esame Street’s resident expert on numbers and counting, Count von Count, shocked onlookers at the North Hollywood Police Station last Thursday after being arrested on several counts of domestic abuse. Led into the station by numerous uniformed officers, the Count peppered the staff and his accuser, long-time spouse and fellow Muppet the Countess von Lexya, with counting-themed verbal abuse for close to an hour while officers attempted to obtain prints from his uncooperative felt fingers.

“Zat’s two! Two times I tell you, bitch!� the Count yelled across the station as the Countess was speaking with detectives. “Vat do you do ven she just von’t listen?�

The marriage has been a rocky one since the Count married Miss Lexya, a counting-impaired female Muppet created by Jim Henson in 1974 in an effort to bring attention to learning disabilities and spread tolerance among the nation’s youth. Friends of the couple and other Sesame Street regulars were doubtful of the union from the start, due in part to bitter memories of Count von Count’s disastrous failed marriage to backwards-counting prodigy Countess Dahling von Dahling. While some considered the opposites-attract pairing to be adorable, many feared that violence would inevitable result, given the Count’s volatile temper in counting-related matters and Miss Lexya’s utterly inept grasp of the numbers one through ten.

“Zat’s three, three fingers I use to slap your stupid face!� the Count yelled across the police station to the Countess, waving his felt fist in the air.

Since becoming the Countess in 1986, Miss Lexya has filed several reports of domestic abuse, but has never pressed formal charges. However, prosecutors received a break with the news that the Countess does plan on pressing charges this time around, though she’s not sure how many.

“Vait, how many is zis?� the Count questioned, holding up the middle of his three fingers and belligerently waving it in the air. “You must tell me, I canno see zis. Zat policeman did step on my glasses!� The Count continued to flip off the entire police station until advised by his legal counsel to desist.

Similar charges are being considered against puppeteer Marc Sanders, who has been operating the Count since 1991 but claims no part in the alleged domestic abuse. “You can try to talk the Count down, but once he gets his felt up, you’re better off just staying out of his way,� Sanders warned.

“Totally,� agreed fellow puppeteer and long-time Sanders girlfriend Maureen Baker, who also happens to operate the Countess/Miss Lexya puppet. “This may look bad now, but it’s clear that the Count only did what he did because he loves the Countess so much,� explained Baker, who recently received a black eye when she carelessly walked her Miss Lexya puppet into a doorknob.

Reaction among the other Sesame Street cast members was split, with some lamenting the Count’s tragic failings, and others bidding good riddance to an anal-retentive tyrant known to be extremely demanding on the set.

Fellow Muppet and longtime Count friend Dr. Bunsen Honeydew perhaps summed it up best. “The Count isn’t always the easiest chap to get along with,� admitted the myopic sadist. “But everyone would agree he’s the kind of friend you can really count on! Get it? Haha!�

“Me meep,� agreed Honeydew’s submissive man-child Beaker, nervously attempting to fake a smile.

n a brief ceremony Saturday, American soccer player Nathan Horne, killed in action during March in Iraq, was posthumously decorated with the Two Shits medal by a ranking Pentagon officer, Gen. Wilbur Finletter.

The Pentagon had received some criticism from soccer fans in light of recent accolades given former NFL player Pat Tillman, also killed in action, and celebrated as a god among men and all around nifty human being for giving up football to fight in a war otherwise disapproved by the public at large. Critics charged the U.S. military and national media with anti-soccer bias for its worship of Tillman while Horne went unrecognized for his valiant service and awesome death.

Horne's father, Reggie, summed up the position: "Nathan left a potentially-lucrative, at least it would have been overseas, career in soccer to serve his country. The fact he was killed in action should mean something, at least since he was a well-known athlete and not just one of the other faceless war dead."

A starting kicker or something for the Dallas Burn, which is apparently a real national league soccer team, Horne met his death when his convoy was attacked outside Baghdad March 26. Witnesses believe Horne tried to save the lives of his fellow soldiers, jumping into the air and attempting to deflect an incoming RPG with his head. Horne and the other soldiers received some posthumous awards, but Horne's father says none of them count since they weren't covered by the media and no one was invited to the ceremony.

Gen. Finletter tried to amend the error with a small ceremony in a mostly empty high school gym in Horne's hometown of Avacado, Texas. A medal known as the Two Shits, and reserved for those killed in action who appear much more important upon reflection, was reportedly not made up just for the ceremony. Finletter gave the award to Horne's widow, Iris, and two minutes of silence (one for each Shit) followed, except for the sound of freshmen playing dodge ball on the other side of the gym.

"If it didn't seem like we cared when you died, sorry and all," said Finletter, clearing his throat with a slight cough. "Let our presence here today, as well as the frumpy little medal we handed out, signify that we really do give two shits. Amen."

The reexamination of Horne's death hit everyone hard. A former assistant coach for the Burn, Kyle Hooper, was distraught upon remembering the news.

"I always knew Nathan was a pretty good guy, fun to get shit-faced with," said Hooper, "but I didn't think he was a hero until recently. When all this stuff happened with Pat Tillman, I realized hey, Nathan didn't have to go over there and defend our freedom. Or defend the Iraqi's freedom, or whatever. I know freedom was involved. He could have stayed here. Hell, he was getting axed from the Burn next season anyway, but it doesn't mean he couldn't have stayed here. He didn't have to go to Iraq, like all those guys who are in the army now. He could have went on living for plenty more years and not gotten himself killed in an unjust war. But that's the kind of guy he was—never really considering his decisions."

Donations in Horne's memory, in lieu of flowers, are requested to be sent directly to his widow and family, who will otherwise have no way to support themselves. For those who would like to do more to honor his memory, the family requests you attend a little rally with a store-bought sign exclaiming how much you support the troops.

First off, my hearty congratulations for the commune's many recent successes. Sharp new look with the purple redesign—the new "Meet the Staff" page is excellent! And huge fans like us couldn't be happier with the return to a weekly schedule. Also, we're glad editor Red Bagel finally decided to come out of his bunker—with him on the job, Bush is much less likely to destroy the world. We're sure of it. As for Raoul Dunkin leaving… we're not quite sure how to respond to that. If he comes back, we hope he enjoys the respite from long days of office work. If he doesn't come back, fuck the dickwad.

All of you "reservists" who haven't made their way to a Shanesly, Vermont meeting of the cEC yet, you'll be happily surprised to hear we now have a membership of six, including myself and Sandy, who refuses to allow herself to be counted, but since she doesn't read the commune, it'll be our secret I am counting her. But you read right—six! We've tripled our old membership. Since our famous New York City anti-Bush protest/get-together, some of those who stumbled onto our little group decided to stay. Our cEC, Shanesly, Vermont chapter (the only chapter we know of to exist, actually) now included Raymond Highsmith, Vera Mortimer, Lucas Lemon Cain, and Homeless Gary, who doesn't remember his last name. He sleeps in the clubhouse. But six members—I can imagine all of you out there in readerdom are as impressed as I am. Pretty soon we'll have too many members to even list here! But not for a while yet, if that convinces any of you to join up with us.

Our next meeting is February 12, a couple days before Valentine's Day, a day I know I won't be doing anything for. My latest girlfriend, Emily, decided we should take some time apart when she moved to Seattle without telling me. Not that it's necessarily commune Enthusiasts Club business, but as a leader I have nothing to hide from my flock, so I'll come out with it all. She was a bit controlling, but we got along pretty well. She really liked me, despite the fact I haven't had a job in a long time (she said as much), but she couldn't deal with sharing me with the commune Enthusiasts Club. Or, as she called it, "you sitting in a tree house by yourself for hours with no hope of ever amounting to anything." Which is quite unfair—I told her the treehouse was a temporary solution since we lack a more enduring meeting place. We'll pull it together—not that she wanted to hear any of it. Another woman uprooting and leaving town rather than committing to a serious relationship with me.

Homeless Gary promises to "dress up" the meeting house a little before the next get-together, but so far has yet to do so. His living in the treehouse is causing a bit of conflict between my parents and I, in all honesty, but I feel it just wouldn't be right to turn out a fellow cEC member into the cold during his time of need. Besides, as I told my dad, Homeless Gary never comes into the house except for those occasions I invite him to read the latest edition of the commune—which he also promises he'll get around to doing soon enough. So I don't understand why my dad's so upset, Homeless Gary doesn't even come into the house to use the bathroom—but my dad's not happy about that either, so don't mention it to him. Another sore point.

I'm quite thrilled to have a flock to lead, at last. Sandy and I, though she doesn't know it yet, are going to begin planning the float for the local Easter parade, a float honoring the commune, even though it's well in advance of the time we need. Better prepared than caught with our pants down. Which reminds me—I will have to talk to Homeless Gary about dress etiquette before the Feb. 12 meeting. See you there!

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