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Paparazzi Buried With Anna Nicole SmithMarch 5, 2007 |
Nassau, Bahamas Junior Bacon A slightly more lively Anna Nicole Smith in the days before her demise, followed by her disciples and their primitive image-capturing devices.
"I’ve got a feeling this story is only going to get bigger after this," said photographer Ray Snable, still clicking away on his camera with fresh photos of the body as pallbearers nailed a large ...
merica’s trailer park inhabitants mourned between talk shows and soap operas Saturday as the world’s public-access Marilyn Monroe was buried in the Bahamas. The modest celebrity and super-tabloid magnet was finally laid to rest after a month of court battles and life-draining media coverage following her February 8 death from over-exposure. Laid next to her son following his September 2006 death from a drug overdose, Smith’s burial was most notable for a judge’s order that allowed several members of the tabloid media and freelance photographers to be interred with the body.
"I’ve got a feeling this story is only going to get bigger after this," said photographer Ray Snable, still clicking away on his camera with fresh photos of the body as pallbearers nailed a large lid on the 125-man coffin containing the deceased starlet and her new entourage.
"The unusual burial situation came about from an order handed down by vaudeville’s own Judge Larry Seidlin when he released the Smith body and its bosom baggage for a burial in the sunny Bahamas. Judge Seidlin decreed that "America has a vested interest in following the continuing drama of the Anna Nicole Smith story."
"Now more than ever," said Broadway Seidlin, "as the country faces one tumor of dull-ass presidential election coverage and weak competition on American Idol, the people want and need the security of a sassy, beautiful corpse of no particular claim to fame and her everyday trials. Reruns are simply not enough."
The court ruling allowed 124 members of the medias, including freelance photographers, to join the Smith remains in their underground adventure with a specified promise of keeping the public up to date on how the story continued to unfold. Will Smith learn to cope with the loss of her son? Will she tell the real identity of her baby’s father? Will she continue to live the sedentary lifestyle all of America witnessed on her too-short-lived The Anna Nicole Show? Judge Seidlin promised just because the body ceased to breathe it doesn’t mean Americans will stop caring about the drama.
After burial of the notably large coffin, the muffled screams of the more timid members of the burial coverage crew were drowned out by the sobbing of people who felt a bizarre kinship with the former Playboy playmate and grave-robbing skeleton widow, as well as the appropriately vacant song stylings of country music superstar Joe Nichols. Slash, of the band Guns ’N’ Roses, was also in attendance, because what else could he have been expected to be doing.
Despite objections from some human rights advocates, Entertainment Tonight segment producer Lynn Hoddbody argued those reporters and photographers buried alive with the corpse of the peroxide blonde model were the lucky ones.
"This is probably the single most important media event of the century, and I can say without fear of contradiction Anna Nicole Smith will be the most tragic figure in history," Hoddbody said. "Who wouldn’t gladly sacrifice themselves to be there when O.J. Simpson slashed the shit out of his wife and that guy, to witness that world-shaking event in progress and have a slim chance of telling us just what happened? In this case, we can all truly say we should envy the dead."
Which begs the question—first O.J., now Anna Nicole: Is there a curse on all the stars of The Naked Gun 33 1/3: The Final Insult? Will George Kennedy survive? the commune news would have bet dollars to donuts Carmen Electra’s wild Dennis Rodman-marrying ways would have laid her low long before Anna Nicole Smith. Mordecai "Three-Finger" Brown has been cashing in all his ghost junk bonds for a phantom fortune, hoping to woo the newly dead Anna Nicole spirit away from that nutso Howard Hughes.
 |  February 5, 2007 |
Augusta, GA Assad the Unseen Christ-friendly rocker Grant, seen here on a day other than the Day Without her, during which we can only assume she went into hiding.
"Amy didn’t play any concerts, and none of us played any Amy Grant in our homes, in our cars, or even on our personal Walkman devices," explained Darlene McCullogh, an Amy Grant fan and apparently the last human being on earth still using a Walkman.
As an additional part of the demonstration, nobody watched Amy Grant’s NBC show "Three Wishes" in reruns on Monday. Nobody had watched the previous Monday either, though sources were unclear if this was a coincidence or a ...
ondering why your life was thrown into total disarray last Monday? Wonder no more, because you’ve been hit by a "Day Without Amy Grant," an attempt by dedicated Amy Grant fans nationwide to show an ungrateful world what life would really be like without Amy Grant’s upbeat Christian-Pop music.
"Amy didn’t play any concerts, and none of us played any Amy Grant in our homes, in our cars, or even on our personal Walkman devices," explained Darlene McCullogh, an Amy Grant fan and apparently the last human being on earth still using a Walkman.
As an additional part of the demonstration, nobody watched Amy Grant’s NBC show "Three Wishes" in reruns on Monday. Nobody had watched the previous Monday either, though sources were unclear if this was a coincidence or a mix-up over when exactly the "Day Without Amy Grant" was scheduled. Network executives point out this may have been the problem with the show’s ratings dating back to its 2005 debut.
Grant originally came to fame as a teenager in the 1970’s, drawing attention to the then-tiny "inspirational" genre of gospel music by white people, for white people. Grant’s success would bring gospel music to a whiter audience, though this fact was often misheard as "a wider audience" when reported in the music press.
Grant’s crossover success in the 80’s and 90’s came largely from her skill at writing Christian Contemporary music that only Christians realized was Christian Contemporary, with lyrics vague enough to be mistaken for normal vacuous pop by heathen audiences. Likewise, Grant’s videos and concerts mimicked popular non-saved artists of the day, allowing her to sell more than fifteen albums at a time, unlike her CCM contemporaries like Bible Bill Steadfast and The Christian Biscuits.
A mainstay in the Grammy’s "Best Gospel Performance, White or Asian" category throughout the 80’s and 90’s, Grant was frequently rewarded by an organization too busy to find other performers to nominate in the category.
But it was the 1991 hit "Baby Baby" that made Grant a household name and answer to the question "Who wrote that fucking song they keep playing down at the Frogurt stand?"
Last Monday’s demonstration served as further proof of the power of the public to draw attention to underappreciated issues by not doing something. Following hot on the heels of the equally-successful "Day Without Fussy Gay Neighbors" and the "Day Without Fat Chicks," some pundits fear the trend may lead to days without other unheralded items, like seatbelts or underarm deodorant. Many of the same pundits, however, confided to us privately that they liked the "Day Without Fat Chicks" alright, but don’t tell anyone they said that because it’s a real dick thing to say. the commune news supports any day without Amy Grant and furthermore suggests that this become a yearly event, if not daily. Boner Cunningham is the commune’s most heavily-pimpled reporter, a fact that has led to more than one drunken office party ending with commune employees lining up to make Boner Cunningham portraits by drawing a nose on Rok Finger’s naked ass.
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 March 5, 2007 I Don't Cotton to SpandexI thought I would celebrate my return to a regular column with a timely complaint—a beyond timely complaint even: I intensely dislike spandex.
Who exactly thought we needed this impertinent fabric? I recall we survived the '70s perfectly fine with only denim and polyester; the next day it's the 1980s, and suddenly we're immersed in a spandex society. Oh, I'm a 1980s fitness nut—I can't work out in burlap. Gingham is too good for me. I will not rest until I've found the perfect sycophantic fabric to kiss my ass all through my squat thrusts.
As if the world was sitting up at night, wondering what your particular camel toe looks like. And if you're the type of man who prefers to see as much of the female anatomy as possible, consider this: before the advent of spand...
º Last Column: Public Abscess
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I thought I would celebrate my return to a regular column with a timely complaint—a beyond timely complaint even: I intensely dislike spandex. Who exactly thought we needed this impertinent fabric? I recall we survived the '70s perfectly fine with only denim and polyester; the next day it's the 1980s, and suddenly we're immersed in a spandex society. Oh, I'm a 1980s fitness nut—I can't work out in burlap. Gingham is too good for me. I will not rest until I've found the perfect sycophantic fabric to kiss my ass all through my squat thrusts. As if the world was sitting up at night, wondering what your particular camel toe looks like. And if you're the type of man who prefers to see as much of the female anatomy as possible, consider this: before the advent of spandex leggings, you could see the legs themselves. That's right, bare skin. How exactly is this an advantage for you men? I call "rip-off!" I sincerely hope you boys will join me in that call. I submit, daring though my suggestion may be, spandex has brought nothing to this world. Sure, Batman could frighten the hell out of the cowardly superstitious criminal kind with his well-toned physique, but how did spandex help Robin? Or the rest of us, for that matter? Now any time we are dependent on focusing our minds on man-business, we run the risk of sexual thoughts pervading us at any given moment with a feminine physique perfectly outlined in lime green materials. Thoughts of baseball can't be conjured fast enough. Good people, I say it's a genuine threat. I find the womanly shapes as appealing as any man, I admit that freely. But it doesn't mean I want my eyes popping in and out of their sockets like some Tex Avery character while I'm trying to peruse the stock market. I have a lot of money invested in things in the world, and none of them have to do with stunningly curvaceous asses of a hot pink hue. One of these days the law will change and you teasing harlots will be financially responsible for every time you distract me and cause me to accidentally invest my money in ludditesonline.com. Tell me, what happened to the good old days? I remember well a time a man could walk down the street and only find himself fixated on thoughts of sex a mere five to six times in the course of a minute. All this, of course, without any visual stimulation—unless you were one of those men who found wide-brimmed bonnets exciting. And many of us did. No, in those glory days you had to don a raincoat and purposely stumble into a theater of indecent movies completely by accident. Things were much more discreet in those days, and we all preferred it that way. If you ran into an associate in the line, you had to pretend you were looking for that new John Ford movie that had just hit the theaters, and you had pocketed a half-roll of pennies in case they sold candy. We all knew it was pretense to stimulate the manly function of a solo reproductive act, and we all kept quiet about it. It was just polite society. Those were the halcyon days when gyms were strictly reserved for tubby joes sweating off the fat in a steam cabinet, or wiggling them off with a giant rubber band that would shake them violently. Certainly not the place for stimulating thoughts—you were lucky if you could eat again afterwards. Then they let the women in and, surprise, surprise, everyone's obese now. We should all know why—with spandex around to remind us of the existence of the opposite sex, there's only one muscle that's getting a workout these days. That's right. Your dirty mind. º Last Column: Public Abscessº more columns | 
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Milestones1969: Rok Finger is deeply offended by the sights at Woodstock, which has little if anything to do with his favorite Peanuts character.Now HiringTrombone Player. Follow Bludney Pudd around office playing hilarious "wahnt-WAHNT" everytime he does something pathetic. Overtime guaranteed.Best 90's Nostalgia Collections| 1. | Grunge AGAIN! | | 2. | Bitch-Slapped By Gangsta Rap | | 3. | Golden Memories... Yeah, Right | | 4. | They Sold Out At Woodstock '94 | | 5. | Where Were They Then? | |
|   2006: We Hardly Knew Ye BY b. brown dullard 3/5/2007 Floof GoofersThough these words may appear to be written in modern English, rest assured they have been conveyed via thought concept and visual feedback, therefore appearing in your brain as your own native language. Trust this illusion only so far as it serves you to do so.
What follows is a concise and revelatory history of Teefsak, the planet more commonly but less correctly known as "Earth," and Zefro, the celestial overlord most responsible for Teefsak's tragic and frothy past. The Teefsak tragedy has gone down in the annals of galactic history as a tear-jerker of epochal proportions.
Seventy-five million years ago, give or take several weeks for Spacelight Savings Time, Teefsak was one of 76 planets in a Galactic Conformerancy known as D12. The ruler of the Conformerancy was...
Though these words may appear to be written in modern English, rest assured they have been conveyed via thought concept and visual feedback, therefore appearing in your brain as your own native language. Trust this illusion only so far as it serves you to do so. What follows is a concise and revelatory history of Teefsak, the planet more commonly but less correctly known as "Earth," and Zefro, the celestial overlord most responsible for Teefsak's tragic and frothy past. The Teefsak tragedy has gone down in the annals of galactic history as a tear-jerker of epochal proportions. Seventy-five million years ago, give or take several weeks for Spacelight Savings Time, Teefsak was one of 76 planets in a Galactic Conformerancy known as D12. The ruler of the Conformerancy was Zefro, a tall, stern-looking gentleman with the letter "Z" shaved into his afro. For all other intents and purposes, Zefro greatly resembled Charlton Heston. Zefro had proposed radical new ideas for the Conformerancy, including personal income taxes, passports, and collectable trading cards bearing the likeness of every citizen of the Conformerancy. In direct opposition to Zefro's radical policies stood Zefro's arch-nemesis, LouRawls. LouRawls was a loyal officer, dressed in off-white. Zefro was forced to call in Master Lord Chew, the Master Lord of the Conformerancy, to resolve this dispute. Chew looked exactly like a pig squeezed into a tuxedo. He is completely ugly and worthless. Chew says the Martians are invading and everyone should throw porridge at Zefro. Everyone cheers LouRawls and Zefro is made to dance naked in a telephone booth in front of the entire Conformerancy. Zefro, disappointed, goes home and orders Doctor Snoot to robotize his mistress, Lady Man. "Depersonalize her with neurosurgery!" Zefro demands. Doctor Snoot accidentally robotizes Zefro's dog, Pooches, instead, and Lady Man escapes by not knowing any of this was going on and going to lunch. On the way to lunch, however, she crash lands Doctor Snoot's space Harley, which she had shoplifted, on the forest moon Smendor and lives there the rest of her life as the Queen of the Cats with Batfaces. Meanwhile, Zefro is meeting with his most trusted conspirators on NotEarth, planning the immanent destruction of all that is good and oily. Zefro orders that all black people, the elderly and golfers be rounded up via space freighters and brought to Teefsak for "rewardation." Zefro's psychiatrist goons love their work only too much and also round up all the cosmetologists, the Dutch, homeowners, crossword puzzle enthusiasts, children between the ages of seven and ten, light sleepers, the underweight, doctors, show ponies, everyone living east of Kansas City, baseballers, disco musicians, the large of hair, craps junkies, anyone over six feet tall, sailors, presidents, watchmakers, reggae fans and oakies as well. All are drugged and brought to Teefsak, and strapped to volcanoes for safekeeping. Atomic bombs are stored nearby in case they are needed. But suddenly, and without prior warning, Zefro goofs the floof and orders that all the atomic bombs be detonated! The result would not make a very nice card from Hallmark. Zefro would later be defeated by LouRawls after a colossal and exciting space battle where at the end Zefro tried to go for his secret hidden gun but LouRawls kicked it away and said "That's just like you, Zefro. But not this time. You are hereby sentenced to imprisonment in a mountain sustained for eons by life support." And that's where Zefro remains today. So let that be a lesson to us all. Send me $59,000 if you want to know what the lesson is.   |
