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 May 16, 2005 |
Former pope John Paul II's handlers insist that the deceased old man "keep a lid on it" during a recent prayer service
Such a move would be a radical break from the Vatican's traditional 5-year waiting period between a pope's death and first chance at beatification, which is not as painful as it sounds. The waiting period has traditionally served as a time for the deceased pope's life and accomplishments to be put in perspective, to prevent voters from being swayed by the media circus surrounding the pope's death and the emotions of guilty voters who owed the pope money.
rand spanking-new pope Benedict XVI has surprised traditionalists this week not only by having the traditional pope throne in the Vatican replaced with an overstuffed Lay-Z-Boy recliner, but more significantly by calling for "Santo Subito," or "Immediate Sainthood" for his predecessor, the reportedly-deceased John Paul II.
Such a move would be a radical break from the Vatican's traditional 5-year waiting period between a pope's death and first chance at beatification, which is not as painful as it sounds. The waiting period has traditionally served as a time for the deceased pope's life and accomplishments to be put in perspective, to prevent voters from being swayed by the media circus surrounding the pope's death and the emotions of guilty voters who owed the pope money.
"Your Holiness, though I respect your desire to honor—could someone kindly shake the pope awake, please?" argued Cardinal Vincenzo Palati to snores of disagreement from a reclined pope.
Pope John Paul II himself bent the rules by sponsoring Mother Teresa for sainthood a mere two years after her death, with the explanation that he was tired of waiting to get his hands on the collectable "Saint Mother Teresa" bobblehead doll.
Some have questioned Benedict's motives, pointing out the possibility that he hopes to accelerate the trend, eventually allowing the pope to declare himself a saint before he even dies, getting around the ever-present problem of being a saint but being too dead to enjoy it. Critics point out the many powerful incentives for pulling off such a coup, including the generous saint discount available at buffets worldwide, and the ability to commandeer civilian vehicles on demand for saintly business.
For John Paul II to be beatified, supporters will have to provide evidence of saint-like miracles performed by his former eminence during his popehood. So far, this looks to be a large hurdle.
"The pope made meatballs one time, using grade D beef," reminisced cardinal and pope friend Arturo Bennini. "It was a miracle they turned out so good."
"Well, the pope blew his nose on my shirt once," explained an awed Victor Minelli. "And the stain looked kind of like cookie monster. You know the cookie monster? So that was kind of weird. A weird miracle."
"That man was a saint," claimed a rambling Cardinal Eustace Beeter, in a 45-minute speech that none could claim had a definable point. "Just good people, that pope."
Catholic statisticians, however, question the logic behind John Paul II being inducted to the Pope Hall of Fame at all, citing the former pope's poor career stats. 4,000 conversions are traditionally considered to be the benchmark for sainthood, though John Paul II supporters argue that the former pope's 2,805 were an artificially suppressed number due to injuries and the years that the pope served in the army.
"The three most similar popes to John Paul II, according to their statistics, are Hermes the Mauve, Jonas Ricardo Popino, and 'Steamboat' McGill," explained pious nerd Walter Bumrose. "Not exactly a stellar assemblage of popehood, to be honest. Those are some real bummer popes, most of them from the dark period in the church's history when they had cash flow problems and would let anyone be pope for a day as long as they kicked in enough cash and brought their own hat." the commune news recently celebrated our own induction into the commune News Hall of Fame, an exclusive membership honoring the very best commune news organizations. Ivan Nacutchacokov has worn a path in the sky between Iraq and Italy this month, and as a result believes he has enough frequent flyer miles for a leveraged buyout of United.
 |  May 9, 2005 |
Washington, D.C. Whit Pistol An amateur Minuteman photographer (amateur at both being a photographer and being a Minuteman) took this photograph, at first presuming it a fancy-ass Mexican mule vehicle, but later suspecting another kind of alien invasion.  
"If Martians, Venusians, Neptunians or whatever want to get into this planet, and by extension into this country, they can go about it the proper way," said Minutemen project founder Jim Gilchrist, speaking to Congress on behalf of his organization. "But there are laws in place to keep out those we don't want on this planet, at least in this co...
embers of the red-hot "Minutemen Project" petitioned Congress for government funding to support their patrols of the borders of planet earth itself, fearing more illegal alien immigration, the small and green kind. The Minutemen darlings wrapped up their recent month-long patrol of Mexican-U.S. borders, and are hoping to extend their project and, in the future, even help safeguard the inter-galactic borders from unauthorized intrusion.
"If Martians, Venusians, Neptunians or whatever want to get into this planet, and by extension into this country, they can go about it the proper way," said Minutemen project founder Jim Gilchrist, speaking to Congress on behalf of his organization. "But there are laws in place to keep out those we don't want on this planet, at least in this country there are. We reserve the right to kick them out on their asses, wherever those asses might be located."
Angry populist shouting ensued in the wake of the claim, or more like the dull kind of irritated murmur you might here at a dance club when you're commandeering the floor and making all them skanks look amateur.
The Minutemen called their first patrol effort a huge success, a month-long venture in which vigilante volunteers watched for illegal crossings and reported them to the border patrols, never once taking the law into their own hands, we're assured, and hope it's all the proof Congress needs that ordinary citizens can deal with the problem of illegal immigration, without unnecessarily involving trained officials and people who are actually employed to deal with the matter.
"Illegal immigration is the number one country facing this problem today," said Rusty Hemlawn, exaggerating quite a bit. "If the government is too bloated and slowed down by legalities to handle the problem, then it's up to us normal armed citizens to do it ourselves."
Hemlawn and company make a good point, though, that if you are a middle-class, gun-toting white citizen who doesn't have family that's been ravaged by the economy or affected at all by military extensions overseas, illegal immigration by non-white people into your mostly-white country is certainly the biggest problem concerning you.
But, people who are semi-intelligent wonder, how much of a problem is illegal immigration by non-earth entities? The answer might surprise you, if you ask some of the redneck members of the Minutemen themselves.
"I's been sitting here for all my shifts all month," said Judd Bumper-Scruggs, a 42-year-old Minutemen volunteer and recent high school dropout. "I ain't seen but one or two Mexicans nosin' 'round the border, but I seen a mess o' them flyin' contraptions. We got a big problem with alien invasion, and I'ma be the first to warn you."
The Minutemen, not usually the reactionary type, were quick to report their findings to all the scientific bodies of the world, except for the unlucky fact they didn't know of any of them. So the group wrote to its Congressmen, and were invited by famous Senatorial inflammation Zell Miller to bring their cause to the legislators.
Gilchrist, speaking to Congress: "What happens when hard-working white—I mean, Americans, heh, of any color, of course—good Americans start losing their jobs to these green illegal immigrants? They control the laws of space and time, so of course they can afford to work for a lot less than an American doing the same job. They come here, all crammed in their flying saucers, looking to take work out of our mouths. I think we have a right to be protected from that."
Organizers of the Minutemen project claim their sweethearts are already guarding the skies with the use of high-powered telescopes (look in the small end, folks) and the occasional homemade heleocopter, but government funding would facilitate their private police force, as well as legitimize the group of angry crackers. the commune news used to find the best way to preserve its borders from outsiders was to let Alamo "Loser" Cruise sleep on the premises, but the pungent smell also kept away most staff members. Stigmata Spent doesn't keep her borders very well guarded, if you catch our innuendo.
| Ethiopians unanimously elect Colonel Sanders 500,000 new jobs created in April already outsourced Derby winner stripped of prize when revealed as man in horse costume Man who thinks like wife-killing ex-cop needed to catch wife-killing ex-cop |
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 May 16, 2005 Volume 63Hey commune:
Yo commune, I gots to get me a girlfriend, and pronto, dog! If I don’t get these boots knocked soon, my jizzbag’s gonna bust on me, yo. I ain’t playin’ dog, this is some serious shit. So what you say? You gonna hook me up or what?
"Teabag" Darnell
Wynalotte, Texas
Dear Teabag:
Though few can deny the serious threat this issue poses to your jizzbag, we here at the commune are far more concerned with the photograph you sent in with your letter. We assume it’s either of you, an example of the kind of girl you want us to find for you, or a panicked evidence shot of a rare urban Sasquach. Whichever is the case, consider yourself triply screwed. But we’ll make you a deal, Darnell. You get Bush out of office for u...
º Last Column: Volume 62
º more columns
Hey commune: Yo commune, I gots to get me a girlfriend, and pronto, dog! If I don’t get these boots knocked soon, my jizzbag’s gonna bust on me, yo. I ain’t playin’ dog, this is some serious shit. So what you say? You gonna hook me up or what? "Teabag" Darnell
Wynalotte, TexasDear Teabag:
Though few can deny the serious threat this issue poses to your jizzbag, we here at the commune are far more concerned with the photograph you sent in with your letter. We assume it’s either of you, an example of the kind of girl you want us to find for you, or a panicked evidence shot of a rare urban Sasquach. Whichever is the case, consider yourself triply screwed. But we’ll make you a deal, Darnell. You get Bush out of office for us and we’ll see to it that you get hooked up with a Sasquach-fetishizing-freak lover. Either that or Lil Duncan. Because if we have to put up with this Bush shit much longer, our jizzbag be gonna blow, yo.
the commune
Dear commune: Inquiring commune readers want to know: boxers or briefs? Lois Arbuckle
Panhands, OklahomaDear Lois:
Though we here at the commune love all kinds of dogs, we must admit to being partial to snack-sized dogs like the Chihuahua or the Bansai. True, a larger dog like a Great Dane or a Mastiff can easily feed a family of four, but who in the city has a freezer that big? You’re talking about a serious waste of dog meat there, unless you open a cart to sell Gyros on the street. But believe you us, getting a permit for one of those things is a serious bitch.
the commune
Dear commune: Boris Utzov must be stopped! As foretold in the Bible, this man is the harbinger of great doom, the amiable fool who shall lead them astray to the ruination of all mankind! And that English! If a pure soul cannot be found (obviously outside of the commune offices) to stop this great devil outright, would it kill you guys to at least get that motherfucker hooked on phonics or something? Damn. Ole Carpathiam
Turnstile, NebraskaDear Ole:
While we agree that Boris must be stopped, our main goal is to get him to stop bringing his nasty Eastern European lunch meats in here. The man hasn’t been in our offices in nearly a year, and the break room still stinks like rotten Chernobyl ferret. As for Boris’ English, we weren’t aware he actually spoke any English, so this is great news to us. Now we can finally fire that interpreter and parlay the financial savings into about 400 of those car deodorizer trees to hang in the break room.
the commune
Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for your lack of credibility in the scientific community. For an explanation of that one, we refer you to the time you glued a bunch of dildos onto a horse and then claimed to have genetically engineered a new species of giant porcupine. Just a thought.º Last Column: Volume 62º more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“I cannot tell a lie—I like big butts. You other brothers can't deny. My anaconda don't want none, lest you have buns, hon.”
-George WizzleswishingtonFortune 500 CookieOur apologies, but the guy doing your fortune was a complete fraud—hmph. You'd think we'd have seen that coming. This week, reconsider investing in those flame-retardant pajamas for the little ones. Definitely Burger King—definitely. Lucky dusts this week: Gold, saw, angel, and the stuff on grampa's skin.
Try again later.Top 5 Issues for Next Supreme Court| 1. | Official legal definition of "fucked up" | | 2. | Arrange long-awaited challenge of man versus beast | | 3. | Discount a minimum of ten urban legends | | 4. | Settle this Lindsey Lohan-Hilary Duff feud once and for all | | 5. | Reverse hundreds of years of progress | |
|   "Runaway Asshole" Continues to Wreak Havoc Nationwide BY roland mcshyster 5/16/2005 Great Googly Moogly, America. I'm not kidding, this is the best Googly Moogly I've ever had, my compliments to the chef. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't get good Chinese food from a place that also recycles athletic equipment. One stop shopping is the word of the future, according to something I read somewhere like eight years ago. Speaking of the future, we've got a batchload of new movies to review, and they all stink like the future.
In Theaters Now:
Domingo: Presequel to the Exorcist
Who knew Pavarotti knew so much about demon exorcising? I'd have thought any word so similar to "exercising" would have scared that tub of tenor right out of town. But instead, Domingo Pavarotti sticks around long enough to work up a forehead swea...
Great Googly Moogly, America. I'm not kidding, this is the best Googly Moogly I've ever had, my compliments to the chef. Don't ever let anyone tell you that you can't get good Chinese food from a place that also recycles athletic equipment. One stop shopping is the word of the future, according to something I read somewhere like eight years ago. Speaking of the future, we've got a batchload of new movies to review, and they all stink like the future.
In Theaters Now:
Domingo: Presequel to the Exorcist
Who knew Pavarotti knew so much about demon exorcising? I'd have thought any word so similar to "exercising" would have scared that tub of tenor right out of town. But instead, Domingo Pavarotti sticks around long enough to work up a forehead sweat liberating a devil-infested bucket of fried chicken and then proceeds to sweat straight through all eight layers of a tuxedo singing a song about it. I assume the song was about chicken, anyway, from the way he kept taking chicken breaks every few lines, but it was in Italian so it could have been about Domingo being in love with his mother for all I know. Was the movie scary? Did you see that tux? Yeah kids, you'll get your nine bucks worth.
Mimehunters
Hunting mimes for sport and trophies: a cruel but fun hobby, or just a fun hobby? It is far beyond the scope of this column to answer such questions, so we'll stick to the question of whether or not the movie makes mime hunting look as fun as it actually is in real life. And the answer is: damn close. True, no film can adequately translate the visceral joy of hearing a mime scream from across a beautiful mountain canyon, but Mimehunters does a fine job regardless. As a side note, the producers of this film wanted to get the word out early that no real mimes were injured during the making of this film, since professional mime hunters were used to insure that each mime shot was a clean kill.
Munsters-in-Law
Don't you hate it when you get married to a blonde hottie and at the wedding you discover that your new wife is the freakishly normal daughter from the Munster family? God, that really chaps my nuts. And apparently, mine weren't the only ones chapped, since Hollywood saw fit to make an entire feature film about the same. Robert DeNiro combines his twin talents for playing freaks and overbearing fathers-in-law with his turn as everyone's favorite reanimated collection of cadaver bits, Herman J. Munster. And rumor has it that Angelina Jolie didn't even need make-up to play his dead sexy wife Lillian. The corpse of Jack Lemmon is especially refreshing as Grandpa Munster, the sly old vampire codger who talks like there's an electric gear in his mouth making his jaw move in synch with a voiceover from Dave Coulier.
Perhaps the only disappointing bit of casting was the odd choice of Mel Brooks in a tall stack of pancake makeup playing little Eddie Munster. Brooks gives the role his all, but the difficulty of emoting through fourteen pounds of prosthetics eventually shows through when Brooks quits the film on-camera halfway through, and for the rest of the movie little Eddie's mysterious away at "Sexual Reassignment" camp.
Star Wars: Revenge of the Smiths
Finally, the final Star Wars movie is here and finally, it's got Morrissey in it. Fans have grown impatient waiting for the big haired Brit to make his smooth debut in the science fiction opera ballet that is Star Wars, and the years of watching child actors hamming it up and extras in rubber dog outfits has finally paid off. Morrissey is here, looking suave, kicking Jedi ass and crooning about the girl who dumped him at the county fair when he was twelve—all at the same time. How'd they do it? CGI? Beats the shit out of me.
Way to go, America, you've made it to the end of the column, and now you get a bacon cookie. I'm not kidding, take one. Please, I've got to get rid of these things before my office gets permanently stanked up like bacon. I don't know what I was thinking even buying these things, the pig on the package doesn't even look all that happy. Lesson learned though, and I'm really glad I didn't get any of the oyster pudding. Until next time, America!   |
