en. Hillary Rodham Clinton apologized this week for referring to Indian leader Mahatma Gandhi as a "cock-smoking son of a bitch" in a speech at a Democratic fund-raiser earlier in the month. Insisting the statement was taken out of context, the former first lady explained that she was merely attempting to liven up her speech by making humorous reference to the deceased leader's man-pleasing proclivities.

Clinton's bizarre comments came while speaking in support of Senate candidate Nancy Farmer. The former first lady introduced the aspiring senator to the fund-raiser crowd with a comparison to Gandhi, suggesting that both had blown more men than the A-bomb. The stunned silence of the room turned to nervous laughter when the former first lady followed her comment with an explanatory "blow job" facial expression using her tongue and cheek.

The resultant public outcry once newspapers picked up on the story led to a prompt public retraction from the New York senator.

"Mahatma Gandhi was a great man, and I sincerely apologize if I ever gave any indication to the contrary," Sen. Clinton stated in apology. "He was a true gift to humanity."

"You can ask anybody whose choad he smoked," added Clinton after a brief pause.

The outrage incensed by Clinton's previous statements flared up like a gas-soaked Buddhist monk when word of her apology hit the street.

"I'm visibly offended," blustered Tonight Show joke writer George Mattson. "Everybody knows Gandhi material is my thing. If she thinks she can horn in on my comedic territory, she's got another thing coming. I've got years worth of 'Damn, Chelsea Ugly' jokes saved up. Years. Also I've also been meaning to say that Hillary looks suspiciously like she should be Bill's mother. Now I'm going to say it."

"Hillary has been trying to inject humor into her public persona lately," explained publicist Aria Hershberg. "She's understandably tired of coming off as the prototypical lesbian stuffed shirt in mannish shoes, and who can blame her? Just play along, trust me. She's still new at this and it can take a while for an adult to develop a personality belatedly, just give her a little time. And actually I thought the thing she said about the giraffe's gynecologist was kind of funny. Maybe you had to be there."

Displaying a unique talent for shoveling shit straight into an oncoming hurricane, Sen. Clinton has dug herself deeper with each successive quote following the incident.

"Listen, listen, I have admired the work and life of Mahatma Gandhi and have spoken publicly about that many times," explained Clinton at a recent charity dinner. "What I said the other day was just a lame attempt at humor. I sincerely apologize for suggesting the honorable Mahatma Gandhi would tongue your balls for a dollar."

After a relieved sigh from diners, Clinton continued. "What I should have said was 'Mahatma Gandhi's mama so ugly she could knock the dot off a Hindu at twenty paces!'"

In spite of recent public relations setbacks, Clinton's attempts at developing a sense of humor show no signs of flagging. In the last week, Sen. Clinton has spoken out in support of legislation "to make math easier for retards" and has gone public with the incredibly dated quip that "the next time I see Michael Gorbachev, I'm gonna wipe that thing off his head. What's up with that thing, really?"

n an unapologetic display of mortal hubris, monkeyesque president George W. Bush took the road less respected by using a little-known process known as "recess appointment" to install accused racist and anti-abortion fanatic Judge Charles Pickering to the federal appeals court.

Choosing to bypass confirmation, a candidate named by recess appointment will not need to be confirmed for the position until January 2005, which is fine for Pickering if Bush blusters his way back into office, not so fine if he's ran out of town on an electoral rail. Pickering and five other nominees for court positions have been the focus of an ire-filled debate between Democrats and Republicans as one accuses the other of doing things most Americans wouldn't approve of if they cared.

Pickering's stellar record includes a history of supporting an amendment to ban abortion, several reversals on decisions made in his court, tendencies to reduce protection of an individual's right to vote, and verbally chiding those who seek protection for civil rights in cases of race discrimination. The judge also has a history as a young man of supporting segregationist politics, and was coincidentally appointed by Bush the weekend before the federal Martin Luther King Jr. holiday.

Fellow Mississippian, Sen. Trent Lott, forced to step down in 2002 after showing support for late Sen. Strom Thurmond's early segregationist presidential candidacy, supported Pickering's appointment.

"I don't see nothing wrong with it no-how," said Lott at his comfortable Washington D.C. retreat, throwing a few more crosses on the fire. "I believe the nation is a better place now that Charlie's on the court."

Finding liberal outrage at a disgustingly reserved level, Bush accused Democrats and those who opposed Pickering's nomination of discrimination against the widely-accused bigot.

"This is the worst kind of discrimination—against white people," said the president. "The Democrats are guilty of what they done accused Judge Pickering of. They are biased. Against religious people, against Southerners, and against white bigots everywhere. For shame, Democrats. Hate-mongers."

Democrats were dismayed at the accusation, and responded late Friday: "No, seriously, you got to be shitting us."

The president replied later in the day that he was indeed not shitting them.

"Sure, Democrats believe the nation should be equally represented, when it's equally represented by people all in favor of equality," slurred Bush, possibly drunk on rye whiskey. "Just you try to be a white man who wants all blacks segregated and stripped of their voting rights. Then you find out who the real minority in this country is. And if you're a good ol' boy from a state with a history of state-supported racism who also has serious issues with women and rolling back pro-choice politics, throw into that you want to abolish the separation of church and state, then all of a sudden you find out who really wants equality. Not you—and definitely not the Democrats."

Representatives of the Democratic party could not be reached for further comment, but insiders say they were anxious to find out if Bush was really shitting them or not.

Here's something that'll get you thinking, talk about a "Mr Rogers was a sniper in 'Nam"-level surprise. Thanks to commune editor's-brother Gay Bagel's mandate that we boost commune readership and revenue up from absolute zero Kelvin in 2004, it's been officially mandated by the powers obese that I quit writing about my epic saga to get a goddamned car. Apparently Bagay (as I like to call him in print and roadside graffiti) thinks my column may be alienating readers who are too rich to ever have to worry about not having a car, and if they don't read the site we can't siphon their accounts dry of funds electronically while they surf.

I don't know the details, if that's just advertising lingo or if we're actually hoovering out bank notes over the telephone line while those poor rich saps try to figure out what in the hell Boris Utzov is talking about or what. But either way Bagay thinks we've catered to the Salisbury steak set too much in the past, when we should be writing for dudes who order off the menu at Taco Bell and use silver spoons to eat their civet cat pudding.

Normally I'd have my ass chapped by the man giving my creative freedom a titty-twister like that, but from what I hear most of the staff received similar warnings. From the mandate that Lil Duncan start banging celebrity scumbags instead of her usual unknown variety, to the new "no accepting collect calls from international jails" rule (AKA the Ivan Nacutchacokov Accord), everyone around here is feeling the pinch. Except of course for Rok Finger, who got a slightly different haircut and left town, Truman Prudy, who makes appearances here like he was Haley's comet, and the aforementioned Boris Utzov, who from last word was riding bitch on a Harley somewhere in the Dakotas. Or, for that matter, Stu Umbrage, who's writing a gripe calendar in New Mexico, or Sampson L. Hartwig, who's either dead or a big fan of Harry Houdini. Come to think of it, where in the hell is everybody? This place is starting to look like Stuart Anderson's on Mad Cow night. What am I still doing here?

Anyway, the upshot of the whole censorship deal is that I'm getting a "company car," by which they mean Red Bagel's old Camry that he won't drive anymore because he thinks it's bugged. Which I guess is a problem if you're Red Bagel and you say embarrassing shit all the time, but what do I care? The old Bricksmobile had a megaphone for karaoke purposes; this'l be like having my own radio station. Plus since it is Red Bagel we're talking about here, odds are they're not even listening-device-type bugs, the car's probably infested with robotic insects or some shit as a little "fuck you" from the CIA or the Shriners.

All in all it's an uncharacteristically sweet deal for a commune employee, I would have been less surprised to get a post-it note on my desk saying that I AM the new company car. Now I guess Bagel and I are even from the time he ate my carrier pigeon.

Not that I'm getting carried away or anything, after all, it is a Camry. Not exactly a street-illegal funnycar or anything bitchin' like that. And Bagel didn't exactly take care of it after he uncovered the SUV conspiracy and bought himself that armored duck tours truck he drives around town. As a matter of fact, Gay pulled the thing out of a line-up of "bugged" cars Red planned on monster trucking over, replacing it with Raoul Dunkin's Tercel so his brother wouldn't notice. But I don't give a shit about any of that. It's got four wheels and it rolls both downhill and up, so Omar Bricks is calling it a car. Plus I've already replaced the Camry nameplate with one I pried off a Jaguar at the airport, so the stupid 90% of the world already thinks I drive a Jag. The right seat covers and a press-on spoiler should fool the rest.

Bricks out.

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