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 February 28, 2005 |
An early victim of the then-dubbed “Wichita Stabbing Strangler” in 1974, as evidenced by the ridiculous fashions of the personnel involved.
The suspect, Dennis Rader, blasted newspapers and television media for screwing up the killer’s chosen name since the earliest days of the first BTK victim. Between 1974 and 1986, or possibly even as late as 1991, the BTK killer (BTK standing for “bind, torture and kill”) compiled 8 victims, with two more potential victims being examined by police, and went through at least 6 public name changes as the media attempted to pigeon-hole the serial murde...
olice announced Friday that they had apprehended a suspect in the murders of up to 10 killings, the notorious BTK killer, as DNA evidence may prove. The alleged BTK killer made no confirmation of his accusations, but did call national news media “fuck ups” who couldn’t even “get a simple three-letter name right.”
The suspect, Dennis Rader, blasted newspapers and television media for screwing up the killer’s chosen name since the earliest days of the first BTK victim. Between 1974 and 1986, or possibly even as late as 1991, the BTK killer (BTK standing for “bind, torture and kill”) compiled 8 victims, with two more potential victims being examined by police, and went through at least 6 public name changes as the media attempted to pigeon-hole the serial murderer.
Upon the death of the first four victims, an entire family, early pioneering journalists attempted to name the perpetrator “the Family-Size Killer.” When the next victim was discovered, three months later, the media hoped they had a serial killer on their hands, and dubbed him, “The Wichita Stabbing Strangler.” City officials glowered at the negative publicity, and demanded they change the name. Newspapers were in favor of “The Jayhawk Stabbing Strangler,” while news media won out with “Mr. Poky-Squeezy.” Upon the serial murderer being confused with a local birthday party clown of the same name, they changed his name again to “The Country-Fried Killer.” Around the same time, police confirmed letters being sent to them were likely from the perpetrator of the crimes, requesting the title “The BTK Killer.”
Even then, the news media fucked it up. A typographical error on the police memo lead to the killer being called “The BK Killer” for the rest of the year, and scared off many people from eating at all local Burger Kings. Other residents, who received their news from the radio, were misinformed about the “The DQ Driller,” and stormed area Dairy Queens to dig in to the new treat.
Angrier, even more irate letters arrived for the police and national media, all in caps, with the name “BTK Killer” underlined, and specifically noting the meaning of the letters in very contrary language. Some broadcast news outlets then, possibly on purpose, released the name as “The Beady Cake Killer.” Allegedly pissed off, the perpetrator sent even more contrite letters to police and the media, using some especially nasty words that rhyme with “rocksuckers.”
The BTK Killer continued to have trouble with his public name over the years, as media outlets alleged different meanings of the BTK notation, including “Bloody Tick Killer,” “Brown Taint Kicker,” “Bottled Tar Keeper,” “Billionaire Testicle Kruncher,” “Black Titty Kisser,” “Barmaid Toasted Kelp,” “Bunched-Toe Keds,” and “Blacula Tossing Kid.” Some even speculate the BTK Killer ended his string of murders when he did because he was sick and tired of being confused with Wichita tire merchant Birchfield Thomas Kinnear. This reporter was then asked to quit speculating and leave the police press conference if I had nothing worthwhile to contribute.
Suspect Rader did address the subject of the BTK Killer’s many names, while not admitting any connection to the murders themselves.
“Birchfield Thomas Kinnear? Please,” said Rader, in a statement released by Wichita police. “That makes no sense at all. If the BTK Killer was Kinnear, why the hell would… whoever he is… call himself that? If he murdered Kinnear it would make sense. And probably the only reason he wouldn’t have gone ahead and done that, not that he didn’t think about it, was he didn’t want to be forever confused by a callous, forgetful, illiterate industry of news people.”
Rader had been sought by police for questioning about the crimes, and was pulled over in a routine traffic stop when the police found his car parked illegally on the shoulder as Rader spray-painted the words “It’s Bind, Torture, Kill! IDIOTS!” on a Motel 8 billboard. The alleged murderer, however, refused to explain how the killer could stand having a name as redundant as the Bind, Torture, Kill Killer. the commune news believes in the three I’s of journalism: “Incite, Insinuate, Inform.” Not that we always inform. Ramon Nootles would like to be known as the BTK Killer of love. But he doesn’t kill, honest.
 |  February 28, 2005 |
Medina, Washingto Shaki Meadows An artist’s concept of just how hard this thing might blow
The enigmatic uberdork Gates first attempted to purchase the art installation earlier this month, after seeing it on USA Today and screaming “I want those things!” to the various electronic henchmen whirring about his family’s high-tech Medina, Washington home. But despite being t...
rap-art lovers of New York have had their chicken salad shat upon this week with the news that their beloved The Gates of Central Park, a conceptual-art project by French artists Christo and Jeanne-Claude consisting of 7,500 orange gates strewn throughout the famous park, may be in jeopardy. A lawsuit filed by Microsoft headcheese Bill Gates over copyright issues would have the famous art-things torn down from their current location in the park, then re-erected on Gates’ front lawn.
The enigmatic uberdork Gates first attempted to purchase the art installation earlier this month, after seeing it on USA Today and screaming “I want those things!” to the various electronic henchmen whirring about his family’s high-tech Medina, Washington home. But despite being the world’s richest man, and crying like a little girl during the negotiations, Gates was unable to sway the money-hating French.
At first, Gates reacted to the snub by ordering Microsoft engineers to build a replica of The Gates on his lawn. Unfortunately, several of the gates crashed during construction, killing three itinerant laborers. Gates then turned to his current lawsuit, which he hopes to win in the name of the nameless Mexicans killed in that frustrating tragedy.
Surprising all and completely wrecking the commune betting pool, the rismurfulously wealthy Gates granted this reporter access to his heavily fortified Redmond home, which is rumored to hover five inches above the ground at all times to cut down on worm noise, for an exclusive interview.
“Art should be enjoyed by all,” explained Gates from deep within his lair, perched atop the earth’s crust. “And I hardly ever get a chance to go to New York.”
Gates also gave this lucky reporter a tour of this cutting edge techno-hovel, which is completely computer automated with voice activated controls for temperature, ambient music, and air ionification. In addition, the entire house goes apeshit when you say the day’s secret word: “Ziggy Stardust.”
The home is also ringed by a miniature monorail system which delivers food and other essentials to the hard-working frabjillionaire. Looking like a cross between the mechanical rabbit at a dog racing track and the trolley in Mr. Rogers’ house, Gates explained how the monorail system works while he reprogrammed the house’s secret word, due to this reporter’s inability to construct a sentence that didn’t include “Ziggy Stardust” and the resultant epileptic fit suffered by Gates’ dog, Bytes.
The installation of The Gates on the Gates’ front lawn would replace a small placard currently located near the home’s main entrance, which reads “The Gates.”
“It’ll be a bit more high-concept, for sure,” explained Gates, turning a dial to remedy a smell that this reporter certainly didn’t deal. “And I always hated that damned placard.”
The thrust of Gates’ lawsuit lies on The Gates’ visual similarity to the heavily-copyrighted Windows logo, which is some kind of weird little flag thing made of plastic-colored nacho chips. This week’s opening arguments also touched upon the obvious plagiarism involved when the French artists named their epic art installation after the computing pioneer. Gates, whose name is a registered trademark in 397 countries worldwide, has thus far been unsuccessful in applying the same protection in several English-speaking nations, including the United States, where the word also means “a thing to keep in the dog.”
This case is thought to be a slam dunk, however, since Gates has already promised to help the judge install a wireless network router on his Windows PC, a task thought to be otherwise impossible.
When faced with similar challenges to the Gates brand in the past, the Microsoft founder has often struck back with his wallet, including his 1999 purchase of Rodin’s massive portal sculpture The Gates of Hell from the Musée Rodin in Paris. The Gates of Hell currently serve as a thoroughfare between Gates’ home office and bedroom.
No stranger to appropriating popular art for his own uses, Gates drew criticism in 1999 for using the 1977 David Bowie classic “Heroes” to promote some kind of Windows bullshit in a television commercial. Though some were equally critical of Bowie for selling out, most were understanding when it was revealed that the Microsoft honcho had persuaded Bowie by offering to rid his PC of the nefarious Michelangelo virus. the commune news is no stranger to huge public art installations, but we still don’t think anything Christo has done can compare to the Red Fire Hydrants exhibit on display in many major cities nationwide. Boner Cunningham has a teenager’s eye for art: that is, if you can see tits, he’ll keep an eye on it.
| Giant panda skeleton found; Ling-Ling sought for questioning Beware email scams signed "Homeland Security King" FDA: Celebrex has incredibly effective lobby Phone porn: Can you hear me now? |
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 February 28, 2005 Volume 62Dear commune:
Can you keep a secret? I’m secretly in love with my boss. Nobody knows except me, my cat, and the commune. What should I do?
Marcy Gaybridge
Hook, Vermont
Dear Marcy:
Though our advice may seem unconventional and dangerous to some, we highly recommend that you invent and build a time machine to go back in time to before you sent us your letter, and smack the pen out of your own stupid fingers. All things considered, this would probably be your best strategy, since we’ve already told everyone in a three-block radius the news, and have sent a singing strip-o-gram to your boss in your name, Marcy. Sorry toots, but whoever told you the commune could keep a secret was yanking your non-existent crank, honey.
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º Last Column: Volume 61
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Dear commune: Can you keep a secret? I’m secretly in love with my boss. Nobody knows except me, my cat, and the commune. What should I do? Marcy Gaybridge
Hook, VermontDear Marcy:
Though our advice may seem unconventional and dangerous to some, we highly recommend that you invent and build a time machine to go back in time to before you sent us your letter, and smack the pen out of your own stupid fingers. All things considered, this would probably be your best strategy, since we’ve already told everyone in a three-block radius the news, and have sent a singing strip-o-gram to your boss in your name, Marcy. Sorry toots, but whoever told you the commune could keep a secret was yanking your non-existent crank, honey.
the commune
Yo commune: What do I gotta keep telling you guys about printing stories making me look stupid? You wanta pig-knuckle sandwich or something, eh you poofy little shits? Sincerely, Turd McDowell
East Side, ChicagoDear Turd:
Though this is not the first "Dear Turd" letter we’ve written today, we assure you that it is our favorite. We do sincerely apologize if the commune’s brand of insouciant wit and razor-sharp social commentary has left you feeling at a loss for properly-firing brain synapses, Turd, but that’s the way the cookie crumbles. Unless of course you’re the Turd McDowell we’ve been writing about in our delightful new weekly feature, "Turd McDowell is a Stupid Pig Fuck." In that unlikely for-instance, we understand your rage and encourage you to air your grievances at the commune’s home offices at 1 East Northern Street, Beirut, Lebanon. Fight the power, brother.
the commune
Dear commune: Omar Bricks is so funny. Soooo funny funny funny. When I read his column I can’t stop laughing and I get all dizzy and nauseous. Sometimes I can’t even stand up. And I can’t sleep at night, from all the laughing. I haven’t slept in seven weeks and all the time I hear salsa music in my head. I’m starting to think that brutally killing another human being with my bare hands is the only thing unfunny enough to get me to stop laughing so I can go back to a normal life. And get the birds to stop following me. Hey, on an unrelated note, any of you guys want to meet up for lunch tomorrow? It’ll be fun, I know a good place down by the pier. You bring that funny, funny Omar Bricks and I’ll bring the salsa music. See you then, Keith Bitner
Chattanooga, TennesseeDear Keith:
While flying to Tennessee for lunch with a psychopath does sound like a fun way to spend the day and about $1,000 tomorrow, to our detriment we’ve got the day, psychopath, and $1,000 locked up in a lunch tomorrow with Ivana Folger-Balzac and a gigantic iron-cast gun safe dangling from the roof by fishing wire. Good luck with your mental breakdown and keep reading the commune!
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for the United States’ failure at the 1972 Olympic games. Just thought we’d lay that on the table.º Last Column: Volume 61º more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“If it looks like a duck, walks like a duck, and quacks like a duck, it must be Microsoft's new Futuretron 3000 Duck Simulator. That's almost a duck!”
-Rodney CheesesteakFortune 500 CookieWhen kicking out at opponents this week, aim for the nuts—always a good strategy. It's time to let that baby shark go home to its mama; it's been two years and you've got to take a bath sometime. Look forward this week to a final showdown with your mortal nemesis, Weezer. But watch out for the Rentals to intervene.
Try again later.5 Worst Katrina-Related Headlines| 1. | Everything Possible Done by President (Fox News) | | 2. | Tabasco Shortage Reaches Drastic Proportions | | 3. | Cancun Prepares for Huge Rise in Mardi Gras Reservations | | 4. | Bubba Gump Still Missing in Disaster | | 5. | Saints Season Ticket Holders Hit Hardest by Tragedy | |
|   Oldest Human Remains Found BY orson welch 2/28/2005 In celebration of the Oscars, my personal favorite annual travesty of cinema, I thought I would forego the usual DVD review for my recollections on the worst of all Oscar winners. True, it's mostly because there are few, if any, first-run movies coming to DVD this week, but let's not let that spoil the fun. On to our Oscar-winning losers.
Oscar's Worst
Braveheart
Britain's Empire Magazine picked this as the worst of the Oscar-winners, and I have to agree, though the choice was difficult. Mel Gibson, fresh from making the film Transvestite Roadie, plays William Wallace, in a script as phony as any peace treaty ever signed by the U.S. and Native Americans. Apparently, rather than waging a justice civil war against an aggressive e...
In celebration of the Oscars, my personal favorite annual travesty of cinema, I thought I would forego the usual DVD review for my recollections on the worst of all Oscar winners. True, it's mostly because there are few, if any, first-run movies coming to DVD this week, but let's not let that spoil the fun. On to our Oscar-winning losers.
Oscar's Worst
Braveheart
Britain's Empire Magazine picked this as the worst of the Oscar-winners, and I have to agree, though the choice was difficult. Mel Gibson, fresh from making the film Transvestite Roadie, plays William Wallace, in a script as phony as any peace treaty ever signed by the U.S. and Native Americans. Apparently, rather than waging a justice civil war against an aggressive empire for the right to home rule, Wallace decided to kick England's ass because someone messed with his girlfriend. Way to go, screenwriter Randall Wallace. There's much more moral authority when you're avenging the death of one woman instead of thousands of abused Scots. Still, without this movie, my friends and I wouldn't get such a kick out of yelling "Freedom!" in crappy Scottish accent. We went around doing that for a few years.
Forrest Gump
True, shit happens, but must we film it? Tom Hanks goes from playing Bosom Buddy to just plain boob in this Rain Man, sans the real emotional content. Here's the story: Forrest Gump is born retarded, grows up with funny leg braces, miraculously runs on his broken legs, goes to Vietnam and saves everybody, thereby winning the war, comes back to join the protestors, thereby eating his cake, too, receives commendations from every president for being a moron, becomes a millionaire through the huge shrimping market, has a child with a slut, and takes care of when he dies, because all retarded people have good hearts as all know. If you find this account of the movie insulting to your intelligence, you should at least respect I used much less time to insult your intelligence than the movie itself did.
Shakespeare in Love
The best accurate review I could find of this modern-day untamed shrew was "punchy." Jack Nicholson, too, is punchy, it doesn't mean he deserves a Best Picture Oscar. This was before the entire world collectively turned against Ben Affleck, so watching it now, it should be quite a puzzler how audiences got out of the theater without wretching themselves into comas. Also, did Shakespeare really have the Caesar cut? It doesn't matter. I'll give you the historical inaccuracies. But casting so many shiveringly-bad British accents in one movie makes me want to stab the real Shakespeare with a poisoned foil, were he not already dead. A turd by any other name still stinketh up the theater.
Would that I had more time, I could point out how horribly unendurable Chicago was—one column for that alone. But not today, my friend. I take leave now, hoping Hollywood will actually do one or two more films and release them to DVD, so I don't have to drudge up the ugly past in future columns.   |
