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Failed Experiment Produces Hideous Miniature CloneRaelian attempt to clone human results in horrible by-product January 6, 2003 |
Los Angeles, California Raelian K-mart Grotesque humanoid deformity reminds world of the dangers of playing God.
"They have attempted to play god, and they have failed," said someone in our newsroom.
The cloning was carried out by Clonaid, a terribly on-the-nose named company founded by members of the Raelian sect, who believe human beings were created by alien scientists years ago. In case you're wondering, yes, they are being completely sincere when they say that. Members of the socially unapproved religion announced their disappointment when the experiment yielded a clone one-eighth the size of the original, hairless, fatty, and with inhibited intelligence and language skills.
"Imagine our dismay when our optimistic at...
enetic science took a step backward last week when the creation of a bald, chubby failed clone was revealed by members of the Raelian sect.
"They have attempted to play god, and they have failed," said someone in our newsroom.
The cloning was carried out by Clonaid, a terribly on-the-nose named company founded by members of the Raelian sect, who believe human beings were created by alien scientists years ago. In case you're wondering, yes, they are being completely sincere when they say that. Members of the socially unapproved religion announced their disappointment when the experiment yielded a clone one-eighth the size of the original, hairless, fatty, and with inhibited intelligence and language skills.
"Imagine our dismay when our optimistic attempts resulted in a hideous, miniature version of the DNA donor," said Clonaid spokesperson Brigitte Boisselier. "Perhaps we have exceeded the limits of human capability, but our intentions were good. And we are not giving up yet. The next clones we are producing are due for next week, and we are waiting to see if they are successful."
Though Clonaid revealed little of its methodology, they did speculate the process of incubating the clone in the DNA donor's body for nine months may have been a misstep in the procedure. According to outside calculations, simple physics dictate an exact duplicate could not be produced within the original since the amount of space needed to house a duplicate of equal size would have to be bigger than the original.
Clonaid scientists considered the possibility of the clone outgrowing the host and bursting right through the body, like that scene in Alien or Pras in that "Ghetto Supastar" video, and the scientists considered it had begun to happen, but instead the failed experiment escaped through an existing orifice after hours of laborious effort. It was then they realized the experiment had failed, producing a smallish, demonesque humanoid of sub-human intelligence.
"We have not given up hope that the creature may offer us some insight as to what went wrong, and we have continued attempts to communicate with it," said Boisselier at a press conference. "So far the monstrosity only emits ear-piercing screaming and claws at any who approach it. Our scientists are working to decode its screams and construct a common language, but the sounds are animalistic and will likely be a dead avenue. It is probably just crying out in pain, begging to be put out of its misery."
When asked if there were a chance the creature was unrelated to the clone experiment, Boisselier said the possibility was considered and rejected.
"It is quite clearly a clone of some form, though definitely not what we intended. We brought in the DNA donor for identification, and the creature definitely has the donor's eyes, as well as her cute little nose and dimples. We were going to risk contact between the donor and the creature, but then the small one made a boom boom."
The experiment may have other results as well, pushing lawmakers to create legislation in response to the first human clone, besides possible Tom Cruise clone Peter Facinelli, and evoking edicts from the world's religious leaders.
"Life is sacred, and it is not man's place to play God," said the Pope, mumbling in Latin. "I'm not one to say I told you so, but…" the commune news has warned everyone of the danger of clones ever since the release of the putrid Judge Dredd. Boner Cunningham is an earnest young reporter, or at least a clone of an earnest young reporter we probably couldn't afford.
 |  January 6, 2003 |
commune offices COMMUNE ART DEPT. Some of the newsmakers that helped make 2002 exactly 365 days long.
Yes, as we reach the beginning of a brand new news year, we look back on 2002 with more than a slight Elvis sneer of derision, like a party guest finally leaving with a heavy hangover and leaving our sofa and rug stained with vomit. 2002 may go down in the history books as, “The Year of ‘…Anyway…’”
Like a half-assed sitcom following Friends and preceding ER, much of 2002 felt squashed in-between two major news periods. Following hot on the heels of the events of Sept. 11th and the bombing of Afghanistan that heralded the War on Terror, things settled down into a dreary boredom in 2002 as Americans waited for big news events that still have yet to come&#...
002 was a banner year for news. As long as the banner said, “BO-RING!” Yes, as we reach the beginning of a brand new news year, we look back on 2002 with more than a slight Elvis sneer of derision, like a party guest finally leaving with a heavy hangover and leaving our sofa and rug stained with vomit. 2002 may go down in the history books as, “The Year of ‘…Anyway…’” Like a half-assed sitcom following Friends and preceding ER, much of 2002 felt squashed in-between two major news periods. Following hot on the heels of the events of Sept. 11 th and the bombing of Afghanistan that heralded the War on Terror, things settled down into a dreary boredom in 2002 as Americans waited for big news events that still have yet to come—the bombing of Iraq, a resolution to the North Korea situation, and any evidence Osama bin Laden is alive or dead. All original and fascinating news is being greedily reserved by the newsmakers, as if they’re holding out for a news sweeps week. Early 2002 was host to the Winter Olympics, the globally-conceded most boring of all Olympics, in the globally-conceded most boring state in the union, Utah. Thank whatever you call a God for the much-covered flap when ice-skating Canadians David Pelletier and Jamie Salé were robbed of their rightful gold medal by a sly-footed French judge, or your only memories of it would be a gaggle of fruitcakes slapping a puck with a stick in the atrocity called “curling.” Much of the early news year was limited to the images of Enron’s senior staff shrugging before a Senate sub-committee with a less-than-convincing “I dunno,” followed by footage of a shrapnel-filled site in downtown Israel as the violence that made the Middle East famous escalated to ludicrous heights, until an all-out assault on Yassir Arafat’s bunker broke the boredom very briefly. There was also Ray Brent Marsh, the Georgia crematorium owner who tossed the bodies in the lake and passed the savings on to you. Thanks to Marsh, along with multiple kidslaughter defendant Andrea Yates and the hockey dad who loved local sports a bit too much, the first few months of 2002 news were occasionally livened up by local heroes. An historical Oscar win for Best Actor and Best Actress by African-Americans Denzel Washington and Halle Berry helped draw attention away from the fact the Hollywood community now considers Opie the Best Director in its midst. Even the biggest celebrity murderer of the year was only former Little Rascal Robert Blake, leaving Court-TV to wait patiently for the shoplifting trial of Winona Ryder. Summer gave everyone a little hope for a brighter news year when nine miners faced certain doom, trapped in a mine shaft, and no one was happier when they were retrieved alive and healthy. Then the week ended and everyone went back to bitching about terrorism and the tumbling stock market. As the rate of insane presidential utterances concerning Iraq increased, Americans hit the peak of the news year when a series of sniper attacks across America finally put an end to superfluous Elvis coverage. However, it wasn’t enough to save a pisser as a news year, and after the sniper suspects were arrested America quieted once again. Republicans received a boost from a record low-voter turnout off-year election and Trent Lott’s ill-conceived pro-segregationist remarks embarrassed the Bush administration, something that is truly hard to do. News pundits have a great case for 21 st century to be the most boring yet, but the commune news is quick to remind everyone 1901-1910 was a pretty crappy decade for news and the 20 th century didn’t heat up until the sinking of the Titanic and World War I. We can make this one even better, just keep working at it. the commune news ushers in a brand new year, flashlight in hand, and making sure there’s no kids ducked behind the seats. Ramrod Hurley is the commune Acting Editor and, we must say, quite an Acting Ass, too.
| Study finds low I.Q. causes lead paint eating, not other way around |
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 January 6, 2003 The AuditionWish me luck, keep your fingers crossed, and break both your legs. Clarissa Coleman is all lined up for a big audition.
I don't usually tell you about auditions, I know. I like to keep some secrecy, some little things private to myself. That and I forget about them until the last minute most of the time. But this is different. This is no piddlin' "Hey, Remember the Songs of the '80s?" infomercial audition. This is a series television audition, no kidding. Real network TV! Well, UPN, and that counts as network TV in a few circles outside of Hollywood. But I'm excited all the same.
I was sitting around on New Year's Day, trying to figure out whose underwear I was wearing and how I got a hold of them, when my agent Dusty called. Usually it's not good news, he just wa...
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Wish me luck, keep your fingers crossed, and break both your legs. Clarissa Coleman is all lined up for a big audition.
I don't usually tell you about auditions, I know. I like to keep some secrecy, some little things private to myself. That and I forget about them until the last minute most of the time. But this is different. This is no piddlin' "Hey, Remember the Songs of the '80s?" infomercial audition. This is a series television audition, no kidding. Real network TV! Well, UPN, and that counts as network TV in a few circles outside of Hollywood. But I'm excited all the same.
I was sitting around on New Year's Day, trying to figure out whose underwear I was wearing and how I got a hold of them, when my agent Dusty called. Usually it's not good news, he just wants to talk about the World's Fair of 1967 and what a grand time it was, that or how I still owe dues from 1989 to the SAG, but today was different. He had a part for me to read, a real live part!
I was skeptical, at first, who wouldn't be? But I checked, and the phone was indeed plugged in, and none of my commune office mates was hiding in the room. Not a camera in sight even. It really was Dusty, and once I verified he wasn't having another "living flashback" to the '80s, I would be on cloud nine.
Sure enough, the audition was real. It turns out a sitcom producer named Matt Viggoschultz was a big fan of my Court-TV appearances where I denied knowing anything about those injuries related to the Waffle Messiah, and wanted to know if I was working. Well, sure, if you count picketing E!'s Star Dates show with a sign that says, "First Date Action Guaranteed," but nothing that couldn't be dropped quickly for a rebound shot at television! He mailed (industry term for sending through the postal service) a copy of the pilot script for his show and I loved it! The binding was shiny and the font they used was original and clever. After I read it, it got even better.
It's a Friends-style show, with a little bit of Survivor mixed in, with a touch of Dragnet to make it work. In the pilot episode, a group of chums get shipwrecked on a desert island paradise, where they have to overcome their differences and learn to trust each other to survive the harsh environment. One of them is voted in as the tribal lawman, and when one of the buddies is murdered, the lawman has to solve the murder.
I knew it would be an effort to play this kind of role each week and make it believable, having never been stranded on a desert island where I played the role of law enforcer before, but I was determined to be a part of this project, no matter what I had to do. Producer Viggoschultz then informed me he wanted me for the lawman's sidekick, his girl Friday Shelly, which is a smaller role, yeah, but one I'm definitely more fit for. It's a shame, though, that beard was starting to come in pretty nice before he told me.
I was meant to play this role of Shelly, and nothing will stop me from playing her, short of not getting the part. Which is why I've been rehearsing my monologue all week. In the past I've always used the same piece for auditions, but it's never worked out for me—I think I'm just getting too old to do the "I want a give the world a gweat big hug!" bit from Who's Your Daddy? that I used for years. This year I'm using Susan Sarandon's "boycott G.E." Oscar speech, and if they look like an apolitical crowd I'll just use Halle Berry's three minutes of crying Oscar speech. Either way, I'm getting this role. 2003 is going to be the year of the comeback for Clarissa Coleman. º Last Column: I Want to Be a Cartoonº more columns | 
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Milestones1979: Some people call Red Bagel a space cowboy (wahnt-waaow). Ignorant to popular culture, Bagel burns his driver's license and spends two years living underground as Miguel Carlos Ferrina.Now HiringSmall Town Rube. Trustworthy innocent needed to flush gremlins out of elevator system. Competitive wage to be paid upon successful completion of duties. No Sci-Fi geeks, please. Most Painful Music Lawsuits| 1. | Christopher Cross vs. Kris Kross (1992) | | 2. | John Fogerty vs. John Fogerty (1985) | | 3. | Warner Bros. vs. Pri.. The Ar.. That Guy Over There in the Pastel Pants (1994) | | 4. | Michael Jackson vs. Insane Kahlil's Rhinoplasty (1987) | | 5. | The Ghost of Nat "King" Cole vs. Natalie Cole (1991) | |
|   U.N. Weapons Inspectors Want to Come Home BY roland mcshyster 1/6/2003 Hot damn, America!
Against all odds we're back for another year of Entertainment Police love. Few would have thought we'd last this long, and most of them also believe in unicorns and platonic friendships. But here we are, in the abstract sense, as I'm here now and you'll be there at some later date, and we're both looking at these same words. Only it's not really equal since I don't know what the rest of this is going to say and you can skip ahead if you're in a "Fuck it All" kind of mood. Not really fair for me, but I guess that's why I'm the one getting paid, to deal with that uncertainty.
Now we look ahead to the coming year of 2003 and wonder if we'll see better movies than we did in 2002. Ha, just kidding. We all know that 2002 sucked a big novelty dis...
Hot damn, America!
Against all odds we're back for another year of Entertainment Police love. Few would have thought we'd last this long, and most of them also believe in unicorns and platonic friendships. But here we are, in the abstract sense, as I'm here now and you'll be there at some later date, and we're both looking at these same words. Only it's not really equal since I don't know what the rest of this is going to say and you can skip ahead if you're in a "Fuck it All" kind of mood. Not really fair for me, but I guess that's why I'm the one getting paid, to deal with that uncertainty.
Now we look ahead to the coming year of 2003 and wonder if we'll see better movies than we did in 2002. Ha, just kidding. We all know that 2002 sucked a big novelty disc, so the real question is how much better 2003 will be. I'm hoping the answer is:
A whole shit of a lot.
On to the movies!
In Theaters
Confessions of a Dangerous Mind
There was a lot of shit going on in this movie: the CIA, Ralston-Purina, BET, disco, crop rotation, gongs, Margaret Cho, ninja breakdancing, bad hats, Julia Roberts barking in Morse code, dust, rubber boots full of salmon, the Pointer Sisters, Wheel of Fortune, underoos, sex with robots, John Travolta's childhood retainer, cashew chicken, nuclear autumn, that little alcoholic kid from E.T., saws, Golden Books, Rip Torn, and the list goes on and on. To be honest, I wasn't sure when the movie started or if it's even over now… I left the theater but I keep seeing things that make me think I might have just dozed off in the middle and I'm still dreaming. If that's the case I'm going to be pissed because I hate typing my columns twice.
Just Married Ashton Kutcher
I guess he's cute and all, I mean, it's not like I'd know. But if I were a girl I guess I could see it. If I were a girl. And I was really drunk. But, apparently this Kutcher guy is enough of a dreamboat that tying his knot is a common fantasy among the 12-24 set and a handful of gay sex columnists, so here we get a movie about it. And the lucky girl who gets to pretend to do it more convincingly than most (because of the Hollywood props and whatnot) is Brittany Murphy, who paid her dues by getting her trailer park on with Eminemineminemi… Marshall McLuhan. I guess the movie turned out fine, though to be honest I thought there'd be more explicit honeymoon sex than there was. But I felt that way about Father of the Bride, too, so what are you going to do. All in all it compares favorably to other teenage girl wish fulfillment film such as Monkeybone and Drop Dead Fred Durst.
Love Liza
Philip Dustin Hoffman is fantastic as Liza Minelli in this warped tale of a singer coping with her gay lover's suicide by having everyone call her Rick and pretend she's a man. Talk about bizarre; shouldn't John Malkovich be in there somewhere? It almost got too weird for me when I thought Orson Welles was in the movie, too, but in the end it turned out that was only Kathy Bates. She should do him at parties; I think she could clean up.
The Pianist
Once again the Farley brothers prove that you can't keep a good man down, nor two mediocre men with gross senses of humor. Nor one midget-sized man who walks around in a tuxedo and has a gigantic dong, neither. I'm not sure where the midgets-with-giant-dicks fascination came from, but at least the Farleys put a creative spin on it by making the guy a concert pianist who makes his living playing a baby baby grand. He also gets into plenty of trouble with married women and as I'm sure you can guess he gets drop-kicked a few dozen times and spends part of the movie wedged in a fat man's asshole.
I'm not going to review them, but I just wanted to mention that Steve Guttenberg and Kirk Cameron both have new movies coming out this week, so if you're feeling shitty about your life there's some five-dollar therapy for you.
And that's that, folks, I hope we've rung in the New Year proud. Don't forget to check back in two more weeks when we'll shake the world by doing the exact same thing for like the ten billionth time.   |
