malignant throat cancer in the body of Rolling Stones drummer Charlie Watts took a turn for the worse this week—the worse for the cancer, that is, as Charlie Watts and his bandmates whupped the shit out of the tumor.

Most of it is speculation right now, leaked to the press from band lead singer Mick Jagger, who declared Watts' cancer "fucked up beyond all recognition." The cancer beat-down follows six weeks of chemo-therapy for Watts, after a biopsy revealed the growth's malignancy four months ago.

Early reports indicate, after seeing their friend in dire straits from the chemical treatments, the Stones gathered together and went straight to Watts' cancer, treating the volatile collection of cells like a hotel room. By the time it was over, the growth was a nauseating sight for doctors and well-wishers alike.

"I guess we showed that cancer that us old shits can really…," said Keith Richards, puffing on a cigarette and looking skeletal, before degenerating into manic laughter and indistinguishable cockney.

While doctors wouldn't comment on Watts' treatment, stupid doctors, they did say that Watts is in a weakened condition from the chemo-therapy, but mostly from partying with his bandmates as they trashed the tumor. They also said, unofficially, they declared Keith Richards dead while he was visiting his friend, but didn't have the nerve to tell him.

"What matters now," Mick Jagger told The Daily Mirror, "is that Charlie is all better. People accuse us all the time of being big softies, but that's what a band does—we look out for one another. And it was a good business decision. We're just about ready to begin recording another album, then we're out on tour. We're not paying to put up cancer in its own room, and we're sure not sharing any of our groupies with it."

Curious for more information about cancer remissions, the commune visited the Johns Hopkins Cancer Research Institute, specifically Dr. Christopher Haig, a leading expert on cancer and cancer recovery. However, he wouldn't see us, so we went to see one of those New Age whackos in the building across the street.

"What people don't realize is that cancer has feelings, just like any of us," said the whacko, Jenella Wisp, wearing pastel scarves and enough bracelets to kill a gypsy. "Consuming other cells and converting them against the body is just the cancer's way of saying, 'I'm lonely. Let's be friends.' But cancer doesn't know it's doing damage to us, invoking a negative Chi. Cancer doesn't know much—cancer knows jack and shit and jack just left town, if you know what I mean. Cancer didn't get a very good education, and consequently, a lot of the damage it does is lashing out over feeling of insecurity. We went to high school together, actually, me and cancer. Want to see a picture of cancer's yearbook picture?"

By this time, we realized the commune was in way over its head, and stopped recording the conversation, though it took us another seven hours to make a plausible excuse and escape.

Watts, however, returned our phone call and said he is in much better spirits since the alleged cancer-trashing. However, he did think we were Ornette Coleman, and wasn't happy to find out about the deception.

olls conducted by mortal agencies across America are beginning to unravel startling information about polls: They are not always correct, and information is not always given with the most honorable intentions.

This information comes as a shock to pollsters and politicians alike, as some questions have returned information demonstrating the lack of sincerity in responses. A recent Gallup poll on the presidential election found that over 70 percent of respondents described themselves as the head of a their household and reported an annual income of over ten gabillion. According to the latest census information and annual salary figures reported by corporations, determined to be more accurate, less than one percent of the nation actually earns over ten gabillion dollars annually, causing analysts to speculate incorrect information was reported. Backing up this hypothesis is the response to inquiries about the speaker's sex, to which over 97 percent responded "Yes."

Inaccurate polling information leaves some with the feeling that none of the conclusions drawn by polls can be trusted, a disturbing notion for politicians relying on polling information, and an even more troublesome proposition for companies making their money from polling. However, it would explain how polls conducted by different companies can draw different conclusions, such as recent presidential election polls that show the race led by President George W. Bush, candidate John Kerry, or show both tied neck and neck.

"Clearly, someone is fucking with us," said Gallup poll analyst Stephen Herschel. "I guess they think it's funny."

The quandary brings up questions about the similar circumstances of the 2000 election, when Al Gore won a much larger number of votes than predicted in some earlier polls, and less than accorded him by others. Exit polls in Florida also played a significant role in decisions by major news networks to predict Gore the winner of the state, key in the 2000 presidential election, even though the frail polls failed to predict the battle for the state ahead. Herschel, a longtime developer of polling questions for political campaigns, paints a bleak picture of an election with untrustworthy polls.

"A lot of Americans like to vote for the guy who is going to win," Herschel informs. "If they don't have polls to tell them who is going to win, then there is no way for them to make an informed decision about who to vote for. Then there's the nightmare of actually being a candidate running for office and having no polls to rely on. How do you know what to stand for then? How can you reach the voters if you don't have any idea what they want you to say? All you have to fall back on in such a case is personal experience, knowledge of the issues themselves, and leadership qualities. Without polls, you can't preach to the converted."

The concerns about polls beg the question, why in the world would someone not report accurate information to a faceless corporation? Winston-Salem University of North Dakota's Professor Big Jim Dean, of the Department of Psychology, postulates a theory:

"As strange as it seems, we theorize that some people don't realize the value of an accurate poll, or even stranger, could care less about the questions themselves. These people may give inaccurate information on a lark, or to make themselves feel more important than they might by reporting accurately. Others may have their own political agenda, and try to shape the outcome of the poll by giving information that they think will further their own cause, whatever it may be. Alas, these may be the dangers of asking random people their thoughts and feelings on issues. At least, this is the research I've accumulated by talking to my students. And I don't see any reason why they'd make up something like that."

There's been a lot of fuss around the commune offices lately about the upcoming presidential election, and it's high time Omar Bricks weighed in on the action: I say Lil Duncan takes Ivana Folger-Balzac in four rounds. That's a controversial wager, I realize, but I hear Balzac's been betting heavily against herself under the assumed name of Flora Wackser and I've got it on good authority that she's going to take a dive in the fourth.

Even if the upcoming breakroom fight weren't fixed, I'd still be wondering if Balzac was going to be her usual invincible, dirty-fighting self, since she only started the "commune Republicans Club" to piss off the rest of the staff and isn't likely to put it all on the line defending the club's honor. Plus, the only other commune Republican who could get her back if Duncan pulled a knife would be Ted Ted, who's mad enough for a man twice his size but still remains listed as a generous three-foot four on his trading card.

Have you seen these things? Emil Zender's been printing them out on his home computer, a collectable set of the entire commune staff. They're like Garbage Pail Kids, only ugly.

Seriously though, If you haven't seen them yet, the cards are pretty sharp. They've all got pretty awesome embarrassing pics of commune staffers on the front with their vital stats on the back. Ted Ted's is hilarious since somebody somehow had a camera ready when they caught him humping that baby-CPR doll in the closet last month.

I'm in the deck too, of course, but the picture on my card's just an out-of-focus shot of me building a Loch Ness Monster decoy in my garage for that hoax last year, when I was planning on riding it across the East River and into the city like I'd made Nessie my bitch. They should have got a photo of that fuckin' thing sinking into the river like a lead weight with an asscramp and me getting that helicopter ride back to land, but I guess the technology's not quite there to have a whole video clip from the news playing on a baseball card.

Anyway, while we're on the subject, I might as well weigh in on the lame-assed presidential election itself. You know Omar Bricks doesn't waste a lot of time thinking about politics, but when I do I think this: It's time we elected Evel Knievel as the President of the United States. I'll wait a second for the reasoning behind this to become obvious to you.

First and most obviously, I can't vote for Bush. Bush is like the guy you knew in the fourth grade who would light his farts on fire, until he came across a set of flammable drapes and ended up burning half the house down. Maybe when Bush grows up he'll turn out to have real presidential potential, but for now I think we need to protect the White House drapes.

And I'm pretty sure I pantsed John Kerry in the seventh grade. According to office dickwad Raoul Dunkin, that's mathematically impossible, but I'd remember that sour mug anywhere. So no way I can vote for that guy.

Ralph Nader? Sounds too much like Darth Vader. No way I'm voting for some Star Wars geek, he'd probably blow half the budget funding research on the Force. Though I have to admit, I would pay good money to see a presidential debate where Nader does that little throat-pinchy gesture and the other guy drops dead. That would be pretty decisive.

But if Nader could pull that shit off, he probably would have done it last election so he wouldn't have had to spend the last four years working at that organic grocery out in Portland. So really, when you stop and think about it, Evel Knievel's our only good choice.

How hard would the vote be rocked if we had a debate where all the candidates had to out-stunt each other on live TV? I guarantee you some voter turnout for that shit. Let's see Bush or Kerry jump a motorcycle over a dozen school buses or a tank full of starving sharks. No need to take polls over who won the debate when the runner-up ran over his own pelvis or shattered his spine on national television.

And you can forget all this bullshit about purple hearts and who's got the balls to fight the war on terror, let one of those other guys strap a rocket to his ass and try to jump across the Colorado River. Not going to happen. So Knievel wins in a landslide, and he gets sworn in while surfing down a real landslide on a TV tray. Shit yeah.

The only thing that can stop him now is if he's already dead. I need to look that up.

Bricks out.

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