fter years of staunch, stiff-jawed and clenched-buttocksed opposition to human cloning research, President Bush issued a startling reversal to his January "Pig Men" State of the Union address this week, and now is apparently in favor of the controversial scientific pursuit.

A tearful Bush, admittedly "a little behind" on his TV viewing due to "the usual work b.s.," finally got around to viewing the fifth and final season of HBO's acclaimed drama Six Feet Under on DVD this week, an event that seems to have had a profound effect on the president.

"Just being reminded that everyone you know will die one day, that really makes you think," explained the president, not previously known as a fan of thought.

"Keith!" Bush suddenly shouted, mid-sob. "Why'd he have to go so young?"

Those in the terrifying position of being close to the president's thought processes claim that a recent twelve-hour DVD marathon viewing of the show left Bush in a deep near-thoughtful funk, a condition aides hadn't seen the president in since the cancellation of Timecop in 1997.

"Seeing that documentary really got me thinking about the people close to me, and how to keep them from ever dying, ever," explained Bush. This reporter chose not to take this opportunity to explain the difference between drama and documentary, or the inevitability of death, to the president.

"At first I was thinking about time travel," continued Bush. "But that never worked out so hot in those Michael J. Fox movies. Plus, it gets all confusing and hard to follow the story. Then I thought about the fountain of youth, but I couldn't think of any movies where that really worked either. I just kept thinking of the end of Gremlins where that scary thing melts in the fountain—yuck. Anyway, then I turned on the SciFi Channel and that got me thinking about human cloning."

Reports indicate this is not the first time the president's opinions and policies have been changed by popular entertainment, including Bush's proposed tax breaks for hot rod owners last year after viewing The Dukes of Hazzard, and the president's call for storm windows to be installed in the White House after finally getting around to seeing Twister in 2001.

Critics have long suggested that most of Bush's policy moves and public statements over the course of his two terms have been inspired by old Clint Eastwood movies and various Chuck Norris action vehicles. Debate rages concerning the timing of Bush's 2002 statements about clamping down on whistleblowers, coming as they did days after the president reportedly attended a screening of the environmentally-themed Steven Soderbergh film Erin Brockovich.

"I guess it's easy to feel one way about a subject, until it potentially affects someone you care about," Bush explained about his change of heart in the cloning debate. Asked if he would then be sending his daughters to Iraq to help with the nation-building efforts, Bush ignored the question and asked if this reporter had time to stick around for a spontaneous viewing of Top Gun on DVD.

he small remainder of the world that follows the news applauded the escape of more than 200 Iraqi hostages Thursday, who freed themselves from an unidentified terrorist group in the heart of the war-torn country. Just outside of Fallujah, U.S. military discovered a traveling band of 40 or so escaped hostages, and within hours began to receive word of other hostages who had also escaped the same small terrorist encampment, numbers totaling 213 freed hostages, who credited their successful escape to U.S. Army Captain S. Hilts.

Hilts, who was debriefed by U.S. military officials but did not speak directly to the ravenous western press, said the escape was the result of weeks of planning, tactical distraction, digging, and the production of some high-quality potato moonshine. Instead of taking credit for the escape himself, Hilts remarked on the bravery and ingenuity of his fellow hostages.

Added Hilts: "It's the duty of every freedom-loving military man to work day and night to escape." The statement marks a drastic turnaround from hostage philosophies of the past, including 1980 Iranian hostages Commander Shears, who was intent to ride out the situation without drawing attention to himself, or British Colonel Alec Nicholson, who actually aided the Iranians by building a bridge over a local river to aid terrorist movement.

Who exactly is Capt. S. Hilts? A son of an Indiana mechanic, Hilts served in the Army in both the original Gulf War and its poorly received sequel. Hilts was among the 213 hostages, both military and civilian, who had been abducted in recent weeks by terrorists believed to be allied with either Al-Qaeda, the Saddam Hussein loyalists, or one of the other 300 groups who simply like to kidnap and kill westerners. Hilts had been used as leverage in video taped messages urging the freeing of all Iraqi prisoners. While this strategy has traditionally worked remarkably well against all sorts of enemies, this time there was little to no response from U.S. or coalition governments. The lack of reply might have something to do with Hilts' outburst in the final frames of the video tape:

"Listen to me!" shouted Hilts, tossing aside the written statement he had started to read, standing up and resisting efforts of jackbooted Iraqis to hold him down. "We're Americans! We don't roll over and do something when we're at the end of a gun! Don't worry about us! We'll be alright—we're gonna walk out of here one day, into a free land and back home to our wives and families. You hear that, Susie? I'm comin' home to you before you know it!"

Though the tape abruptly ended, the message was clear: America didn't plan on being pushed around by the huge terrorist machine.

And sure as his word, Hilts was found wandering the desert, looking to reconnect with his unit as soon as possible. But not walking as he had promised, but riding a state-of-the-art Iraqi military motorcycle, with which he jumped the walls of the compound. According to the U.S. soldiers who recovered the escaped hostage, Hilts' first job was to eat a hearty plate of pork chops and apple sauce while giving military intelligence all the information he could about his captors, a group of 15 or so terrorist insurgents who actually did a keen job of keeping 200+ Americans hidden in a detained area of an occupied country.

What's next for Hilts and his fellow escapees? "I guess we'll be going back into service, those of us that can. We've got us an occupation to win!"

I am back, good people, and I am 100% as good as before. Maybe even less.

It was a ragged and wearisome climb back to right where I was before, but I made it at last. For the greater part of 2006, the commune stopped publishing, as you and the other guy who reads it might have noticed. If you did, commendations to your amazing perception. I myself continued to show up to the office even when they weren't publishing my columns, and I kept writing them all the way through even when the paychecks stopped coming. In fact, when Red Bagel called to announce he was restarting the commune with the few staff members he had left on payroll, he was kind enough to explain that I had not been receiving any money and none of my columns had been published since early last year. My readers, let me tell you, I was outraged by what had transpired without my noticing.

Well, knowing I had not been making any money for most of 2006 meant I could no longer sit idly by. While most of our bills and the house payment could be suitably covered by my wife's more than ample income (and breasts) as a real estate agent, it didn't mean I didn't need to be top breadwinner in our family. And since all those "Win a Lifetime Supply of Iron Kids'" contests are rigged, I had no choice but to get out there and seek new employment. Last week.

As the ghetto people say, Brother, it's tough out there! Sure, you can find a low-paying job working at a fast food restaurant, or as a tenement manager, or a bike messenger, or executive administrative assistant, or songwriting bassist, but where, I ask you, are the jobs for political commentators? Where are the positions for the bemused observers who critique the ludicrous foibles of everyday life? Nowhere, I tell you.

And don't let anyone sell you on these "guest speaker" positions at colleges. None of them have heard of the commune so they demanded many references to my other previous jobs, and those who had heard of the commune told me they were closing down the college forever starting tomorrow. I'm starting to think maybe it was just a way to politely get rid of me. Which was preferable to the dean who said he would eat all of my children if I didn't get out of his office. Joke's on him, of course—he'll be eating for years.

Despite all that early negativity, I did find a job. When all the traditional employer outlets were closed to me, I took a rusty knife and carved out my own place in society's ribcage. Yes, that's right—public access television. You may have seen me already if you live in the Flatbush, New Jersey and surrounding areas cable community. "Rok the Finger" "roks" the broadcast airwaves between 11 p.m. and 5 a.m. Eastern Standard Time, at which point it has to clear the channel for "Kool B's Get the Fuck Up Show." Kool B may have the market corner on reggae-jazz fusion, but it's my show that provides the longest and most in-depth analysis of all things Rok Finger hates, and don't let anyone tell you different.

At first, my wife was less than impressed that the new "job," as she says it (she can actually pronounce quotation marks), doesn't pay anything. But then I explained to her by any civilized culture's definition, a job is something that takes you out of the house for more than five hours. Like my previous job, guarding my desk at the commune, or my son Ira's job at Leavenworth Penitentiary.

It's only a matter of time before I get myself another job, since that 8 p.m. to 11 p.m. slot is bound to open up when they find out Father Mike from the "Touch Therapy With Kids" show isn't really a priest at all.

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