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 "Possible peace" accords marred by virtual terrorist December 8, 2003 |
Geneva, Switzerland Junior Bacon The site where pretend peace was shattered by a phony bomb, henceforth dubbed "hypothetical ground zero."
According to the abstract bomber, who unofficially represented the terrorist group Hamas, his pretend bombs were smuggled into the event under his real jacket, and were not detected by authentic security guards using actual equipment. Amidst a question-and-answer session during the questionably-viable peace accords, the alleged imaginary terrorist, who described himself as Carl Al-Viddig but says he was supposedly impossible to iden...
n unconfirmed number of individuals were hypothetically killed while many more, in theory, were wounded by a speculative terrorist attending Geneva accords Friday. The accords were held to design a potential peace plan to settle disputes between Israel and Palestine, though no representatives of either side attended the purely masturbatory debate.
According to the abstract bomber, who unofficially represented the terrorist group Hamas, his pretend bombs were smuggled into the event under his real jacket, and were not detected by authentic security guards using actual equipment. Amidst a question-and-answer session during the questionably-viable peace accords, the alleged imaginary terrorist, who described himself as Carl Al-Viddig but says he was supposedly impossible to identify from hypothetical dental records, stood up and announced he had set off a potential bomb.
"Everyone at the podium and those representing both sides, as well as everyone in a one-thousand-foot radius of myself has been blown to bits, in my mind," announced Al-Viddig.
The pretend peace talks came to an abrupt halt, and security instituted an immediate make-believe lockdown to prevent further attacks or imagined panic.
"This is a nightmare, not only for those of us who have been virtually killed, but all unofficial peacemakers out there," claimed former Palestinian official Yasser Abed Rabbo, one of the architects of the unofficial peace initiative. He could have been dead at 67.
The accords, held to debate the finer points of a potential peace solution to the age-old Israeli-Palestine conflict, and vehemently denounced by both actual governments involved in the dispute, was largely finished when they were practically ended in simulated catastrophe.
commune columnist Omar Bricks, acting as a bogus President Bush of the United States of Fantasy America, expressed deep regrets.
"This has been most uncool, and a tragedy we won't soon believe," said the stand-in leader of the free world. "Peace would have been kick-ass, I shit you not. Like my teachers used to tell me, it's a shame one fuck-up has to ruin it for everyone else." The acting Bush then fell to his knees and screamed they did it, they finally did it, damn them all to hell.
Not everyone was so quick to accept the fake peace process's defeat. Particularly, representatives of Geneva security lodged an official protest with the event holders and claimed there is no way Al-Viddig could have smuggled hypothetical weapons into the conference.
"He's always doing this, the fink," alleged Geneva Head of Security Stalton Humbladt. "Last year, when we had the speculative non-violent solution to the Iraq situation, he came in here carrying thirty pounds of imaginary plutonium, and we caught him. We locked him up in a holding cell and he then said he used a tiny microscopic laser hidden in his teeth, in theory, to cut through the bars and carry out his attack. We were like, 'Give it up, you're full of shit, Carl. Just accept defeat.'"
The peace accord architects, Rabbo and Israel's Yossie Beilin, agreed to hear both sides argue the issue and then decide whether or not the case could go on to a kangaroo court. the commune news has visualized a better future, where our news is the fastest, most reliable, and most profitable news source ever, but in the scenario none of us were working here, so we dropped it quick. Raoul Dunkin loves pumpkin.
 | Comic Relief Sends 10,000 Tons of Onions to AfricaNovember 24, 2003 |
Addis Abeba, Ethiopia COMIC RELIEF Comic Relief hosts Billy Crystal, Whoopi Goldberg and Robin Williams are busy planning the organization’s next benefit: Guns for Seniors
Comic Relief’s gift is thought to be the funniest aid Africa has received since the USA for Africa fundraiser in 1985 collected over $60 million to pay for mayonnaise and other highly-perishable foodstuffs to taunt the hungry of that famine-plagued continent.
“I remember seeing USA for Africa on the news back in 1985 and thinking ‘That’s fucking hilarious! Why didn’t we think of that?’” remembers comedian and Comic Rel...
fter years of providing fart-powder-drenched meals for the homeless, the humanitarian organization Comic Relief completed its latest drive this month by sending huge quantities of useless onions and garnish to starving families in Africa, in what is believed to be the largest-ever gag gift in the history of charitable donations.
Comic Relief’s gift is thought to be the funniest aid Africa has received since the USA for Africa fundraiser in 1985 collected over $60 million to pay for mayonnaise and other highly-perishable foodstuffs to taunt the hungry of that famine-plagued continent.
“I remember seeing USA for Africa on the news back in 1985 and thinking ‘That’s fucking hilarious! Why didn’t we think of that?’” remembers comedian and Comic Relief host Robin Williams. “They got all these people to call in and pledge money, did the song and everything, and then they spent it all on shit that went bad in like twenty minutes! Then the real stroke of genius is when they put it trucks with bald tires and set them loose all over Africa to get stuck in the mud and capsize, and then the drivers ate most of the food. Too funny! I only hope we’re remembered as well.”
Comic Relief, founded in 1986 by comedian Bob Zmuda as a gut-busting way to help the homeless, sought in its 17th year to make a new splash by taking their “leave ‘em laughing” credo to an international level. Early indications are that this giving spirit is spreading, as Comedy Central has already pledged to match Comic Relief’s donations dollar-for-dollar, providing impoverished Africans with ketchup and A-1 sauce to go with their hilariously inedible feast of onions and garnish.
“At first we were thinking of sending them some really nasty food, like liver or something, but then we realized that would just be mean,” explained comedian and Comic Relief regular Billy Crystal, whose humanitarian work has been funnier than his movies for years. “They could actually eat that crap, and that wouldn’t be funny, just sad. I mean, how would you like it if you were starving to death and some wiseass acts like he’s being all generous, then gives you something gross your mom used to make you eat? Blech.”
“It was way funnier to just give them a shitload of onions, because what are they going to do with those? They’re pretty good for seasoning other food, but what other food?” Crystal chuckled, shrugging his shoulders in a “Who knows?” gesture. “You should have seen those guys when the trucks pulled up and all those onions came tumbling out the back! They kept waiting expectantly as each new truck pulled up, thinking one of them had to be the steak or French fries truck, but then each one would open up and it was ‘Nope! More onions!’ Ha ha. Ah… well, maybe you had to be there.”
The presidents of Ethiopia, Zimbabwe and Nigeria issued a public thank you to Comic Relief last Thursday, praising the group for their giving hearts and strong sense of starvation-themed humor. The statement was followed by an expectant pause, as if the African leaders were each expecting Comic Relief to recognize their ability to appreciate a good joke and in turn reveal where the actual food was. All three were still waiting on stage when the Comic Relief representative in attendace sounded off an electric fart box, then in the ensuing commotion ducked out a back fire escape, leaving the building. the commune news knows what its like to be hungry, which is why we keep starving people out of our staff pantry, since we’ve learned the hard way that you can’t trust a dying man around your Cheetos. Ivan Nacutchacokov has been sensitive to the plight of the hungry ever since his exposure to the game Hungry Hungry Hippos as a child, and as a result he always carries giant gumballs with him whenever he’s on safari.
| Mark Buckles Some Sort of Cockwad Everyone kind of a little relieved Bob Hope finally dead Yale bombed, Harvard too drunk to walk home Study finds low I.Q. causes lead paint eating, not other way around |
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 December 8, 2003 The Straw that Broke the Camel's Backby Omar Bricks: the commune's own Bay of Pigs When a guy sticks a gun in your ribs and says "Alright buddy, that's the straw that broke the camel's back!" you really have to wonder. What kind of crazy camel-killing fucker am I dealing with here?
Seriously, what kind of sadistic asshole cripples any large, hooved animal under an avalanche of straws? Even as a figure of speech? That's just insane.
That's a shitload of straws, when you think about it. Who has this many straws, nevermind the need to transport them? And couldn't he have sold a few of them to buy a cart instead of piling them all on the camel's back like some cruel moron? Who are the crazy bastards who were using camels to carry straws, anyway? Was this a common occurrence at some point in history? To the best of my knowledge camels hang out in the...
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When a guy sticks a gun in your ribs and says "Alright buddy, that's the straw that broke the camel's back!" you really have to wonder. What kind of crazy camel-killing fucker am I dealing with here?
Seriously, what kind of sadistic asshole cripples any large, hooved animal under an avalanche of straws? Even as a figure of speech? That's just insane.
That's a shitload of straws, when you think about it. Who has this many straws, nevermind the need to transport them? And couldn't he have sold a few of them to buy a cart instead of piling them all on the camel's back like some cruel moron? Who are the crazy bastards who were using camels to carry straws, anyway? Was this a common occurrence at some point in history? To the best of my knowledge camels hang out in the desert, and if there's nothing to drink there then what in the hell do they need the straws for? And where were those PETA freaks when all these camels' backs were being snapped? I can't even drive around with a dog on the hood of my car without getting grief from those people, and Foghat loves that shit.
commune research editor Griswald Dreck tells me they didn't even have straws back in camel days, but I'm pretty sure he's shitting me about that. We have this running joke between us where he gives me shit and I mail him naked pictures of his sister I bought on eBay. It goes way back, don't even ask.
I mean, how could they not have straws? I'm sure there are a few wiseasses in the crowd who are thinking "Cuz they hadn't invented them yet, dick!" in the voice of that giant cartoon dog Goofy. Real slick, goofballs. How do you invent a straw? That's bullshit, it's like inventing a brick. Didn't happen. That's like an award they give out in Special Ed class, "Congratulations Benny, you invented the straw!" Whoopie.
I've invented the straw dozens of times when I was stuck at home with no way to suck up a beverage, and nobody threw me a parade. Half a ballpoint pen usually does the trick pretty nicely, though a rolled-up magazine will sometimes work in a pinch. Best to read the magazine first though, because good luck on reading that thing after you've used it to suck up a wine cooler. Really, the best thing is to use your neighbor Mitch's Reader's Digest or some recipe book you accidentally grabbed at the grocery store checkout because you thought it contained the secrets of the Tarot or some shit. Those take less sucking power since they're short and you're not likely to shed any tears over the polar rescue story you didn't get to read or that you don't know how to make a crabcake.
Dreck insists that they really didn't have straws back then, and that he seriously isn't getting me back for the time I got sick in his bowling bag. He says back then when you wanted to take a drink on the go you soaked a sock in it and then took the sock with you to suck on. If that's true, all I can say is sucks to be from the past. Goddamn. I can just see the commercial on TV where some N*Sync loser is telling me to suck the Coke out of his socks. No thanks, bud.
I still say there had to have been straws. You can't tell me nobody ever stumbled across a stick with a hole in it and then dunked it in his goat's blood or whatever they were drinking back then. If nothing else there were a bunch of straw-inventing motherfuckers wherever the hell bamboo is from. I'd put money down on that.
Now I just know this shit's going to keep me up at night until I can get down to the zoo to see exactly how many straws we're talking about here, and how in the hell you balance them on the back of a camel. Great.
Bricks out. º Last Column: Don't Believe the Hypeº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“Communication leads to community, that is, to understanding, intimacy and mutual valuing.”
-Free-Rome Cell Phone AdvertisementFortune 500 CookieTurns out you should have shot the deputy, too. This week will seem a lot like last week, only with less scabies. Remember, no good deed goes unpunished, and dirty deeds are done dirt cheap. Paulie? Fuck Paulie.
Try again later.Top 5 Ways for a Fantatic to Honor Favorite Musician| 1. | Break into house; masturbate in the bathtub. | | 2. | Nothing says "I love you" like your name in scar tissue | | 3. | Dress like Hootie. Talk like Hootie. Be Hootie. | | 4. | What the fuck—kill him so he can never make any more wonderful music. | | 5. | Talk loudly at parties about how much better his early work was. | |
|   Experts Fear Extinction for Thousands of Bullshit Species BY roland mcshyster 11/24/2003 Hello, America! Curious about what Hollywood's been hoarding in their vaults, waiting to spring on an unsuspecting public this fine Thanksgiving season? I hear ya squawking big chicken. Let's take a look and see if we can't separate the gobble from the sound turkeys make when they're not happy. On to the movies!
In Theaters
21 Grams of Fat
Cuban heartthrob Mauricio Del Toro sweats up the screen opposite sniveling wiener Sean Penn in this harrowing tale of a Subway sandwich gone wrong. Fans have been clamoring for years to know the juicy background story on how mumbling hunk Del Toro got so goddamned sloppy fat for his role of Big Fat Slob Lawyer #1 in the 1960's classic Feral Loving in Las Vegas, and t...
Hello, America! Curious about what Hollywood's been hoarding in their vaults, waiting to spring on an unsuspecting public this fine Thanksgiving season? I hear ya squawking big chicken. Let's take a look and see if we can't separate the gobble from the sound turkeys make when they're not happy. On to the movies!
In Theaters
21 Grams of Fat
Cuban heartthrob Mauricio Del Toro sweats up the screen opposite sniveling wiener Sean Penn in this harrowing tale of a Subway sandwich gone wrong. Fans have been clamoring for years to know the juicy background story on how mumbling hunk Del Toro got so goddamned sloppy fat for his role of Big Fat Slob Lawyer #1 in the 1960's classic Feral Loving in Las Vegas, and this year they finally get their wish. 21 Grams of Fat tells the true story of Del Toro's innocent stop at a roadside Subway franchise and the Caramelized Gyro-Meat Sub that freakishly ballooned his ass up to Limbaughian proportions within minutes. Penn plays the pencil-necked counter jockey who sold him the sub, and the resulting tale or revenge and recrimination will leave you popping your heart medication and reaching for a thesaurus. If you've ever followed a fast food worker home and cut down the door to his mom's house with a skill saw in a berserk, flabby rage, then this is the movie for you. Unless that brings up some unpleasant memories, which is understandable. So maybe it's better if you've never done such a think and can just enjoy the film vicariously.
Battlestar Gothica
It has always struck me that Halle Berry missed her true calling by never starring in a bad Sci-Fi series, so it's comforting to see her finally correct fate's oversight. Answering the never-before-addressed question of what would happen if somebody went crazy in space, Battlestar Gothica also proves that while Halle Barry's increasingly public assets can spice up a routine action flick or a dull party, they do little to lend credibility to an ill-conceived space drama.
Black Santa
In what may possibly go down as the most offensive holiday movie ever filmed (notching in ahead of even Elvis' Dead Blue Christmas, Rudolph Giuliani in Red-Nosed Rehab and the chairman of the board, Santa Claus Cocksucks the Martians), Black Santa features redneck delight Billy Bob Thornton in riot-inducing blackface, stealing a role that probably should have gone to Eddie Murphy, DMX, or Whoopie Goldberg with a sock in her jockeys. Instead it's Thornton creeping down chimneys to deliver presents, only to be chased screaming out of the house and gunpoint in a world that's not ready to accept the fact that Santa is actually a black man. It's not easy being a black Santa in a white world, and it's really not easy sneaking your white ass out of the theater after watching two hours of white folks chasing a bag-toting black man across their lawn with a shotgun. I thought I was going to get some reparations stamped into the back of my skull for sure. Luckily for me there weren't any black people at the screening, though I'm not sure how eager other racial groups are for a sympathy riot. The two Korean women who were in the theater when I saw this one didn't seem too upset, at least not violently so, but I think I may have just caught them unprepared when I hit that fire door full tilt just before the credits rolled.
Dr. Seuss Shat in a Hat
At least they weren't pretending that the latest Dr. Seuss grave-robbery is anything but a crime against humanity when they named this cinematic turd du jour so fittingly. Mike Meyers picks up the grave-pissing-oning where fellow maladjusted Canadian Jim Carrey left off in this colorful assault on all that is decent and holy, striking a blow for the forces of shit everywhere. Learning a lesson from Now the Grinch Stole Christmas!, a film that made decent bank but alienated a generation of Dr. Seuss fans who remembered the book actually being good, this time around the filmmakers have chosen a title that suggests Seuss's original book sucked anyway, to give the impression that the film doesn't really ruin anything and you can buy your Shat in a Hat-themed tie-in pacemakers, burp rags, shotgun ammunition, prostate medication and other assorted shwag free of guilt. Thanks for freeing me from this burdensome faith in humanity, fellas.
The Haunted Manson
Apparently Eddie Murphy was unavailable for Black Santa because he had a prior commitment to keeping his cold streak going with The Haunted Manson, the first in what promises to be a long line of uninspired Being John Malkovich knock-offs. With all of that film's stoned reasoning and none of its charm, The Haunted Manson saddles Murphy and his cereal-commercial family with a distant cousin visiting from out of town, who seems at first to be a run-of-the-mill former cult leader and serial-killing ex-con, but turns out—just their luck!—to be haunted. Murphy's pretty funny as the stuffed shirt dealing with Manson's unexpected quirks and celebrity-murdering eccentricities, and Sean William Scott is loveably batshit as the baked noodle Manson. The CGI could have been better, as several of the dismembered bodies in the film are obvious fakes, but the picture is aimed squarely at a family audience that rarely scrutinizes such details.
Timeline
Don't you hate it when your dad accidentally goes back in time a thousand years and all he brings you back is a lousy pair of woolen undershorts? Such is the lament of whoever the nameless dweeb is that they stuck in the lead role of this painfully average paean to teenage lament. Apparently not only is it dangerously uncool to have a scientist for a dad, but if he doesn't bring you an awesome sword or golden goose or something back from medieval times, you might as well just curl up and die somewhere, gawd.
It just occurred to me indeed, that I forgot to heed, Universal's demand that all reviews, and all accounts in the news, of Dr. Seuss Shat in a Hat be written in verse, so they might to nurse, the last bit of magic from that tit, before we all come to despise it, so here it goes: the movie blows. You're welcome.   |
