mid reports of increasing U.S. casualties and slowed progress against Iraqi military targets, U.S. officials have made public assurances that the ass-rape of Iraq is proceeding according to schedule.

"U.S. Forces have penetrated Iraq's supple, moist labia of forces and are thrusting toward Baghdad as we speak," confided a disturbingly lusty Gen. Harold Jonas. "We're confident we'll have this bitch putting out by the end of the month."

However, critics of U.S. military planning, including several Gulf War veterans, have suggested that ground forces should have been fortified with at least one more big-dicked Army division before the attacks began.

"The U.S. is coming in like Frasier's wimpy brother Niles, when we should be coming in like Ron fuckin' Jeremy," confided retired Army Gen. Barry R. Wade, wearing a Fuck 'em all and let God sort 'em out tee shirt purchased at a recent gun show. "Frankly, I just don't see how this limp, flaccid attack force is going to strike ass-raping terror into the hearts of the Iraqis. The Iraqis should be wet with fear at the awe-inspiring sight of our throbbing, gargantuan member. Forces. Member forces."

When asked what in the hell he was talking about, Gen. Wade accused this reporter of being unpatriotic, and possibly homosexual. A long, uncomfortable silence followed.

Army Maj. Gen. Stanley McChrystal, vice chief of operations for the Joint Chiefs of Staff, assured reporters that the U.S. forces were doing fine as presently configured. "You'd be surprised, our boys are doing alright. We've presently got Iraq's skirt up around its waist, with some early reports of penetration. There's been heavy breathing around Nasiriyah and Basra. Iraq's firm, luscious tits have been thoroughly felt-up and it's only a matter of time before she's screaming 'America! America!' at the top of her lungs."

Asked to explain the situation without all of the dense military jargon, McChrystal looked confused for a second then made a vague "humping" motion with his hands and pelvis for the benefit of reporters.

"Besides," McChrystal added nervously, "the current U.S. forces aren't that small."

"The simple fact of the matter is, bigger is always better when it comes to the American military package," countered Gen. Wade with a slightly crazed look in his eye. "The military's current 'Motion of the Ocean' attack plan, based on superior training and battlefield intelligence, can never substitute for an all-out full frontal double-penetration. The whole works: Longjohn helicopter gunships, B12 Cockshocker missiles, Bradley Cherrypoppers… with that overwhelming military girth, Iraq would have no choice but to surrender to our rhythmic military maneuvers. Then that teasing bitch nation would get what's coming to it. Sure, there might be collateral damage to the panties of the region, but that's to be expected. As presently configured, we run the serious risk of prematurely ejaculating, militarily, before reaching Baghdad."

Before being allowed to leave his basement rec room, this reporter was obligated to bear witness to Gen. Wade's private collection of "military training" videos, which included brightly colored covers and titles like Bunker Busters, Operation Desert Sodomy and The Sexual Liberation of Kuwait.

.S. intelligence experts have raised questions as to the authenticity of a videotaped speech featuring Iraqi dictator Saddam Hussein, which aired on Iraqi television only hours after missile attacks aimed at killing the dictator rocked a suburban Baghdad neighborhood. Iraqi officials point to the tape as proof that Hussein was not killed by the thousands of pounds of explosives that had been satellite-locked on his individual navel hairs in the attack, contrary to U.S. and British claims.

Intelligence analysts suggest that the man appearing as Saddam is actually Hussein’s double, a look-alike decoy known to be used by the dictator for certain unsavory public appearances and on particularly bad hair days. Off the record, at least one high-ranking U.S. intelligence intern believes the double to be none other than Saddam's little-known and slow-witted brother, Elmo Hussein.

Wearing a very silly pair of glasses and speaking with a slight lisp, the supposed Saddam spoke out Thursday morning against the U.S.-led attacks.

“Cookies, Cookies, Cookies. Saddam would like some cookies.�

CIA technicians began applying voiceprint analysis and other techniques to the video shortly after it aired. Early returns have been inconclusive.

“Lippety lippety lee, the bear climbed up a tree. When there was no porridge, he sucked on an orange and said ‘What a good boy is me.’�

“See the way he curls his lip when he says ‘porridge’?� CIA technician Luthor Retisma queried while pointing at a video screen. “Saddam doesn’t usually do that. He also usually doesn’t speak in such a sing-songy tone or pick his nose while the camera is running either.�

Iraqi officials vehemently deny the existence of any such double, claiming that Hussein has always spoken in nursery rhymes and was wearing the hilarious glasses because he forgot his contacts at a friend’s house.

“Whatever they’re alleging, that he got sand in his contacts or had an anvil dropped on his head or whatever, we’re doubtful,� explained an unnamed U.S. official, still bitter over not having a name. “They can come up with all kinds of creative ways to cover for Saddam’s idiot brother, but in the end technical analysis of the videotape will be the judge, jury and executioner.�

The unnamed U.S. official left the room before this reporter could ask what in the hell that meant.

As a result of Hussein’s first orders since the attacks, all Iraqi troops are to receive ice cream at once: two-scoop cones for ground troops and Neapolitan ice cream sandwiches for the elite Republican Guard.

“Well, there you go!� pointed out Iraqi ambassador Shamutz Gendal. “Saddam loves Neapolitan ice cream. Especially the strawberry part. I bet you feel silly about your silly theories now.�

Rumors of the supposed Saddam building a gigantic sand castle for his own protection could not be confirmed as of press time.

Dear commune:

I’m an idiot. Let’s just get that out in the open right now so there’s no confusion on the subject. Judge me if you will, and egg my minivan if you must, I won’t put up any kind of lame, face-saving argument to the contrary. As you may have guessed, I completely forgot to send out thank-you notes for the Christmas presents I received last year. Totally slipped my mind. Didn’t even think of it until last Tuesday, when I was shopping for a Christmas bone for my dog and I suddenly realized I was the one in the doghouse. Figuratively.

My immediate urge was to correct this oversight, posthaste. I even had a box of thank-you notes and a pair of wavy border-cutting scissors in my cart when it dawned on me that Christmas, this year’s version, is less than a week away! So what should I do? Should I send out the belated thank-yous now, only to follow them in less than a week’s time with additional notes of gratitude for this year’s presents? What if they get the first one and think this means I didn’t get this year’s presents? What if they sent me the same thing two years in a row and they think I opened it early? That’s not very nice. Should I wait until after Christmas and send dual thank-you notes? Or would that just be rubbing it in their faces that I spent a whole year not appreciating their present? Or should I just consider last year’s gaffe water under the bridge and hope they didn’t notice? But then I might have to start pretending like I did send a note last year, should it come up, and that’s one web of lies that could prove sticky. Maybe I should just say piss on it and not send any notes this year either, rather than drawing attention to the fact I forgot to last year. I could even return to sender any notes I receive, like "What the hell is this? I don’t want your charity. Asshole." Yeah.

It’s times like this I often ask myself that timeless question: WWtcD? What would the commune do?

Larry Belfast
Lower Bend, MO


Dear Larry:

Thank-you notes? Jesus Pete! No time to write, Larry, the commune has about 30 years of poor manners to catch up on and time is short! Last thing we want is to get crushed under a bus tomorrow and sent to Emily Post’s own personal version of hell. Quick, how do you spell bar mitzvah?

the commune

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Editor’s Note: the commune is not responsible for any embarrassing misspellings or grammatical boners on the gravestones of your dearly departed. “the commune’s Gravestone Proofreading Service� was a woefully misbegotten brainstorm courtesy of commune stone-bleeder Gay Bagel, and we must stress that what goes around should come around specifically to him some time when the rest of us are all out of pistol range.

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