ednesday's attacks in the Iraqi city of Fallujah, in which four former US soldiers were killed in a terrorist ambush before their bodies were dismembered, dragged behind cars and hung from a bridge by an angry mob, created a conundrum for television networks faced with the tough moral question of how to best profit from these shocking images.

"If we show them, we make a shitload of money," explained ABC News spokesperson Al Reuben. "If we don't show them, maybe we can claim the moral high ground and make a shitload of money down the line. It's a tough call."

Least troubled by the moral quandary was Fox News, whose plans to strap a helmet-cam to one of the dead bodies were scrapped when the angry mob grew impatient waiting for technicians to get a reading on the gray levels.

"Americans have a right to see this footage," opined Fox News Executive Producer Leonard Williams. "And we have the right to boost our ratings through the fuckin' roof by being the first to show the really awful parts that make you want to throw up. If anybody out there was blindly discharging a firearm into their Arab neighbor's house yesterday, you know they were watching hard-hitting Fox News."

Other networks took the debate more seriously, holding off on showing the footage through the morning, and then gradually releasing more and more of the horrible images throughout the day as it became apparent that Internet sites were kicking their ratings in the balls by showing the Fallujah footage uncut. By Wednesday evening the gloves were off and charred bodies were seen dangling from the Euphrates River bridge on most major networks.

"We really didn't want to show the footage of those kids beating the guy's flaming corpse with their shoes," explained CBS Evening News spokesperson Clint Adams. "But then we realized, 'Jesus Christ, we're losing money here!' I feel truly bad for the families of these men, and any children who may have been forever scarred by these images, but come on. You know how much money we made off that Somalia footage? Shit."

While the long-term impact of these images is yet to be seen, experts speculate that the American people being reminded that "Oh yeah, war is really ugly and horrible and stuff" can only harm the president's chances for reelection in November, not to mention driving the final nail into the coffin of Iraqi tourism.

"We owe it to future history to inform the American people of what's really going on over there," offered Marcus Graves of ABC News. "Maybe because of this footage being in the collective memory, next time we'll think twice about going to war again."

When asked by the commune news if he was shitting us, Graves admitted that yeah, he kind of was, but it sounds a lot better than saying you make your living selling people grisly video death. No argument here.

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There's been a lot of fuss around the commune offices lately about the upcoming presidential election, and it's high time Omar Bricks weighed in on the action: I say Lil Duncan takes Ivana Folger-Balzac in four rounds. That's a controversial wager, I realize, but I hear Balzac's been betting heavily against herself under the assumed name of Flora Wackser and I've got it on good authority that she's going to take a dive in the fourth.

Even if the upcoming breakroom fight weren't fixed, I'd still be wondering if Balzac was going to be her usual invincible, dirty-fighting self, since she only started the "commune Republicans Club" to piss off the rest of the staff and isn't likely to put it all on the line defending the club's honor. Plus, the only other commune Republican who could get her back if Duncan pulled a knife would be Ted Ted, who's mad enough for a man twice his size but still remains listed as a generous three-foot four on his trading card.

Have you seen these things? Emil Zender's been printing them out on his home computer, a collectable set of the entire commune staff. They're like Garbage Pail Kids, only ugly.

Seriously though, If you haven't seen them yet, the cards are pretty sharp. They've all got pretty awesome embarrassing pics of commune staffers on the front with their vital stats on the back. Ted Ted's is hilarious since somebody somehow had a camera ready when they caught him humping that baby-CPR doll in the closet last month.

I'm in the deck too, of course, but the picture on my card's just an out-of-focus shot of me building a Loch Ness Monster decoy in my garage for that hoax last year, when I was planning on riding it across the East River and into the city like I'd made Nessie my bitch. They should have got a photo of that fuckin' thing sinking into the river like a lead weight with an asscramp and me getting that helicopter ride back to land, but I guess the technology's not quite there to have a whole video clip from the news playing on a baseball card.

Anyway, while we're on the subject, I might as well weigh in on the lame-assed presidential election itself. You know Omar Bricks doesn't waste a lot of time thinking about politics, but when I do I think this: It's time we elected Evel Knievel as the President of the United States. I'll wait a second for the reasoning behind this to become obvious to you.

First and most obviously, I can't vote for Bush. Bush is like the guy you knew in the fourth grade who would light his farts on fire, until he came across a set of flammable drapes and ended up burning half the house down. Maybe when Bush grows up he'll turn out to have real presidential potential, but for now I think we need to protect the White House drapes.

And I'm pretty sure I pantsed John Kerry in the seventh grade. According to office dickwad Raoul Dunkin, that's mathematically impossible, but I'd remember that sour mug anywhere. So no way I can vote for that guy.

Ralph Nader? Sounds too much like Darth Vader. No way I'm voting for some Star Wars geek, he'd probably blow half the budget funding research on the Force. Though I have to admit, I would pay good money to see a presidential debate where Nader does that little throat-pinchy gesture and the other guy drops dead. That would be pretty decisive.

But if Nader could pull that shit off, he probably would have done it last election so he wouldn't have had to spend the last four years working at that organic grocery out in Portland. So really, when you stop and think about it, Evel Knievel's our only good choice.

How hard would the vote be rocked if we had a debate where all the candidates had to out-stunt each other on live TV? I guarantee you some voter turnout for that shit. Let's see Bush or Kerry jump a motorcycle over a dozen school buses or a tank full of starving sharks. No need to take polls over who won the debate when the runner-up ran over his own pelvis or shattered his spine on national television.

And you can forget all this bullshit about purple hearts and who's got the balls to fight the war on terror, let one of those other guys strap a rocket to his ass and try to jump across the Colorado River. Not going to happen. So Knievel wins in a landslide, and he gets sworn in while surfing down a real landslide on a TV tray. Shit yeah.

The only thing that can stop him now is if he's already dead. I need to look that up.

Bricks out.

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1. Start smoking, then quit, then brag about it.

I bet it's not that hard, if you set your mind to it. And you were only doing it to be a dick in the first place.

2. Finally tell that cheesedick from Time Warner that I can't afford cable.

That guy's been calling every day and I can't help but feel like I'm leading him on with all the long heart-to-hearts we've been having. Time to cut the cord—or the cable, if you will. Clever.

3. Find a new place to poop.

I opened a stall in the men's room this morning, and I almost shit prematurely because that big flaming eyeball from the Lord of the Rings was in there. Woah, dude, latch the door! I know it's probably tough when you don't have any arms or anything, but you don't have any feet I can see under the stall door either, so you gotta work that out somehow. "I SEE YOOOOU!!" Yeah, no shit! I see you too, big guy! And I wish I hadn't. Now I don't need the men's room any more, I need the laundry. Fucker.

That was the second-worst experience I've had in a public bathroom this month. Yeah, now you're starting to get an idea of how my month's been going. A few weeks ago I'm on the john when all of a sudden I realize there's a chewing noise coming from the next stall over. Motherfucker was in there eating celery! I shit you not! Man, whatever kind of diet you're on, quit it, because that shit just ain't working. Try narrowing down the number of rooms you're allowed to eat in, like the rest of the human race does. I think you'll shed a few pounds.

Then again, maybe the guy was living in there. Strange, sure, but I think there's definitely somebody living in the men's room over at Subway. There's always somebody in the handicapped stall and the other day I heard the sounds of the Tonight Show coming from in there. Not a bad set-up if you can get it, though I bet you can end up with some pretty questionable neighbors.

4. Walk on my hands to Kansas.

This one pretty much explains itself.

5. Punch Burl Ives right in the goddamned teeth.

I'll have whatever the hell kind of Christmas I want to have, Jack. Thank you very much. You have yourself a merry little mouthful of broken teeth.

6. And now for a funny word: effluvia.

7. Remember the subtle-but-important difference between "a twinkle in his eye" and "a tinkle in his eye."

Stay away from maternity wards until people on the street stop referring to me as "that baby-pisser." While I'm at it, never have kids.

8. Bring the pain to Al Roker.

Ever since that guy lost all that weight, he's looked seriously bored, like he misses the thrill of living on the edge of a coronary. His biggest danger in life now is that he might have a stroke while jerking off to a magazine interview with Mandy Moore. That's just not right.

9. Kiss and make up with Catherine Zeta-Jones.

We've never had a fight or anything, or even met, but still.

10. Write a new column for the commune.

I've been running a little low on canned goods this month, and I figure I could use a—hold on, never mind. I think I've got an idea.

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