he so-called 'Axis of Evil,' which now has more points than a pinwheel, took on another member when the forgettable South American country of Venezuela added itself to the roster of anti-U.S. countries this week. The announcement was made in the most awkward fashion, when President Victor Chavez made allegations that the United States has made plans to invade Venezuela soon. How soon? Chavez didn't pinpoint a date, but said the invasion would happen imminently.

According to Chavez, the U.S. has been planning to invade his country for some time, and he has proof, although he didn't exactly present it to anybody. The most precise allegation made by Chavez cited "invasion training maneuvers" being made in his country by CIA operatives, who apparently weren't in Venezuela for one of their thousands of monthly beauty pageants.

"The U.S. wants our oil," said Chavez, not to be confused with the famed union leader beloved by Steinbeck fans and folksingers alike. "They are planning to invade Venezuela to get it. But they will not have it. And if they carry out their plan of invasion, they will be in for a hundred-year war they cannot win." Apparently there's a huge population of homegrown Navy SEALs in Venezuela that haven't been widely publicized.

Chavez appeared on Larry King, home of the mouth of the infidels, to warn the U.S. government not to fuck around with the big boys.

"We are as giants to the United States as you are but ants to normal people. Understand? Perhaps the translation is not so perfect… we are the giants, at giant size, while you are ant size. Get it? You are not normal human size. So we are, you can see, immensely bigger than you. Not in country size or population, resources or world renown. But fighting spirit! This is where we are huge."

The president (of our little shithole) responded Friday to Chavez's Larry King comments: "I will say Mr. Chavez does have immense balls. The rest of it remains to be determined."

While most of the administration shrugged and tried not to smirk at the angry Venezuelan's accusations, a certain White House insider called Vito, and whose real name is revealed on www.confidentialsourcesruined.com, attempted to shed some light on the U.S.-Venezuela position in the current administration.

"The president can't even say Venezuela," confided Vito. "I don't think he ever got past the 48 continental states in his geography classes. He occasionally points to the maps and says, 'What's with the other America? Who's copying us?' But this isn't just about insulting the president; it's about pointing out, once and for all, that when it comes to Venezuela, or for that matter any South American country, the White House position is to truly not give a shit."

While Chavez accused the Bush administration of seeking an invasion for Venezuela's rich oil reserves, our man Vito discounted that as unlikely horseshit.

"I'm not sure where Mr. Chavez gets his confidential information on U.S. foreign policy, but he should go back to the guy and beat the piss outta him. Does he seriously believe Venezuela is next on the list for U.S. invasion? Please! I mean… does he really have the list? Not even the top 10. We've got Korea, Syria, Iran, Pakistan… New Zealand, but that's a surprise, so don't tell anyone. Lord of the Rings raised their profile. But Venezuela? Please. All in good time, amigos. We've got bigger fish to fry first."

efugees from the New Orleans disaster were thrilled this week by the news that Mayor Ray Nagin plans to re-open large parts of the city as early as today, allowing the many refugees spread across the American South like spilled milk to finally return home. The decision to return, however, is not so easy for the small number of lucky refugees who were relocated to the French Quarter section of the Disneyland theme park in Anaheim, California during the first days of flooding.

“This is great, it’s like being back home, except Disneyer!� gushed socialite Anita Bomes, thrilled with her new New Orleans, a quaint miniature version of the city located near a fake lake that, to date, has never flooded.

Others have not been so happy with their new home, claiming the $20 in Goofy Bucks they were given for food and lodging upon arrival does not go far in Disneyland’s helium-inflated economy, where food prices and housing expenses can bear little resemblance to the outside world.

“How are we supposed to live here?� questioned refugee Alanis DuPree. “A storage locker here costs more than my apartment back home did. And I can only fit my head in that locker. That makes for some mighty uncomfortable sleepin’.�

Others have found creative solutions to the problem, like Ethan Fromme, who now lives inside the popular Pirates of the Caribbean ride.

“Aside from the whole town being on fake fire all the time, this isn’t half bad,� explained Ethan. “Sure, there’s still lots of water everywhere like back home and the whole place smells like the pool down at the Y, but on the upside none of the lifeless bodies here carry cholera.�

Ethan also enjoys the attention of having scores of children in boats gawking at his lifelike appearance as he sits and drinks beer in front of his house façade.

In a televised national address Thursday night, President Bush promised additional aid for New Orleans refugees who have been frightened by the Haunted Mansion ride and who could desperately use a frozen banana covered in chocolate. Bush also surprised many by taking full responsibility for the federal government’s failure to properly address the New Orleans situation in the early days of the disaster. Bush’s remarks were in stark contrast to his reaction when first hearing about the disaster weeks before, when the startled president blurted out “Fuck this!� and ducked into a secret tunnel hidden in the Oval Office sideboards.

After the president’s speech, everyone even vaguely related to the tragedy rushed to take full responsibility as well, with Louisiana Gov. Kathleen Blanco taking full responsibility Thursday night, former FEMA head Michael Brown taking full responsibility after being ridden out of town on a rail Friday, and New Orleans homeless man Roger Dunkin taking full responsibility for the disaster on Saturday afternoon.

Louisiana residents are waiting with baited breath to hear if reclusive author J.D. Salinger will come out of hiding to take full responsibility some time in the next week.

Meanwhile, in Anaheim, refugees are wary of rumors that they may be relocated yet again to Frontierland if the New Orleans Square area’s shortage of caramel corn is not soon remedied.

“I’d rather die than live in Frontierland,� explained Ninth Ward refugee Darnell Hughes, wearing a humorous Donald Duck baseball cap. “If they move us over there I’m just gonna walk back. I’m serious, I don’t care how far it is,� boasted Hughes of the two-block walk separating Frontierland from Disneyland’s New Orleans Square.

Although many N.O. refugees arrived at Disneyland with little more than the shirts on their backs, most have since loaded up on Disney souvenirs dwarfing their previous collections of personal effects.

“We don’t have any way to carry all this stuff,� complained Ted Mooney, gesturing toward the generous heap of Disneyland merchandise he and his wife have had to rent two baby strollers to carry. “Now my wife wants one of those Goofy hats with the long ears. How are we going to carry that? Tell me, President Bush, where are we supposed to fit that?�

Others have grown disenchanted with New Orleans Square since local retailer La Boutique de Noel ran out of Disney-themed Christmas ornaments earlier in the week.

“I’m not going back,� explained a proud Chandra Miller of Bywater. “We’ve made a new life for ourselves here in Toontown. Why would we want to go back? Sure, maybe to visit, and ride Pirates. But live there? Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice… You know how the rest of that goes.�

Rok Finger is more full of it than anyone you've ever met—if the "it" in question is charity. I've got more charity in my tax documents than most people have in their whole bodies. And when I heard people somewhere were suffering from something, I wanted to do my part. And your part, too, if you weren't already doing it.

That's why I organized the Concert for New Orleans—just me and a few friends you may have heard of. Like John Cougar Mellancamp? Willie Nelson? Hazel Mertz? Electric Eddie Dumpling? Lee? Camembert? And Alec Baldwin? Okay, you may not have heard of all of them—I understand Baldwin was in a movie called Beetle Jews, so I thought I'd give him a break and invite him along.

Basically what it is, my celebrity friends and Alec Baldwin all got together and decided to play songs, read poems, and do all sorts of interesting crap for charity. All the money that we don't sneak into our own pockets goes to help the victims of New Orleans. Apparently it's been giving some people trouble. I'm not sure of all the details, too much reading required, but I wanted to make sure people who were suffering got everything they needed, and the entire world knew it was Rok Finger who organized the damn thing.

I've got the whole thing arranged, and over three of the announced guests have agreed to appear. We start of things very solemn and dignified, before they get fucking nuts with fun. First, a moment of silence for the victims of New Orleans. More than a moment—an hour and a half. Complete silence. Now that's classy. Then, we start into a real melancholy ballad—I'm trying to reunite Soundgarden for that, since I think the grunge music perfectly represents whatever the cause is.

Next we go into a small skit about the dangers of… well, all the details haven't been ironed out yet. Whatever's the danger that's troubling all the people we're trying to benefit. I'm trying to get Ernest Hemingway to write it, but if we can't get him on the phone, I understand Mariel Hemingway's available. If we can't get her, I'll try Anferny Hardaway. And I'll keep trying names that sound the least little bit similar until I get to Camembert, who will probably end up writing it. After all, he's not exactly going to get a place in the chorus line, and he'd better do something to help out with the charity if he wants his name on the marquee. Under Sting, but over Don Cornelius.

Before you get the chance to ask, and cancel your reservation, Lee's band, Up With Prophets, will be performing. I hope you like Christian Rock! Or maybe "like" is too strong a word. I hope you can stomach it for twenty minutes, because that's all they're scheduled to play for. Got to make way for the celebrities who aren't my friends.

Then, a cavalcade of true Hollywood talent the likes of which you've seldom seen. You'll get pure talent up the whazoo until you want to puke. We'll be doing the whole thing right here at the commune offices to save on the expenses, and because Bagel says it's something called "deductible." There will be so much talent in this group, God will look down from heaven and say, "Shit, when did I drop all that talent down there?"

It's high time somebody did something for the New Orleans sufferers—when's the last time you turned on your TV and saw anybody doing anything? Or even seen it mentioned? But that's the kind of guy I am—all charity. And as soon as we get this New Orleans problem taken care of, I'd like to do something about the hungry. Feed them, or failing that, anesthesia.

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