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 September 6, 2004 |
Beslan, Russia Boguslaw Sadowski Russian military forces, not American, hustle in an attempt to clear likewise non-U.S. citizens from the dangerzone in North Ossettia.
The confusing terrorist incident, not in any way involving U.S.-protected interests, centered on a group of separatists rebels taking a school in the Russian province of North Ossetia hostage. During the two-day standoff between the terrorists and government forces, hundreds were wounded or killed—the majority of them children. American officials are calling the event a "horrific, far-away tragedy."
The foreign nightmare began when armed terrorists took parents, children, and teachers hostage on the first day of school. The rebels consequently demanded Russian for...
he part of the world not the United States was shaken by the gruesome events in Beslan, Russia, where a two-day hostage situation ended Friday after claiming the lives of more than 350 non-Americans.
The confusing terrorist incident, not in any way involving U.S.-protected interests, centered on a group of separatists rebels taking a school in the Russian province of North Ossetia hostage. During the two-day standoff between the terrorists and government forces, hundreds were wounded or killed—the majority of them children. American officials are calling the event a "horrific, far-away tragedy."
The foreign nightmare began when armed terrorists took parents, children, and teachers hostage on the first day of school. The rebels consequently demanded Russian forces leave Chechnya, falling on the time-honored method of murdering helpless women and children to gain sympathy for their cause. U.N. Secretary-General Kofi Annan condemned the attacks, saying, "What the fuck?"
American media covered the non-American catastrophe with a watchful eye, splicing in some video of the horrors between soundbytes from the Republican National Convention and previews of the upcoming Fall TV season. U.S. politicians were quick to provide commentary on the situation, in case something happened to make it a lead news story on any of the national networks or worked its way onto page six of the print news.
"This is yet another grim reminder of the lengths to which terrorists will go to threaten the civilized world," said President Bush, in another grim reminder of the lengths he would go to extort the agony of many to climb a couple of points in the polls.
Across this country, the reactions of average Americans were wide and diverse.
"What a shame," said Jerry Kimler, an office manager from Trenton, New Jersey. "We should all mourn for Russia. We, too, have suffered at the hands of Al-Qaeda. You are not alone, our communist neighbors."
"It's a disgusting crime, especially since it was committed against children," sobbed Agnes Walker-Rush, a cashier at a Winn-Dixie in Napalm, Georgia. "Once the Russians were our enemies, and now, not so much. I'm severely moved by their plight, and sickened by the images I might have seen on TV if I had known anything about this before you told me just now."
Ginger Oliver, a caterer from Concorde, New Hampshire: "I can't believe it. How could this sort of thing happen. Bill Clinton needs heart surgery? Why? How? He's not even that old. Things like this don't happen to presidents."
A different response came from professional wine-taster Gerald "Skeeter" McCloy: "Nope. Can't work up any real concern. You sure there weren't any Americans killed?"
New York University Sociology Professor Jean Winstead took a break from typing up her resume to frame the numb reaction some Americans express to the nightmarish human calamity.
"Geographically, we've always been an isolationist nation, and have retained much of that sensibility in the years since, even though we've become a world superpower with interests across every continent," said Winstead. "Our media reflects this nationalism, and keeps us focused on America as the center of the universe, so to speak. Plus, with all the useless information floating in our heads, from knowledge about the workings of the electoral college to nostalgia about 1980s new wave groups, it's amazing we have enough brain space left over to even remember other countries exist out there. By the way, do you know anyone who's hiring?" the commune news has to wonder if Chechnya is really worth holding on to if it's made up of peckerheads of the same ilk—we've wondered the same thing about Quebec, on a lesser scale. Foreign Correspondent Ivan Nacutchacokov fortunately escaped harm by covering the North Ossetia story by long distance, but upon his return to the commune offices, we slammed his balls in a desk drawer just to keep his record going strong.
 | Hurricane Knocked Down a Peg by Sassy MeteorologistSeptember 6, 2004 |
Key West, FL National Meteorological Society/Sniffy Hobbs "All that" hurricane Frances was told like a motherfucker, thanks to brassy, sassy weather woman Brittany (inset).
It was a sensational victory for Hollywood Channel 5 weather woman and atmospheric wonder Brittany Vance, who made headlines in July, 2003 when she intimidated the hell out of Hurricane Claudette, and frightened the crazy bitch-storm out of even coming to Florida. Vance, however, couldn't save the Texas coastline, but—what the hell. It was Texas, it should have been tough enough to take a little roughing up.
Vance failed to c...
amn, sweetie, if that run-of-the-mill tropical storm named Frances wasn't put in her place by muy caliente meteorologist Brittany Vance. The hurricane, which had been labeled an up-and-coming "Category 1" before the brutal telling-off, shrunk to a Category 2 and skittered up the east coast of the United States, humiliated and told.
It was a sensational victory for Hollywood Channel 5 weather woman and atmospheric wonder Brittany Vance, who made headlines in July, 2003 when she intimidated the hell out of Hurricane Claudette, and frightened the crazy bitch-storm out of even coming to Florida. Vance, however, couldn't save the Texas coastline, but—what the hell. It was Texas, it should have been tough enough to take a little roughing up.
Vance failed to come to the rescue of Florida in previous weeks, during the advent of Hurricane Charley, as the meteorologist was taking some "me time" in Costa Rica. Upon returning to the states, she made a pledge to help cover Florida against the most recent oncoming tropical storm. Other meteorologists hauled ass out of the panhandle state, along with 2.5 million of the population, when they learned a second hurricane was already bearing down on them. Two hurricanes within the same month might suggest Florida should think more carefully about who they elect president this year, if they want the Almighty to lay off them.
Despite the massive evacuation, and Governor Jeb's declaration of a state of emergency, Vance interceded early enough to put the verbal snap to the emotionally-fragile hurricane and take the wind most literally out of it.
"You think you're all that," Vance told the hurricane via live broadcast Friday night. "More like all pap—you heard what I said, Ms. Thang. Take that pitiful breeze of yours and blow on out of here already."
The hurricane showed immediate response, gusting vehemently in defiance, but barely disguising a shrill whistle that sounded much like crying.
"Oh, you're something alright," continued Vance, snapping her fingers. "Something I'd scrape off my shoe—mm-hmm! I told you once, you worn-out bitch, come around here with that tacky hundred-mile-an-hour wind, you so much as muss up my hair and I'll make you sorry. I've had farts that have done more damage, you ten-cent hurricane ho."
Satellites monitoring the storm detected an instantaneous change in direction, as well as a "settling down" of the played-out hurricane as it attempted to discreetly make its way for the Carolina coasts, like it had been planning to go there the whole time, yeah, sure.
Characteristically, Vance showed no signs of modesty in her handling of the pathetic "draft."
"Hmph. I ain't even referring to that bitch by her name, she ain't worth drawling that name out. I did her like I do any trumped-up light rain slut who thinks she's all that. Sit down, skank, Brittany's talking now. That's like I told her."
Floridians reluctantly returned to the state Monday morning, although a shopping spree by Vance had actually done $8.3 million in damages, qualifying the state for disaster aid. the commune news would like to remind its naysayers we actually are hot snot, or at least have left a lot of it around the offices due to our poor hygiene. Stigmata Spent is beyond hot snot—thermonuclear mucous, you might say. But we wouldn't.
| Harsh critique of new book leaves Clinton heartbroken Cantor Fitzgerald to take al-Qaeda before Judge Judy Bush promises new pony to all Americans for second term French hostages make really insulting plea for freedom |
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 September 6, 2004 The Fourth commune Enthusiasts Club MeetingFaithful voyeurs, or as I like to call you, "reserve" commune Enthusiasts Club members, I'm thrilled to report the summer picnic of our little group was a resounding, unqualified success. As unqualified as Raoul Dunkin applying for a job in a pornographic movie. Ha! A little joke at the expense of the commune's favorite maligned reporter. Forgive me, Raoul, it's impossible to resist joining in the good-natured fun.
As I mentioned, the picnic went off without a hitch. Of course, since I've been the only one attending meetings for the commune Enthusiasts Club since the year began, I had the direst expectations it would not attract a single visitor. Maybe I overreacted, working diligently from the beginning of the summer until the picnic day itself, August 21, advertising it arou...
º Last Column: The Third commune Enthusiasts Club Meeting
º more columns
Faithful voyeurs, or as I like to call you, "reserve" commune Enthusiasts Club members, I'm thrilled to report the summer picnic of our little group was a resounding, unqualified success. As unqualified as Raoul Dunkin applying for a job in a pornographic movie. Ha! A little joke at the expense of the commune's favorite maligned reporter. Forgive me, Raoul, it's impossible to resist joining in the good-natured fun.
As I mentioned, the picnic went off without a hitch. Of course, since I've been the only one attending meetings for the commune Enthusiasts Club since the year began, I had the direst expectations it would not attract a single visitor. Maybe I overreacted, working diligently from the beginning of the summer until the picnic day itself, August 21, advertising it around all of the tri-state area. What a surprising turnout! Close to 1500 new members showed up to the picnic. Can you believe my success?
I attribute much of the crowd turning out to my attempts to focus the meeting on a political agenda. I printed up many of the flyers and posters with a large "BEAT BUSH!" banner, and gave the location and time of the picnic. I believed more people would get behind the commune if they could embrace a similar agenda, and so many these days share the commune's objective of revealing the fallacies of the current administration and our so-called "president." How right I was. Protestors showed up in droves, and this time they were supporting the commune, and against the president.
Not that the plan didn't fail on some occasions. I clumsily folded the paper when Xeroxing the last two-thousand of the flyers, so a few too many of them inappropriately advertised "EAT BUSH!" and attracted a not-altogether desirable demographic. Still, I never judge a book by its cover, or the weird smell emanating and the unsettling groans it emits. I took down everyone's name I could get, and some of them were even pretty stoked about returning for future commune meetings—a young man named Jack Mehoff offered to videotape all our future gatherings. It goes to show, a little optimism can make the rain clouds disappear.
Understandably, it was hard to discuss future commune Enthusiasts Club business at the picnic with all the angry shouts and the large riot squad attendance, who infuriatingly carted away some of our most vocal members. Fearless leader Red Bagel proves himself right again about the "police state" New York City really is. I told as many people as I could when the next cEC (is that an acceptable acronym, gang?) meeting will be. Same as always, every Friday at my house—parking subject to availability, if we get just as large a turnout. Hopefully this time it won't be just me in my basement, reading a speech I practiced all week just to have no one else show.
My one regret about the picnic is I didn't get the information about its success to you all sooner. I had enough time to write up a concise description of the event for the August 23 commune, but the space Red Bagel promised me for my usual address was revoked at the last minute. Mr. Bagel had it on good authority China was going to finally launch that attack on the moon he kept hearing about—it didn't happen, thank god, but better to be vigilant, so no hard feelings here.
Though it wasn't an official meeting, fellow commune Enthusiasts Club member and longtime friend Sandy dropped by Wednesday. We watched a DVD movie (Hellboy) and had an argument about my insistence on taking notes on all our get-togethers. I told her it was for official club business, but she insisted she wasn't in the club anymore—something we're still discussing.
So a reminder to all readers, be sure to get in on the ground floor of the commune Enthusiasts Club while you still can. I've got a feeling it's really about to take off, and I'm pretty sure this time the feeling will be right. º Last Column: The Third commune Enthusiasts Club Meetingº more columns | 
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Milestones1998: Omar Bricks pees off the world's largest man-made waterfall. Not really relevant to anything else, but still pretty cool.Now HiringYes Man. Agreeable sort needed to attend staff meetings and dilute the concentration of "Huh?" Men presently attending.Top New Year's Resolutions| 1. | Quit being such an asshole | | 2. | Exercise every day. Every Arbor Day. | | 3. | Kill them all | | 4. | Lose 20 pounds to limey con artist | | 5. | Quit smoking halibut | |
|   Art Thieves Steal The Turd BY roland mcshyster 9/6/2004 Booya, America. I'm not sure what that means, but it seemed appropriate. Whatever sentiment that expressed, you can file it in triplicate because Roland McShyster's in a good mood today. Good? Nay, agreeable! I've seen the proverbial bluebird of happiness and I ate him on my salad this morning. What better time to review some of Hollywood's finest handiwork, September-style? I don't know.
In Theaters Now:
Anacondors: The Hunt for the Blood Orchard
Leave it to Hollywood to make a big-budget fright flick of out of one of my doodles from seventh-grade art class. That's right, it was me, when I was twelve I drew the first half-snake, half-endangered bird hybrid to ever terrify a hot tub full of blonde cosmetics models. I don't have th...
Booya, America. I'm not sure what that means, but it seemed appropriate. Whatever sentiment that expressed, you can file it in triplicate because Roland McShyster's in a good mood today. Good? Nay, agreeable! I've seen the proverbial bluebird of happiness and I ate him on my salad this morning. What better time to review some of Hollywood's finest handiwork, September-style? I don't know.
In Theaters Now:
Anacondors: The Hunt for the Blood Orchard
Leave it to Hollywood to make a big-budget fright flick of out of one of my doodles from seventh-grade art class. That's right, it was me, when I was twelve I drew the first half-snake, half-endangered bird hybrid to ever terrify a hot tub full of blonde cosmetics models. I don't have the slightest idea how Hollywood got its talons on my sketch, since I thought for sure my mom had thrown it out. The sad thing is I didn't even get a chance to complete the colored-pencil work, so those Tinseltown hacks had no choice but to fuck it up and make the wings purple, totally defeating the purpose of crossing an anaconda and a condor in the first place.
But how was the movie, you ask? Who asked that? I see you back there. Anyway, it was as good, and as bad, as could probably have been expected. The CGI on the Anacondor was a little weak in parts, and if you've spent a lot of time wondering what a half-snake, half-bird would sound like when it belched, you're going to be disappointed. But I did actually appreciate the movie's plot, about a ragtag gang of reality TV rejects searching for the mythical blood orchard, where once you go in, you don't come out. They never really covered why in the hell anyone would want to find that place, if it had delicious apples or what, but it still made for a pretty wicked tagline on the poster.
The Brown Bunny
Ugly-chic "smoking heroin off a toilet bowl" fashion model Vincent Gallo takes a bizarre tangent in his latest film, The Brown Bunny, Gallo's self-directed and harrowing portrait of the PETA-nightmare and ultraviolent cartoon staple Elmer Fudd. Though not the most obvious candidate to play Fudd on the big screen (I would have gone with either Ned Beatty or Chris Elliot), Gallo brings a edgy neediness to the picture that suits the character well.
Though the very idea seems absurd at first, and the out-of-focus and Blair Witch-like chaotic trailer doesn't help, a film delving into this dark territory seems obviously overdue in retrospect. After all, loveable and dim-witted as he may have seemed in the children's cartoons, who was this guy, really? What kind of sick bastard treks off into the woods to shoot rabbits in the face at point-blank range with a double-barreled shotgun? Did he run out of squirrels to napalm? Chainsaw broke down after he cut that last gopher in half? What kind of woodland beat-downs did this freak suffer as a kid? Leave it to Gallo to ask the question the rest of us were laughing too hard to ponder, to see the tears behind the amusing, murderous rage of this mysteriously befuddled hick.
Suspect Zero
Few things in life would be scarier than spending years on the trail of a serial killer, only to discover at the last moment that it's Billy Corgan from the Smashing Pumpkins. Holy shit. Talk about scary, that guy looks like what would happen if the dude from Midnight Oil got locked in a bakery overnight. And what if the lead investigator, an FBI hounddog with the nose of a man, turns out to be a huge Pumpkins fan? What does he do then? If Corgan's singing that godawful "Tonight, Tonight" song you shoot him, of course. But what if he isn't? Do you try to get an autograph, and then shoot him? What if he won't wait around long enough for you to run home and get your Pisces Iscariot mayonnaise poster? What if your garage band was scheduled to play in the big battle of the bands that night, and your guitar player just called in sick? What then? Definitely a cool set-up for a thriller, though I thought James Iha was badly miscast as James Iha.
Whew, America. That was a workout. I'm definitely feeling it in my pecs. Hope you are too, and be sure to get plenty of Vitamin B or something. Check back in a few weeks, I'll be the big hunk of hunk dishing out the movie reviews for your favorite Internet backwater, the commune. Until then!   |
