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Republicans Organize "Poor People Rock!" FestivalNovember 1, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Dan Fathead Blueblood industrialist H.P. Cravenborg thrills the crowd of destitute onlookers with his impressive wealthiness esponding to years of baseless accusations that the GOP panders to the rich and disgustingly privileged, Republican leaders organized the first-ever “Poor People Rock!” festival this week to celebrate the decrepit and ramp up GOP support in the final week leading up to November’s crucial elections.
The inaugural festival was a star-studded day-long event which featured such poor people favorites as country superstar Toby Keith, Hip-Hop malcontents Deaf Niggaz, get-quick-rich guru Denny Cochran, radio shock jock Gray Baytor, and the hippie-bashing conceptual comedy troupe The Haight Mongers. Several of the country’s leading wealthy Republicans also spoke at the event, where festival-goers were let in free of charge after signing a waiver agreeing to be tested en mass...
esponding to years of baseless accusations that the GOP panders to the rich and disgustingly privileged, Republican leaders organized the first-ever “Poor People Rock!” festival this week to celebrate the decrepit and ramp up GOP support in the final week leading up to November’s crucial elections.
The inaugural festival was a star-studded day-long event which featured such poor people favorites as country superstar Toby Keith, Hip-Hop malcontents Deaf Niggaz, get-quick-rich guru Denny Cochran, radio shock jock Gray Baytor, and the hippie-bashing conceptual comedy troupe The Haight Mongers. Several of the country’s leading wealthy Republicans also spoke at the event, where festival-goers were let in free of charge after signing a waiver agreeing to be tested en mass for the effects of a new military-grade neurotoxin.
“I don’t know where this idea started that Republicans hate the poor, but it’s utter hogwash,” led off the event’s Master of Ceremonies, industrialist H.P. Cravenborg. “After all, who gave all you people jobs? Speaking of which; you, in the third row! I though you called in sick today? Get back to work!”
The day’s full slate of entertainers thrilled the crowd with bright, shiny visions of the good life surely waiting right around the corner for anyone willing to get off his lazy ass and stop being so poor. The massive throngs of stone-broke revelers went apeshit when speaker Denny Cochran informed them that they, too, could one day be one of the wealthy elite, with former neighbors and friends working in their factories for cutthroat wages. Similar messages were echoed by several of the day’s speakers.
“It’s time to stop blaming the Republicans for all your problems, poor America, and get yourself a slice of that big-old pie!” shouted former liberal activist Ron Somkins, who because a Republican activist after robust sales of his third book, “Fuck the System,” brought the author unexpected riches. Somkins’ latest book, “Re-evaluating the System,” is due in bookstores this winter.
Old money Republican speakers, perhaps less comfortable with the thought of the greasy poor clogging up the shower drains of their pristine social clubs, instead juiced the crowd with paeans to the many advantages to destitute living.
“You guys really don’t know how lucky you’ve got it,” Cravenborg moaned to the crowd while getting a continual back massage from a large Austrian man. “All this money’s more trouble than it’s worth, I tell you. Better to—ooh that feels good! Better to live the simple life, like you good people!”
After the event, envious members of the elite went out of their way to share their fondness for America’s 36 million poor and the refreshingly simple lives they lead.
“Me, personally, I love the indigent,” gushed a gracious Rupert Murdoch, media titan. “Hell, I’d be poor myself if I weren’t so goddamned wealthy.”
“Poor is definitely the way to go,” raved fashion mogul Chinsay Weintraub. “Poor is so in this year. It’s the new black.”
“I’ve always liked poor people, I think they’re quaint,” chimed in portly financier Gordon Stacks, smoking a cigar wrapped in $100 bills.
When asked how the day’s festivities might affect his voting preference in Tuesday’s presidential election, local fry cook and father of four Dan Henkle echoed the sentiments of the assembled wretched masses.
“Hey, fuck poor people!” the commune news has always subscribed to the notion that one who is rich of spirit can never truly be poor, unless they don’t have any money. Ted Ted is the commune’s resident enraged Republican correspondent, a position that has earned him the contempt of the rest of the staff and a half-off discount at Denny’s.
| Sinclair Networks to Air More Anti-Kerry FilmsOctober 18, 2004 |
A rare uncontested photo from the anti-Kerry film John Kerry: Warlock?, which may air on Sinclair networks nationwide before the Nov. 2 election; the hat's legitimacy has yet to be verified. any independent probes have begun to look into the practices of national network affiliates owned by Sinclair Broadcasting Group after the company pledged to air the anti-John Kerry film Stolen Honor on all its networks. Some research has uncovered a history of support for the GOP, a concentrated agenda against the Democratic party, and also revealed proposed plans to air more films and programs designed to denigrate presidential candidate John Kerry and give George W. Bush the advantage in their political match-up.
Sinclair, who also earned Democrats' ire for refusing to air Nightline's reading a list of dead U.S. soldiers in April, is treating the Kerry-bashing film as news content. It compares the nationwide free airtime for Republican views to the limited-re...
any independent probes have begun to look into the practices of national network affiliates owned by Sinclair Broadcasting Group after the company pledged to air the anti-John Kerry film Stolen Honor on all its networks. Some research has uncovered a history of support for the GOP, a concentrated agenda against the Democratic party, and also revealed proposed plans to air more films and programs designed to denigrate presidential candidate John Kerry and give George W. Bush the advantage in their political match-up.
Sinclair, who also earned Democrats' ire for refusing to air Nightline's reading a list of dead U.S. soldiers in April, is treating the Kerry-bashing film as news content. It compares the nationwide free airtime for Republican views to the limited-release theatrical film Fahrenheit 9/11, basically meaning fuck balanced political programming. On the heels of the film's airing, in the remaining time before Americans go to the polls Nov. 2, the company is planning other right-wing spin programs on Kerry.
John Kerry: Warlock?, an independently-produced film by the religious group Swift Christians for Truth, postulates that the Massachusetts senator may have been fathered by a goat and possesses mystical powers that allow him to alter the presence of nuclear materials, even erase them from existence. Though mostly assembled from stock footage of the candidate and interviews with unaccredited "experts," the film does contain a segment purported to show a young Kerry in a pointy hat turning a horse into a unicorn. Others, however, say the blurry footage was recently staged, and that's clearly Scott Baio playing the lead role.
Another film, Sandbagger: John Kerry's Real War Record, alleges the senator actually started the first Gulf War when, at a cocktail party in 1990, Kerry suggested to Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein he should take back Kuwait as part of Iraq. Democratic opposition to the film claims it's incredibly false, that Kerry was only joking with the guy, and the man reputed to be Saddam Hussein had actually attended the costume party as Super Mario.
Less likely to air, but still listed among recent Sinclair acquisitions, John Kerry: What a Pussy, seems little more than a suckerpunch film made to ridicule the man on a personal level. In addition to showing still pictures of Kerry next to flesh-torn zombies and cartoon dog Droopy, the film accuses Kerry of catching crabs in Vietnam and makes quite rude insinuations about his mother.
Other viewers of Sinclair networks say it isn't the first time the company has taken a side in political races. Certain anonymous Sinclair viewers, like Martha Philips of North Ridge, Virginia, say the sound cut out frequently during two of the three debates, all while Kerry was speaking, while another viewer insists a picture of Jesus was superimposed behind the president during the first debate.
"I also swear," says Margolis, Washington viewer Richard Higgs, "that the movie I watched last week originally starred John Wayne. But that guy who I saw in the movie then looked a hell of a lot like George Bush."
Sinclair has already made good on some of its other proposed anti-Kerry imagery, showing an embarrassing television appearance by the senator last Saturday culled from a 1980 episode of Dance Fever. the commune news is also anti-Kerry, but we of course mean Kerry, the coffee shop girl who rebuffs your advances with a role of her eyes—why you got to be so cold, pretty lady? Actually, Democratic Campaign Correspondent Ramon Nootles likes to have his advancements rebuffed, though if you ask he'll list specific body parts he would rather have buffed again.
| Money-starved NASA developing hurricane-powered shuttle Bush-chosen Afghan president accused of Bush-style election theft Amphibians threatened with extinction better pay protection money No, really, everyone will be dressing as a douchebag this Halloween |
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October 18, 2004 Queers Vote KerryMy opponent, Raoul Dunkin, makes a good case. That case is herpes. On the subject of politics, the old adage on children applies to him: Both should be seen beaten to a bloody pulp.
The liberal left is scared guiltless by the powerful agenda put forth by an assumably well-hung president. Still, the best they could offer is Senator John Kerry. John Kerry, who is from Massachusetts and doesn't even sound a bit like Cliff Clavin. Just where is Kerry really from? I'm not naming names, but let it be known that I, Ted Ted, was the first one to notice how French he looked. I'm pretty sure he wears lifts in his shoes to rise above his usual height of 5'1". I have it on good authority.
Kerry comes from the oldest tradition of tax-and-spend liberals. But taxes don't neces...
º Last Column: The Rotten Stink of Valentines º more columns
My opponent, Raoul Dunkin, makes a good case. That case is herpes. On the subject of politics, the old adage on children applies to him: Both should be seen beaten to a bloody pulp.
The liberal left is scared guiltless by the powerful agenda put forth by an assumably well-hung president. Still, the best they could offer is Senator John Kerry. John Kerry, who is from Massachusetts and doesn't even sound a bit like Cliff Clavin. Just where is Kerry really from? I'm not naming names, but let it be known that I, Ted Ted, was the first one to notice how French he looked. I'm pretty sure he wears lifts in his shoes to rise above his usual height of 5'1". I have it on good authority.
Kerry comes from the oldest tradition of tax-and-spend liberals. But taxes don't necessarily bother me—okay, they do. They bother me in the worst way. But his lesser qualities are what really scare me about Kerry. All these promises to provide increased medical insurance and bring more jobs to the country. Sure, they'll probably be service industry jobs, but I still say fuck that. The fact that we have four guys vying for one job right now, in some areas, is all that insures me I'm going to get a Whopper without hair in it. Take some fucking care with that sandwich, pizza face, 'cause there's three other greasy teen-agers and a Mexican with a fake green card who are ready to do it my way. Unless Kerry has his way.
Not to mention all the flip flops. I don't want to see my president wearing flip flops. My corneas are still scarred from the sight of Clinton in his jogging shorts—pardon me while I projectile vomit. Presidents should only wear flannel shirts, jeans, and cowboy hats when on vacation, or at the occasional funeral for a world leader. The Democrats have proven they can't be trusted to pick their own off-hours wardrobe. I would like to make it to my death without having seen the president of the United States wearing a hoodie and parachute pants, thank you.
Oh, and he's indecisive on issues. Or not really, perhaps, maybe he's too decisive. He believes in everything everyone else does. He makes fond use of the polls, don't he? Like how he comforts the gay nation and the rest of us at the same time with his assuring mantra: "I support the right for people to do whatever they want, and endorse your heterosexual insecurities, while at the same time embracing the more minor agenda of the homosexual community. I will not allow what you do, nor will I reject America's interference into your private lives." He sidesteps the serious issues like that neighbor of mine whose feet I shoot at every weekend.
Plus, his wife's the ketchup lady. Electing him means being forced to sit through a thousand product placements for Heinz during national speeches, State of the Union addresses, and photo opportunities.
Worse than all of it, if we elect stringbean, he's going to start curbing back the military. Jesus H. Christ on a hobby horse, we're supposed to quit the one thing our country still does best? During three short years we've occupied two enemy countries, made threats and allegations against several others, and pissed off any possible allies we used to have. We rock! Give us one more term, I swear we'll annex Poland and get the French to apologize for getting us into Vietnam.
No more of this pacifistic, sanctions-filled bullshit of a Democratic regime. September 11 gave us a license to kill, and by god, it's only good for a limited time. Let's re-elect the president, reinstate the draft, and start inheriting the earth again. º Last Column: The Rotten Stink of Valentinesº more columns |
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Quote of the Day“It has become appallingly obvious that our technology has exceeded our capacity for customer service. Yes I'll hold.”
-Elvin EinschwartzFortune 500 CookieYou will find Love in a new job this week. Unfortunately it's Courtney Love, and she's your second-shift supervisor. Cheer up, it's not that nobody cares about you; it's just that nobody's willing to admit to it. Everyone's right: Your irrational hatred of the Chinese is starting to hurt your chopstick business. This week's lucky stars: Sirius, Orion, Omega 13, Pauley Shore.
Try again later.Top Selling commune Paraphernalia1. | the commune's Book on Tape: Everyone's favorite verbose classic War & Peace printed in tiny type on the non-sticky side of a roll of Scotch tap | 2. | The "I Sued the commune for Libel and All I Got Was This Lousy Mug" Mug | 3. | "Pin the Paternity Suit on Lil Duncan's Babydaddy" Home Game | 4. | Boris Utzov Guide of English Slang | 5. | Ivana Folger-Balzac. Please, somebody take Ivana Folger-Balzac. | |
| Debate Result: Mark Buckles is a CockwadBY bran downey 11/1/2004 The Secrets of MichelangeloA ruggedly-handsome, sensitively masculine, manly-beautiful pseudo-archaeologist in his mid-30s, Professor Couth Banger walked right past the Italian police tape and into the Sistine Chapel. He had been here plenty of times, but he never failed to be awed by the roof painting. But he wasn’t here to admire art—he was here to admire the murder.
"You musta be Professor a-Banger," said a tall, thin detective. He had a thick mustache and no hair, like Mussolini, but spoke fluent English, except for a humiliating dialect. "There’s-a da dead man-a, right up-a there."
Banger directed his attention to a man, dead, swinging from a rope from the ceiling. The rope came right down through God’s navel. What a shame. That had been Banger’s favorite part of the painti...
A ruggedly-handsome, sensitively masculine, manly-beautiful pseudo-archaeologist in his mid-30s, Professor Couth Banger walked right past the Italian police tape and into the Sistine Chapel. He had been here plenty of times, but he never failed to be awed by the roof painting. But he wasn’t here to admire art—he was here to admire the murder.
"You musta be Professor a-Banger," said a tall, thin detective. He had a thick mustache and no hair, like Mussolini, but spoke fluent English, except for a humiliating dialect. "There’s-a da dead man-a, right up-a there."
Banger directed his attention to a man, dead, swinging from a rope from the ceiling. The rope came right down through God’s navel. What a shame. That had been Banger’s favorite part of the painting.
"Yeah, it’s nice, but is it art?" quipped Banger, with a self-satisfied smirk. Then, seriously, he asked a question. "I’m a little confused, Detective Typecastio. I’m an eminent researcher on gang signs and graffiti. Some would say, an expert on hidden meanings and secret in artwork. What does this have to do with me?"
"We-a found a disturbing note-a, with-a da body. Here." He passed the vital crime evidence to the stranger who had just walked into the room. "We appreciate-a you-a coming from America so fast. We have-a held da crime-a scene for-a three days now. It’s-a highly irregular, but-a what da hell. I’m-a up on racketeering charges next-a week anyway."
The note read: "Fuck you, Johnny. If you don’t want pizza, we’ll just the rest of us get one and you can fucking eat whatever you want."
Banger furrowed his sexy brow. "It’s a… code. Of some kind. You were right to call me. I think this note says more than it means. In fact, I think this entire murder fits well into my lifelong obsession with the art of Michelangelo." The professor studied the ceiling again, looking past the stiff dead man swinging like a hard-on in the wind.
Hours went by, and the cryptic message didn’t quite reveal itself. Then, suddenly, like a tiger on a school child, it sprang on Banger: He had uncovered one of Michelangelo’s secrets.
"Shit for breakfast!" exclaimed Banger. "Look!"
The detective, who had been napping while standing up, instantly awoke and followed Banger’s pointing finger.
"That angel in the background… that one right there, third from the left in that one picture."
"Is that an angel or a clown?"
"An angel, I’m pretty sure. Look! He’s trying to fit his whole hand in his mouth. When I first saw it, I thought maybe he was just retarded. In fact, usually when I come to see the Sistine Chapel, I usually just look at the penises, I’ve never noticed that angel. But what if…"
Banger raced across the floor, pulling the keys to his plane from his pocket. "I’ve got to fly to Paris, immediately!"
"They won’t let you in at this hour, if you just want to stare at David’s penis."
"No, I don’t have time for that tonight," said Banger, over his shoulder. "I think I’m onto the biggest conspiracy in the entire history of the twenty-first century!"
For more of this great story, buy Bran Downey’s novel
The Secrets of Michelangelo |