he president outlined a plan for America's military future on Friday, speaking at commencement at the U.S. Naval Academy. Bush used the old "good news/bad news" ploy to reveal the facts: the United States will be reducing the number of military bases on American soil, but the president hopes to counter that loss in military might by establishing bases on foreign soil, including new bases in Iraq, Pakistan, Afghanistan, and others.

"The future of the military will be more streamlined," said the president, gripping the podium in his usual macho fashion, as he addressed the graduating student body. "The war of the future will have different demands on our country. Fewer domestic bases will be required, since the majority of our defense will involve keeping all countries we conquer in line."

An aide then whispered something in the president's ear, at which point Bush amended himself: "Did I say conquer? I meant liberate. Lot o' countries left to liberate, that's for sure."

Bush's speech came on the heels of a commencement for 976 graduates of the U.S. Naval Academy, all part of the outdated military we'll be getting away from the next few years.

"We will need a strong invasion force, no doubt about it," continued Bush. "And once those countries are occupied—and they will be occupied, no doubt, since we've got the largest military force on earth—there will be new demands on our fighting men and women. F'rinstance, who here knows how to strip-mine natural resources? Not a lot of you fossils, I bet."

Indeed, the fossils had no clue, which is why, according to the president, we'll have to adapt to the changing needs of the new American Empire.

"Gone are the days of the public relations departments, the good will ambassadors, and those large bodies of infantrymen who have traditionally been a pivotal part of wars. The War on Terror requires button-pushers and cool radio-controlled bombers, and a healthy load of transport convoys. And plenty of political figures we can put into power, not to mention the large built-in law enforcement groups, but that's hardly anything you need to know."

Members of the press, new enough to this to be naïve, asked the president if countries that should be operating independent from the U.S. military in months to come will welcome a permanent American military presence. The president only nodded and half-affirmed the question was asked, a clear indication that we have enough military might to assure we will always be welcome.

"And there's no limit to how much we can expand into overseas markets," said Bush, kiping a phrase from his old college business buddies. "Syria's not exactly been quiet. Iran's all acting up. There's plenty of places out there that still need to be sorted—North Korea, and tons of little countries in the former Soviet Union and all. The one place we don't need troops is where we got the most of 'em—the U.S.A. herself. Any way you slice it, the American military's got a big future. It's just not on our soil."

The fossils then broke a long-standing tradition, and instead of throwing their hats up in the air, hurled them at the guest speaker.

olite society was rocked this week when a Kansas man was arrested for unleashing a five-minute tirade of profanity after the clumsy fucker fell out of canoe in a public park, sparking a nationwide controversy over foul language. According to shocked bystanders, recent immigrant dickhead Lataf Smokel shouted “whoops!� “shucks!� and other similar salty words after displaying his canoeptitude, running afoul of a little-known and controversial Kansas state statute outlawing indecent public speech.

“This motherfucker was guilty as shit,� explained officer Turk Winchel, who witnessed the crime. “I heard that asshole go off on his tirade like a cock-teasing bitch with her credit card taken away, with my own fucking ears. There were fucking kids around and everything. Un-fuckingbelievable.�

The event reminds many of the Michigan conviction of Timothy Boomer in 1998, who swore up a storm like Yosemite Sam on swearing pills after a similar canoe mishap on the Rifle River, only to have his conviction overturned by the ACLU after the fucking judge pussied out.

While many legal groups consider such laws to be total bullshit, local citizens have made it clear they’re fucking sick of inconsiderate motherfuckers exposing their children to irresponsible language in public places, and have shown their support for throwing the goddamned book at the homos.

“If there’s one thing I hate, it’s cocksuckers who don’t know how to watch their goddamned mouths in front of children,� explained Rote resident Archdeacon Mavis Plum, over tea. “The world’s not your own personal playground, shithead. And just because some cunt shit you out of her man-trap when you were a baby doesn’t mean you’re entitled to fuck up our children, dickface.�

“Some slut farting you out of her cooch doesn’t make you God’s own miracle, dickwad,� added Reverend Alan Thornburg, in reiteration.

Even normal people were in agreement.

“What kind of dickless honkeys would talk like that in front of our kids?� asked Maybel Cummings, a local PTA leader. “Talk about your real sacks of monkey shit.�

While many journalists reporting the story found Smokel’s language too fucking objectionable to print, since the commune only officially exists in the Cayman Islands this reporter is free to hint at the true extent of their offensive nature. Beyond such merely-scandalous epithets such as “golly,� “hoo-boy� and “Heavens to Betsy,� Smokel was also quoted as dropping several pants-shitting unmentionables. The most unpublishable of the man’s crimes against decency is spelled like “shit� and rhymes with “hoot,� if you catch our inference. Irresponsible rumor also points to the word “eff-hockey stick-eye-pee� being heard, though spontaneously blocked from the memories of several present in a subconscious act of self-defense.

Some anonymously supportive locals have suggested that Smokel may just be unfamiliar with American customs, since wherever he’s from, words like “he*k� and “d*rn� may be perfectly acceptable language in mixed company. But most Rote residents find that pretty fucking unlikely.

I've got to admit something: Sometimes, in the past, for the sake of my career, I've done stuff that didn't exactly make me feel like a big-time actress. I told this to my shrink once (whoops, 'nother secret out of the bag) and she said, "You mean like Who's Your Daddy?" So I didn't talk to her for the rest of the hour. Big waste of money, but I showed her she can't talk to me like that. Of course I'm proud of Who's Your Daddy?, and all the shows and movies I've done. Stuff like Ho's! is the highlight of my career.

I'm talking about some of the less classy stuff I've done, both to keep the money flowing and to keep my name out there—sometimes that's more important than the money. There's some of the infomercials. I'll tell you, if anyone ever mentions the Waffle Messiah thing to me again, I'm going to have yet another scandal on my hands. But there's not much dignity in infomercials, you might know. Then there's the Metallichick comic book, dressing up for those covers. Not that I have anything against a metal bikini. But it's not the best way to make your big comeback.

Everything's changed now, though. I've got the best idea I've ever had—even better than the idea to write my own screenplay (But I'm still working on that, Nancy, so quit chapping my ass). Picture this: Child Star Fantasy Camp. That's right, a special place where kids of all ages (no one over 18) can come to pretend to be special, like the real child stars. Watched over by the world's greatest child star expert, me, Clarissa Coleman. And some various partners, whoever I can find to put up the scratch.

That's the only real complication right now. It's an otherwise perfect idea. It's not going to start without money, though, which means I've got to find some major investors right away. I'm making calls all the time to former child stars, trying to get them all signed on to appear at the camp. Guest speakers, maybe make some counselors out of the lesser stars—DeGrassi Junior High actors and stuff, or the kids from Witch Mountain. None of that solves the money problem at all. You know how child stars are with their money—I might as well be asking Orion Pictures for the moolah.

I've got big plans for this thing. My first big idea was that we get all really big people for the camp, so all the guests, adult or children or whatever (big stupid kids are welcome) will feel 4 feet tall. We've also got tutors for everyone, who hang out on the set and just sort of stare at you while you're on the phone to your agent. Did I mention everyone gets an agent? It's all one guy, so that part will be cheap. But you always feel like you're his favorite client, even if you're one of 200 kids at the camp.

No kidding, this camp will have it all down. We have three different trailers for each kid, and as your ratings climb higher, you can demand a bigger and bigger trailer. Plus all the amenities. M&Ms (blue only), small finger sandwiches, vodka (kids 8 & older only), a personal masseuse, physical trainer, your own personal entourage and a gangsta rapper (every kid needs a bad influence). If you're a really big star (if you paid the really big star fee) you can even get on our simulated Conan O'Brien show, with Eric Roberts as everyone's favorite not-Craig Kilborne talk show host.

After that peak, the real fun starts. The ratings start to dip. The liquor turns into hard drugs, which turns into homemade drugs and crack-mixed-with-heroin (crackoin). And then… cancellation. That means you leave camp—you don't have to go into syndication, but you can't stay here.

I suppose we could build on a whole "level 2" fantasy camp thing, but that would start to be spooky. Like my real life. What happens when you get to the part where you open your own fantasy camp? Reality would probably eat itself, that's what.

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