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U.N. compliance just a ploy to escape carpet bombing March 3, 2003 |
Washington, D.C. Junior Bacon President Bush acts out fantasy of telling cops to take Saddam away with wax figure. Or maybe Bush is the wax figure and Saddam's real... it's hard to tell here merica's somehow-President George W. Bush verbally lashed out at Iraq and "evil" regime leader Saddam Hussein Friday, calling Iraq's promise to destroy missiles ordered eradicated by U.N. Weapons Inspectors "a blatant move to prevent a war with their country."
"I, for one, will not get fooled again," said Bush, paraphrasing the Who. "Iraq may think compliance to all our demands will keep us from carrying through with military action. Think again."
The White House comments follow a week of controversy, where Iraq not only appeared to comply with U.N. Weapons Inspectors' demands, but CBS also aired a Dan Rather interview with Saddam Hussein where the dictator voiced his views on the United States, the threat of War, and how the hell two Bushes get elected in Ameri...
merica's somehow-President George W. Bush verbally lashed out at Iraq and "evil" regime leader Saddam Hussein Friday, calling Iraq's promise to destroy missiles ordered eradicated by U.N. Weapons Inspectors "a blatant move to prevent a war with their country."
"I, for one, will not get fooled again," said Bush, paraphrasing the Who. "Iraq may think compliance to all our demands will keep us from carrying through with military action. Think again."
The White House comments follow a week of controversy, where Iraq not only appeared to comply with U.N. Weapons Inspectors' demands, but CBS also aired a Dan Rather interview with Saddam Hussein where the dictator voiced his views on the United States, the threat of War, and how the hell two Bushes get elected in America.
When asked by reporters what Iraq could do to prevent a war with the United States at this point, Bush responded, "What are you, terrorist?" A Washington Post columnist was then subdued by Secret Service and detained until evidence could be found to prove him guilty.
A war with Iraq, while not off the table, is losing steam with Iraq's apparent compliance with U.N. demands and other recent factors. Saturday Turkey's parliament failed to approve a bill allowing U.S. troops to set up a base in the country as a northern front against Iraq. France, Germany, Martin Sheen, and Sean Penn have also firmly announced opposition to the war and will likely refuse to lend military support.
In answer to recent protests here and abroad, the president announced his reaction by saying he would not run the country by "listening to focus groups," presumably implying the majority of the American people or anyone who disagreed with him.
"Iraq thinks simply doing whatever they're told by the U.N. will delay a war—well, they've got another thing coming," Bush emphasized, now paraphrasing Judas Priest. "Saddam is up to his old tricks. It may look like he's destroying all his missiles and meeting U.N. requirements, but it's just another shameless attempt to avoid war 'cause he knows what's coming.
"This guy, he knows how to play games," continued Bush, slackening his posture and straying way off-script the way his handlers hate, "but we know how to play games, too. Our game is called Can o' Whupass. And he opened this game when he tried to kill my dad. Can's open, Saddam—you ain't closin' it now."
When the press gallery grew quiet, Bush tossed the podium off the stage with a loud squeal of the fallen microphone. The president then fell to his knees, screaming loudly between sobs: "My dad! He tried to kill my dad! Daddy, no!"
In a less melodramatic White House press release hours later, the administration stressed that even disarming Saddam of all missiles would not reduce the threat he poses to the United States and the free world. The White House indicated they have strong evidence, obtained on the condition they would not show it to anyone, that Saddam Hussein's hands are registered lethal weapons.
Until Saddam Hussein is removed from power, the press release stated in closing, and his hands or at least all fingers are removed by force, the United States must continue efforts to neutralize this threat to the safety of the Western world. the commune news is not harboring any nuclear materials in accordance with their peace treaty with Crochet! magazine—and if they think they're man enough to come up here and verify that, bring it on. Lil Duncan is the commune Washington correspondent and there's not much you can do to dispute that.
| Emmitt Smith Let Go in Wake of ALF RumorsCowboys release running back amid puppet gossip March 3, 2003 |
Emmitt Smith, shortly after breaking Walter Payton's rushing record in 2002, gives a thank-you gesture to a special cat-eating friend in the audience (inset). ports fans were surprised by this week's announcement that Emmitt Smith would not return to the Dallas Cowboys for another season. Cowboys management and affiliates were quick to say Smith's talents were not diminishing, and the prime factor in their consideration was the running back's $9.8 million salary. However, some are pointing a finger to Smith's life off the field as the real cause.
"Everyone is more than a little curious about his relationship with ALF," said an anonymous Cowboy, dressed as a cowboy. "We're not suggesting there's more to it than it seems, but c'mon—it's weird. If it were that guy from Max Headroom or Morton Downey, Jr., it would be strange, but nobody would really think twice. Is it '80s nostalgia? What's going on there?"
Other...
ports fans were surprised by this week's announcement that Emmitt Smith would not return to the Dallas Cowboys for another season. Cowboys management and affiliates were quick to say Smith's talents were not diminishing, and the prime factor in their consideration was the running back's $9.8 million salary. However, some are pointing a finger to Smith's life off the field as the real cause.
"Everyone is more than a little curious about his relationship with ALF," said an anonymous Cowboy, dressed as a cowboy. "We're not suggesting there's more to it than it seems, but c'mon—it's weird. If it were that guy from Max Headroom or Morton Downey, Jr., it would be strange, but nobody would really think twice. Is it '80s nostalgia? What's going on there?"
Others are also alluding to Emmitt Smith's alleged friendship with '80s celebrity/puppet alien ALF as a trouble spot that turned Cowboys management against him. Smith and the puppet met on the set of a long-distance phone commercial last year and have reportedly been close friends since. Many close acquaintances of both insist the two share an innocent friendship, attending sporting events, barbecues, and enjoying movie rental marathons together; but as a high-profile sports celebrity in a country where human-puppet relationships are under close scrutiny, some say Smith has left too much unsaid for the comfort of many sports fans.
"Everybody's wondering about Dallas Cowboy Emmitt Smith and 4-foot sitcom hairball ALF!" reported a recent gossip-column we copied word for word. " They claim it's all just fun, but you can't believe everything ALF says! When was the last time you saw a four-time All-Pro and Super Bowl MVP bar-hopping with a cat-eating Muppet? You can forgive our curiosity, I'm sure!"
While some would feel better with clarification from Smith or his felt cohort, others insist it isn't public business.
"Whatever Emmitt and Grover do by themselves is their business," said Cowboy quarterback Quincy Carter. "He's a stand-up guy and one of the best players in the NFL. That thing he hangs out with gives me the creeps, yeah, and I want to punch its face in when it tells me to dial 10-10-321, but none of that makes a difference when you need a first-class running back. They never should have let him go."
In a phone interview, someone claiming to be ALF attempted to set the record straight.
"This is ridiculous, and everyone knows it," said the Melmackian. "Why would anyone sign up for one of those outrageous programs and be obligated to pay premium prices when they could dial 10-10-321 from anywhere and save major bucks on long-distance? All calls for 7 cents a minute, no weird schedules to remember, no hidden charges! That's a lot of money you can save—and that's a lot of cats!"
The phone was suddenly cut off after the sound of a door being broken open, and the heavy sound of punching ensued, leading us to believe Carter had broken in and made good on his threat to punch the puppet's face in. the commune news is the leader in rushing in our building, or perhaps the Russian leader… it's hard to remember. Boner Cunningham covers teens and sports for the commune—if there's ever breaking news on Sport Billy it goes to him without question.
| Study finds low I.Q. causes lead paint eating, not other way around |
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March 3, 2003 A Return to Nicenessthe commune's Thelma Reynolds asks you to kindly holster the revolver Voluminous volumes have been scribed about the decay of American moral values in the last 30 years. And one can hardly blame the writers. A quick peek through your wrought-iron window grills confirms the truth: it's mean out there. Where once America was nothing but promenade upon promenade of well-dressed and even-better-heeled Americans radiating goodwill and even-better-cheer, now a trip outside is more like American Gladiators week on That Jerry Springer Show.
Pundits have linked our present reality to a swan dive from the values of the Great Generation, though few have had the guts to tell those geezers that every generation calls itself that, even the flappers. And they were about as great as the work ethic on a cocaine farm. But still, sentimentalists pine for the days ...
º Last Column: º more columns
Voluminous volumes have been scribed about the decay of American moral values in the last 30 years. And one can hardly blame the writers. A quick peek through your wrought-iron window grills confirms the truth: it's mean out there. Where once America was nothing but promenade upon promenade of well-dressed and even-better-heeled Americans radiating goodwill and even-better-cheer, now a trip outside is more like American Gladiators week on That Jerry Springer Show.
Pundits have linked our present reality to a swan dive from the values of the Great Generation, though few have had the guts to tell those geezers that every generation calls itself that, even the flappers. And they were about as great as the work ethic on a cocaine farm. But still, sentimentalists pine for the days when Americans were good and the Japs were bad, not the great flip-flop of the 1980's when the opposite was true, or even today, when both Americans and Japanese are merely okay.
Back in the days after World War II things were more black and white, literally. A man stood by his word, unless he was a prick. And yes, there were pricks even back then. There have always been pricks, through the shores of time. There were pricks in the Garden of Eden! Two of them! There was a reason nobody ever came to visit Adam and Eve, you know.
Today, however, everyone is a prick. Even you. Don't argue, it just proves my point further. Gone are the days when strangers lent a helping hand and people called each other "friend." No, we've progressed through "pal," "bub" and "mac" on this increasingly sarcastic train to Pricksville. Now even "Jerk!" is seen as a friendly greeting, better that than "Hey fag-ass, get that piece of shit off the road!" or "Bitch, I said paper AND plastic!"
Back in kinder days, comedy was about making people feel good about themselves, thinking of funny ways to say how smart and good-looking someone was. Today, it's all about tearing down the fragile façade of someone's personality and copulating with their nose-hole in an aggressive fashion. Oh, what a lark.
These days the prevailing ethic is every man for himself, and women had better stay skinny to keep themselves useful. If I don't know you, you can suck on my nuts, greaseball. And God forbid you should drive your car like you own it and didn't just steal it out of a police impound lot. That's grounds for being run off the road in most states.
How did we get here? Was it the sixties? Or the eighties? Was it drugs, violence in the movies or sugar-coated breakfast cereals? Was it sex out of wedlock, on the beach or on a train with a fox? Or was it the Disney Channel? Was it the Three Stooges, or just one of them? Was it rap music, fast food or SUVs? Ooh, that's a good one. I hate those SUVs. They're so hard to park.
In truth, nobody can say exactly what it was that turned us all into card-carrying members of Jerks Anonymous. Maybe there are just too many people on the planet for us to be polite anymore. Too many things to do and places to be, and too many people in the way, driving seventeen miles an hour with the turn signal on. Maybe it was inevitable. But I'd like to think we can do better. Even when the world rubs us the wrong way, we need to rise above and treat all people with dignity and respect.
Unless they "borrowed" a section out of your newspaper without asking. Those people can just fucking die. º Last Column: º more columns |
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Milestones1978: Griswald Dreck's landmark third grade report "George Washington: Star of the Negro Leagues" creates a fervor in the classroom, leading to the firing of third grade teacher Anais Brockmiller and a thorough review of the state's history textbooks.Now HiringEunuch. No job really, just sit around and answer questions about what it's like to be a eunuch. Maybe take a blow to the groin to no effect every once in a while to impress office visitors and guests. Talking in a Mickey Mouse voice might be kinda funny too.Top Mike Tyson Hotel Brawl Excuses1. | Men insulted Tyson's little yappy dog. | 2. | "Dude reminded me that I raped his sister." | 3. | Tyson heard bell ring in lobby. | 4. | Victim reminded Mike of "Little Mac." | 5. | Men taunted Tyson with their delicious-looking ears. | |
| Kim Jong Il Claims U.S. Spy Plane Taking Nude PhotosBY laurence trundle lawrence 3/3/2003 Scream, You MonkeyScream, you monkey
like the wrath of all
bananas was on your ass
or like you just found out
your Visa card was rejected.
That's right, you ape
with your little hat and jacket
you thought you had it all figured out
not so smug now, are you, Mr. Jitters?
I saw the best mimes of my generation destroyed
by a mulatto with a flame thrower
and a huge man-eating whale with rubber tires
oh my God he's coming!
I can hear his pant legs rub together
like the breathing of asthmatic Neanderthals.
The night is smoking
shitty women's cigarettes
and slithering like a turd
out of a toothpaste tube.
I can hear it squeaking
across my chalkboard downstairs.
Scream, you monkey
like the wrath of all
bananas was on your ass
or like you just found out
your Visa card was rejected.
That's right, you ape
with your little hat and jacket
you thought you had it all figured out
not so smug now, are you, Mr. Jitters?
I saw the best mimes of my generation destroyed
by a mulatto with a flame thrower
and a huge man-eating whale with rubber tires
oh my God he's coming!
I can hear his pant legs rub together
like the breathing of asthmatic Neanderthals.
The night is smoking
shitty women's cigarettes
and slithering like a turd
out of a toothpaste tube.
I can hear it squeaking
across my chalkboard downstairs.
That's right, I own a chalkboard,
what's it to you?
Crazy people decorate my windows
I crazyglued them up there
at first I tried staples
but staples don't stick to glass
they really should mention that on the box
so you don't waste six bucks
on a huge box of staples that are no help.
Women, ha!
What do you want to know about women?
I read a book on women once.
It was confusing.
But there were pictures.
Women look good in pictures.
The fog sits on the city
like a big smelly blanket
with a cigarette burn hole
which has a plane flying through it
and skyscrapers poke the blanket
like boners or something
and also fog is wet.
I once saw a shoe full of blood
like a cup of soup
—but weird—
I wondered who was wearing that shoe
and who was wearing that blood
like socks on their veins
only on the inside
like inside-out socks.
Or actually their veins are more like the socks
and the blood is like the feet
so it's kind of funny there was blood in the shoe like that.
I talked to a man with a golden head
totally made of gold
I'm not shitting you, gold
okay maybe I am shitting you
but it's a poem, get over it
anyway, his head was made of gold
and he told me wonderful things
but I forgot them all because
I was just thinking of how much I could sell his head for.
And then the sun came up
like a piece of toast
and I buttered the sun.
And the monkey screamed
because he was hungry. |