he sound of big, scary men whining grew louder this week with the news that the Missouri House (similar to the Ronald McDonald House, only more Missoury) has upheld state governor Matt Blunt's decision to ban all video games from the state's prisons. While the public's reaction has been mostly along the lines of "They have video games in prison? Is there anything those assholes don't have?" the reaction from inmates statewide has been much bitchier.

"Man, this shit is whack," complained Tyrell Doogins, convicted three-time murder and NBA LIVE fanatic. "If I can't get my GTA on, I gonna be killin' some suckers for real."

The move by Blunt came after months of criticism by victim's-rights groups disturbed by the prospect of prisoners reliving their real-life criminal exploits, and earning gaudy high scores for doing so, through such violent games as Grand Theft Auto: San Andreas and Hitman: Contracts.

But not all inmates agree with that line of reasoning.

"Man, that shit is so fake," bitched lifer Tug Borrows. "That gun doesn't recoil anything like that, this game is for pussies."

Prison officials have also accused some popular titles, like Acclaim's Prison Riot and Rockstar's Shower Shiv 2 of instigating real-life violence within the state's correctional facilities.

"It's the age-old question of art imitating life, or life imitating art," explained cultural critic and perpetual college student Justin Blake. "Just because two inmates drop their controllers and get into a knife fight in the middle of playing Eidos' Prison Rec Room Knife Fight Gold Edition, it's impossible to say if the game caused that behavior, or if Eidos just did a good job getting the details right. After all, that kind of stuff went on long before they had video games in prisons. They used to blame that old Gregory Peck movie, Change That Channel and I Break Your Face for the same kind of things."

While highly violent games like Grand Theft Auto and Max Payne are by far the most popular in America's prisons, there do remain small pockets of gaming inmates dedicated to non-violent titles, who feel like they're being unfairly punished by the total ban of all video game types.

"Sure, not a lot of guys in the joint are as into Roller Coaster Tycoon as I am," admitted Dolmer Grays, a diminutive and heavily-bruised inmate in Jefferson City. "But there are enough of us. And any time we're not running away from the bigger and tougher inmates, you can find us playing RCT, baby."

Dolmer had to cut the interview short to escape retribution from a GTA fan, but his point was well-taken. However, it remains this reporter's position that Dolmer and other fans of pussy video games should spend a little more time in the gym and a little less time on the Xbox if they hope to outrun a beatdown more successfully than Dolmer did.

This reporter also received word of a small but dedicated pocket of Dance Dance Revolution fans in the Jefferson City facility, but was advised by the warden to stay out of that cell block if I valued my anus, which this reporter does.

ritain entertained quite a flap in legislative quarters last week, as Prime Minister Tony Blair met resistance in the passage of his Prevention of Terrorism Bill that would suspend the right to a fair trial. However, the law did successfully pass both Houses, effectively working against 800 years of British legal tradition established in the Magna Carta.

"Thank you," said the Prime Minster, rather politely tipping his hat to the legislative body. "You have aided the efforts against terrorism. The more people we have locked up, the fewer terrorists we will have on the street." Blair then ended the 30-hour legislative session by courteously shaking hands with everyone in the hall.

The legal match came as P.M. Blair sought approval of the new anti-terrorism bill to replace laws established after 11 September, 2001, hastily pushed through the legislative process in an effort to adapt to the new terror-mad world. Those laws would have expired soon, forcing the Prime Minister to pursue a new bill. Even Blair's own Labor party showed some resistance to details of the legislation, but through a series of concessions, Blair reached approval of the bill with the House of Commons, only to be surprised by the House of Lords, who customarily concede to the will of the Commons. Further debate over the bill continued for a record-matching 30-hour battle, until Blair made concessions to Conservative party leader Michael Howard and met a consensus.

Among the harshest responses to suspected criminals is the return of the medieval dungeon for long-term housing of those awaiting trial. The bill would call for £250 million in dungeon construction, surely good news for the freemasons. The P.M. admitted the incarceration of suspects in medieval-era dungeons would cost more, not less, but would "certainly put the fear of England into them."

The contests over England's tradition of due process to the accused mirrors the turmoil President Bush has surfed through in the United States as his own post-9/11 laws draw criticism from liberals, a dying breed in America. However, as P.M. Blair faces a greater opposition to the occupation of Iraq in his own country, Conservative leaders are seeking a weakness to exploit in this election year, and the law could come back to haunt the P.M. later. Some speculation exists Blair's motivation for following Bush's lead, even to his political doom, has been the president's overbearing personality is too strong for kind, mannered Blair to reject, with his cultured background. Members of the Labor party have even tried plying Blair with beer in hopes of him calling the U.S. president at 4 a.m. in Washington and telling him to go fuck himself… no luck as yet.

Ideally, according to proponents of the measure, suspected terrorists could be held for longer terms as the government built a case against them and exploited information gained from them to prevent potential terrorist attacks. The adapted law has been expanded to include Britons (the previous law applied only to foreign suspects); and of course, there's the dungeon, manacles and bread/water meals still being optional depending on local authorities.

Not everyone in the House of Lords opposed the new law, however, despite the upset caused by their attempt to block the bill's passage. In fact, the oldest of the legal bluebloods, Lord Philip Smudbury, applauded the bill's approval, in particular the return of the dungeon.

"Many of the younger legislators are not old enough to recall the firm discipline of the dungeon," said 97-year-old Smudbury, a member of the House of Lords since 1949. "In fact, I'm not old enough to remember it. But I had been locked up quite a bit in dungeon-like quarters by my emotionally-abusive parents. And I can say with conviction it did marvelous in shaping my respectability. You would do well to impose such an experience on many of your own on your side of the pond. That president of yours, for one. Such a rascal would certainly benefit from a ten- to fifteen-year stretch in the dungeon. No more of this mangling of the queen's English."

Lord Smudbury then graciously shared the afternoon with this Americanized reporter, a memorable period of time spent smoking home-grown pipeweed and poking the help.

I had planned on letting you all know how my screenplay efforts are going, but I've decided to put that aside, because something is really chapping my ass lately.

Okay, real quick—the screenplay is going fabs. The class with Nancy Melville is going fantastic and I'm practically done. My people are even in talks with Conan O'Brien to star as the Sheriff, even though his people aren't talking back. Anyway, I've got bigger deals this week.

For the very last time, I got bumped. And not from any prestigious talk show or event, which I might be able to understand a little. I got bumped from the commune! Just weeks ago now. Can you believe it? The goddamned nerve. An organization like the commune has balls the size of American Gladiator Atlaspheres to bounce me from the schedule. I thought we had all this shit out. I thought the days of being bumped were behind me, now that I hang out in smaller circles. Turns out even in a small pond a big fish can get shoved around.

We had hashed all this out, or so I thought. I told the commune I wasn't going to bother writing anymore columns unless they met my two conditions: One, they paid me, and two, I had a regular schedule. Actually, I can let you all know, the regular schedule thing was just because I couldn't think of another demand. No big fish makes only one demand, even if it is about more money. So I just made up the schedule thing on the spot. Who knew, they bought it! Or I thought they bought it, until I got bumped again. This time for some damn Valentine's Day column or something by a friend of a friend of some asshole at the commune. I was major torqued. I mean, I wrote the column and everything. They have pushed back my column on other occasions, when I didn't meet the deadline or I used the column to mop up a spilled drink or something, but this time it was already done. What fucking audacity, like the cartoon says.

I've had my share of bumping in the past, of course. The first time I went on the Carson show I got bumped, just because Robert Goulet had to sing another fucking song. Like nobody's ever heard "The Way We Were" sung by a boozed-up has-been. They can hear it every night at my dad's apartment. But I was just a kid, I didn't know any better. I chalked it up to running with the big dogs, But again and again it happened. I got bumped because The Who went long breaking all their shit at Farm Aid 1988, I got bumped from the M-TV Awards because Howard Stern thought that Fartman character was funnier than sniffing paint. It's fucking ridiculous, people. I got bumped from the Golden Globes because the guy who canceled decided, oh, I want to squeeze into the Ewok suit and give out the award after all. It's bullshit.

The worst of all was the many times I got bumped by Conan himself. I don't have to tell you, since it's no secret to my fans or the judge who issued the emergency protective order, I'm Conan's biggest fan. Still, to this day, even after all the times I've been bumped on his show. And sometimes I was bumped for really dumb reasons, dudes, I don't have to tell you. A totally stupid hack comedian who sold Conan a few jokes at the budget rate or something, or him and Andy were cutting up—cutting into my time, I don't need to remind. Conan, you know I'm your biggest fan, but you bounced me from the show because you guys couldn't keep a straight face during that "In the Year 2000…" sketch? For, like, the hundredth time. Whatever.

Well, this is a warning to everyone, but especially the commune: No more bouncing Clarissa Coleman. I'm not taking it from anybody. You hear? Nobody. Except Conan, if he wants me to sit in for another show. I've got my old Corn Flakes-eating bowl ready and everything, hon.

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