n a move that surprised few familiar with the terrible wrath of the legendary Iranian Navy, British Prime Minister Tony Blair announced today that his country would be surrendering to Iran rather than facing almost certain destruction.

“A proud era in the history of Great Britain comes to an end today,� announced Blair, Prime Minister since 1997 and secret Transformers collector even longer. “We had a good run of it, I’d say,� a proudly defiant Blair mused. “But you don’t muck about when you’re dealing with the Iranian Navy. I have my kids to consider.�

“There’s no use crying over spilt milk,� agreed British Secretary of State for Defence Desmond Henry Browne (BSSDDHB). “It’s been fun, I must admit, being the top dog on the international scene. Or perhaps second-to-top dog, after America… or maybe third after Germany. I don’t have recent figures in front of me. But the point is, every dog has his day, and we all knew our day had to come to an end some day. At the hands of the Iranian Navy? How else?�

Iran’s Navy, a fearsome juggernaut of nautical supremacy, has terrorized the seas since the 1200s, when Iran began conquering coastal lands at will and making pirates eat their own hats. With coastal access to the crucial Arabian and Caspian Seas, the land mass of Iran was ideally located for maritime dominance. Even geographical limitations such as a lack of access to the Pacific Ocean were laughed at by the Iranian Navy, infamous world-wide for carrying their huge warships by hand overland when doing so would be more impressive than simply sailing around the Cape of Good Hope or even around small islands.

Massive blockades of Iranian warships crippled the world economy numerous times in the 1500s, with the entire Spanish Armada going to their deaths in a futile attempt to import much-needed Spanish rice in defiance of Iran’s wishes. The Iranian people, though poorer than a record executive on land, have nevertheless lorded over the seas for generations, with an iron fist and a wooden bottom. Because an iron bottom would sink like nobody’s business.

This latest development came to a head when 15 British sailors were captured by the Iranian Navy while conducting a routine search of a cargo ship carrying fuses and detonators in Iraqi territorial waters.

“We had just finished inspecting and signing off on the Iraqi freighter,� explained naval officer Roger Phillip, communicating through a photograph released by the Iranian Navy via holes ripped in his sweater forming the message in Morse code. “When suddenly the very sun was blotted out by an armada of fearsome warships, and we knew our own doom had engulfed us.�

Though the unconditional surrender of a world power over a small naval skirmish over 3,000 miles away is unusual, few consider Britain’s move premature, given the unbelievable hurt the Iranian Navy could rain down on the U.K. should they get their dander up.

A few foolhardy souls have suggested a death-before-dishonor approach, unwilling to bow down to their Iranian masters so quickly.

“I think we could take ‘em,� grumbled brave sausage peeler Roscoe Euclid of Saxby, loading supplies into an inflatable dingy moments before going to his certain death.

Final plans have not been announced as to what Britain’s new Iranian overlords plan to do with the country, though early indications point to a bonanza of beheadings.

mbittered rivals on both sides of the partisan line clashed again last week after controversy arose over Attorney General Alberto Gonzales' firing of 8 U.S. Attorneys in 2006. Democrats used accusations of partisanship allegedly motivating the firings as further example that Alberto Gonzales flouts the law carrying out the agenda of the White House, while a typically befuddled President Bush defended Gonzales as "the fastest mouse in all Me-hee-co."

Administration insiders apologize for the president's gaff by citing his travels in Mexico to meet country President Felipe Calderon, and watching an excessive amount of Warner Brothers cartoons to escape negative media coverage. While Bush's actual statements excused Gonzales' questionable legal activities as the only way he could bring the cheese to the native population of his starving country, even if it meant defying the mean gringo pussy cat, White House spokesperson Tony Snow had a different take on the president's surreal blubberings.

"The president has always had high respect for Attorney General Gonzales, and has always believed him the best man for the job," said Snow, ignoring sarcastic reporter cries of "Arriba! Arriba! �ndale!" "Still, we recognize the possibility of impropriety in the office of the Attorney General and expect Attorney General Gonzales to account for the actions of his staff. In short, Gonzales' got some 'splainin' to do!"

Snow's alleged joke was met with some boos and not a single trace of laughter.

Also not laughing are representatives of the Democratic leadership in Congress, many of whom are calling for Gonzales' firing as the controversy builds. The negative press for the AG follows last week's admission by the FBI that the bureau underreported the amount of domestic spying it was performing under the Patriot Act. The fire under the AG's ass was stoked even hotter when it was revealed Gonzales and the Attorney General's office fired 8 U.S. Attorneys in 2006 for alleged refusals to prosecute cases of voter fraud. The cases of voter fraud cited were incidents in which ex-convicts and other pro-Democratic throngs were allowed to cast votes and not purged from voter rolls, which is something Republicans really like to do to all non-white voters.

Gonzales may end up taking the fall for the firings as heat continues to build around his office and, more importantly, evidence emerges tying the White House to the alleged politically motivated shit-cannings. Communications between former White House attorney Harriet Miers and Gonzales' chief of staff Kyle Sampson came to light this week showing that Miers (and presumably the administration) were contemplating firing all 93 U.S. Attorneys and replacing them, while Gonzales opposed the measure and conceivably thought targeting specific pains-in-the-ass to the White House would be sufficient. To no one's surprise, Sampson resigned Tuesday to go live in a private scapegoat community somewhere.

In the wake of all these recent controversies, Democrats have called for the firing of Gonzales, but the real surprise is the Democrats think there's maybe one conservative kid in the mailroom of the White House they think shouldn't be fired; they found unlikely support Wednesday from New Hampshire Republican Sen. John Sununu, son of former White House Chief of Staff under George Bush Sr. John "Leaving on a Federally-Funded Jet Plane" Sununu. Claiming Gonzales should be replaced by a more aggressive leader, possibly someone part werewolf.

Though we didn't bother asking him, we assume if Alberto Gonzales did resign to save the administration some embarrassment, President Bush would not be adverse to nominating his cousin Slowpoke Rodriguez as a replacement.

Salutations, truth-hungry nation. I'm happier than a pig in excrement that the commune has gone back to a weekly schedule, and that I'm writing a correspondence for them for the first time in more than a year! Oh, speaking of the pig/excrement thing, I also want to sincerely thank commune columnist Omar Bricks for the bag of sandwiches he sent to all his fans during the long commune hiatus. I hear most of them are already out of the hospital, and those who aren't are well on their way to recovery. I have the same trouble remembering cooking rules—alfredo sauce is served hot, mayonnaise is cold. They can't really expect busy adventurers like us to keep up with such trivialities.

No one was more devastated than I when the commune mysteriously stopped publishing last year. I even had to mention it to most of the people I knew, then they pretended indifference, but I assure you I didn't have to pretend—devastated I was. Our faithful favorite website did that touching Six Feet Under-themed edition around last May, then poof! No commune! Just when I was hoping they would be moving on to a Boston Legal-themed edition, since I don't get cable and have never seen the other show.

All my queries to fearless editor Red Bagel were returned unopened, with little crudely drawn maps to pirate treasure on the envelopes. But I sought something more—the glib satisfaction I get from knowing I stayed informed with the world's most controversial and scoop-tastic alternative news site! Hmm. I guess it does kind of warrant laughing, to read it all laid out like that instead of just yelling it at city hall. Regardless, I was not going to take the disappearance of the commune lying down. I jumped onto the phone (quite literally, since I've been living without furniture in my apartment after losing my job last year) to organize all the individual commune Enthusiasts Clubs into one massive coalition to raise money, threaten the Illuminati, save the world through video games—to do anything, in short, to get the commune publishing again.

Well, stop me if you guessed where this is going: The Shanesly, Vermont commune Enthusiasts Club was the only club out there! I mean, I'm sure there are others, but they sure are hard to find. Not very well-organized.

So I've taken it upon myself, as the world's single biggest commune fan (though my friend Rudy with the crippling depression is starting to come around in a big way!) to form the world's first National commune Enthusiasts Club. Or NcEC, for those of you who like odd acronyms.

I actually did all this about 8 months ago, and I have to say the result has been really overwhelming. Or just whelming, maybe. We are getting responses, and not just from those pricks at the "Do Not Call" list headquarters. I have over 15 interested potential members already! Most of them have the same thing in common: A thirst for the undiluted truth, as only an anti-corporate website can deliver. They are also all single and live with a great number of cats, which I find curious. What is it about the commune and its many feline fanciers?

Whatever I did, even if it felt unproductive at that time, it's worked! The commune is back in business, and better than ever! Or maybe it could use some improvements, but that's hardly my call. However, if they do want any insightful critiques from me, they'll find me living in their very own local Flatbush, N.J. Y.M.C.A.

In all honesty, though, it's not as much fun as the song made it sound. I have to sleep very lightly to keep from getting a kidney stolen in the night. But what's a kidney as a price to pay, really? I have two of those, despite that awful Guillermo's insidious intentions; there's still only one commune.

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