n a Super Bowl showdown Sunday that few will soon forget, the New England Patriots forcibly sodomized the sickly Philadelphia Eagles, unless the underdog Philly squad pulled off a stunning upset against the clearly overrated Patriots. Results were not readily available as of press time.

“Patriots rule!� screamed a naked-yet-painted youth after the game, likely a Patriots fan.

“Definitely!� agreed a compatriot, more clothed but no less enthusiastic. “Unstoppable! Unless they cocked it up. In that case, they’re a gang of spineless suck monsters.�

“The Eagles are a bunch of dickless homos who aren’t fit to sniff my balls,� explained cocky New England quarterback Tom Brady after the game. “Unless they won. In that case, they were a heck of a tough squad and we played our best, but just didn’t come out on top today. We’ll get ‘em next year. Unless we don’t.�

The stunning Super Bowl victory was New England’s third in four years, a thrilling period of dominance for Patriots fans, unless it was a crushing disappointment and inspiring Cinderella story for the unlikely Eagles, who won their first Super Bowl since 1960 and brought a parade of dreams home to Philadelphia. Philly fans, known for their bitterly cynical dedication to disappointment, booed their team either way. Commentators remarked on not having seen this level of vitriol from sports fans since the last time the Special Olympics came to Philadelphia.

“The Eagles were clearly overmatched in this David and Goliath tale,� explained sports blowhard and former Oakland Raiders towel rack Marcus Parkum. “Unless, you know. Another way of looking at it is that Philly was clearly underrated, a ragtag bunch of plucky gamers that snatched the spoils of victory from the clutches of a Patriots squad grown fat and apathetic with the glory of their past successes. Either way, it was a Super Bowl. Unless it got cancelled.�

“Fuck! Fuck!� elaborated commune neighborhood bookie Fat Anthony. “Or, alternately: Allllll riiiiight! Ant’ny made some moolah tonight! Shit yeah!�

Sports fans nationwide were stunned by the Super Bowl’s outcome, unless the game went exactly as expected. Few could have anticipated, however, the stunning halftime show, which featured an unprecedented level of wit and subtlety, unless it was just a bunch of idiots dancing around in hot pants. Whatever happened, the career of Gloria Estefan will never be the same, unless it continues on exactly as it has for years.

Fans of either team have to agree that the game turned on a crucial play in the fourth quarter when Eagles receiver Terrell Owens either caught a miraculous 94-yard “Hail Mary� pass to score the game-winning touchdown, or else forgot to turn around at the last minute and got hit square in the ass with the ball, at which point he reportedly farted. Owens will likely never live down the fame or infamy stemming from this career-defining play.

In related news, TV jockeys were thrilled to witness a fresh slate of instant-classic Super Bowl commercials, making the game experience worthwhile for wives and gay men trapped in sports bars everywhere. Unless, of course, it was just more of the same retarded bullshit from Budweiser and Coca-Cola that we’ve been seeing for years.

he U.S. Department of Defense has come under fire this week after launching S’nooze, a news parody web site featuring a lighthearted look at the day’s events through the prism of the Pentagon’s unique brand of humor. Liberal watchdogs have criticized the site as a potentially dangerous outlet for government propaganda, while everyone else has been complaining that it’s not nearly as funny as The Onion.

“S’nooze is some funny shit,� explained uncharacteristically laid-back DoD worker Pvt.Thom Vogelsang, who was soon afterward court-marshaled for unruly facial hair. “I don’t care what anybody says. That piece we did on giving pacifists rat-poison enchiladas was da bomb.�

“Nobody reads our site,� complained S’nooze head writer Lt. Col. Danish Marks. “Our site stats suck. The Onion’s got more ads on it than a NASCAR stock car and they’ve still got hits like Usher. I’d love to be within smelling distance of that kind of traffic. But just because we’re the Pentagon, everybody thinks we can’t have a hilariously irreverent take on the news.�

Concerned citizens with too much time on their hands have pointed out the potential propagandic dangers of the site, referring to the fact that S’nooze is run by U.S. military troops trained in “information warfare.� Other, less politically-paranoid citizens have alternately pointed out the failed-humor dangers of the site, being that it is run by U.S. military troops trained in “information warfare.�

Complaints to Pentagon Inspector General Joseph Schmitz recently initiated a thorough review of the site’s contents, which Schmitz summarized as “amusingish.�

“Jesus. Did you see their first issue?� blasphemed freelance media critic Rutherford B. Goods. “They had a feature where you could add ‘funny’ captions to the Abu Ghraib photos, and an essay contest about how pacifism is for fags. I didn’t laugh so hard my sides didn’t hurt.�

Yet another wave of criticism has come at the Pentagon from humorless Americans who were tricked by the site’s lack of successful humor into regarding S’nooze as a legitimate news source. The site’s recent headline of “Iraqis Demand Recount—Not Enough Civilians Killed� sparked a flood of angry emails from readers who had missed the Pentagon’s tiny-type disclaimer of “Sponsored by the U.S. Department of Defense: You been punk’d, bitch!� at the bottom of the page, therefore missing the “joke.� No one is quite sure what to make of the fact that most of the angry readers were in favor of a tragic recount.

“Sure, everybody can make fun of the government all the live-long day, but now that we want to get in on the fun, it’s a crime against humanity,� complained project head Maj. Dean Veiner. “Entertainment Weekly actually said that, ‘a crime against humanity.’ I liked them better when they didn’t do web site reviews.�

commune media critics Roland McShyster and Orson Welch were both asked to review the site for this article, but the results were unfortunately deemed unsuitable for publication. For one, McShyster seems to have reviewed the similarly-named www.s’mores.com web site instead, and Welch’s review was so bitter that commune lawyers feared it would violate the state’s Hate Crimes Act of 2000.

51. 2? That's what constitutes a rating from you, my loyal readers? I would say "go to hell," but I'm bigger than that. Not much bigger… that unwashed rabble Omar Bricks receives more readers than me? I would cry recount, if I were not staunchly conservative. But forget the injustice… I already am. Let's forget my poor readership and likelihood of losing my job forever.

Not much can clothesline my good mood today (though 51.2 came awfully close). I am in love, good people! An event that happens very rarely for me, every three or four months at the most. The moon goes crescent more often than I fall in love. And I think this is the real deal. Ginger Baker is loud, opinionated, and not very tall at all—can you think of a more perfect match for yours truly? Or myself? I think not.

Good people, love is like the pollen that keeps flowers and bees doing obscene things to each other. It is a sweet nectar, the very blood of life itself, except you can get it out of carpets. And I am so in love I'm ready to throw up. No joking. She is like the wife I've been married to twice before. A little more like Arvelyn, my second wife, than my first wife—Wyfe. And boy, does she have a hot body. Built like a brick ship.

Perhaps I've become a little arrogant with my hip new relationship. We keep kissing in front of Camembert, holding hands, rubbing our noses together—he's even started locking his bedroom door so we won't wake him up in the middle of the night just to do that stuff in front of him. His girlfriend Elvis isn't very happy about it either, and threatened to put the karate to us. But our love is stronger than karate. Melee attacks, that's another question. I'll have to evaluate it in closed conditions.

You're probably thinking, "But Rok," as all 51.2 of you is apt to say quite a lot, "Don't move too fast. I've had my heart broken by a Bangkok hooker, who also stole my wallet, and I don't want that to happen to you." To which I say: That's a little more information than I needed! And then I laugh in a forced manner. But I assure you, I'm moving at my usual cautious romantic speed. I have yet to even book the place for the wedding, I'm still shopping around. Heartbreak won't catch hold of me again.

This is the most unusual relationship I've ever been in, not quite "traditional," but hey—I'm mod. I know for whom the bell tolls, cat. So what if Ginger makes more money than I do. I'm cool with that. I've even taken an interest in her career, as a veterinary talent agent. I've been scouting several local stray dogs, who all seem to have a pretty impressive screen presence, judging by my novice eye. I'm also in negotiations with a math-savvy peacock. Not that I'm naming names—I don't think it even has a name, and I'm not entirely sure it's anything more than a lawn ornament. But cut me a break, I'm not doing this to get rich (but if it happens, I won't complain). This is all in the name of love, as any number of songs might say.

She's into all the same things I am—lifts, non-professional wrestling, home ownership, chasing new interests with maniacal fury, complaining, and not paying a lot of money for things. In the short time we've been going out, we've already done all the "relationship things"—getting drunk at family reunions, accusing each other of infidelity, arguing about having kids, and of course, miniature golf. She is quite the lady, and looks less like a man than any woman I have ever dated. And it goes without saying the sax is great—we're both altos.

If you never hear from me again, don't fret, good people—I am being bound and gagged and abducted by the greatest of all terrorists… love! And it shouldn't surprise you, with low numbers like 51.2. You complete shits.

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