Ashlee Simpson Debacle Becomes 'October Surprise'

nyone waiting for the much-talked about "October Surprise" may have found it when, on an Oct. 23 broadcast of Saturday Night Live, musical ingénue Ashlee Simpson suffered a technical glitch that revealed her lip-synching to the world.

Legendary "October Surprises" have become a part of election year speculation, most memorably in the Carter-Reagan battle for the White House in 1980, when some suggested Carter's administration would pull off an October release of Iranian hostages and seal his re-election. Instead, he completely and utterly failed to release the hostages, and maybe that was the October Surprise, for the other guy. But you get the picture.

In the Bush-Kerry race, wild postulations on 2004's "October Surprise" included the capture of Osama bin Laden, another terrorist attack on U.S. soil, the release of new information about the economy, or a major degradation in the already-shitty Iraq situation. But if anyone had any money on a hack pop singer igniting the lip-synching controversy, you can collect your winnings, Charlie.

Simpson, a teen tart and possibly sister to "Chicken of the Sea" Jessica Simpson, was caught close-mouthed on stage before a live studio audience while the wrong vocal track rolled as her band played a different song. She apologized to the audience at the end of the show, blaming the incident on a wardrobe malfunction; later, Simpson admitted to using the backing vocal, but said she was sorry and it was the first time and she would never do it again, for honest this time.

The embarrassing event follows another flare-up in the lip-synching issue, when Elton John recently blasted ancient crumpet Madonna for allegedly lip-synching in her live concerts. John was drunkenly furious to hear Madonna had been nominated for "Best Live Act" in some shameless back-patting awards show. "Anyone who lip-synchs in public on stage when you pay seventy-five pounds to see them should be shot," said the famous "Crocodile Rock" singer, who is very gay.

As such flaps become newsworthy, it becomes harder and harder for the candidates to avoid the lip-synching controversy that divides the nation. For younger voters and pop-music, lip-synching is often a necessary evil that helps make stage-shows more involved and choreographed, while other voters and real music fans denounce it as technical trickery for the untalented. Older voters also often ask for the candidates to take a hard stance against rap music, which they proclaim is "just talkin'."

Although his platform is definitively against lip-synching, except on M-TV parody shows, Bush and his campaign would rather avoid a public stand-off on an issue that might alienate the young voters he seeks. While preaching to his conservative base at rallies across the nation, Bush has been known to challenge the legitimacy of music acts using pre-recorded vocals.

"My personal favorite has always been the Charlie Daniels Band," said Bush, to the same vigorous roar of applause he always receives. "If you can catch him lip-synching, I'll give you a coupon good for one free kick in my ass."

The Kerry campaign, on the other hand, has played it close to the vest, trying to court voters who feel that lip-synching should be regulated by the states and private citizens, rather than the government.

"I am against, and always have been against a constitutional amendment banning the use of pre-recorded vocal tracks by a live act," said Kerry. "This should not be taken as support of those who would choose to use such tracks live. I believe live music should be sang, not played back. Clearly, I would like to be elected."

sing state of the art poll-tracking technology, the commune has been able to predict this year’s presidential election winner two days early with a probably 98.77439% accuracy, and the result may shock or disinterest you. That’s right; Al Gore will be our nation’s 44th president.

Though Gore has not been a frontrunner in most of the supposedly-reputable national polls heading into the election’s final week, a highly scientific sampling of unregistered voters within a two-block radius of the commune offices has confirmed the reports of future correspondent Future Bob, who recently contacted the commune from the year 2006 with the news that Gore is president and that pop music had gotten really, really shitty. Also: buy stock in flavored condoms now.

Though it is unclear as of yet whether the Gore win will be the result of an unexpected groundswell of support in the election’s final days, or the emergence of thousands of 2000 absentee ballots from Post Office limbo hell, one thing is unmistakably clear. More on that later.

Perhaps even more surprising than the Gore win was the news that both presidential incumbent George W. Bush and Democratic challenger John Kerry finished well out of the money in the general election, trailing such surprise write-in candidates as The Rebel Billionaire, J.R. Ewing, and “that black guy from 24.� Also receiving strong shows of support were Candidate Zero from the NetZero Internet Service commercials, baseball commissioner Bud Selig, and the soothing, dignified voice of actor James Earl Jones.

Though the point may be moot due to the tenth-place showing of Jones’ voice, it is unclear whether the entire personage of James Earl Jones would have been inaugurated had the actor’s voice won, or if Jones would have had to stay out of sight while his voice was electronically matched, Wizard of Oz-style, to a projected image of either Darth Vader, the dad lion from The Lion King, or some kind of CGI morph of the two.

The revolutionary new poll, devised by the commune’s in-house expert expert Griswald Dreck using the latest Polish technology, also revealed some surprising news about America’s political affiliations. Long-though to be a nation composed almost equally of Democrats and Republicans, this latest poll shows a surprising 74% of citizens who list their party as “Yes!� Another 10% belong to the hard-line “Fuck Yeah!� Party, with a small but vocal minority standing behind their “Not Since We Had Kids� Party affiliation. Also of concern to the current establishment are the upstart “Where?� and “Can I Bring My Brother Dave?� Parties, which appeared to grow in size exponentially between our 10am and 4pm polls.

The demographic splits were even more surprising, with over 80% of likely white trash voters believing that gun control means using both hands. And in a minor note, a surprising 82% of Americans believe Gore is our current president, and are happy enough with the job he’s done to vote for a second term.

In other political news, 65% of likely voters expressed their strong opinion that commune reporter Lil Duncan belongs in the “Hot� category, while teen correspondent Boner Cunningham led the “Not� voting with a skyscraping 92%. Though disheartened by the news, Cunningham informed the commune that he hopes to do better in the upcoming 2008 election, by which time he expects his mustache to have fully grown in.

There's nothing more ugly than a fat man in banana-colored jams. That's just a fact of life. Sweet canary-colored Christ, is that a hard fact of life. This having been said, I admit there are more tactful ways to spread the word about this eternal truth than screaming it through a batch of megaphones you've got welded to the roof of your car like some kind of old-timey politician on a budget.

But may all the world's unfortunately-dressed fat men be my witness when I say I didn't set out this morning to malign the portly and ill-coutured via electronic amplification. I just wanted to test out the six-megaphone behemoth I had recently added to the roof of Bricksmobile III (formerly known as the Bagecudda) for purposes of thinking out-loud while in commute. Needless to say, that unfortunate fat bastard surprised me by appearing on the sidewalk in the middle of one of Omar Bricks' famous stream-of-consciousness clusterfuck rants, which led to me inadvertently screaming "Sweet Grandma Moses, did you see that fat fucker's pants?!?!" at the top of my lungs for the benefit of most of the greater metro area. If I'd had more time to think about what I was broadcasting at the decibel equivalent of two jet engines exploding in a stainless-steel men's room, I might have made it less obvious which fat fucker I was talking about, saving that jams-wearing butterball a fair measure of public embarrassment.

Of course, as should surprise nobody, Omar Bricks was man enough to admit his mistake, which I did by flipping a bitch across the median and heading back to apologize to the yellow-legged monstrosity whose dignity I had shitcanned with my ear-piercing insensitivity.

This time around we were heading in opposite directions, so I only had time to yell "Sorry, fatass!" before my window of opportunity was gone. Anything I'd said after that would have appeared to be directed at this gang of Latino guys hanging out on the corner, who didn't look like they had any kind of sense of humor about loud, public affronts to their manhood. Not to be prejudiced or anything, maybe they were a sensitive barbershop quartet or something, but those didn't look like barbershop tattoos to me.

In the split second that I saw that big yellow blimp's face on the way back, I couldn't quite interpret the look he was giving me, but it for sure wasn't the look that says "Don't worry about it dude, and thanks for having such an unbelievable assload of class." It seemed more like a mix of "Why me?" and "Fuck you," so clearly he'd misunderstood my message and thought I was just buttering him up as the set-up for a really devastating critique of his wide-load fashion sense.

Needless to say, Omar Bricks just couldn't let that injustice stand, so I threw the Bricksmobile in reverse and made my way back up the sidewalk to re-apologize. I'd barely megaphoned a heart-felt "I'm sorry for drawing attention to your big yellow ass, chunky" when the dude took off running like he'd never heard of social etiquette.

Most people aren't familiar with the proper technique for driving backwards up a city sidewalk; they think you should take it slow and steady to make sure you don't hit anything, careful to remember that turning left makes the car go right, etc. Actually, that's the most dangerous thing you can do, you're in real deep shit if you honestly think you're going to keep all that crap straight. It's much safer to put the hammer down and let the G-forces steer your car for you, the sidewalk and surrounding buildings will direct your car far better than your eyes ever could, trust me. But most people don't know this, so they overreact and dive out of the way when they see your car bearing down on them, accelerating into the low 60's with a mangled shopping cart bent across the trunk.

Jimmy Jams was apparently from the overreactor's school of backwards-sidewalk driving, because he hit the shoe-leather expressway like a big fat Lamborghini running on NASA fuel when he saw the Bricksmobile take out that kiosk of newspaper vending machines en route to apology. I knew I was going to have to think fast to set this whole thing right.

"Really, you're not that fat," I offered charitably over the megaphones. "Anybody would look bad in those pants."

But the rotund runaway kept on sprinting, even after I blurted out "My bad" on the car's horn in universally-understood motorist Morse code. Some people just can't be reached, especially after you wipe out into a fruit stand and your homemade bank of megaphones snaps off and flies through the window of a nearby deli.

I think he got the message though. And even if he didn't, I imagine the sprint for his life helped him drop a few pounds, so I figure I'm karmically in the clear on this one either way. Bricks out.

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