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Over 200 Heretics Arrested in New York City ProtestBig Apple plays host to crybaby war-hating hippies March 31, 2003 |
New York City, NY Whit Pistol Throngs of unbelievers harangue the city that never sleeps, with extremely wordy signs and bored expressions.
The incident was one of many that seemed to accelerate since the start of the war, the whateverth of March, 2003. Despite support of biblical proportions from the American public that accompanies the inception of every war, small cells of protestors have continued heresy in ...
arring factions in the corporeal world clashed Thursday as police arrested 215 blasphemers expressing anti-American sentiments. More than 150 were hosting a "die-in" where they laid down in the street and did a poor impression of dead Iraqi civilians and U.S. troops, while the mathematical remainder of those 215 were melodramatically hosting a funeral procession. All of it was quite a disgusting site to those who like their country, as well as those who found their caricature of the dead highly offensive.
The incident was one of many that seemed to accelerate since the start of the war, the whateverth of March, 2003. Despite support of biblical proportions from the American public that accompanies the inception of every war, small cells of protestors have continued heresy in cities around the country. Over 200,000 deviants have been arrested everywhere from San Francisco to New York City, though primarily San Francisco, for their refusal to accept the edicts handed down by the administration.
"Protesting before the war was one thing. But now that it has started, it's important to get behind our president and give up their own opinions for the sake of showing the world a unified front," said this reporter. "Back in my day, it was more important to believe your president was doing the right thing than to risk possibly thinking he might not have a clue what he was doing."
Across the country, other groups of pro-Bush protestors protested the protestors protesting the Iraq War. As obligatorily mentioned in every article on anti-war sentiment, protestors of administration actions have been met with equally vehement gatherings rallying to support U.S. involvement in Iraq.
"I just think that the president wouldn't go to war if there wasn't a good reason," said stay-at-home mom twelve-year-old Becky Surrey of Burkutt, Missouri. "That's the kind of thing Saddam Hussein would do. You've heard he gasses his own people, right?"
Demonstrators holding signs saying, "Iraq needs a regime change!" and "Support the troops!" as well as other Bush administration sound bytes, have turned out in, let's just say, record numbers to counter the sacrilege.
"If they love Iraq so much, why don't they move over there and live there and protest?" said Hoyt, Arizona truck loader Darryl Gavin. "Because they'd get killed there. They're lucky to live in a country where they can say whatever they want. So they should shut-up and support the war like the rest of us."
The White House, rather than allowing war efforts to be distracted with arguments, has wisely chosen to ignore protestors in the U.S. and the millions worldwide. Others, however, are quick to step up to the administration's defense.
"The Bush administration has strong evidence Iraq has weapons of mass destruction, and it's a shame that so many Americans are so mistrustful that they demand to see such evidence," said White House publicist Fox News in a released statement. "Everyone is allowed the right to their opinion, but they're wrong."
"Independent" news agency CNN expressed a different view.
"The main thing the United States needs right now is a clear, objective report on the war's impact, both here and abroad," said a broad, some pretty anchor thing. "There are two sides to every story, and it's CNN's responsibility to report that. Are people still protesting the war because they're radicals who hate everything the United States does, or are they simply uninformed? It's important to maintain that balanced perspective." the commune news is never afraid to tackle an issue, but we would be afraid to tackle Emmitt Smith. Again. Mordecai "Three Finger" Brown has been dead longer than most of you have been alive, and assures us even reporting for the commune is more fun than facing that cold, numbing darkness again.
 | Officials Report Ass-Rape of Iraq Going WellEarly setbacks inconsequential in overall sodomy plan March 31, 2003 |
Washington, DC Cody 'Deathwish' Weisbaum No worries, phallic attack is thrusting forward as planned
"U.S. Forces have penetrated Iraq's supple, moist labia of forces and are thrusting toward Baghdad as we speak," confided a disturbingly lusty Gen. Harold Jonas. "We're confident we'll have this bitch putting out by the end of the month."
However, critics of U.S. military planning, including several Gulf War veterans, have suggested that ground forces should have been fortified with at least one more big-dicked Army division before the attacks began.
"The U.S. is coming in like Frasier's wimpy brother Niles, when we should be coming in like Ron fuckin' ...
mid reports of increasing U.S. casualties and slowed progress against Iraqi military targets, U.S. officials have made public assurances that the ass-rape of Iraq is proceeding according to schedule.
"U.S. Forces have penetrated Iraq's supple, moist labia of forces and are thrusting toward Baghdad as we speak," confided a disturbingly lusty Gen. Harold Jonas. "We're confident we'll have this bitch putting out by the end of the month."
However, critics of U.S. military planning, including several Gulf War veterans, have suggested that ground forces should have been fortified with at least one more big-dicked Army division before the attacks began.
"The U.S. is coming in like Frasier's wimpy brother Niles, when we should be coming in like Ron fuckin' Jeremy," confided retired Army Gen. Barry R. Wade, wearing a Fuck 'em all and let God sort 'em out tee shirt purchased at a recent gun show. "Frankly, I just don't see how this limp, flaccid attack force is going to strike ass-raping terror into the hearts of the Iraqis. The Iraqis should be wet with fear at the awe-inspiring sight of our throbbing, gargantuan member. Forces. Member forces."
When asked what in the hell he was talking about, Gen. Wade accused this reporter of being unpatriotic, and possibly homosexual. A long, uncomfortable silence followed.
Army Maj. Gen. Stanley McChrystal, vice chief of operations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, assured reporters that the U.S. forces were doing fine as presently configured. "You'd be surprised, our boys are doing alright. We've presently got Iraq's skirt up around its waist, with some early reports of penetration. There's been heavy breathing around Nasiriyah and Basra. Iraq's firm, luscious tits have been thoroughly felt-up and it's only a matter of time before she's screaming 'America! America!' at the top of her lungs."
Asked to explain the situation without all of the dense military jargon, McChrystal looked confused for a second then made a vague "humping" motion with his hands and pelvis for the benefit of reporters.
"Besides," McChrystal added nervously, "the current U.S. forces aren't that small."
"The simple fact of the matter is, bigger is always better when it comes to the American military package," countered Gen. Wade with a slightly crazed look in his eye. "The military's current 'Motion of the Ocean' attack plan, based on superior training and battlefield intelligence, can never substitute for an all-out full frontal double-penetration. The whole works: Longjohn helicopter gunships, B12 Cockshocker missiles, Bradley Cherrypoppers… with that overwhelming military girth, Iraq would have no choice but to surrender to our rhythmic military maneuvers. Then that teasing bitch nation would get what's coming to it. Sure, there might be collateral damage to the panties of the region, but that's to be expected. As presently configured, we run the serious risk of prematurely ejaculating, militarily, before reaching Baghdad."
Before being allowed to leave his basement rec room, this reporter was obligated to bear witness to Gen. Wade's private collection of "military training" videos, which included brightly colored covers and titles like Bunker Busters, Operation Desert Sodomy and The Sexual Liberation of Kuwait. the commune news, twelve times more likely to be part of the story than the average news source. Truman Prudy is the commune's prodigal reporter, back from a recent kidnapping and the general uninvestigated assumption that he was dead. the commune news would welcome Prudy back, but he'll probably have disappeared again by the time anyone reads this, so nevermind.
| Study finds low I.Q. causes lead paint eating, not other way around |
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 March 31, 2003 I Hate Old Moviesthe commune's Omar Bricks wants no part in your zombie recruitment films I don't know who passed the law saying you've got to love old movies or else you're a shithead, but I think they suck. Christ, half of them aren't even in color. It's just a bunch of pasty white guys standing around saying shit like "That was the last monkey in Montenegro," and drinking bourbon.
Now you know Omar Bricks is down with drinking bourbon. I don't even need an excuse like my son died or it's Tuesday or whatever, like most guys. I put bourbon in my soup, 'nuff said there. But watching some old dude who's been dead for fifty years drinking bourbon while he looks serious and silently works on forming a hemorrhoid isn't exactly my idea of a great way to spend a Saturday night.
The problem with most old movies is that jack shit happens in them. People jus...
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I don't know who passed the law saying you've got to love old movies or else you're a shithead, but I think they suck. Christ, half of them aren't even in color. It's just a bunch of pasty white guys standing around saying shit like "That was the last monkey in Montenegro," and drinking bourbon.
Now you know Omar Bricks is down with drinking bourbon. I don't even need an excuse like my son died or it's Tuesday or whatever, like most guys. I put bourbon in my soup, 'nuff said there. But watching some old dude who's been dead for fifty years drinking bourbon while he looks serious and silently works on forming a hemorrhoid isn't exactly my idea of a great way to spend a Saturday night.
The problem with most old movies is that jack shit happens in them. People just stand around and talk about things they should do. "We should hijack a blimp and have a gun fight while being dragged behind a train by our shoelaces!" "No, I'm too old and slow for that. Let's just drink some more bourbon." "Good idea." I don't know what in the hell was up with people back then, if they were too worn out and lazy after World War II or what, but they were pretty boring to watch.
And the directors back then didn't help either. Nowadays if you shoot some pregnant chick in a movie, they zoom the camera right into her belly to show that there's some gnarly animated fetus in there. Nice! In old movies they'd just have some white guy say: "You've shot my wife, who was with child. I am understandably upset." And then some other chick would get hysterical and pass out.
That was basically the only role for women in old movies, spazzing out when shit went wrong. Like if war broke out or it rained. And then some bland guy with a paralyzed colon has to get the shit done, by way of talking. You'd be forgiven for dropping dead from the excitement.
Tight-asses can complain all they want about shrinking attention spans these days, but Omar Bricks says the attention spans of yesterday were overrated. Retards have long attention spans too, you know. Moviemakers cashed in on this by padding their movies out with scenes that dragged on for days. People would talk, and then the camera would hang around for a few minutes in case they had anything else to say. And there was no music unless the credits were rolling or people were dancing. If people were dancing they'd dance so long you'd feel like you went to the prom with a broken leg.
The basic lesson of all old movies was that all white people are claymation robots. No wonder minorities don't trust us; they probably think we run on D-cells. It's hard enough for the rest of us to tell the real white people from the actual claymation robots, like Dave Thomas from Wendy's or Ernest Borgnine. Without inborn cauca-dar, I bet it's nearly impossible.
Not that I think old movies should be banished forever or driven off a cliff in a clown car or anything hilarious like that. If we didn't have old movies, film critics would have to start liking modern movies, which would piss them off for sure. Then those fancy pricks would be no better than the rest of us, and they'd have to join a comet cult or something. Or else find new ways to complain about modern movies, like saying they're not as much fun as going ice-skating or kayaking.
I just want people to get off my jock when I suggest that the original Ocean's Eleven can suck my brat pack or when I say I prefer Marky Mark getting his funkies in a bunch in the new Planet of the Apes over the saggy-assed rubber apes of the original. Nobody complains when I pick my cousin over my grandpa as a partner in the Bricks Ultimate Family Reunion Fighting Challenge every couple of years, but I guess it's cool to like old movies more than you like old people. Hypocrites.
Bricks out. º Last Column: Way to Screw Up the Whole World with Your Religionº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“Christ on a bike! Did anybody else see that guy that looked just like Jesus Christ riding by on a bicycle a minute ago?”
-LeVonn MarthersFortune 500 CookieLast week was your best week; sorry we're late getting to you about that. From here on out, your life's gonna be shit on chips. Your dreams of becoming a major baseball star will be derailed this week by the fact that you couldn't hit a cow in the ass with a shovel. Stop using the term "Gay Bash," at once: it does not mean a fun party for homosexuals. This week's lucky Bings: Crosby, Chandler, Bada, cherries, the sound of a superball being shot out of an air cannon into an old woman's neck flap.
Try again later.Top 5 Worst Zen Koans| 1. | What is the sound of two dogs fucking? | | 2. | If a tree falls in the woods, doesn't it kill a shitload of ants? | | 3. | Say, what's the meaning of life? | | 4. | Worms have no eyebrows—think about that for a minute | | 5. | (tie) Where's the beef?/Shut the fuck up | |
|   U.S. Suspects Double is Standing in for Hussein  BY roland mcshyster 3/31/2003 Holy movie overload, America! Like most of us, Hollywood is doing a little spring-cleaning this week, but instead of dragging unused exercise equipment and boxes of used pornography to the curb, they're dragging their excess cinema to the, well… Cinema. That's what they call movie theaters over in Europe, unless they're showing skin flicks. They call those places Fuckhausen, which if you ask me is much better than the obvious alternative of Skinema. Because that just sounds gross. Enough of that though, we have no time to waste on Europe this week. Too many movies!
In Theaters
Ass! Ass! National Tango!
Either a bold career move by star Robert Duvall, or else the product of a Duvallian drun...
Holy movie overload, America! Like most of us, Hollywood is doing a little spring-cleaning this week, but instead of dragging unused exercise equipment and boxes of used pornography to the curb, they're dragging their excess cinema to the, well… Cinema. That's what they call movie theaters over in Europe, unless they're showing skin flicks. They call those places Fuckhausen, which if you ask me is much better than the obvious alternative of Skinema. Because that just sounds gross. Enough of that though, we have no time to waste on Europe this week. Too many movies!
In Theaters
Ass! Ass! National Tango!
Either a bold career move by star Robert Duvall, or else the product of a Duvallian drunk-fest lost weekend, Ass! Ass! National Tango! is a stupefyingly bizarre new film that establishes writer/director/star Duvall as the Japanese David Lynch. And yeah, I know he's not Japanese, but how else can you explain that title? Or the fact that half of the roles in the film are played by roller-skating apes? Reviewing this film is like trying to review a dream, or a sexual encounter with a great white shark. Good luck there. Over half the film is instruction on what you should bring with you if you want to have a nice picnic. The rest is like a cross between Last Tango in Paris, Tango & Cash and the commercial where that guy wakes up hung-over in bed with the Budweiser Clydesdales. Weird.
Bringing Down the House
Steve Martin's trail of tears continues, as apparently whoever has been picking his scripts for him lately still has Martin's wife and kids in an undisclosed location with guns to their heads. You've got to feel bad for Martin, no doubt, but the real victims in all of this are his fans, since I highly doubt Steve has actually sat through any of the shitty movies he's been in lately. Sure, you wouldn't be crazy to suggest that his kidnapped family are victims too, that's fair enough. But wherever they are, they still probably haven't seen Bringing Down the House, since even kidnappers have a conscience. That, and I imagine it's pretty difficult to bring kidnapping victims to the movies, as people have enough trouble with their own kids and elderly relatives. Having someone hog-tied and with a pillowcase over their head tagging along while you're trying to find a seat in the dark and then they need you to carry them to the bathroom would probably sour you on the whole experience even before the Coke commercials were over.
Dreamcatcher
You know gay cinema has hit a saturation point when they start naming big-budget films after gay slang terms that most breeders would completely miss. The name fits the film however, a bizarre parable about the search for Mr. Right. Only in this case Mr. Right turns out to be some weird alien thing that explodes out of people's asses and makes everyone in a one-mile radius overact. I'm not sure exactly what symbolic significance this has within the gay dating culture, but the alien is pretty badass.
The Hunted
CrĂĽe drummer Tommy Lee and Benecio Del Toro of riding mower fame star in this remake of the popular "stupid French skunk in love" cartoons from the 1940's. The stunt casting might seem a misfit at first, but Del Toro is perfect as the horn-dogging Pepe and Lee is scarily convincing as the hot chick skunk who always seems to have a headache.
Piglet's Big Movement
Residents of The Hundred Acre Woods are suffering from a serious case of the heebie jeebies after Piglet takes a shit the size of an El Camino. Everybody wants to ask him about it, for the sake of curiosity and the public health; only nobody knows a tactful way to bring it up. A lot of soul-searching ensues before Pooh is finally elected to solve the mystery, since with his name the matter seems to fall under his jurisdiction. After some funny misunderstandings and adventures, Pooh finally discovers that Piglet didn't shit at all; Eeyore just fell asleep in a mud bath. Disney's latest is fun for the whole family, though it make be too graphic for any conservative senators in the family.
Tears of the Sun
Let me be the first, or at least the most recent, to say that this is a really stupid name for a movie. It sounds all poetic at first, and you imagine Bruce Willis saying some shit so beautiful it makes the sun cry, like he does in all his movies. But then when you stop and think about it, it's just insane. Even if the sun really did come to life with a face and start flinging scoops of raisins all over the place, and then Bruce said some sappy high-school graduation speech nonsense that made the sun cry, it wouldn't be some beautiful poignant moment like you'd think. It would be hell on earth! Those would be some molten, flaming tears that would fuck up everything in sight, burning right through houses and orphanages and there'd be car alarms going off all over the place. Thanks a lot, Bruce! Asshole.
Willard
I always knew there was something not quite right with Willard Scott, but I never would have imagined he controlled a huge legion of nasty killer rats. I just thought he probably wore panties or was secretly in the KKK or something. The grisly truth snuck up on me like I was a drunk virgin on prom night. I guess it just goes to show that just because you're optimistic and give people the benefit of the doubt, that doesn't mean they're going to play along just to keep you from looking stupid.
That's the column this week, gents and gentiles. The Oscars are worm-food until next year, but we're still frolicking through the meadow, picking delicious movie melons from the melon tree. Be sure to check back next issue for more of the smoky bacon flavor you've come to crave.   |
