 | 
Negative Ads Nastiest EverMarch 15, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Snapper McGee's TV One the first in this season's line of vicious political "snaps."
Democratic debates for the past several weeks, indeed as early as they started, painted unpleasant, however true, pictures of President Bush as a "man" out of touch with the people and leading America down a path toward unjustified war and economic chaos. Bush, sitting on a monster-sized war chest of campaign finance, reserved specific retaliations until John Kerry emerged as the Democratic front-runner. Many theorize Bush was urged to action by comments ...
n what some broadcasters are calling "news," negative ads have come from both camps lately attacking the leading presidential candidates George W. Bush and John Kerry. Making the ads particularly noticeable is the level of enmity and unfounded allegation passing muster in attempts to gain early lead in the presidential race.
Democratic debates for the past several weeks, indeed as early as they started, painted unpleasant, however true, pictures of President Bush as a "man" out of touch with the people and leading America down a path toward unjustified war and economic chaos. Bush, sitting on a monster-sized war chest of campaign finance, reserved specific retaliations until John Kerry emerged as the Democratic front-runner. Many theorize Bush was urged to action by comments made by Kerry calling allegations on his defense record as false and referring to those behind the ads as "the most crooked" "lying group I've ever seen." The Bush campaign demanded and apology, and 50 lashes with a leather whip—no, 60! 100! 100 lashes!
The Democratic campaign refused to apologize, and were outraged when an ad began running Friday in major markets, following Thursday's historic terror attack in Madrid which killed 200 people. The ad showed President Bush laying a wreath at the Spanish embassy with an ominous voice narrating: "Thursday, when Spain was the victim of terrorists, President Bush was in the White House all day. Several people saw him. Where was John Kerry?"
Representatives of the Kerry campaign, teen-agers working the phones, described the attacks as "unbelievable bullshit." Campaign insiders suggest the "vicious character" attack inspired the release of a television ad they had originally thought too harsh for airing. The ad uses headlines and quotes from a Los Angeles Times story pointing to a division of intelligence in the Pentagon that privately briefed the White House on Iraq's alleged weapons of mass destruction, and may have been broken the chain of command and been responsible for the failure of intelligence. The Kerry campaign comment on the story was in text: "WtF?" Those knowledgeable in abbreviations inform us the letters mean "What the fuck?"
The Bush campaign hit back Saturday, with a speculative radio ad featuring the same ominous voice, saying, "You know, they never did catch the killer of Jon Benet Ramsey. John Kerry—you ever been to Colorado?" The ultimate insult, according to insult experts, was the added tag: "John Kerry: Soft on defense, sweet on little girls?"
Democrat campaign spokespeople described their candidate as "super-pissed," but promised retribution in the form of ads that would "tell it like it is." Sunday morning found the airing in metro markets of a hastily-assembled new Kerry ad. In it, aerial photographs of Roswell, New Mexico play to accompanying voice-over. "People are hearing a lot of things about Area 51. And the president hasn't been very forth-coming on what's there. If it's nothing special, why don't we get to see it? But if there's an evil alien menace lurking in the heart of New Mexico… what will it look like?" At which point a super-imposed picture of the president in his jet fighter suit appears on the screen. "George W. Bush. A pilot… but not of our planes."
Also joining the advertising this week was Ralph Nader's under-funded campaign, who passed around a flip book to supporters in town halls. In it, as one flips the pages, a stick figure appears to dance, while text at the bottom of the page indicts the other major campaigns: "The two-party system has the same old song and dance." the commune is currently on a waiting list to receive the flip book when everyone else is done with it. the commune news believes in running a positive campaign against our opponents, and that's why we can say we're positive the folks at Crochet! magazine have bizarre sacrificial rituals every night when the rest of us are heading home. Bludney Pludd is nothing but negative, and doesn't even have enough confidence to disagree with all the nasty things we say about him.
 |  March 15, 2004 |
Washington, D.C. Whit Pistol The Supreme Court (below) is one of the many prominent government positions the Bush administration proposes to outsource to eager overseas workers, like New Delhi's Najina Wuhari (top).
Citing statistics showing increased profits and reduced overhead in outsourcing, and addressing the prominent issue of the growing multi-trillion national deficit, the Bush administration promised outsourcing key administrative positions, not only in the White House but Congress and the Supreme Court as well, to overseas companies would bring the federal budget back in line and produce "exciting, proactive solutions to government problems."
n an unprecedented display of commitment to job outsourcing, the White House announced Thursday that several of its own positions, including the vice presidency, would be outsourced starting in 2005. The declaration came as a shock at a time when the subject of job outsourcing has raised controversy about job loss in the United States.
Citing statistics showing increased profits and reduced overhead in outsourcing, and addressing the prominent issue of the growing multi-trillion national deficit, the Bush administration promised outsourcing key administrative positions, not only in the White House but Congress and the Supreme Court as well, to overseas companies would bring the federal budget back in line and produce "exciting, proactive solutions to government problems."
White House press secretary Scott McClellan held a press conference Thursday and provided documentation from presidential advisors showing the many positions to eliminated domestically and re-staffed elsewhere, with India and China touted as very likely candidates. The press noted McClellan's own position was listed among those being phased out, to which the press secretary responded, "Well, obviously this isn't written in stone yet. Not all of them, like that one."
Outsourcing has long been a way for companies to reduce overhead by sending work to be done in locations outside the country, where the cost of living and wages are much less, since they don't have unions and a voice in government in such places. Until the last five years, however, outsourcing was prominently for blue-collar jobs too difficult to give to machines and yet too costly to pay Americans to do; only recently have the upper echelons of management realized white collar jobs basically fit the same pattern and can be done cheaper in other countries, meaning maximizing profit, assuming anybody is left employed to buy the products here.
Just how high a position can be outsourced? The White House says it can go all the way to the next-to-the-top. When asked what he thought of his role in the administration being given to someone else, Vice President Dick Cheney studied the memo and laughed nervously.
"That Georgie," sighed Cheney, "he's got a wicked sense of humor. Funny. Funny guy."
At the press conference, McClellan insisted the vice presidency would be easy enough to train someone else to do.
"You've basically got one real job," said McClellan, "casting the vote in the Senate if there's a tie. Yeah, that happens a lot. Not something you can phone in from New Delhi, that's for sure. It's not like giving press conferences—that kind of thing has to be done daily, a never-ending job."
Other positions being mentioned for outsourcing included White House speech writers, economic advising, secretary of defense, Department of Homeland Security (started as a joke anyway), and Central Intelligence. Among the more controversial choices was the selection of the Supreme Court for outsourcing. According to Legal History Professor Dunbar Gates, an expert on the Constitution from M.I.T., the legality of the move could be challenged.
"Bush may be setting himself up for a lawsuit to outsource positions of the government he didn't appoint," said Gates. "I'm no expert on the Constitution or anything, but he might want to check with a lawyer."
Responded Bush Saturday to commune inquiries: "We'll let the new Supreme Court decide that next year." the commune news happily outsources many of its jobs to Source magazine, though they have yet to accept—which is a shame, because we desperately need a new professor of rhymeology. Lil Duncan is the commune's Washington correspondent and on nights she's particularly lonely she outsources her sex over the phone.
| Internet blogs bring self-obsessed whiners right into your living room Suspected mad cow just has poor coping skills The sign doesn't say anything about no pants, fascists Hostage-happy terrorists abducting other terrorists |
|
|
| 
 January 10, 2005 RebirthedFinally, it's a New Year. I thought last year would never end, back when it was February. Then I forgot all about it until December. All of a sudden it's January. Did we have a January last year? I don't remember us having one, but it doesn't mean there wasn't.
A lot of good things happened last year—I got fired. That wasn't good for me, but someone must have enjoyed the hell out of it. I kept getting postcards rubbing it in all year long. Right up until November 9, I got one every week. It always read something like, "Enjoying homelessness?" and stuff like that. "Ha ha ha," to infinity. I wouldn't have thought you could fit so many "ha's" on a single postcard, but this guy did, consistently. Or it could have been a girl. I never figured out who sent them, because I didn't w...
º Last Column: Absentee Ballots
º more columns
Finally, it's a New Year. I thought last year would never end, back when it was February. Then I forgot all about it until December. All of a sudden it's January. Did we have a January last year? I don't remember us having one, but it doesn't mean there wasn't.
A lot of good things happened last year—I got fired. That wasn't good for me, but someone must have enjoyed the hell out of it. I kept getting postcards rubbing it in all year long. Right up until November 9, I got one every week. It always read something like, "Enjoying homelessness?" and stuff like that. "Ha ha ha," to infinity. I wouldn't have thought you could fit so many "ha's" on a single postcard, but this guy did, consistently. Or it could have been a girl. I never figured out who sent them, because I didn't want to go through the trouble of looking up the return address. It's all the way over in the corner.
I did find a new job, after the commune fired me. I work in a traveling circus now, only they don't provide the transportation. They tell me where they're going to be and then I meet up with them later—they said it's better for everyone that way. The smell gets to them a bit. But at least I'm working. You know when you go to the circus, and you see those cute little monkeys wearing diapers? You ever wonder who puts the diapers on those things? You're reading him.
But I quit that, when they fired me for misappropriation of diapers. I say it's the diapers' faults for doubling so good as beer caddies. It doesn't matter. The whole "diapering monkeys" thing was getting a little stale anyway. They never wanted any of my creative input. The job was choking the life out of me. So was Bombo the Monkey.
All of that's history now. I rebirthed. Born again, for the ninth time. 2005 is going to be the year everything starts happening for me. You ever wake up, fresh and invigorated and feeling like the world was your oyster? Well, that's going to happen to me sometime this year, I can feel it. I'm going to make the most out of every day, starting next month. I still have to finish waxing the bikini area of that guy at the debt collection agency, as part of this out-of-court settlement we worked out. I know how fast I work, so I figure I've got a month left, tops. After that, it's all good fortune.
My first step is to get me a job that really utilizes my talents. After that, I got to figure out what my talents are. Once I do that, I'm going to dig up my dad and get that tattoo he left me in his will. He thinks just because he's dead I don't want it anymore? I've never turned down an inheritance in my life.
But I know you will be as lucky this year as I will be. Don't let that depress you, I mean it in a good way this time. º Last Column: Absentee Ballotsº more columns | 
|
| |
Milestones1996: Red Bagel fires entire commune staff during "Crazy Bagel's Everything Must Go Liquidation Madness" phase of the commune's August Sale-abration. Analysts praise Bagel for ridding his staff of junkies and losers, who he promptly replaces with the current batch of junkies and losers.Now HiringBloodhound. Needed to track down former commune staffer Smilin' Jack Costello, who disappeared in May, still owing $8 to the office petty cash fund. Smart dog needed who is not fooled by turbans or overly distracted by running foxes. Generous wages to be paid in beef kidneys. Top Outstanding commune Petty Cash Debts| 1. | Raoul Dunkin
$974.25 in mental anguish | | 2. | Smilin' Jack Costello
$8, plus interest | | 3. | Ned Nedmiller
1/8th of a cent | | 4. | Mazie the Chicken
1 half cup of scratch | | 5. | You Know Who You Are
1 human gall bladder | |
|   Rover Finds Ted Kennedy’s Face on Martian Surface BY roland mcshyster 12/13/2004 Greetings, America! I hope you enjoyed the trip and didn't encounter any disturbing horse porn on your way over. We're here, as we always are, time without end, to lend a judging hand as Hollywood turns its head and coughs up another week's worth of ripe, ripe shwag. So let's waste no more time before scraping together Hollywood's best efforts with the side of a credit card and exposing them to the cold, cold light of day, shall we?
In Theaters Now:
House of Flying Buggers
The most depressing of the many downsides to the recent kung-fu swordfighting movie epidemic has been the new life breathed into the unfortunate "Redneck Karate" subgenre. Aimed at audiences who like powerful ass-kicking without all the mystical crap or Chinese people,...
Greetings, America! I hope you enjoyed the trip and didn't encounter any disturbing horse porn on your way over. We're here, as we always are, time without end, to lend a judging hand as Hollywood turns its head and coughs up another week's worth of ripe, ripe shwag. So let's waste no more time before scraping together Hollywood's best efforts with the side of a credit card and exposing them to the cold, cold light of day, shall we?
In Theaters Now:
House of Flying Buggers
The most depressing of the many downsides to the recent kung-fu swordfighting movie epidemic has been the new life breathed into the unfortunate "Redneck Karate" subgenre. Aimed at audiences who like powerful ass-kicking without all the mystical crap or Chinese people, Redneck Karate has been a stain on the Martial Arts movie landscape since Chuck Norris slithered off his cross-training machine long enough to White up the screen in 1972's Killninja. Long the unofficial Redneck American ambassador to the East, Norris' throne was usurped by the slightly less redneckish Steven Seagal in the 90's, thanks to Seagal's having worked in a Chinese restaurant for a while and having seen The Karate Kid twice, thus trumping Norris' highly-misinformed and offensive sense of "karate."
Now that the "Magic Flying Crap" genre of Martial Arts films has captured the public's imagination, the redneck nation has responded with the first "Magic Flying Redneck Karate Crap" hybrid, a monumental birth that should be celebrated by burning all remaining film negatives and promotional materials, immediately. If you thought it was painful to watch guys who don't know karate doing karate, try watching guys who don't know karate or flying, flying around and doing karate. I promise you'll kill someone soon.
The Life Aquatic with Vanilla Zissou
Who keeps giving this guy money to make movies? Vanilla Ice, I mean. He must have compromising photos of somebody important; which is likely since any photos with him in them at all would qualify. Thus the high price sometimes extracted for posing for a photo with a loser during his fifteen minutes of fame. Never before has such a one-hit wonder extorted so much from his momentary success, holding audiences hostage over the years through his various insane ego-boosting exercises like Vanilla Sky and Vanillas in the Mist.
Now he's back to claim his dubious fame once again, this time by snookering the easily-led into believing that Vanilla Ice spent most of his youth as a groundbreaking underwater adventurer. Flexing his impressive muscles for co-opting the hard work of others, Ice stretches it out this time to claim that he invented the submarine, and discovered the dolphin and the ocean, of all things. At least he didn't say he invented the ocean. I give this film two stars, and only offer that many in hopes that it will get Vanilla Ice's attention long enough for him to poke his head up, so I can sock it with my whack-a-mole mallet.
Ocean's Twelve
Everyone has a tendency to lie about their age as they get older, and aging pop stars are no different. Neither are aging one-hit wonders or largely forgotten hacks like Billy Ocean, who recently celebrated his 50th birthday by releasing a movie about how he's actually only twelve. Call it a "Caribbean Dream" or a pathetic fantasy, either way Billy Ocean's got you talking about him again. Suckers.
Ocean has always done everything to excess, including the time he wore a Velcro tuxedo to the Grammies in 1986 and got stuck to Tito Jackson's afro for the better part of a harrowing hour and a half, before a celebrity volunteer fire department could cut him free with an acetylene blowtorch. And Ocean's excessively bland cocktail parties are the stuff of Hollywood legend. But this time Ocean may have gone too far in his going too far. Even in a town whose inhabitants are routinely constructed mostly of age-defying Mylar polymers, nobody in their or anyone else's right mind is going to believe that Ocean's twelve. The movie itself is nothing but an expensive embarrassment, although it did land Ocean an invite to the Neverland Ranch.
And this is where the conga line stops, America. Hope you got yourself a good hip shake and a pat-down from someone vaguely attractive. And for those of you who kept banging the back of your heads on the floor, that's the limbo, stupids. We'll be back in this spot in another two weeks, so mark your calendars and put that baking potato in the oven now.   |
