Americans, believe me when I say I would much rather spend this column outlining our plans to advertise on the commune. Or, more sincerely, would rather spend this column demonstrating how I’ve tracked the money trail from a major American defense manufacturer to weapons sold to Syria and Iran. Or at the very least tell you how Rascal and I spent the weekend getting thrown out of a NASCAR race (the Bagel car is still in one piece, you’ll be glad to hear). But no, unfortunately I have to deliver some bad news about a diminishing of the commune’s reputation.

We have tried, since the very launch of the commune, to maintain a certain standard of credibility. We have fact-checkers, and they appear to always be doing their jobs. Not that I’m going to look over their shoulder or anything—I’ve got a life, you know. Even so, I was dismayed to find out a certain unnamed reporter has been fabricating information to complete his stories. “His”? Did I say “his”? Oh, damn, cat’s out of the bag. That’s right, it’s Raoul Dunkin, former commune reporter.

You may know, if you’re a faithful commune reader (unlike that harlot Stacy Carmichael), that Raoul and I have had a very complicated relationship, and haven’t always been the best of friends. Nonetheless, we’ve always had a mutual respect for each other’s work—I respect his work, and he respects being paid for it. You can imagine how I was stunned and shocked, yea, even flabbergasted, to find out it’s all been a fraud.

After Raoul announced his resignation in December, Office Manager (at the time) Ramrod Hurley jumped in to hire a new reporter to fill out the staff. Elmore Sacks was the best he could do. However, Elmore’s been a great addition to the commune; true, he doesn’t so much write as sit in the break room and doze most of the day away, blocking the vending machine, I might add, but there is one more of us, which surely makes it an addition. The staff was all quite happy Raoul was gone, though, since everyone had a problem with him, and he didn’t exactly make friends. Even when I heaped more and more work on them, they still seemed glad Raoul had been sent packing, even though he had taken some of the worst assignments that are now left to them. I didn’t ask them if they were still glad, but I’m happier presuming it’s true.

But Raoul’s legacy was not the solid reporting I seemed to once think. At the urging of all the other reporters, I reviewed some of his past articles at random and checked them against his notes. I even tracked down the political figures and quote-donators, what they call “fact-checking” at other papers. I was quite outraged to find a glaring mistake in a previous article, “Presidential Debate Offers No Clear Loser.” A man, describing himself as Norm Chauncey of Newark University, was in fact Norm Chancey. And, as far as I can tell, he doesn’t even know what a college is.

Sir, I’m disgusted. It’s just this kind of sloppy reporting that can forever mar the reputation of the commune. I asked several people on the street, where I coincidentally found Norm Chancey once again, and found out several of them had never even heard of the commune. I can’t blame them. I’m nearly ashamed to admit it myself, in the wake of this scandal.

I can only apologize to you, faithful readers, and promise we’ll make every effort to get our facts right in the future. I can do only that and, of course, sending warning letters to every news organization in the country and warn them against hiring Mr. Dunkin. He is not the kind of journalist a credible news organization should employ, and I want everyone to know it.

That said, at the reporters’ urging, I’m offering Mr. Dunkin an open door here to come back to the commune. Not so he can besmirch us with his substandard reporting again, but so that he may work to repair the damage he has done to our news department. And everyone says he’s the only one who does what he’s told when he’s sent to cover a story, so we’ll try it their way. They’re getting sick of all this work.

Future Imperfect
It’s quite depressing, to realize you’re as old as I am (let’s not deal in numbers here) and have inadvertently doomed your name to extinction. Who’s supposed to carry on the Bagel legacy? My brother Gay? He will never have children, for quite obvious reasons—he despises them. So is this truly the end of the Bagels? Once and for all, the gene pool dries up here?

Ratings Bonanza
You probably know full and well I’m not really in the “readership” business, sir—I do the commune just to get the truth out to as many people as possible, even if nobody reads it. But Gay has been chomping at the bit (the dentist says he has to wear it) to define our readership, and Perry has brought us the numbers we need to stay in business and keep Gay happy.

The New Government Ninjas
On Sunday, January 23, the Washington Post broke the mainstream news about the existence of the SSB, while the rest of us who read the commune or report the alternative news just sat back and yawned in a patronizing fashion. Nobody needed to tell me about the super-secret Pentagon anti-terrorism unit—and by nobody, of course, I mean my super-secret embedded Pentagon source, who I’ll call Doggie Style.

Gay Demographics
Hence you’ll notice the new commune ratings system, just to the right side of the page, under the big picture that we put there because we think it’s funny. These numbers are pretty raw, of course—judging by them, you would initially think no one is reading the commune.