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February 23, 2004 |
San Francisco, CA Junior Bacon The boldy inscrutable governor, seen here agreeing with everything in general. purred into action by San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom’s issuance of marriage licenses to over 3,000 gay and lesbian couples over the last two weeks, California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger took the opportunity at the state’s Republican convention in Burlingame to grunt something about the controversial topic of same-sex marriage.
Though no one present at the convention could understand the governor through his thick Austrian accent, many believe Schwarzenegger’s statements to be against homosexual marriage, given his body language and the way he shook his finger disapprovingly while making the “buttfucking” gesture with his hands and pelvis.
In addition to these cues, when Schwarzenegger’s comments were met with a confused silence from the con...
purred into action by San Francisco Mayor Gavin Newsom’s issuance of marriage licenses to over 3,000 gay and lesbian couples over the last two weeks, California governor Arnold Schwarzenegger took the opportunity at the state’s Republican convention in Burlingame to grunt something about the controversial topic of same-sex marriage.
Though no one present at the convention could understand the governor through his thick Austrian accent, many believe Schwarzenegger’s statements to be against homosexual marriage, given his body language and the way he shook his finger disapprovingly while making the “buttfucking” gesture with his hands and pelvis.
In addition to these cues, when Schwarzenegger’s comments were met with a confused silence from the convention crowd, the California governor went on to spend the next five minutes struggling to pronounce the word “illegal” in a way that was intelligible to English-speakers.
Several possible translations of Schwarzenegger’s statement have been offered by various news organizations, not the least of which has been the commune, with some help from in-house action film expert Omar Bricks.
“Men are not for marrying other men,” translated Bricks, from a tape recording of the governor’s series of guttural moans and awkwardly rounded syllables. “Men are for friends and for having sex if you are too muscular and powerful for women’s bodies, who snap like twigs and have spines that shatter from your powerful pelvic thrusting. But men are not for to marry. They cannot cook good and are bad for sewing shirts that rip from bulging muscles. For this I am glad for my wife Maria who is like sewing and cooking machine, and for friend Steve who has haunches like a racehorse.”
Republican leaders across the country insist that Schwarzenegger’s statements had to have been in opposition to same-sex marriage, since the man is a Republican for Christ’s sake. Others also pointed out the governor’s obvious need to physically compensate for a lack of inner self-esteem, making support of homosexual causes unlikely, and the fact that the man comes from a foreign land where they hunt gay people for sport.
“I don’t think Arnie would support fags getting married,” stated Republican sensitivity poster-boy Orrin Hatch, pondering the inner nuances of a man who has spent the majority of his life focusing on ways to make his muscles bigger. “Fuzzbumpers maybe, that could be hot. But not two guys. After all, the dude’s from Austria. They cook gay people in soups there, from what I hear.”
President Bush also expressed his opinion of Schwarzenegger’s likely opinion, explaining that it was clear from the movies that both Douglas Quaid and the Terminator believed that marriage was a social contract to be entered into only by one man and one woman. In elaborating upon his own opposition to gay marriage, Bush also explained that he’s found intercourse with a woman to be enjoyable both times he has attempted it.
Should Schwarzenegger’s position on same-sex marriage be determined by Ouija board or some kind of “stomp once for yes” communicational system in the near future, it could spell trouble for Mayor Newsome of San Francisco. Though Newsom may have the state Constitution on his side, he’s unlikely to have enough bullets to stop Schwarzenegger if the governor is mad enough or scripted for a bloody finale. the commune news has been marrying gay people for years, and we don’t appreciate all this recent publicity bringing pissed-off homosexuals out of the woodwork demanding their money back. Ramon Nootles is our in-office barometer on the same-sex marriage issue, if he gets married before gays have the right, then the world is most definitely fucked. Incidentally, Nootles getting married is also our barometer for when to pack a parka for hell and when to keep an eye out for falling pig shit.
| February 16, 2004 |
Following instruction, a young pilot George W. Bush seeks out the way to the men's room and mistakes a bizarre metal contraption in the middle of the base. Either that, or a publicity still from an early Bush election. resident George "Whitewash" Bush tried to put to rest the media uproar over his service record in the national guard with a brief prepared statement Friday. Bush revealed his mixed feelings for the Vietnam war, saying once and for all his personal feelings about the conflict stemmed from the apparent lack of oil or natural resources for plundering in the country.
"Before I have alluded to personal reservations about the Vietnam war," the statement began. "These were private concerns, but since the media is preoccupied with the past, let me at last tell everyone I believe the war in Vietnam was misguided. I believe any military action that puts men in danger, when there is no profit to be made in oil or rich natural resources, or a lone figurehead to be vengefully removed from ...
resident George "Whitewash" Bush tried to put to rest the media uproar over his service record in the national guard with a brief prepared statement Friday. Bush revealed his mixed feelings for the Vietnam war, saying once and for all his personal feelings about the conflict stemmed from the apparent lack of oil or natural resources for plundering in the country.
"Before I have alluded to personal reservations about the Vietnam war," the statement began. "These were private concerns, but since the media is preoccupied with the past, let me at last tell everyone I believe the war in Vietnam was misguided. I believe any military action that puts men in danger, when there is no profit to be made in oil or rich natural resources, or a lone figurehead to be vengefully removed from power, is wrong."
It was a dangerous statement for a war-hungry president during an election year, an area that could be mined by election-greedy Democrats and any forgettable third party candidates who might appear on public television or radio to complain. Even conservatives who traditionally back the president expressed initial worry about the president's dedication to the war on terror, or plans for a second term war on Iran, Syria, and Rendibaba, a little shit of an island unknown to everybody but rich in coal.
"Make no mistake," press secretary Scott McClellan responded, fielding questions from frothing reporters, "the president has no doubts about military action in Iraq or any country that supports terrorism. The president stands firm on wars for vengeance and resource exploitation. In Iraq we had both."
And the war on terror?
"That falls under the column of vengeance," assured McClellan, drawing a line with his hand. "Column A, vengeance. That's like Iraq, or Panama or something. Florida. Column B, we're talking exploitation of natural resources. President's all for that. I mean, really for that. Sometimes we have to talk him out of invading ally countries like Mexico. Loads of fat, juicy resources down there. Make his mouth water."
The president's statement could be seen as a desperate act by an administration beleaguered with a bad news week, including continued focus on intelligence mistakes and a plea from WMD inspector David Kay for the president to admit there are no weapons in Iraq. A greater problem during the week was the unearthing of questions about Bush's service in the National Guard during the year from 1972 to 1973, and records could only prove he served nine days in uniform that year, unless you count the Good Humor Man outfit he wore during a summer job.
For supporters of the president, the hope is the statement, no matter how unexpected, will allow the discussion to slip out of public light and turn national attention toward things the president likes, such as apathy, or J. Lo-Affleck gossip-dishing. For Democrats, many are optimistic that the statement will further entrench the president in an uphill battle to explain his role in the Iraq war.
"Ya-wa-hoo!" screeched Democrat presidential nominee front-runner John Kerry, who then proceeded to do a sort of jig most resembling a Riverdance theme. Further questions were not answered as Kerry hopped, twisted, and scuttled into the streets outside, in the direction of the setting sun, presumably hoping others would join him as in a Dr. Pepper commercial. the commune news has no issues with the Vietnam war, except for the proliferation of cliché war movies in the 1980s, which we think of as a scar on our national cinematic landscape. Raoul Dunkin has a scar in a very peculiar place indeed—for pictures, email the commune with the subject line "Dunkin's Second Ass Crack."
| Oops, Atlanta forgot to mention about 50,000 violent crimes Howard Dean happy to be able to holler again commune offers Disney Dunkin, reporter to be named later for buyout Microsoft "shitballs" over Windows source code leak |
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February 23, 2004 Work SucksIt is high time, as a teller of uncomfortable truths, I admitted one of the most obvious: the commune sucks. Or perhaps I should clarify that working at the commune sucks. The distinction might be thought important by some.
Shit you I do not, as Yoda might say. I admit my role in working at the commune has changed several times over the years, and more often than not I am a background character, like the old man who hung out at Cheers, but when brother Gay loomed his large, smarmy head in a few months ago and made a play to take over the publication, I put my nose to the grindstone and basically skinned the hell out of my nose. I worked extra hard, 24-7, 24 minutes of every hour, 7 hours a day, and this shit was not for me, sir. I am not made for a 7-hour work day. I d...
º Last Column: Working on Commission º more columns
It is high time, as a teller of uncomfortable truths, I admitted one of the most obvious: the commune sucks. Or perhaps I should clarify that working at the commune sucks. The distinction might be thought important by some.
Shit you I do not, as Yoda might say. I admit my role in working at the commune has changed several times over the years, and more often than not I am a background character, like the old man who hung out at Cheers, but when brother Gay loomed his large, smarmy head in a few months ago and made a play to take over the publication, I put my nose to the grindstone and basically skinned the hell out of my nose. I worked extra hard, 24-7, 24 minutes of every hour, 7 hours a day, and this shit was not for me, sir. I am not made for a 7-hour work day. I don't know how everyone else here manages the five they do.
I will accept I perhaps have it better than some others, since I own the whole shebang, at least if I can keep Gay at bay, and I receive all the profits, should we ever make any. But it does not change the fact work completely sucks. The severe sucking nature of work cannot even be disputed at this point.
When I started the commune, or changed it from a quarterly Indian reservation newsletter to an alternative news publication, I only wanted to spread as much of the truth as I saw it as I could fit onto the back of pamphlets lifted from teen centers and free clinics. It was fun then, before I had a staff, a budget to be concerned with, and deadlines to heed. I sometimes wish I could go back to those days. Me and Sully, experimenting with mind-expanding medicinal herbs while I wrote my first column about how the 1969 moon landing was just an elaborate Tonight Show sketch aired out of context. Before I had snippy copy-editors knocking on my door to tell me I misspelled simple words and spilled bongwater on all my pages.
Gay Bagel, of course, challenged the commune to show profit as part of his new job as Ulterior Motive Manager, Class VII, and I thought the natural solution was to do what we do that wasn't showing a profit more often and at greater expense. So I took the commune to a weekly schedule and included extra pairs of irregular-fitting jeans as an pay incentive every week. All that has done, it seems, is give me more work to do. Gay doesn't know the first thing about publishing an alternative news website—have fun! The second thing being, of course, never malign Carol Burnett without ample photo evidence to back you up. But the first thing has been completely lost under Herr Bagel. Herr Bagel being Gay, instead of me, for once.
These days I'm in the office up to six days a week, instead of six times a month with the old commune management style. In a way, I suppose I feel I have to answer to Gay now when before I had no boss, I was able to just hang out in my office whenever I felt like it, pants or no pants. After all, if I don't show a major increase in profits, meaning make a profit of any type soon, he'll resume his legal battle to take over the commune again.
Bah. If I had half a brain in my head, which my staff is quick to assure me I do, I would let him have the damn commune. Dig Sully out of those boxes I packed him up in and light up the peace pipe once more. Go back to the old desktop publishing guerilla-style journalism I started with.
Still, I suppose things aren't all that bad. After all, if I can reach one reader, inform him of the deadly conspiracies and hidden injustices of this world, all my work has been worth it. And according to last month's website statistics, we finally successfully reached that one reader. º Last Column: Working on Commissionº more columns |
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Quote of the Day“'Tis a far, far better thing I do today than I have ever done… in fact, where I'm from, I'm kind of known as an asshole.”
-Cute Little DickensFortune 500 CookieRemember to clean your ears—a friend of ours died from not doing that, no shit. What time is it? Half-past beer-thirty. Always never forget to quit being scared to not ask questions.
Try again later.Top Samuel Berger Excuses for Hiding Documents in Pants1. | Was hoping only hot babes had clearance to read pages. | 2. | In early stages of making a nest for baby starlings. | 3. | Not everybody can afford a snazzy briefcase, Rockefeller. | 4. | Trying to conceive children; needed to keep the boys warm. | 5. | Classify this, motherfucker. | |
| Search for Joker Continues in IraqBY roland mcshyster 2/16/2004 What up, Entertainment Police people? Roland McS is in the hizzouse. Which, for the hip-impaired, means roughly the same thing as "Lucy, I'm hoooome!" For the Latin-impaired, that means "Bitch, where my pork chops?" And for the domestic-abuse impaired, that just means "Howdy, stranger." I'm glad you could make it for another dose of all the movie reviews you could choose to peruse. Here's hoping you all made it through Friday the 13th without any hockey-killer mishaps, and now let's take a look at this week's new releases:
In Theaters
50 First Dates
If ever the tale of the Cuban Missile Crisis has smoked its way onto the big screen with such an unprecedentedly smoky level of smokitude, this reviewer must've been on...
What up, Entertainment Police people? Roland McS is in the hizzouse. Which, for the hip-impaired, means roughly the same thing as "Lucy, I'm hoooome!" For the Latin-impaired, that means "Bitch, where my pork chops?" And for the domestic-abuse impaired, that just means "Howdy, stranger." I'm glad you could make it for another dose of all the movie reviews you could choose to peruse. Here's hoping you all made it through Friday the 13th without any hockey-killer mishaps, and now let's take a look at this week's new releases:
In Theaters
50 First Dates
If ever the tale of the Cuban Missile Crisis has smoked its way onto the big screen with such an unprecedentedly smoky level of smokitude, this reviewer must've been on the can when it happened. Because according to Roland McShyster's burnt bottom, this one takes the cake. Sure, CMC purists may have balked at the casting of toilet-training dropout Adam Sandler as President Kennedy, but for once this reviewer stands behind the oft-foolish decision to point a camera at Mr. Sandler. Perhaps it was karma, or perhaps it was accidental, but Sandler captures the doomed president's sulking puppydog eyes and impish smile with a deft virtuosity not seen since Jim Carrey reincarnated Martin Luther King Jr. in Blackbeat. Kudos as well belong to Luis "Guzman" Guzman for his balls-out portrayal of Cuban bad guy and exploding-cigar victim Fidel Castro.
Clifford's Really Big Mookie
Sure, if you're a kid it sounds fun to have a forty foot tall big red dog as your friend, but adults have the presence of mind and idle time to wonder what might happen if that big red dog ever sneezed on you. Needless to say, the results aren't pretty, and this is one children's movie that might not be right for tykes too young to handle seeing kids killed by a giant booger. And though the CGI in the film is impressive, I'm not certain this film is going to find enough of an audience to justify making the proposed sequel, Clifford's Really Big Movement.
Gyrotrip
The savant-impaired idiot savants who brought you Road Trip have cropped up again with this unlikely tale of four horny teens who contract mad sheep disease after stopping for a bite to eat at a roadside Greek lunch cart. Will their mad dash across the country bring them to the Wonka-like "Magic Gyro" that will cure them before they become too stupid to make audiences laugh anymore? I could tell you but then the studio might sue me for detrimental honesty. Venture at your own peril, teen-comedy slob fans.
That's what they paid me to write this week, America, hope it shined up your dull lives for a second or two. Be sure to tune your browsers this way again in two more weeks, when we'll answer the age-old question: "Why do fools fall in lava?" |