Americans Boycott France, Coherent Thought

triking a blow for bandwagoneers everywhere, Rep. Bob Ney (R-Ohio) recently directed the House of Representatives cafeteria to change the name of “french fries� to “freedom fries� on their menu, teaching the rogue nation of France a powerful lesson once and for all. Restaurants across the country have followed suit, and Americans everywhere are boycotting French and French-sounding products in a bold move that sends a message to the rest of the world: Americans are fucking retarded.

“The French? A bunch of gay-asses,� opined truck stop chef Holman Weathers. “This is how they repay us for bailing them out in WWII, by having their own opinion? Maybe we should’ve just let the damned Germans win. See how they like that. No way the fuckin’ Germans would have wimped out on us on the whole Iraq thing.�

“Wait. Really? The Germans?� Weathers questioned with a note of disappointment in his voice when this reporter pointed out that even the Germans had gone the gay-assed route on this one.

“I’m glad they changed the name of Fren- these things, since I love fries but I always felt a little weird supporting such a bad country by buying food named after them,� confessed housewife Heidi Wartak as she sat munching a fresh batch of freedom fries in her mammoth Ford Excursion SUV, while the vehicle idled and sucked down enough gas to keep the Iraqi Republican Guard in munitions for a month. Asked if she thought supporting Middle East dictatorships through excessive fuel consumption might be a greater evil than uttering the name of a peace-loving ally, Wartak stood her ground. “I don’t buy french bread either. I mean freedom bread.�

“All I know is I’ve drank my last bottle of Evian,� boasted NASCAR enthusiast Glen Riddle. “That’s French, right? Somebody told me they actually bottle that stuff out in L.A., but I don’t know if that’s true. Come to think of it, I don’t like L.A. either, so I guess it doesn’t matter.�

Riddle later admitted that he’d never actually drank Evian, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to start now.

Dissenting opinions are rare, as anyone caught exhibiting coherent thought in the current national climate is in grave danger of being branded unpatriotic and voted off the island, i.e., hit with a brick.

“The French provided significant military help to the Americans in their campaign against the British in the Revolutionary War, and supplies of French gunpowder are widely believed to have secured the decisive American victory at Saratoga in 1777,� informed University of Wisconsin history professor and Denny’s patron Judd McClintock as he ducked under a flying brick. “If it weren’t for the French we’d be British right now, and for that even the biggest France-basher owes them continual blowjobs forever.�

“If those blue, white and red pinkos want to mess with the U.S., all they need to do is listen to our country music to know we won’t stand for it,� warned part-time window washer Steve Lideen from across the restaurant, in response to a waitress offering French dressing as an option for his salad.

Plans remain in the works for a series of public service announcements suggesting teens partake in “face-fucking� rather than French kissing and that anyone who is unable to boycott the upcoming Tour de France should refer to it as “That Big Gay Bicycle Ride� or else face sanctions, including having their Home Depot membership revoked.

resident George W. Bush and British Prime Minister Tony Blair were shocked into jovial amiability Saturday when their reception of the 2003 Nobel Peace Prize was interrupted by the revelation they had been "punk'd" by Ashton Kutcher and his gang of M-TV pranksters.

Punk'd, a modern-day celebrity-on-celebrity Candid Camera or the poor-man's Totally Hidden Video, features That '70s Show star Kutcher and other modern pop culture icons giving another fellow celebrity a good-natured razzing. The staged Nobel Peace Prize ceremony ended Saturday when Kutcher jumped out from nearby curtains to reveal Bush and Blair to be the latest superstars added to the Punk'd roster.

Blair was reportedly surprised, confused, and slightly disappointed to find out the Nobel Peace Prize was only a spirited gag. Bush was simply confused, and after several more minutes and an explanation that the show was much like the WB's Jamie Kennedy Experiment did he exhibit vague comprehending. Bush apparently did recognize Kutcher from Dude, Where's My Car? immediately, but merely thought he had shown up to support the president's reward.

"You should have seen your face!" Kutcher yelled when he leapt from behind the curtain, to which Bush responded, "It's Dude!"

The elaborate hoax began Thursday when Norwegian parliamentarian Jan Simonsen nominated the Iraq coalition pair for the Nobel Peace Prize. The entire world was surprised by the suggestion, given the history of traditionally awarding the Nobel Peace Prize to those who work to prevent war rather than lead into it, but once the nominating committee was let in on the joke by Punk'd co-star Dax Shepard, they agreed to go along with the gag.

"Frankly, it did surprise me," Blair said late Saturday, after the joke was revealed. "I understand the Nobel Prize nominations end around February 1^st, and the ceremonies are usually held in October rather than the Saturday after a nomination. Not to mention the fact we, the president and I, started a war entirely for political purposes without a shred of evidence. That didn't seem to be a normal Peace Prize prerequisite."

Kutcher, a fellow Tool fan, was brought in on the presidential prank by Bush daughters Jenna and Barbara, with a little help by former Vice-President Al Gore. He thought it only fair after the "punking" George W. and Jeb gave him in the 2000 election, with a little help from Katharine Harris.

"One good turn deserves another, Dubya—you been Punk'd, sucker!" said a possibly inebriated Gore via phone Saturday.

A solemn Bush, described by aids as a little sour but in general good spirits, interrupted network broadcasts Sunday night to apprise the country of the situation.

"Yes, America, the stories you have heard are true. I have been Punk'd by M-TV. The award I received was not a Nobel Peace Prize after all, but a leftover M-TV Movie Award never collected by Chris Tucker for the Best On-Screen Duo Category. The man awarding me the award was not the head of the Nobel Institute Director Geir Lundestad, but a young man Lance Bass of some singing group. As always, this administration accepts minor setbacks and tries to move on. In fact, I have since formed a committee to find out if these reports of weapons of mass destruction as yet unfound in Iraq might be part of some Osama bin Laden-hosted Al-Jazeera practical joke program."

The American people should thank the inventor of the remote control. We should thank our fat asses off. Because if it weren't for the remote, we'd have to get up off the couch every time something crappy came on TV, which means we'd all have bionic Teflon knees by now. And I don't know about you, but I like my current knees just fine.

Before the invention of the remote, Americans had to get up off their big, fat asses to change the channel every time something crummy came on, which led to the modern trend of watching whatever is on for hours regardless of quality. Beaten down and bitch-slapped by the repressive lack of technology in those days, Americans slouched away their meek little lives in front of such stultifying fare as Ted Hammerslut's Big Band Breakdown and The Russians in the Cushions, both of which were huge ratings hits in the 50's because TVs came from the factory set to that channel.

During World War II, those ingenious fucks known as the Nazis developed the first remote control technology, which they utilized in the design of a robotic doorman that was used to heil Hitler a cab when he was visiting Nazi central headquarters in Berlin. Due to the crummy technology of the day, the robot didn't work very well and after decapitating Hitler's mother-in-law in 1943, it was given the German medal of honor (the coveted "Big Bastard") and retired to a furniture showroom in Dresden.

Early attempts to adopt the Nazi remote technology for use in television sets were unsuccessful, as the remotes would channel-surf on their own looking for reruns ofThe Three Stooges.

The first successful television remote was developed by the Zenith Electronics Corporation in 1950. Called the "Lazy Fuck," the device was attached to the television by a long wire, and was used less for controlling the TV than it was for tripping crabby housewives in hilarious ways all across America. Though a huge hit among unhappily married men all across the country, overall the unit did poorly due to its bitingly accurate name.

In 1955, Zenith sort of improved on their invention with the creation of the "Flashmatic," a small device that looked exactly like a flashlight but wasn't because it said "Remote Control" on one side. Viewers aimed the Flashmatic at one of four light-receptive cells positioned on the corners of their television screen, allowing them to turn the set on, change the channel up or down, and explode the television. Some considered the lack of an "off" command to be an inconvenience, but forward-thinking Zenith executives imagined a day when Americans would never turn off their televisions, making unsightly "off" knobs a garish eyesore. The main purpose of this innovation, however, was to draw attention away from the Zenith's exploding feature, which made tidy profits for the corporation due to repeat business from customers with poor hand-eye coordination who blew up several television sets a year.

Eventually the Flashmatic had to be phased out since on sunny days the set would flash channels randomly for a few minutes before exploding, and in 1956 Zenith televisions killed half the residents of Arizona. The Flashmatic was replaced in 1957 by the Zenith Space Command, a revolutionary new remote technology named to appeal to small boys and the insane. The Space Command used an unpowered remote which contained four small aluminum rods. When the buttons on the unit were struck violently, preferably with a xylophone mallet, the rods would produce inaudible ultrasound tones that were then picked up by vacuum tubes hidden inside the television set.

The Space Command worked like a charm, a shitty, useless charm, and was a big hit among the tech-savvy and expectant mothers who soon realized that if they stood close enough to the humming set, they could see their babies. Unfortunately, after several years of lawsuits from families claiming birth defects and complaints from dog-whistle enthusiasts that their sets kept exploding, Zenith decided to discontinue the Space Command in 1959. For nearly two decades Americans were plunged back into the darkness of throwing coffee table knick-knacks and snack items at television sets in hopes of jogging the channel knob.

The modern remote made its debut in 1980, with current units using gamma radiation to perform tasks as disparate as setting a VCR's clock or cooking a Thanksgiving turkey faster than a microwave. Research found the gamma rays caused attention deficits in children and obesity in adults, but it was a small price to pay to not have to watch CHiPs anymore.

In 1992 MTV debuted a gameshow called Remote Control, which was of no consequence to anyone beyond the fact that it fills up three lines of column space.

Over the last twenty years, countless new remote-controlled innovations have hit the market, changing the way we live forever. From the "Bitch Be Quiet" human silencer to the remote-controlled "Woody," few can deny that remote controls are here to stay. And why not?

Well, I'm waiting. I'll expect an answer by Monday.

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