raqi terror chief Abu Musab al-Zarkawi, known alternately as "The Commish" or "Chief Proudblow" to bored American journalists, made headlines this week by not being captured, inspiring the envy of millions worldwide whose lack of achievement failed to attract any media attention whatsoever.

American soldiers report that they thought they had el-Zarqawi in the bag after trailing a car with his distinctive vanity license plate "KABOOM3" for fifteen minutes one day back in February, but lost the Iraqi dissident when he ducked out of the car and sprinted into a back alley. The soldiers continued to give chase on foot, but were foiled when al-Zerqawi pulled off one of his famous Bugs Bunny disappearances.

"We thought we had the target for sure when we cornered him in that alley," explained Capt. Lance Dank. "But then he ducked into a door in the alleyway, and when we opened the same door, there was just a brick wall there. It was the weirdest thing. Like the Twilight Zone or something."

"Or a cartoon," added Pvt. William Stussenweld. "That kind of thing happens in cartoons sometimes. I've heard."

The resulting non-story took the world's newspapers by storm, pre-empting the news that U.S. president Bush had almost choked to death on a hot dog, but did not because in the end he decided to eat some applesauce instead.

In other news, scientists in Vancouver nearly cured cancer on Thursday, only to find they had instead created a new flavor of hickory-smoke-flavored dogfood. The rock band Jimmy Eat World also almost wrote a great song, and actress Bette Middler nearly delivered an Oscar-worthy performance on the set of her latest project, the chick flick tear-jerker Runaways.

Internationally, lasting peace came so close to breaking out in Palestine that you could smell it Wednesday, only to swing back the other way when some dick blew up a children's hospital with a nail bomb. Japan also almost made news this week, when government officials announced they had perfected the world's first crash-proof commuter rail system, then suddenly got very quiet about the whole thing and refused to talk about it.

Closer to home, the commune was nearly recognized for its Pulitzer-level reporting this week, only to be disgraced at the last minute when the fickle fates decided instead to award the organization for its tireless efforts at truth-saying with the Golden Tit, a sexually-arousing trophy acknowledging excellence in the field of completely fucking up news stories beyond all recognition.

Asked about the secret of his success during a recent satellite telephone call that al-Zarquawe placed to our offices in hopes of getting the commune to stop spelling his name wrong, the Iraqi terror chief was philosophical.

"You just have to take it one day at a time, don't try to do too much. In fact, don't try to do anything. The press attention will come to you, my friend. Pluck up, your time will come."

aw enforcement officials are bursting with pride this week over the results of the first annual Bring Your Drugs to Work Day, an unqualified success that nabbed over 3 million drug users at their places of employment nationwide. The controversial sting operation, brainchild of DEA wunderkind Dickie Milkweed, snared millions of Americans who thought the “holiday� was a long-overdue relaxing of uptight social mores and restrictions about showing up to work as high as a beautiful kite.

“Gotcha, stoners!� celebrated Milkweed, sipping a virgin club soda triumphantly, giving a mocking thumbs-up to the camera and performing an awkward little dance obviously not benefited by any groove-enhancing drug use.

“This is a great day for Tootie,� slurred commune editor Red Bagel in agreement, drunk as an ox, upon hearing the news.

Wishing to capitalize on the success of this week’s traditional Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, federal officials granted the DEA’s wish by quietly passing the new holiday into law, clamped onto the ass of the innocuous “Puppies are Beautiful� bill passed by congress in February.

However, several women’s groups have already protested BYDWD, concerned that the bummer drug-bust holiday will taint the public’s associations with Bring Your Daughter to Work Day, most notable among them the feminist groups NORML Chicks and Women for Reggae. The original, non-Fugazi holiday was instituted in 1993 as a way for parents to expose their daughters to the dangers of the workplace and to drain office productivity for the month of April.

Since then, several painfully politically-correct groups have lobbied to change the name of Bring Your Daughter to Work Day to the less-offensive Bring Your Daughter or Son or Whatever You’ve Got to Work or Some Place Else if You’re Unemployed Day, with little success due to counter-lobbying efforts from calendar manufacturers, who claim that printing a holiday name that long would force them to retool their entire operations at incredible expense.

Others have argued the highly controversial point that there’s nothing wrong with drug use in the workplace, unless it adversely affects job-related performance.

“Man, this is total bullshit waaaaaaaaaa…� trailed off temp worker Justin Penrose from a holding cell outside Chicago.

Still others, however, have pointed out that anyone who was dumb enough to fall for Bring Your Drugs to Work Day has obviously had their mental faculties dimmed heavily by drug residue of some sort, and is likely costing their employer billions in lost productivity and time spent having to explain things six or seven times.

“God I feel stupid,� lamented 79-year old Eloise Hartford, who misunderstood the nature of the holiday and brought her extensive collection of prescription medications to work on Monday instead. Most of Eloise’s co-workers were arrested for marijuana possession, leaving the lion’s share of the 14-person office’s tasks on the frail shoulders of Hartford, who tires easily.

“I should have claimed some of that reefer was mine,� complained Hartford. “I hear they have some pretty soft cots in prison these days. No beds of nails or anything anymore.�

In related news, commune editor’s-brother Gay Bagel has recently spearheaded an aggressive initiative to increase Internet access to inmates in America’s prisons, a move some have called a ratings ploy since a large proportion of the commune readership is now behind bars.

I knew one of these seasons it would happen, and that day is finally here: Every team in Major League Baseball stinks this year. Just plain stinks, every last one of them. Sure, somebody still has to win every game, but this year it's less about winning and more about not losing quite as badly as the other team. And I don't have to tell you it's as painful to watch as the rodeo at the Special Olympics.

Granted, some fans see fit to remind me that it's still early in the season, and that for at least a few teams, early suckocity will be transformed into mere mediocrity by season's end. But I don't buy it. Suck is a stink that stays on you for months, if not years, like gas station cologne. And this year, the entire league stinks like "Consternation for Men."

The bitterest part of this pill is the fact that at least a couple of these teams were supposed to be half-way decent this year. The Red Sox just won the World Series, for crying out loud, giving their fans unprecedented high hopes about not having their whole miserable lives remind them of smoking a turd like a cigar for a few short months this season. So naturally, they turned around and "re-vamped" their pitching staff by signing one guy most known for a goatee that looks like a thatched doormat and another so old and out of shape that he recently went on the disabled list with a pulled finger. And the Sox had to fire their team doctor after learning that Curt Shilling made it through last year's postseason on an ankle held together with glitter glue and spunk. Gross, I know, and I didn't even tell you whose spunk it was.

But truly nobody can statutorily rape high hopes like the New York Yankees. Fielding a team so expensive and inept it should qualify as a socialist government program, the Yankees seem determined to prove just how much caviar a drunk can barf up on the national stage this year. Some see this as the inevitable result of the team's policy about not signing any players who are too young to remember M.A.S.H., but personally I'm more likely to blame it on the fact that the team's run by a character from Seinfeld. Learn your history, folks. That never ends well.

Who else is sucking? Take your pick. The Cubs? Like you needed to ask about the Cubs. That team could field an entire roster of Jesus Christ clones and still find a way to have the whole lot of them go down with sandal splints and blown elbows from high blessing counts and excessive water-to-wine conversions. They've got the Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost all on the 60-day disabled list, and I don't think the Holy Ghost will even be back for next season.

Houston's entire team has been too focused on the Social Security debate to keep their minds on the game at all this season, and San Francisco has been crippled by the fact that they traded the best closer in the game for a catcher who could get kicked out of the Hell's Angels for being an asshole. Also, they just got news that doctors found a Fraggle living in Bonds' left knee. I don't know what that says about the whole steroid debate, but those designer Jim Henson Mupplements he's been taking are starting to look mighty suspicious.

Washington? The joke this year is that they gave Washington a team, but haven't given them any equipment yet. Still, those guys are doing pretty well considering they've been using milk cartons for gloves and are playing in their street clothes. Minnesota fell for the old "The season starts on May 1st" gag again this year, so they're already twenty games back, with some serious catching up to do. Atlanta? Fags. Sorry, but they are a bunch of fags. Read the team's press kit if you don't believe me. Not that there's anything wrong with that.

Sure, a few teams may have decent records so far, but don't kid yourself. The Dodgers? The White Sox? Check the records a little closer guys, it wouldn't surprise me if at least one of those teams was being run like Enron and is just writing off dozens of losses as "extended spring training" or some other dodge. You'll know I'm right if they're still 16-6 in August.

But contrary to what some may assume, you won't hear me complaining about the state of things. Not more than usual anyway. I actually kind of like it when teams suck major egg, as a fan it gives you more to talk about. Blathering on about who's pitching great or who just hit a home run so far it killed a hang glider gets real old, real fast. But the details of pathetic performance can be dissected on into infinity with no loss of enjoyment. Just ask a Cubs fan.

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