ans of the unskippable clutter clogging the front end of most commercial DVD releases received great news this week with the announcement that all major movie studios will begin releasing films in the HD-DVD and Blu-Ray formats later this year, allowing studios to pack even more commercials, trailers, multi-language legal disclaimers and FBI warnings onto their future releases.

The new formats were developed by a consortium of consumer-electronics giants in response to studio complaints that current DVD technology only allowed studios to force the purchasers of their DVDs to sit through about twenty minutes of unwanted content before getting to the main feature. HD-DVD will feature a 30GB capacity, enough for fifty trailers showing coming attractions, seven FBI warnings, twenty-seven commercials for other DVD releases and Pillsbury crescent rolls, and “The views and commentary reflected on this disc do not reflect…� disclaimers in forty-seven languages. The rival Blu-Ray format, developed by Sony, is expected to nearly double that content, leaving the actual main feature as a virtual afterthought printed on the biodegradable glue between disc layers.

“These new formats are a godsend for our industry,� explained Paramount Pictures head Sherry Lansing. “Last year we had to cut ten minutes out of Top Gun just so it would fit on the DVD between the trailers we wanted to include for our seventeen most exciting upcoming releases. This time next year, our biggest problem is going to be finding a way to make sure consumers aren’t napping through the two hours of product placements and trailers we’ll be able to fit before the movie. We’re already working on a feature that will crank up the television’s volume for the trailers, in such a way that you won’t be able to turn it back down.�

Other studios are said to be working on similar DVD technologies that would insert commercial breaks into DVD movies, add CGI product placements to films according to real-time sales figures, and one that would go so far as to turn on a consumer’s television at pre-programmed times and play time-sensitive advertisements from the DVD.

Though the movie studios are understandably excited about these technological advancements, consumer advocates question why consumers would shell out big bucks to replace their relatively new DVD players with an even more abusive technology. But Hollywood studios remain unconcerned.

“Well, they bought DVD players, didn’t they?� asks Twentieth Century Fox head Hutch Parker. “Damn did they buy DVD players. I mean, with VCRs, you could just fast-forward past all the crap at the beginning, or just never rewind the tape that far. People obviously prefer being made to watch this stuff, so we’re adding more. After all, adding commercials before the half-hour of trailers we show in the movie theaters sure hasn’t kept people from shelling out $10 at the movies, right?�

“They’ll buy them,� agreed Lansing. “We’re going to say the new Blu-Ray shit has twice the ignots or something, make something up. ‘High Definition,’ whatever that means. ‘Crystal-clear picture and bone-rattling sound,’ that sounds good, right? We’ll say they make the old DVDs we were hyping last week look like burnt turd, and those geeks will eat it up.�

eorge W. Bush was theoretically sworn in as the 43rd president of the United States last Thursday, in a ceremony that went completely unwatched in his native country. Foreign media debated the content of Bush's speech, while American scientists debated the age-old question, "If the president gives a speech and nobody bothers to tune in, does it make a sound?"

"All who live in tyranny and hopelessness can know: the United States will not ignore your oppression, or excuse your oppressors. Except North Korea, or other oil-free regions not worth our time," Bush said in his speech, according to the Zaire Free Press. American papers instead ran lead stories Friday on Saturn's frozen, gas-soaked moon Titan, as well as the religious debate over the sexual orientation of Spongebob Squarepants.

While some are blaming the lack of viewer interest on American political apathy, others point out that Bush's approval rating of 49 percent is unprecedentedly low for a president being sworn in, despite his very recent victory in the November election. Not only historically bad for a re-elected president, Bush's approval ratings are believed to be the lowest for any president ever at the time of his inauguration, and appear to indicate that at least 4% of the population voted for the president in November in spite of neither liking the man nor approving of the job he had done. Whether this figure should stand as an indictment of the voting public, or just former Democratic challenger John Kerry, is unclear. Bush supporters still put a positive spin on the numbers, however, explaining that those 49% probably really, really approve of the president a lot.

Neither Bush supporters nor detractors could be bothered much by the president's speech, however. Supporters complained that the replay of the speech ran right into Thursday night powerhouses The Apprentice and CSI: Crime Scene Investigations, setting Bush up to lose in a battle against more entertaining programs. Bush detractors explained that they'd rather have their skin removed by hyenas than have to watch that beef-brained cowboy flap his chops for ten whole seconds. Undecideds apparently spent the evening making handicrafts.

In Mena, Saudi Arabia, 2.5 million Muslims gathered to throw rocks at a picture of Bush on Thursday, celebrating the U.S. President's victorious second term with a traditional stoning and screamed curses about the devil.

Most of Europe was similarly excited, spending the hours after Bush's inauguration visiting churches, bars, and other places of comfort from deep spiritual despair. Numerous organized protests of the Bush presidency were held, most strangely enough in countries where Bush is not the president.

Americans seemed more surprised that anything had happened at all, asking confused questions about if it was time to vote again or if there was a part of an inauguration where you could speak up if you knew some reason that guy shouldn't be president, like the part in weddings. Others explained that they were fresh out of that not-apathy thing, or were saving their energy for the next soul-crushing election in 2008.

Apparently some construction crew Einstein had a brainstorm watching E.T. the other night, since I woke up Saturday morning to find my neighbor's construction site completely enclosed in some kind of gigantic biohazard flea tent. Thank God I'd ditched out on the idea of camping there overnight, since I'd likely have been trapped inside and I bet everything stinks like malathion in there now.

Cruelly denied access to my neighbor's basement-in-making, I decided to do the next best thing and find out what's in my own basement, since I hadn't been down there in about eight years and my memory wipes clean like a credit report after seven. I couldn't even find the key to go down there until I checked in Foghat's party ball, the strange, amorphous blob of unidentified household detritus he pushes around like a bag lady raised by owls.

After I de-balled the basement key and broke the seal on the basement door that had been keeping everything inside in a permanent state of 1997, I took my last, deep breath of fresh air before voyaging down into whatever mummy farts and radon leaks had been lurking in the air under my house since back when Hanson was on the radio.

At first I was a little apprehensive heading down those stairs, not knowing quite what could be down there in the dark, waiting to jack up my Jill. I had a bad experience once in Canada, getting locked in some stranger's cabin in the middle of the night and having to shimmy up out of the basement coal chute after a misunderstanding about bathroom etiquette. I wasn't looking forward to reliving that again, plus I'm pretty sure I don't have a coal chute.

But then I realized that any kind of creepy naked chainsaw killer down there would likely be way off his game after the eight-year vacation, and probably would have grown some hilarious deep-sea fish adaptations after spending nearly a decade in the dark, too. And I'd pay to see that shit. Then I remembered about the halogen floodlights I had installed in the basement, after Foghat lost his lucky tooth down there and I got sick of blowing through candles for my miner's helmet looking for the damned thing.

After finding the switch and flooding the basement with enough light to incinerate any hiding mutated chainsaw freaks, I took the plunge into a land of mystery and wonder.

Or at least a lot of shit I forgot I had. Hula hoops, an airplane wing, and a gun that shoots billiards balls. And some sick bastard had painted a life-sized portrait of Nancy Reagan using real meat. Then there was the huge refrigerator with a normal fridge inside, and a mini-fridge inside that one like a giant refrigerator Matrioshka doll, I guess at some point I had shit that needed to be kept really cold.

A voting machine? Jesus, did I get elected? And I have no idea where those tricked-out dirt bikes came from.

But the most interesting thing I found down there was the giant crate of off-brand NyQuil I spied behind a wax statue of Evander Holyfield over in the corner. What's the story behind this stuff? Anybody who's got more than FM radio between their ears knows that cough medicine is only good for two things: methamphetamines and hilarious gag ice cubes. But a case? Man, that's a lot of ice cubes.

I'm not sure why I would have bought an entire case. Actually, I'm not sure how I bought an entire case, I don't think they sell it that way outside of New Mexico. Either they get a lot of colds down there or tweakers run the government. Maybe I was on a road trip and just didn't want to pass up the opportunity.

Then again, it was a knock-off brand called NiteWipe, so maybe they had to sell it by the case to get people to buy the stuff. Well, it worked at least once.

So now you know the story behind how that weird blue-green igloo ended up on my lawn, and how I distracted the construction shmoes long enough to make a kamikaze run on the biodome to make sure they didn't really have an E.T. trapped in there. Incidentally, I also added a concrete mixer to my carnival of basement thrills downstairs, which should make for some interesting speculation in another eight or nine years.

Bricks out.

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