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 March 28, 2012 |
New York, NY Courtesy JetBlue JetBlue: When you absolutely, positively need to get there eventually.
"We had to do something," explained stewardess Theresa Bower. "The scheduled movie for the flight was supposed to be Ides of March but I accidentally sent that disc back to Netflix instead of the Bumfights DVD I was supposed to put in the envelope, and the only other DVD we had on the plane was Space Jam. And nobody wanted to subject people to that. Thankfully Captain Dave came through when the chips were down. We had no idea he w...
iscount quasi-airline JetBlue has announced that in-flight movies will be cancelled for all future flights and replaced with a live variety show put on by the flight crew, in response to the glowing praise the airline received for an improvised show put on by the crew of JetBlue flight 191 from New York to Las Vegas this morning.
"We had to do something," explained stewardess Theresa Bower. "The scheduled movie for the flight was supposed to be Ides of March but I accidentally sent that disc back to Netflix instead of the Bumfights DVD I was supposed to put in the envelope, and the only other DVD we had on the plane was Space Jam. And nobody wanted to subject people to that. Thankfully Captain Dave came through when the chips were down. We had no idea he was such an electric performer."
The show began with Captain Dave Westman "accidentally" locking himself out of the cockpit after getting up and wandering around the plane for several minutes, at one point standing in the middle of the aisle and eating the lunch meat out of several sandwiches from the stewardess’ service cart and loudly complaining that they didn’t have any bologna. The captain was later seen trying to insert his car keys into the doorknob of one of the plane’s unoccupied lavatories, then arguing with a pregnant woman in coach that she was sitting in his seat. Upon returning to the cockpit and finding the door locked, the uproarious comedy began.
"It was like the best Flintstones episode ever," raved passenger Laura Styles of Brooklyn. "The way he was whining in that sing-songy voice about being let back into the cockpit, I pulled a Bush and totally almost choked on a pretzel."
"It was Laurel and Hardy with air marshals," agreed Styles’ seatmate, Sandra Pullium. "Nobody expected him to drop his pants like that. I was laughing so hard when he tried to knock down the cockpit door with his dick that I didn’t even know what was going on."
"We gotta pull the throttle back, we’re gonna fucking die!" screamed the captain, while furiously pounding on the cockpit door. According to witnesses, the co-pilot responded "Dave’s not here, man," to a raucous round of applause and wolf-whistles from the flight’s passengers.
A hilarious slapstick routine followed, with flight attendants attempting to wrap the irate captain in a comically clichéd straight-jacket, then ending up accidentally whipping off their tops instead and dancing atop the first row of seats to the theme song from Austin Powers.
While the stewardesses were dancing, the captain screamed "There is a bomb on this plane and all you motherless fucks will die in the cleansing fire if we don’t land in downtown Chicago right fucking now! Say your fucking prayers!" before unleashing a fearsomely awkward karate kick to the cockpit door.
"Oh my God," reminisced passenger Todd Franklin of Carson City, Nevada. "When he did that karate thing I almost shit my pants. I had to stick my face in the air sickness bag because I was hyperventilating from laughing so hard."
The flight suddenly plummeted 10,000 feet after the captain bashed down the cockpit door with a fire extinguisher and began comically wrestling the co-pilot for the plane’s controls, resulting in a sissy slap fight that had all the children on the plane calling out for more.
The show proved so popular the flight had to be diverted to Rick Husband International Airport in Amarillo, Texas, so more passengers could be let on for the sold-out evening show.
"When those strippers dressed as cops led the captain off the plane in fake handcuffs, we just all stood up and applauded," explained passenger Lisa Redgraves. "We all wanted an encore but they never came back."
"I hope JetBlue realizes what they have here," mused passenger Roger Trenton of Nardswallow, Nevada. "This show could run for years. I guarantee you the other airlines are going to have copycat shows before the month is out. I only hope they do it right. I could see room for a hilarious inept terrorist character or something like that being worked into other airlines’ shows, but you’ve got to do it right and not just play the smoking bomb underwear for cheap laughs." the commune news has only been on one hilarious flight before, but we’ll still never forget the look on that big, doofy duck’s face right before it flew into the engine. Ivan Nacutchacokov was sadly unharmed in the reporting of this story, but it did bring back memories of the time his Comedy Traffic School class was attacked by terrorists, and that gratifying emotional damage has to count for something.
 |  November 18, 2011 |
Shanesly, VT Courtesy App-Lesauce.com A bunch of apps and shit
Apps," or software programs designed for handheld devices, are all the rage these days, as more and more internet-capable phones and state-of-the-art tablet computers utilize them to make apps one of the more enjoyable aspects of mobile technology. There are current apps out there for reading books and documents, doing your taxes, watching movies and television while on the go, and getting directions as you drive. But apps don't stop there, as independent designers and big-name companies work to bring new abilities to your tablet computer like the iPad, the Galaxy Tab, and Motorola's incorrectly spelled Xoom device. In the wake of the recent removal from the Apple Store in France of an app called "Jew or Not Jew?," designed to give insight into the background of entertainers and icons of Jewish descent, the commune, mostly me, Raoul Dunkin, decided to investigate some of the surprising apps out there for various devices. But yeah, all of these are Apple, because nobody left an HP TouchPad discarded at the bus stop last week. Although they probably should have.
Encore! For iPhone (Guncho Ltd.): This fresh app saves the user breath and energy by automatically shouting for "one more" from your favorite band who has left the stage. An update reportedly automatically requests "Free Bird" if it has not already been played, and mimics your drunken slur. Encore! costs $4.99 on iTunes and is also available for the same price for iPad. For $8.99 an Apple customer can buy Encore! Pro, which boos the opening act during the first ballad.
U.R. Gay For iPad (OutThere Apps): Ever wanted to know what your best friends or romantic partners would look like if they chose the homosexual lifestyle? U.R. Gay can take any picture of the manliest dudes or girliest girlfriends and gay them up big time. Adjust the gayness to your liking with a touch-friendly slider. Deck out that obnoxious brah in your office in a tight-fitting long-sleeve shirt and pencil-thin mustache, or a loud Hawaiian shirt and biker shorts, or go full gay with a bushy 'stache, leather vest, blue jean cut-offs and—is that eyeliner? Advisory: Can only go gay, will not work on already-gay pictures, and they highly recommend you don't try it.
iBlack (Cheap Bastards): If you're thinking this app traces the purity of your blood back several generations, you're wrong (that app's called Kiss My Black(?) Ass for iPhone). iBlack can, at the press of a button, turn your iPad, iPhone, or iPod Touch to a completely black screen so you can see your reflection, see what it looks like if your device was turned off, or simply give people the impression that your handheld computer is not being used. It functions much like if you held the button down and turned off the device, except it costs $12.99.
OverLaid For iPad (Knocks Industries): You won't find a better app than this one for your fantasy lotharios. If you've ever told your buddies about sexual liaisons that never happened, so many and so frequently that it's hard to keep track of, you need OverLaid. A spreadsheet in this app counts of all the women you've slept with, honestly, while another spreadsheet keeps track of all the women you claim you've slept with. Personalized data entry fields allow you to keep names, locations, and hotness levels (on a 1-10 scale) of all your imaginary affairs, so that you never give erroneous or contradictory information regarding all your fictional erotic encounters. For the $5.99 full version, you can also compare your actual sexual conquests, their attractiveness and numbers, with all those you've bragged about to friends, either to set goals for your bedroom romps or just feel bad about yourself. For you high schoolers, the app also includes a helpful "girlfriends in other states" section.
No Rape! (Danger Dude Enterprises): For iPad and iPhone, this clever app claims that the mere push of a button will send rapists and molesters running the other way. Works on all ages, genders, and sexual orientations, although it never details how it does this and explicitly states it offers no refunds. It's the exclamation point that sells it.
Punch Your Balls (Danger Dude Enterprises): From the people who brought you No Rape! For the iPad and iPhone, at the mere push of a button, a representative of Danger Dude Enterprises (perhaps Danger Dude himself) will come to your house when called and punch you squarely in your testicular area. This app comes with a guarantee, void outside the continental U.S. It seems like Danger Dude Enterprises are the app developers to beat.
Awkward Silence For iPhone (Krustinators, Ltd.): Have you ever told a joke and felt the burn of absolutely no one laughing, not even laughing at the fact they didn't laugh? Now you can enjoy that painful humiliation even without anyone else around. Awkward Silence bathes users in the gut-wrenching shame of stark quiet after every bombed joke or embarrassing admission. Or, if you prefer, you can come by Emil's house and just record it with your iPhone recording app. We're overflowing with riches here. the commune news is appy and we know it, so we'll clap our hands. Get it? It's like the… song with the… aw, fuck you. Raoul Dunkin is nappy, and he knows it, we snatched his comb. *clap clap*
|  New Heart Rejects Cheney  Zimmerman: "Jesus Christ, you act like this is the first time I've shot a black kid."  New iPad Screen Has One Pixel for Every Douchebag Waiting in Line Somewhere  Liam Neeson Totally Fucks Up Some Wolves For Your Entertainment |
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 March 26, 2012 Return to Zender (Week 50)Greetings, communistas. First and foremost, I must apologize for my absence and the hellish disrepair this site has fallen into in said absence. I had an unfortunate run-in with a Taco Bell Volcano Box and have spent the past few months in the loving care of the Shanesly/Rupert Valley Regional Memorial Hospital. Some might argue that four months is a longer than necessary stay for a common case of food poisoning, but just like the anti-drowning safety labels on all the bottled water sold in town say, we like to be careful here in Shanesly. And really there was no harm done, as I’m sure my birthday party magician’s guild insurance will more than cover the expenses.
The story of how all of this happened is far too graphic for young and impressionable readers, but suffice it ...
º Last Column: Return to Zender (Week 24)
º more columns
Greetings, communistas. First and foremost, I must apologize for my absence and the hellish disrepair this site has fallen into in said absence. I had an unfortunate run-in with a Taco Bell Volcano Box and have spent the past few months in the loving care of the Shanesly/Rupert Valley Regional Memorial Hospital. Some might argue that four months is a longer than necessary stay for a common case of food poisoning, but just like the anti-drowning safety labels on all the bottled water sold in town say, we like to be careful here in Shanesly. And really there was no harm done, as I’m sure my birthday party magician’s guild insurance will more than cover the expenses.
The story of how all of this happened is far too graphic for young and impressionable readers, but suffice it to say that Volcano box lived up to its name and turned my box into a veritable volcano, overflowing with flaming human effluvia, if by box you understand I mean my asshole. I realize the term is usually reserved for a woman’s vaginal area, but I imagine gay guys or somebody somewhere calls a man’s ass a box as well, so there you go. Here at the commune headquarters, the inmates were left to run the asylum while I was gone, and I suppose it comes as no great shock that the inmates did a real half-assed job of asylum running. It doesn’t look like we’ve published much, but the staff somewhat made up for that by adding a wet, rotting Nerf refrigerator to my back yard, which apparently has a pack of ferrets living inside of it. I’m afraid to ask where that thing came from, or why Nerf ever made flexible, spongy refrigerators. Whatever the reason, now it’s a collapsed floppy mess in the back yard that squeaks menacingly whenever you walk near it.
On the bright side, several more commune regulars wandered blindly back into the fray during my absence. Vernon Hooper accosted Raoul Dunkin at a local Denny’s, mistaking him inexplicably for Rick Santorum. Freelance freeballers Ella Dipthong and Chals Woodland both sent in columns via the teletype system for deaf people that Mitch Kroeger stole from the old folks’ home he had been pretending to be old to live in, rent-free, for the last few years. In other words, we’ve got all your old non-favorites. When it comes to re-configuring the commune, corralling the old staff has proved to be much easier than expected, since they all seem to be drawn to no pay and ill repute like fat, juicy moths to a house-sized bug zapper. Getting them to do their goddamned moth jobs once they’re incapacitated and twitching on the ground is another story entirely. But at least they’re fumbling their way through the door, even when I’m not here to explain that the doggie door is for dogs only and that Mountain Dew Code Red in the fridge is most certainly not for the dog, as evidenced by the jittery red sprays of dog urine everywhere.
I even received a telegram from Red Bagel the other day, which simply read "HE’S COMING." That’s literally what it said, apparently Red still believes in the power of referring to himself in the third person. The telegram was most impressive for the fact that no telegraph services exist any more in modern times, apparently Bagel had to email the message to some local chunkhead, who then typed it out on some telegraph paper he bought at a garage sale.
The excitement around here would be even more palpable if I wasn’t the only one who remembers who Red Bagel is.
Anyway, it’s great to be back. I’d love to say this will never happen again, but Taco Bell has recently added a Dorito-shell taco to their menu, and we both know it’s only a matter of time before that thing is making babies in my stomach. Until then, we here at the commune will endeavor to provide the high degree of timely journalism you are in no way accustomed to from the commune. Set your eyeballs to "stunned"!
Zincerely,
Emil Zender º Last Column: Return to Zender (Week 24)º more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“The reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated. I did not get my head blown off by a gorilla fluent in sign language and wielding a shotgun. He was only a man in a gorilla suit, and the weapon a mere .38 handgun. I just wanted to sound important.”
-Mack TwainFortune 500 CookieIt's about time you learned to play bass. The bad fish you had last weekend will finally cause food poisoning sometime in the next week. With great power comes great responsibility, and sometimes, executive bathroom privileges. Lucky numbers 86, 75, 30, and 9.
Try again later.Top Revelations of 9/11 Investigation| 1. | "World Trade Center" actually two buildings | | 2. | Apparently some people don't like the U.S. | | 3. | Bush fled Air Force One in private jet shuttle, "Baby Bush" | | 4. | Possibility tragic incident could have been prevented | | 5. | Colin Powell really nice | |
|   Capture of Gadhafi Sex Doll Sparks False Reports of Dictator’s Death BY stefan myer-wiener 1/27/2012 TweenightIt had been the world's most boring flight to Big, Oregon and I hated every minute of it. The old lady sitting next to me wouldn't even listen to me telling her about my stamp collection, all she wanted to do was watch gay porn on her laptop. It would be another super-dull summer in Sporks. I've been coming to Sporks ever since I was the world's most naĂŻve five-year-old. My dad and my mom split up when I was just a baby, and unlike most kids, I have a lot of sadness over it.
Dad picked me up at the airport, after bringing back the hot chick he thought was me and apologizing several times. Lawsuits are the worst. We talked about stupid stuff on the way to drive out to Sporks, the weather, how I liked school, how he lost both arms and his nose when a bomb went off in his face....
It had been the world's most boring flight to Big, Oregon and I hated every minute of it. The old lady sitting next to me wouldn't even listen to me telling her about my stamp collection, all she wanted to do was watch gay porn on her laptop. It would be another super-dull summer in Sporks. I've been coming to Sporks ever since I was the world's most naĂŻve five-year-old. My dad and my mom split up when I was just a baby, and unlike most kids, I have a lot of sadness over it.
Dad picked me up at the airport, after bringing back the hot chick he thought was me and apologizing several times. Lawsuits are the worst. We talked about stupid stuff on the way to drive out to Sporks, the weather, how I liked school, how he lost both arms and his nose when a bomb went off in his face. I kept trying to tell him about the things that were bothering me, like the tag on inside of my shirt that keeps scratching that soft skin around my neck. Same old dad. He just didn't show any interest in anything I said.
When school started, it was even worse. All of the girls didn't want anything to do with me. I guess they all have money, all of them carry designer Trapper Keepers and wear the newest clogs. Mine are from last year. Mom makes a lot of money but she makes me wear second-hand clothes and get my hair done at the Dollar Salon because she says girls without money are much easier to relate to. Dad told me I can't go to the Dollar Salon anymore, unless my rich mother wants to pay for it, I'll have to cut my own hair in the car mirror.
So I was all alone, without a friend in the world, a virtual outcast in a brand new high school. I tried to tell mom I didn't like it here in Sporks, that I wanted to come home, and she just kept asking why school was in session during the summer. I can't talk to her. I'm all alone.
Or I was alone—until I met the new boy, Tedwin.
From the first time we saw each other in the cafeteria I was drawn to him. None of the other kids want anything to do with him. It's like he's an outcast, just like me. Everyone is turned off by the fact that he's so quiet, and that he looks like a male supermodel. Between that strange pale color and the fact all the girls and a lot of the guys want to have sex with him, he's got to be the most enigmatic outsider in all of this school, and this school is about 95% outsiders, you know. Oh, I forgot about Bleedin' Tits Pete. That guys like a super-outsider, but no one is drawn to him.
My dad forgot to pick me up at school one afternoon, sometimes I slip his mind when he finished having sex with my art teacher. So I was stuck walking home. I was heading down Puberty Road and most of the cars were passing me, but to my surprise, Tedwin pulled up on a sleek motorcycle, the kind all the cool mysterious outsiders drive.
"You're Bona… aren't you?" he said enigmatically. I nodded shyly, because I really got nothing else in my arsenal. He looked into the sky, in the distance, where they keep it, and noticed the sun was going down. It seemed to kind of worry him. "Are you… going home?"
I told him about my dad's forgetting to pick me up, and how my fish sometimes eats the whole leaf of lettuce but yesterday she didn't, and he gave me a smile. He asked where I lived, and I told him, and then I told him most people like Miracle Whip, but I think mayonnaise is actually better. He agreed—I've never had someone who listened to me before. And he was oddly beautiful, for a male supermodel outsider.
"I'll give you a ride, Bona." I got on the back of his motorcycle, hugging extra close to him for sexiness. It felt good to have another heart beating so close to mine. Other hearts feel best when they're inside finely carved pecs.
When we got to my house, we stayed up for hours, sitting on the porch. His family seemed just as screwed up as mind, all they ever did was nitpick and bite on each other. Both of his parents were dead, he told me, but he said they still tried to make time to see him now and then. I told him about my talent for counting words in sentences that are spoken to me (we used six-hundred and forty-two!) and my entire set of Suddenly Susan on DVD. He eventually looked outside and saw it was night, then got up to leave in a hurry. I noticed he was kind of… glowing.
"Bona… you're the most fascinating person I've ever met," he said, and I noticed he was nibbling at something in his hand. "I want to see you again… but I can't."
"You can't leave me without telling me why, Tedwin," I told him. "Even though we've only known each other for two hours, I've fallen in love with you. I think you love me, too. Tedwin— listen to me! Stop eating while I'm talking to you…!"
I smacked his hand and his food fell to the floor. It looked like… but I wasn't completely sure… brains?
"Tedwin," I said with a little gasp. "Are you… a zombie?"   |
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