n a stunning election with worldwide implications, the unpredictable Palestinian people shocked the world this week by voting for the pita spread hummus as their new national favorite food. The US State Department had been hoping for a different result to the election, considering US hamburger interests in the region.

Polling results have come in amid claims that the US tried to rig the election, handing out free White Castle burgers at polling places and distributing propagandic pamphlets apparently left over from the Communist witch hunts of the 1950's, bearing slogans like "A Meal Without Meat is a Meal You Shouldn't Eat" and "Veggies for Fags."

The election results are hard to understand for American readers, most of whom do not consider chip dip to be a major food group. But in underdeveloped Palestine, the only groceries most Palestinians have access to are in gas station convenience stores like Pay 'n Gulp and the Circle K. As a result, Middle Eastern nutritional science revolves mainly around which snack foods provide the most pep for Arabs on the go.

According to commune answerbot Griswald Dreck, Hummus is made by grinding up live hummingbirds, a small, otherwise useless beast high in Vitamin E, and mixing the pasty remains with lemon juice. Hummingbird farmers were understandably thrilled by the news of the election, vowing to ramp up production by bulking up on their supplies of taser guns and pooper scoopers, the main tools of the trade used for catching hummingbirds.

Marketed in America under the name "Tasty Paste," hummus is ranked as our nation's 347th favorite snack food, just behind gum wrappers and candy cigarettes. A small subset of Americans are said to be enthralled by the exotic snack, daring the purchase it whenever the grocery store is entirely out of sour cream, guacamole and Frito dip.

The election's results have brought renewed attention to the controversial practice of nations electing their favorite foods, a ploy that hasn't seen the light of day since the United States' own disastrous 1984 election, when Americans shocked their corporate overlords by electing pizza over presumed-winner hamburgers in a landslide, shaking the towers of power down to their very foundations.

The Palestinians, known as "Pallies" to friendly neighboring nations, have always shown a tendency to go against the grain, particularly when western interests are involved. From their preference for turbans over the more-profitable baseball cap, to their refusal to buy into the worldwide tanning bed craze, Palestinians seem to exist solely to disappoint American businesses hoping to peddle their wares overseas.

Observers await news from the White House on whether this week's election is an invadable offense, or merely another reason to kick Arab people in the nuts behind the political scenes.

ey, remember 2005? It seems like only yesterday it was everywhere, sweetie… the fashions, the fads, the music (which you can download for free). Everybody was watching Lost and Googling Linsay Lohan. This year, it’s repeats of Lost and the Pitt-Jolie baby. But that doesn’t mean we’re going to forget those more innocent times.

The world started 2005 believing the biggest events to come would be the trial of Michael Jackson and the debut of Star Wars, Episode III, but were they ever wrong. Goddamn, sweetie, were they wrong.

Even if the big Star Wars finale was the biggest grossing movie of the year, the movie everyone was talking about was gay cowboy non-musical extravaganza Brokeback Mountain. A studio-financed My Own Private Idaho, the film featured a classic lovestory all Y-chromosomed up for today’s modern metrosexuals. I, for one, loved this shit out of it, hon.

It sure beat the hell out of the “biggest movie of 2005,� as everybody promoted it—only to have it being the biggest underwhelming movie of all time: King Kong. The movie under-performed to all expectations, possibly due to somebody leaking a copy of the movie to the Internet and an early cut of the film to the theaters in 1933. Remember 1933? Prohibition and flappers? That’s another column, sweets.

The country went crazy for TV, too. America was desperate for Desperate Housewives and lost our minds for Lost. We also continued the C.S.I./Law & Order craze as they collectively dominated three-five nights a week of televisions. And how about those new television shows we all went crazy for? That’s right—there were none.

And remember the music everyone was listening to in 2005? Neither do we. There was some Kelly Clarkson, some Kanye West, and 50 Cent mumbled some shit here and there. Where’s the club beat, bitch? Notice I didn’t say bi-atch? Too toooo 2004.

As for the news itself, there was no bigger story than the sad destruction of partyzone and Girls Gone Wild unofficial headquarters of New Orleans at the inhuman hands of heartless bitch Hurricane Katrina. As if that wasn’t enough, several frontin’ hurricane wanna-bes also tore shit up elsewhere.

The other big news stories were the continuing death of innocents for the unnecessary war in Iraq, but we leave that coverage to the no-spin zone doctoring of Bill O’Reilly. We were sadder about the death of one of the 20th century’s most pivotal religious figures, Johnny Carson. And how about the others we lost? Bob Denver, Chief Justice William Rehnquist, Lou Rawls, and John Paul Pope, some kind of Christian prophet.

After years of a firm status quo, 2005 saw the shake up of not one, but two Supreme Court justices retiring (one for good) to open up the doors to the future’s arch-conservative oligarchy.

And who can forget the unforgettable catch-phrases of 2005? “Michael Jackson’s Jesus Juice�? “Cronyism�? “Mark McGwiroids�? None of these quite caught on with the national consciousness. No, 2005 was truly a year when nothing stuck in your brain. But the commune did take a severely long vacation, and that was da bomb, baby-doll. Let’s hope for more of that in 2006.

The streets are more dangerous than ever. This is not only the basic premise for every movie Charles Bronson made in the 70s and 80s, it's an undeniable fact. And since I've been bored the past couple of months, I decided to see what I, Rok Finger, could do about it.

This is not simply about my bicycle being stolen right off my lawn. I don't even need the bicycle, since I have a car. I merely didn't want the neighbors kids to have it since they never took care of it—coming home, casually abandoning it right there on their lawn. They deserved to have it confiscated under neighborly authority. No, I'm going to clean up the streets for the kids, for they are the future of America. Not the neighbor kids. I want to make that clear—I'm only doing this for other kids.

One day, Ginger and I might have kids. She turns ghost white at the mention of it, and sobs uncontrollably, but that doesn't mean it won't happen. And I want these streets to be safe for them… little Rokina and Walter Payton II. If I can make the streets safer through a little violence and intimidation, all the better.

Of course, don't expect the government to work with me on this, especially not at a local level. My first attempt to make the streets safer was thwarted by the police and fire departments, who immediately came over and moved all the heavy furniture away from my neighbors' front and back doors. They wouldn't even leave the boards covering the windows—"fire hazard" this and "illegal confinement" that. Cut crime off at the source, I say. But if that option wasn't available to me, I had other ways to skin a cat. Oh, you can't skin cats by the way. Police are practically domestic terrorists organizations, if you ask me.

The first thing you really need to do if you're going to oppose crime, assuming you can't acquire cool animal-like super powers, is a good intimidating costume. My wife, Ginger, came to my rescue with a fantastic military man outfit just in my size. As you realize, since children are not allowed in the military in this country, I cannot always find camouflaged fatigues in my size. Actually, if children were allowed in the military, I probably wouldn't even have to be out there doing this. But as I said, Ginger made me this snappy Green Beret outfit, only the beret is actually red. She made it for the bedroom, but I say it's good enough to wear outside. And you can see the fear creep into the teenagers' faces when I stomp up and down the block looking like a smaller John Wayne.

Knowing the streets is the first step in protecting them. Actually, the costume thing is the first step. But knowing them is important as well. I patrol these streets three to four times a night, or five times, if the infomercials are too boring. It's worked wonders, since I now know all the neighbors' routines and which have very fast dogs that will chase you away from their houses, even if you're wearing very stylish camouflaged fatigues. It's required paying dues, since my house has been robbed three times this past week while I've been doing my patrols, but nothing is won without sacrifice. Except perhaps Powerball.

Come to think of it, I could reduce the likelihood of being burglarized and speed up my patrol times if I had a snazzy bike to do my patrols on. I could get it done in, like, three minutes flat. I'm that fast. And I have seen a fantastic bike just like my old one laying out on the neighbor's lawn next door. It might just be time for me to confiscate a bike in the name of justice again. Until next time, fight the good fight, people.

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