 | 
Red Bagel: You the Man of the Yearcommune Editor receives not-at-all-staged award for fourth time December 23, 2002 |
New York City, New York Bagel's Mom It's a shame he's never been photographed more than once.
"It's a great honor, and a welcome surprise that I receive this award," said Bagel, in a speech possibly plagiarized from one of this three previous speeches. "As the creator of the Yitmotty, I understand what it truly means to everyone, especially me. And that makes it mean all the more to receive this for the fourth time."
The YTMOTY (or "Yitmotty," as has never caught on with anyone but Bagel) ceremony doubled as a going-away party for departing Editor Bagel, who goes on to do whatever a sick person with delusions of grandeur does on his sabbatical, taking possible mummy Sampson L. Hartwig...
n a tearful ceremony held in his apartment, Red Bagel accepted his fourth consecutive "You the Man of the Year" Award for all of his efforts in whatever it is that he does.
"It's a great honor, and a welcome surprise that I receive this award," said Bagel, in a speech possibly plagiarized from one of this three previous speeches. "As the creator of the Yitmotty, I understand what it truly means to everyone, especially me. And that makes it mean all the more to receive this for the fourth time."
The YTMOTY (or "Yitmotty," as has never caught on with anyone but Bagel) ceremony doubled as a going-away party for departing Editor Bagel, who goes on to do whatever a sick person with delusions of grandeur does on his sabbatical, taking possible mummy Sampson L. Hartwig with him.
Despite having done little for the advancement of anything except paranoia during 2002, Red Bagel was unanimously chosen by a distinct panel consisting of Bagel himself, to no one's surprise. In addition to publishing the commune and acting as its editor, Bagel spends too much time in bars and court, frequently drunk in both. 2002 was Bagel's biggest yet, as he introduced a semi-monthly column where he proposed such ludicrous conspiracy theories as puppets being reincarnated dead people and a character from the movie Tron kidnapping his personnel.
As a new part of the ceremony this year, commune Editor Red Bagel had everyone from the staff give a short speech explaining why they voted for their choice for Man of the Year, i.e. Bagel himself. "Because if I don't you'll fire me" was disallowed as being a part of any speech, as this reporter found out during his presentation.
Highlights of the ceremony included Lil Duncan's pregnancy test results (sparking a relieved sigh from the entire room), Rok Finger's diatribe against wheat pennies, Boner Cunningham's lively re-enactment of the famous Flashdance sequence, and Omar Bricks' surprise fireworks display that sent three to the hospital, though at least one was most likely faking just to get out of the party early.
After the procession of obligatory praise, and after he himself had downed two bottles of Makers' Mark, Red Bagel took the stage for his long-awaited speech, which considering he's had three chances now to do it should have been better.
"Some men are followers and some men are leaders," said Bagel, earning a laugh when the slurred "followers" came out sounding like "flowers." "It's clear by now that I am the leader. I have tried to do something new and different with the commune, and new and different is what I've done." This reporter stressed the word "good" was appropriately absent from that description and was forced to finish listening to the speech bound and gagged.
"This year was a banner year for the commune. We've kept the quality of the commune news and reporting consistent from January to December," continued Bagel, once again distinctly avoiding the word "good." "From its humble beginnings the commune has crawled out of the mud with you parasites on its back, and we're headed to the top. We're no longer publishing on the back of previously-published pamphlets; that was getting a little expensive anyway. The internet has allowed us to move unreigned, unchecked, and I'm announcing here and now that 2004 will be the best year for the commune yet."
Bagel then conveniently passed out and broke his Hawaiian tiki coffee table, leaving us to wonder whether he meant to suggest the correct year of 2003 or if we're suffering through another lame year like 2002 until 2004 rolls around. the commune news realizes it's politically incorrect to have a "man of the year" award, but if you're going to get on our back for gender insensitivity, there's plenty of better places to start. Raoul Dunkin is the prodigal son of the commune, mostly since he plays his Prodigy CDs too loud in the newsroom.
 | Records Indicate Strom Thurmond Died in 1982Republican Senator carries on despite timely demise December 9, 2002 |
Washington, D.C. Junior Bacon News of the Senator's own death reaches him during his 100th birthday celebration
"This striking news is just further evidence of Strom's amazing longevity," opined former Sen. Bob Dole, R-Kan., who himself died after falling down a well in 1996, but came back because he forgot his glasses.
Thurmond, the oldest and whitest senator in history, reached his 100th birthday Thursday surrounded by family, friends, and more zombies than a George Romero film. When asked if they ever expected to see this day after Thurmond's death from a heart attack in 1982, partygoers were philosophical.
"Strom's always pulling shit like that. Hell, he died in my pool last weekend. I thought I was...
epublican Senator Strom Thurmond of South Carolina celebrated his 100th birthday this week, a feat made even more amazing by the fact that he died 20 years ago.
"This striking news is just further evidence of Strom's amazing longevity," opined former Sen. Bob Dole, R-Kan., who himself died after falling down a well in 1996, but came back because he forgot his glasses.
Thurmond, the oldest and whitest senator in history, reached his 100th birthday Thursday surrounded by family, friends, and more zombies than a George Romero film. When asked if they ever expected to see this day after Thurmond's death from a heart attack in 1982, partygoers were philosophical.
"Strom's always pulling shit like that. Hell, he died in my pool last weekend. I thought I was going to have to spend my entire Saturday night at the morgue, but then he got better," explained neighbor Sylvester Coles.
"Sure, dad gave us a scare back in '82, and we even had a funeral, but then one day he just walked in the door, sat down, and started watching cartoons on the TV. Nobody ever really said anything about it or asked him what happened. I mean, how do you bring that up? Ever since then we've just come to accept that dad dies sometimes," said Thurmond's daughter Julie.
Thurmond, who is retiring at the end of this session of Congress because nobody appreciates Polack jokes anymore, served for 48 years, as near as anyone can remember, and goes out the oldest man ever to serve in the Senate and the lifetime record holder for scrambled eggs eaten.
Frail and confined to a wheelchair, Thurmond appeared moved by his hissing bowels and the event held in his honor. "Gaaaaah! Hsssssaaah! Fbbbbbtttsss!" he told the gathering.
Thurmond's career tracked many of the cultural changes that took place in the South he came to represent. He won election to the Senate in 1954, the only write-in candidate ever to capture a Senate seat, after he convinced election officials that he also went by the nicknames "Donald Duck" and "Hugo Fukov." Years later he secured his legacy by originating the "Southurn Manefesto" that urged defiance of the 1954 Supreme Court ruling on school desegregation. In 1957 he spoke for 24 hours on the Senate floor in opposition to civil rights legislation, the longest filibuster in Senate history. Three Senators committed suicide during the speech when Thurmond asked if he'd already told the story about his black friend Danny.
In 1964, Thurmond, then a Democrat, switched to the Republican Party when he realized he was the only Democrat on the "Back to Africa" committee. But once civil rights law became a reality, Thurmond adjusted, learning new jokes about Koreans and the handicapped.
"America outgrew old prejudices. Strom himself came to symbolize a reasoned transformation," Dole said with something like a straight face.
Referring to Thurmond's reputation as a lady's man, Senate Majority Leader Trent Lott dropped a pair of wet dentures down a waitress's cleavage to the delight of onlookers. Thurmond, however, looked terrified when informed that Lott's 89-year-old mother had a crush on him.
The highlight of the night came when Thurmond reenacted his 1982 death by having a massive stroke and slumping into a punch bowl, only to reappear later with his arms full of chocolate bunnies.
"That's dad," shrugged daughter Julie, looking slightly unnerved. the commune news is low in saturated fat but high on diet pills. Lil Duncan is the commune's Washington correspondent, though don't take that to mean that she votes on anything other than the polls at Mademoiselle.com.
| Study finds low I.Q. causes lead paint eating, not other way around |
|
|
| 
 December 23, 2002 A Mission of Utmost Impertinencethe commune's Red Bagel is off to see the [classified] I have locked the door and bolted it from the outside. I have turned off all stove implementations and heat-producing devices, and when I couldn't turn them off, I moved them next to the cold- and water-producing devices so as to prevent a fire before it starts. I have left instructions for my papers and mail to be picked up by that greasy-headed drug-dealing neighbor of mine; in short, I'm off.
This is no mere vacation I engage in, a trip to some faraway state that's really more of the same, just to sit down for holiday dinner with people I can barely tolerate. This is a mission of life-and-death importance, and the dinner with people I can barely tolerate will have to be squeezed in, is possible, for this is serious shit I am getting into.
Readers will remembe...
º Last Column: I Am Gathering a Troupe for a Journey
º more columns
I have locked the door and bolted it from the outside. I have turned off all stove implementations and heat-producing devices, and when I couldn't turn them off, I moved them next to the cold- and water-producing devices so as to prevent a fire before it starts. I have left instructions for my papers and mail to be picked up by that greasy-headed drug-dealing neighbor of mine; in short, I'm off.
This is no mere vacation I engage in, a trip to some faraway state that's really more of the same, just to sit down for holiday dinner with people I can barely tolerate. This is a mission of life-and-death importance, and the dinner with people I can barely tolerate will have to be squeezed in, is possible, for this is serious shit I am getting into.
Readers will remember the conspiracy of such great import I have told you nothing about it, and that at the last column it came to a head deserving of popping. This is where I go now, loyal readers, and I take with me beloved anachronism Sampson L. Hartwig as a human shield; that is to say, loyal companion.
Hartwig was the only one who met my qualifications, the first one I asked who agreed to go. True, I didn't really ask anyone after Hartwig, meaning most of the staff, but when you have the right man you need why waste countless hours looking for younger, more qualified human shields? Which is to say, loyal companions?
I'm glad he's coming along, since he can carry much more than I can. Also, Sampson knows several good stories, and he's told them all in his columns so it will be interesting to see what kind of babbling banter he produces around a campfire. Perhaps his silver tongue can keep us from getting thrown out of Motel 6s when we continually light campfires, I can't say. All I know is good company is better than bad company, especially their Fame and Fortune LP.
Why the mystery, you ask? Why the secrecy? I can't tell you, damn you for even asking. You should know by now Papa Bagel dishes out the details when he's good and ready, and when it won't result in your deaths by the thousands—the thanks I get is repeated questions and inane whining buggering me like a prison bunkmate. Keep your patience, for I will return in time, and when I do, all will be revealed. Check out the Playgirl spread in March.
Until then, I leave your favorite news source in good hands. And for those of you who said " The New York Times," fuck you, that joke's old enough to travel by telegraph. For those who sincerely said "the commune," thanks for your loyalty and I promise that acting Editor Ramrod Hurley will be running a tight ship in my absence. For those of you who said "Yeah, the Titanic"… I got to give you that one. Good one at Ramrod's expense. I'm going to tell that to the office crew during lunch.
Mr. Hurley will be not only replacing me in charge of the editorial business, but will be substituting for myself in this column for the duration of my motley absence. Try to be kind to him, his evil twin brother has been showing up lately and leaving torched cars in his wake.
Why must I go, you ask? I just told you, you blithering morons. But in short, America stands for many things to many people, but underneath the political spin, the propaganda, the flag-waving, and everything else, America should stand for complete and unrelenting truth. It's what great authors have devoted themselves to, it's what the heroes of revolutions have died for, and it's what our Constitution stands to support when all else fails.
As for what complete and unrelenting truths I'm fighting for, well, again, I can't tell you that just yet. But at least I'm not going to lie about it. See you when I see you. º Last Column: I Am Gathering a Troupe for a Journeyº more columns | 
|
| |
Quote of the Day“The good die first. Then, the not-so good. Then the ugly. Strike that, the ugly should die first. Can I start again? If there are any good left, don't kill them yet, we've still got some uglies over here.”
-Billiam SwordswartFortune 500 CookieThe next time you give a dog as a gift, why don't you try poking some holes in the cellophane, ay handyman? Here's something to chew on: gum. Remember: you can't hurry love, but you can get your ass in motion when you're blocking the express lane, chunky. This week's lucky ducks: Donald, Daffy, Dontrelle, Fukka.
Try again later.Top Reasons for Honking| 1. | Air-horn busted | | 2. | Thought I saw nipples | | 3. | Rat-in-road! Rat-in-road! | | 4. | Song needed a horn part | | 5. | Lonely | | 6. | That bumper sticker is right! | | 7. | Fluent in Morse code and proud of it | | 8. | Needed to clear path on sidewalk | | 9. | I know that guy! | | 10. | Because I can | |
|   A Nation Bored: America Waits Patiently for Something, Anything to Happen BY roland mcshyster 12/9/2002 Hello, Young America! Time to saddle up and get on the Entertainment Train one more time, and this time we're going to ride it all the way to Not Wasting Your Money City. I hope you brought plenty of trail mix and travel Yahtzee and stuff, because… have you ever ridden on a train before? Talk about slow. I mean the director's cut of a DOGME film slow. You'd think in this day and age they could kick it in the ass with some rocket boosters or wings or likewise for the trains, but train people are like some weird branch of the Amish or something—totally resistant to change. So you can thank your lucky ass we're not actually getting on a real train and I'm just being colorful in my language. Let's get on to the movies:
In Theaters
Hello, Young America! Time to saddle up and get on the Entertainment Train one more time, and this time we're going to ride it all the way to Not Wasting Your Money City. I hope you brought plenty of trail mix and travel Yahtzee and stuff, because… have you ever ridden on a train before? Talk about slow. I mean the director's cut of a DOGME film slow. You'd think in this day and age they could kick it in the ass with some rocket boosters or wings or likewise for the trains, but train people are like some weird branch of the Amish or something—totally resistant to change. So you can thank your lucky ass we're not actually getting on a real train and I'm just being colorful in my language. Let's get on to the movies:
In Theaters
About Shit
It's long been a growing trend to have trailers for films that tell you jack about what's actually in the movie. We probably should have seen it coming that movie titles would eventually follow suit, as evidenced by Jack Nicholson's latest dance with the devil. The title tells you nothing, of course, and the trailer is just one long shot of Jack standing there, scratching his nuts. Though this is probably an effective tactic for drawing in viewers whose nuts itch, I'm not sure it's going to attract the throngs of teenage girls who make movies successful. The film itself was fine, with Jack walking around and being all old, and it'll probably win him plenty of awards since, after all, he is only like 25 in real life.
Cannibalize That
Turns out the American public just can't get enough of that face-eating crybaby Robert DeNiro. I thought the first movie was a cute idea, having DeNiro running around and gobbling up stockbrokers and whoever, then running to his shrink and crying about how he can't sleep at night and gets all emotional watching cooking shows and all that. But do we really need to go on that ride again? I may still go, just in case there are any surprise Mohawk freak-outs in this one, but if he doesn't eat Billy Crystal at the end I'm definitely going to demand my money back.
The Hot Chick
My first thought upon hearing about this one? If this ends up being about a cute little pig, somebody's gonna get their ass killed. Thankfully for that somebody, they didn't make the Babe mistake twice, but they did pull off something almost as awful by switching out the hot chick from the title for Rob Schneider half-way through the movie, like we weren't going to notice. Call it artsy if you want, but people have been shot for less than that. And I know it's hard to find hot babes who are funny, or comedians who are also hot babes, but when you use a movie title like that you're making a pact with the audience that you break the second you let some washed-up former SNL boob ooze his way onto the screen. If the audience wanted that, they would have paid to see Rob Schneider and Some Tits That Talk, and I didn't hear anybody asking for that at the ticket window.
Maid in Manhattan
Jennifer Lopez was born to wear one of those little French maid outfits, though I hear they had to take some of the poof out of the back end so that she could fit in the elevator. This is yet another installment in the fine tradition of maid-themed pun movies, a lineage that includes Maid to Order, Maid in the U.S.A., the worst TV movie ever The Devil Maid Me Do It!, the Innerspace rip-off Maid Up My Mind, the cross-dressing mafia farce Maid Men, the Korean love story I Was Maid for You, and Kirstie Alley's terribly misguided Maid for TV. This one's about par for the course, and though at first I was pissed to see that J-Lo had made another movie, I quickly realized the upside is that making it probably kept her too busy to burp up any more songs to torture my radio this year. With any luck she'll land a sitcom soon on a channel I don't get.
Star Trek: Eminemisis
Faced with lagging interest in a series that has become increasingly irrelevant in the face of flashier and less embarrassing fantasy films, the producers of Star Trek decided to beam up a hot new commodity as their latest villain: offensively white rapper Eminemineminemi… emin… Slim Shady. Though the results definitely kicked some new life up the ass of this tired franchise, the question remains as to whether the pasty faithful are ready for the film's coarse language, which is enough to make a Klingon blush. The film's theme song alone should be enough to weed out any theatergoers who thought they were going to get some Muppets talking in French: "Eminem steppin' in again/to save the whole goddamned world and give it a spin/I got Gene Roddenberry's head in a pickle jar/rolling around like Tom & Jerry in the trunk of my car/you damn right bitch, you better beam me up/watch me bitch-slap the computer till she shuts the hell up/I don't need no rubber mask to act like some space retard/But my jumpsuit's all scarred because Picard makes my dick hard-Ahh!"
That's all we're going to squeeze out of the turnip this week, folks. In the mean time, I'll be keeping an ear open for more rumors about the all-naked remake of Flashdance that's in the works, and you'll know some time after I know. Unless someone out there has been going through Joe Eszterhas' garbage, in which case you should probably give me the word. Because you know Roland McShyster's one to make it worth your while with a free Entertainment Police tee-shirt and other fabulous shwag. Not that we actually have tee shirts printed up or anything, but I could hook you up with something from my private stash, no problem. Something I don't wear anymore, and chances are I probably wore it some time when I was writing the column or at the movies or something. Right now I'm thinking the Budweiser frogs shirt, It's starting to look like that joke's probably run its course. Though if it ever becomes some kind of kitsch collector's item and you sell it, I want half.   |
