that, or if it's talking in front of a bunch of kids crammed together in a cafeteria, whatever kind of assembly it means I know Bagel's gonna tear it a new asshole, commune style. Shit yeah. True, I hated assemblies myself when I was a kid, but that was mostly because there wasn't some nut up there talking about Vietnam and doing magic tricks and shit. That's some madness that would have been worth missing a smoke break for. And, come to think of it, I hate putting shit together too, so I'd probably make a pretty lousy Assemblyman myself. But if Bagel gets elected, I've got a coffee table still in the box out in my garage that I could use some help with. Don't even think about welching, dude. I got you elected! Truth be told, if I'd had my druthers I probably would have voted for my homestyle, Omar Bricks, for State Assemblydude. But unless you wanted to vote for one of those gay-asses they had preprinted on the menu, you had to write in your choice, and I can never remember how many o's there are in Omar. Just in case there was some uptight dick out there named Oomar Bricks, I thought I'd play it safe and vote for the dude named after my breakfast. Sucks, yeah, but that's politics. Peace Out. Brian Delaney
Santa Monica, CADear Brian:
Thanks for the word, dude. Red Bagel appreciates your vote and if he voted, we're sure he voted for you, too. And by that we mean that we're sure he didn't vote, since he's scared shitless of those optical scanning machines and the soul maps they can chart using your electromagnetic field, making it possible for the government to tax you again in your dreams.
the commune
Editor's Note: the commune is not responsible, and the ladies find that irresistible. Don't blame us, it's apparently some kind of self-esteem issue.º Last Column: Volume 28º more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“Speak when you are angry and you'll make the best speech you will ever regret. Speak when you are extremely angry and you'll really regret it—all stuttering and shit, like Porky Pig. And they'll just make fun of you. I know I would.”
-Ambruce FierceFortune 500 CookieStick it where the sun don't shine—that's the only way you'll be sure it glows in the dark. Does this look like medium rare to you? Take it back or there goes your tip. If you could ask God one question, don't make it, "Who farted?" Take a self-time out this week, but don't just waste it by yourself; extract the time itself from the timeline, so you can put it back wherever you want. Lucky legends this week: Sasquatch, the Jersey Devil, Abominable Snowman, and other Bigfoot rip-offs.
Try again later.5 Phrases Guaranteed to Get You Slapped| 1. | My testicles feel funny. Do they feel funny to you? | | 2. | You're very pretty. For a man, I mean. | | 3. | Why don't you go back to the kitchen and sit on this egg until it's hatched, bitch. | | 4. | If anyone wants to suck my cock, laugh awkwardly. | | 5. | Our greatest mistake as a country was fighting to keep Texas (Texas only) | |
|   Sniper Perpetuates Exciting New Muslim Stereotypes BY roland mcshyster 11/11/2002 What's the haps, America? Like all other entertainophiles out there I was glued to the TV for the Winona Ryder trial. Who could believe they would find her guilty, just because they had her on tape and caught her in a few lies? Let the message go out to all celebrities: If you are no longer on the A-list and try to get away with a misdemeanor crime, YOU WILL PAY.
There, sorry to get so serious on everybody. But now for the fun stuff—movie city, here we come!
In Theaters
8 Miles of M&Ms
If I've said it before, that's one time I said it: I don't watch documentaries. They're always the same boring thing, some political message against CEOs of car and shoe companies or...
What's the haps, America? Like all other entertainophiles out there I was glued to the TV for the Winona Ryder trial. Who could believe they would find her guilty, just because they had her on tape and caught her in a few lies? Let the message go out to all celebrities: If you are no longer on the A-list and try to get away with a misdemeanor crime, YOU WILL PAY.
There, sorry to get so serious on everybody. But now for the fun stuff—movie city, here we come!
In Theaters
8 Miles of M&Ms
If I've said it before, that's one time I said it: I don't watch documentaries. They're always the same boring thing, some political message against CEOs of car and shoe companies or some film crew getting lost in the woods looking for a witch. But when a movie's good, it's good regardless, and 8 Miles of M&Ms is amazing! Allow me to get the obligatory quote for the commercial ball rolling by saying, " 8 Miles of M&Ms is a sure-fire Oscar contender—no, winner! Winner! It does for rap music and M&Ms what E.T. & T. did for phone companies and Reese's Pieces." Wow, that kicked ass. I'll expect my name to be included on the guest list for some of those Hollywood premieres from now on.
The Santa Clause 2
I was not a big fan of the first installment of this franchise, even though I love that Buzz Lightyear in almost anything. But this one is a big improvement. The whole premise of the movie—that Santa Claus spends his other 364 days as a trial lawyer in civil litigation suits—is pretty sketchy, but this one is livened up by a dramatic drinking problem as ol' Santa Claus proves even though he's a lawyer he can't pass a bar. Donner and Blitzen's intervention is a real tear-jerker, and not to ruin the ending or anything, but it's all worth watching just to see what that curmudgeony old judge gets in his stocking.
Punch-Drunk Love
Why can't everyone just leave Bobby Brown and Whitney Houston alone? Sure, she's a crack addict with a darling voice and he's a brutal, talentless lump who whips her ass like he's paid to do it, but I wouldn't want everybody sticking their nose into my private life if I married a more talented celebrity then started abusing her, driving her into drug abuse. As a film, the melodrama is in full effect, but you have to admit casting Adam Sandler was a brave choice, though I will always prefer Whitney's version of "The Bodyguard Song" to his.
I Spy
I hope somebody got his ass handed to him for this clunker of a movie. Remember when I said I wish Hollywood would try something daring and different? Well, I take it back, they should stick to formulaic and proven. When they try to do something new it's always crap like this, a 90-minute version of the famous car trip game. An hour and a half straight of a filmed trip to Wisconsin, and we're all supposed to have fun pointing out things on the screen and hoping our seat neighbors can guess it from our clues. Bump that! The good news is that the dismal failure of this one has resulted in Hollywood scrapping its planned film version of "The License Plate Game."
Femme Fatale
You know the Roland McShyster motto, "If it's French, don't see it"? I broke that rule of mine when I saw a poster for this one with that sexy Rebecca Romaine-Lettuce on it, and I'm glad I did. What a kick-ass movie! The French didn't screw this one up, amazingly enough. Sexy Steve Buscemi is a cyber geek whose girlish throw gets him routinely pounded on by a bunch of frat guys, until a magic genie (Rebecca whosits) turns things around. Now Steve can kill whoever gives him any backtalk, and he becomes an inspiring role model for all the geeks around him. I love it when jocks get the tables turned on them and creepy weirdoes end up with superhot model chicks.
That's a bag of movies, collected and finely crushed into powder by yours truly for your entertainment pleasure. But don't leave me to have all the fun, America! Get out there and see some movies of your own, or make them, if you have a friend. Just don't show them to me.   |
