resident George W. Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair were shocked into jovial amiability Saturday when their reception of the 2003 Nobel Peace Prize was interrupted by the revelation they had been "punk'd" by Ashton Kutcher and his gang of M-TV pranksters.

Punk'd, a modern-day celebrity-on-celebrity Candid Camera or the poor-man's Totally Hidden Video, features That '70s Show star Kutcher and other modern pop culture icons giving another fellow celebrity a good-natured razzing. The staged Nobel Peace Prize ceremony ended Saturday when Kutcher jumped out from nearby curtains to reveal Bush and Blair to be the latest superstars added to the Punk'd roster.

Blair was reportedly surprised, confused, and slightly disappointed to find out the Nobel Peace Prize was only a spirited gag. Bush was simply confused, and after several more minutes and an explanation that the show was much like the WB's Jamie Kennedy Experiment did he exhibit vague comprehending. Bush apparently did recognize Kutcher from Dude, Where's My Car? immediately, but merely thought he had shown up to support the president's reward.

"You should have seen your face!" Kutcher yelled when he leapt from behind the curtain, to which Bush responded, "It's Dude!"

The elaborate hoax began Thursday when Norwegian parliamentarian Jan Simonsen nominated the Iraq coalition pair for the Nobel Peace Prize. The entire world was surprised by the suggestion, given the history of traditionally awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to those who work to prevent war rather than lead into it, but once the nominating committee was let in on the joke by Punk'd co-star Dax Shepard, they agreed to go along with the gag.

"Frankly, it did surprise me," Blair said late Saturday, after the joke was revealed. "I understand the Nobel Prize nominations end around February 1^st, and the ceremonies are usually held in October rather than the Saturday after a nomination. Not to mention the fact we, the president and I, started a war entirely for political purposes without a shred of evidence. That didn't seem to be a normal Peace Prize prerequisite."

Kutcher, a fellow Tool fan, was brought in on the presidential prank by Bush daughters Jenna and Barbara, with a little help by former Vice-President Al Gore. He thought it only fair after the "punking" George W. and Jeb gave him in the 2000 election, with a little help from Katharine Harris.

"One good turn deserves another, Dubya—you been Punk'd, sucker!" said a possibly inebriated Gore via phone Saturday.

A solemn Bush, described by aids as a little sour but in general good spirits, interrupted network broadcasts Sunday night to apprise the country of the situation.

"Yes, America, the stories you have heard are true. I have been Punk'd by M-TV. The award I received was not a Nobel Peace Prize after all, but a leftover M-TV Movie Award never collected by Chris Tucker for the Best On-Screen Duo Category. The man awarding me the award was not the head of the Nobel Institute Director Geir Lundestad, but a young man Lance Bass of some singing group. As always, this administration accepts minor setbacks and tries to move on. In fact, I have since formed a committee to find out if these reports of weapons of mass destruction as yet unfound in Iraq might be part of some Osama bin Laden-hosted Al-Jazeera practical joke program."

nother blow, and not the good kind, for oil giant Halliburton, the company once ran by Dick Cheney and now just thrown big contract bonuses by the Vice-President: The company admitted to the Securities and Exchange Commission Thursday that it paid a direct bribe to the country of Nigeria for favorable tax status in 2001 and 2002.

The payments totaling 2.4 million were revealed in a filing with the SEC to be a bribe to receive preferential tax treatment and, according to Halliburton, "clearly violated our code of business conduct." For a company that welcomes no-bid multimillion-dollar contracts by former CEOs in prime political positions, it means the act of bribing a whole nation must have been especially nasty.

The periodic payments were left in a briefcase in a basement of an industrial complex in Nigeria's neighbor Cameroon. According to Nigerian insiders, the population of the country would sneak into Cameroon late at night when its residents were asleep, pick up the briefcase and count out the money evenly before returning, leaving the rest of the world none of the wiser.

An informant at the SEC said the Commission became suspicious when Halliburton and its subsidiaries started receiving extremely beneficial tax status, coinciding with the purchase of a large number of sports cars by Nigerian residents. The small African nation also purportedly put a generous down payment on a piece of California beachfront property that raised eyebrows at the SEC.

University of Maine African Studies Professor Djimon Mubatu said those familiar with Nigeria questioned some recent developments that pointed to bribery.

"When a country's population is wearing Goodwill jeans and league bowling shirts on Sunday and then all spontaneously start wearing Gucci suits and carrying Prada bags on Monday, it does constitute suspicious behavior," said Dr. Mubatu. "Bribery isn't the first thing to cross your mind—the last time we saw something like that was when Colombia started dealing drugs back in 1981. Then, Nigeria's kissing Halliburton ass like it's a statue of the Virgin Mary, you start to get the idea."

Punishment for Halliburton was being decided by the SEC at press time, but initial thoughts on how to penalize Nigeria began almost immediately. Some in Congress and the White House worry that allowing them to escape penalty will set a bad example for other Third World countries to accept bribes from other big beltway companies.

"Our first idea was to allow our corporations free access into the country to strip its natural resources for company profit and repay their people in the lowest wages possible," said Secretary of State Donald Rumsfeld, "but then we realized we had already been doing that for quite a while. More than likely we're looking at the idea of imposing ridiculous sanctions that only cause real harm to the poorest and most dependent citizens, leaving the wealthy and government officials basically untouched. Or failing that, military overthrow, but if we decide to go that route we'll probably wait until around, let's say, November of 2004."

The government may be dragging its heels on its chastisement of the previously-impoverished company, but others are already expressing dismay. If documentation can prove Nigeria's new wealth is a result of Halliburton bribery, officials from USA for Africa say they want all their proceeds given to the country from sales of "We Are the World" returned immediately.

The question we should all be asking, whether we know the answer or not, is this: who in the world was Mohandas K. Gandhi? Sure, you're heard the name. You may even remember his face from Mad Magazine's History, Schmistory issue from a few years back. But who was he, really, and why are half of my breakfast products named after him?

The answer is more complex than it is simple. Mohandas Gandhi was a cigar-chomping Indian entrepreneur with a short temper and a talent for the tall tale. His life left a mark on the world that's been tough to scrub off, which should be the goal of any great man.

Gandhi came to world prominence as the world's fattest man in the first ever Big Fat Olympics in 1931. There he trounced the competition by being really really fat. He cruised on the fame of being so fat for several years, but eventually even his big fat popularity began to wane. This is what always happens throughout history: one day you're on top of the world for being a big tub of lard and the next day it's what have you done for me lately, fatso?

Gandhi kicked this problem right in the pants when pulled off the bold move of losing all that weight and becoming really amazingly skinny. He then claimed he lost the weight eating chicken. Medical reports show this was partially true, since he had picked up an orca-sized tapeworm from some undercooked chicken in New Delhi. When the tapeworm was removed it was so large it got Gandhi's record collection and his apartment, while he opted to move into a smaller place across town.

Riding high on the wave of his being-skinny-now fame, Gandhi opened chain of chicken restaurants that did very well. Known as Colonel Gandhi to fans of his chicken, Mohandas sought then to branch out into other enterprises, including a line of mylar-bagged salads and a novelty record label that pressed edible LPs. Neither were as delicious as his chicken, but they did have their advocates.

Gandhi briefly considered starting a dance craze, but soon abandoned that dream in order to fulfill his true vision for India: that everyone everywhere should have access to delicious chicken. People cheered in the streets when they heard of his plan, and Gandhi became a national hero overnight.

Unfortunately, back in that day the British owned all of India, which they had won years ago shooting craps with the Ottoman Empire. And being the pricks that they historically were, the Brits didn't want all of India getting slap-happy with delicious chicken while they had to choke down disgusting pork drippings smeared on stale English muffins. The complete disgustingness of British cuisine ruled the fates of many a people in the 19th and early 20th centuries, since the Brits had to conquer far and wide just to find a decent bite to eat.

The British told Gandhi to buzz off with his succulent rotisserie chicken, and that the people of India would have to make do with the gelatinous gravy-soaked nasty crap that the Brits called food. Gandhi thought they were kidding, and continued happily with his franchise expansion plans until the British proved they meant business by killing everyone in India. Don't try to follow the logic there, that's just the way the British did things back then. Luckily for the Indians, the Brits didn't really have a clue where the Indian people hung out, so they only actually ended up killing everyone who was hanging out at the one British pub in India, most of whom were British people and tourists.

The next day the British were shocked and awed to find Indian people out walking around in the streets, and from that moment on, old wives' tales of Indian reproductive prowess became a staple in British schools.

Gandhi sought to fight the injustice of British oppression by opening more chicken restaurants. The people applauded his defiance, and enjoyed his chicken. Over the next several years the British tried several increasingly ridiculous methods of quelling the Indian uprising, including outlawing savory flavor, forcing all known Indians to wear tight-fitting trousers and spraying crowds with cottage cheese. None of these were effective, however, as the people's love of Gandhi's chicken proved lasting.

Eventually Gandhi's methods of delicious resistance gained popularity all over the world, and the British gave up, leaving India with several take-out boxes of mouth-watering chicken under their arms. The people would have rejoiced, but they were really full and figured that a vague thumbs-up gesture communicated their approval well enough.

Years later Gandhi was assassinated by a religious fanatic who believed that chicken so good it made your dick hard was against God's plan. He wasn't arrested, since India is more of a "you made your bed now sleep in it" kind of nation, and instead he was just banned from all 12,000 Colonel Gandhi's chicken locations. Amnesty International has tried to intervene on his behalf, as have the manufacturers of several fake-nose-and-mustache disguise kits, but despite their best efforts the assassin has lived for years in delicious chicken purgatory.

Some historians have argued that Gandhi, while a fun guy, was served too generous a slice of historical notoriety given his accomplishments. They often sing another tune, however, when really hungry. Such is human nature.

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