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Bush Narrowly Escapes Near-Ethnic EncounterPresident resting comfortably among white people once again April 1, 2002 |
Washington, DC Ansel Evans File Photo: President Bush attempts ethnic greeting.
Alfredo Garcia, a lawyer of Hispanic descent, attempted to embrace the president in a gesture of greeting Wednesday afternoon before he was wrestled to the ground by secret service agents who intervened. A visibly shaken President Bush was then rushed into a limousine and transported away from the scene.
Garcia is being held and debriefed by the secret service. His wife, Marta Garcia, claims her husband is a lifelong Republican and campaign contributor who just wanted to hug the president, despite all warnings to keep his hands at his side and away from Bush as he passed through the area.
"We're not ce...
resident George W. Bush was protected from physical contact with a member of a minority group thanks to the efforts of the secret service Wednesday.
Alfredo Garcia, a lawyer of Hispanic descent, attempted to embrace the president in a gesture of greeting Wednesday afternoon before he was wrestled to the ground by secret service agents who intervened. A visibly shaken President Bush was then rushed into a limousine and transported away from the scene.
Garcia is being held and debriefed by the secret service. His wife, Marta Garcia, claims her husband is a lifelong Republican and campaign contributor who just wanted to hug the president, despite all warnings to keep his hands at his side and away from Bush as he passed through the area.
"We're not certain Mr. Garcia intended the president any harm," said secret service commander Dick Gautier. "It's entirely possible it was a misunderstanding or severe breach of protocol. What's important is that the president is still sheltered from contact with ethnic people."
Many in the Republican party are asking how this could happen? How could the secret service allow such an obvious Hispanic get so close to the president to nearly embrace him?
"Obviously we'll be reviewing the case to see if anyone here dropped the ball," Gautier said. "He was a very American-looking man, dressed nicely, a campaign contributor and Republican party supporter. I don't think anyone expected him to be ethnic in any way. Clearly we have to instruct our agents to be more observant in the future."
President Bush has released no official statement at this time, though he is reportedly resting comfortably and watching "The Lawrence Welk Show" reruns to forget the incident. the commune news can't wait around all day for you to get your shit together. Lil Duncan has a pair of legs that won't quit, though her ass does take breaks every ten minutes.
 | Academy Fucks Up commune Oscar Pool Something AwfulHistoric year of self-congratulation throws prognosticators a curve April 1, 2002 |
Hollywood, CA Junior Bacon Denzel & Halle: Thanks for the heads-up, Hollywood
A move trumpeted as ground-breaking and courageous by Academy publicists and people trying to sell newspapers nation-wide, the Academy was deftly able to both punish Russell Crowe for acting like an asshole (and for doing an action movie in 2000, making them look bad for giving him his 1999 The Insider Oscar that year), and open the door to give Tom Hanks another Oscar the next year there's an outstanding black actor in a leading role. Unless, of course, Robert DeNiro or Sean Penn get really sick and the Ac...
roving once and for all that you don't have to be white to win a token acting award, the Academy of Motion Picture Arts and Sciences kissed it's own ass Sunday by awarding the Best Actor and Best Actress Oscars to known black people Denzel Washington and Halle Berry.
A move trumpeted as ground-breaking and courageous by Academy publicists and people trying to sell newspapers nation-wide, the Academy was deftly able to both punish Russell Crowe for acting like an asshole (and for doing an action movie in 2000, making them look bad for giving him his 1999 The Insider Oscar that year), and open the door to give Tom Hanks another Oscar the next year there's an outstanding black actor in a leading role. Unless, of course, Robert DeNiro or Sean Penn get really sick and the Academy has to hurry up and give them more awards before they die.
Washington received his Best Actor Oscar for his work in Malcolm X, which inconveniently came out ten years ago, in 1992, the year they gave Al Pacino the Best Actor Oscar for his work in The Godfather Part II, which came out in 1974. In 1974 the Best Actor Oscar went to Art Carney, because he likes puppies.
But the Academy is nothing if it's not just, at least on a 20-year scale, and the rest of the deserving 1974 field would get their kudos in time. Dustin Hoffman would go on to win his 1974 Lenny Oscar in 1979, while Jack Nicholson had to wait until 1983 to win his 1974 Oscar for Chinatown.
The developments in this year's awards have changed everything for black actors, and by that I mean Denzel and Morgan Freeman, who both now have a chance to be nominated again. Reaction on the street has been unanimous, with Americans from all walks of life joining together to say: "That's cool. But Training Day? I guess, whatever."
The reaction at the commune offices was much more passionate, as no one had counted on this being the Academy's year to pat itself on the back. As a result, the commune's annual Oscars office pool was won by Lil Duncan, who hadn't seen any of the nominated films and filled out her ballot with some help from an issue of People magazine. Ivan Nacutchacokov had the most to be upset about, as he had spent weeks developing a complex algorithm to determine the winners, but had left out the variable that among the front-runners, the blandest film always wins.
When Ron Howard was announced as the winner of the Best Director Oscar, Nacutchacokov laughed at first, then realized it wasn't a gag announcement and stormed off in a huff, requiring him to be tasered by security personnel. No one was entirely sure the tasering was completely necessary, but they weren't taking any chances since Ted Ted had thrown our original television set out the window in a rage during the ceremony's opening title sequence, and our TV set budget had been badly depleted during Australia's poor showing at the winter Olympics last month. the commune news. Great. Just fucking great. Red Bagel is the commune's aider and abeditor, and wants everyone to know he's seen Showgirls more times than any man alive.
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 July 21, 2003 Sci-Fi Star is RisingYou wouldn't believe how nuts this summer has been so far. I spend the entire year basically on vacation, mostly workless besides this periodic column and the part in the UPN show that went nowhere, now the entire summer it's like I'm Gwyneth Paltrow or something. I did some convention appearances and early press work for that Metallichick comic book, I just finished all the shooting on Vic-O's movie, and now his buddies are trying to get me to appear in their films.
I never would have believed there was so much work in the underground sci-fi film world. Vic-O's buddies have even formed a club, a place where they get together and do script-work and help each other make their films. There's got to be five or six of these guys in the California chapter, and Vic-O says they meet ...
º Last Column: Cassandra Coleman is a Big Sci-Fi Nerd
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You wouldn't believe how nuts this summer has been so far. I spend the entire year basically on vacation, mostly workless besides this periodic column and the part in the UPN show that went nowhere, now the entire summer it's like I'm Gwyneth Paltrow or something. I did some convention appearances and early press work for that Metallichick comic book, I just finished all the shooting on Vic-O's movie, and now his buddies are trying to get me to appear in their films.
I never would have believed there was so much work in the underground sci-fi film world. Vic-O's buddies have even formed a club, a place where they get together and do script-work and help each other make their films. There's got to be five or six of these guys in the California chapter, and Vic-O says they meet guys all the time on the Net who have similar groups elsewhere in the states. There's so much you don't know if you avoid Internet chat rooms like the plague.
It turns out Vic-O's movie was really smart, I'd never done a movie like it before. It had something to do with Clemenstra Raygun's trying to unseat the evil leaders of parliament (which is like a British school board or something) and she had her heroic group of rebels plot terrorist attacks on them all the time. I know, I thought terrorists were always bad, but not in this movie, that's how crazy sci-fi is. I even had one line comparing the American revolutionaries to terrorists, which probably ought to get me some hate mail from some very self-righteous geeks.
I had some action scenes, which is rare for me, and didn't even have to go topless or kiss another girl, which is a big change from the usual kind of sci-fi script I get at conventions. I kicked a lot of butt but mostly I delivered big speeches from the captain's chair. But here's a hint: If you ever want to piss of a sci-fi nerd director, keep mispronouncing big words like "dystopia" and "hegemony."
Yeah, I stumbled onto a real gang of weirdoes, I'll give you that much, but they are always making movies with their dad's equipment and recognize how famous I am, as well as talented. But mostly famous. They're already asking me to appear in some of the other directors' films, some of them even talking about writing roles specifically for me. Which I assume is where the girl-kissing will come in again.
What do I care? It's good to work again. In addition to getting free lodging at Gene's grandma's house, three free meals for every day I shoot, and a weekly stipend (which is usually a bag of Krackle bars), I own a portion of all these movies. If they make a dime, I make a dime. Actually, working out the percentages I basically get one-fifth a penny for every dollar they make, but I understand that's still good money, Jack Nicholson Batman money if you work it out in terms of millions.
Even better, I get out of the house. The less I have to deal with my family living with me the better. I might even try to find local work in L.A. while I'm out here, just to avoid going back for a while. The last e-mail from Mom said Dad, Freddie Mercury, and Icepick were all working out the fine details of a plan to hunt down Osama bin Laden and get the reward. I'd hate to be at home and get suckered into that mess. Camouflage face paint is hell on my complexion anyway. º Last Column: Cassandra Coleman is a Big Sci-Fi Nerdº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“I have a dream… uh… nope, drawing a blank. It was clear as a fuckin' bell this morning, I swear to God. There was something about dolphins, that's all I can remember right now.”
-"King" Luther MartensFortune 500 CookieDon't be so hard on yourself, we all know mama told you not to come, but it ain't so easy when the bitch got titties til' Tuesday. Also, don't give up your dream of eating a tree like it was an ice cream sandwich, we've been charging admission. This week's lucky cancers: fingernail cancer, breath cancer, split ends cancer, silicone implant cancer.
Try again later.Worst Things to Yell in Church| 1. | "Who the hell I gotta fuck to get a communion wafer around here?" | | 2. | "Father, bless me for I have pissed the confessional again…" | | 3. | "Altar boy sleepover? Bitchin'!" | | 4. | "Gawd, did you see that dude up there nailed to that cross? Creeeep-y!" | | 5. | "Am I the only one here for the monster truck show?" | |
|   Irony Bites President Bush in the Ass BY dan d. nancy 3/31/2003 Big Gay Bear"This is unbelievable," said John Patriot, referring to something he did not believe.
On the screen before him was a series of dots that meant nothing to the average Joe Six-Pack or his wife Jane Smoking-Tree. But Patriot instantly recognized the pattern.
Felix Nustle, a bureaucrat of the oldest ilk, stood nearby, hands crossed over his beer barrel chest. "What do you make of it, Patriot? We found it in the hideout of the subversive terrorist cell we apprehended outside Drinkenbad, Germany. We were afraid even you, the C.I.A.'s foremost expert on all things terrorist, wouldn't know"
"I'm afraid I know all too well what it is," said Patriot, though he really wasn't afraid. "It's a map of chemical laboratories. If I have to guess, I'd say these laborato...
"This is unbelievable," said John Patriot, referring to something he did not believe.
On the screen before him was a series of dots that meant nothing to the average Joe Six-Pack or his wife Jane Smoking-Tree. But Patriot instantly recognized the pattern.
Felix Nustle, a bureaucrat of the oldest ilk, stood nearby, hands crossed over his beer barrel chest. "What do you make of it, Patriot? We found it in the hideout of the subversive terrorist cell we apprehended outside Drinkenbad, Germany. We were afraid even you, the C.I.A.'s foremost expert on all things terrorist, wouldn't know"
"I'm afraid I know all too well what it is," said Patriot, though he really wasn't afraid. "It's a map of chemical laboratories. If I have to guess, I'd say these laboratories store some kind of biological weapon, such as anthrax."
"Good lord!" exclaimed Nustle. "That's extremely disturbing—and topical. How can you be sure it isn't something even more frightening, and I'm just using a 'fer instance,' but something like nuclear-grade plutonium?"
"I considered that," condescended Patriot, pacing before the computer-generated map. "Then I realized that there's too many of them. Nowhere in the world would there be this many nuclear facilities that close to each other. But I recognize the pattern from a cluster of chemical laboratories in the Ukraine I helped dismantle a few years back."
"Wow, you've been everywhere," said Nustle in awe. "Well, that's a relief. At least you've already dismantled the potential threat."
"It's not over yet," said Patriot, picking up a phone and dialing a real long number. "I dismantled those chemical laboratories after the fall of the Soviet Union. But in post-communist Russia, the Russian mafia took them over and remantled them in my absence."
"You mean…?"
"I'm afraid so," said Patriot. "They're still mantled."
The phone rang in Russia and eventually was picked up by Mikhail Yvynokstof, a burly large Russian with a loud, infectious laugh, and the clap.
"Greetings, caller," said Yvynokstof. "I am sorry you called but I am not home at the moment."
"Can the jokes, Yvynokstof," said Patriot, grinning his phone call grin. It's John Patriot."
"John Patriot!" exclaimed the girthy Russian. "Truly this is a cause to celebrate. I will break out my finest Vodka and we shall drink. Since you are not here, I shall have the larger portion."
"I'm not calling to listen to you drink," snapped Patriot. "We've got problems. I think a terrorist group known as Ala-Carte is planning to steal biological weapons from one of fifteen labs in the Ukraine."
"Great Lennon's ghost!" yelled the moderately-rotund Russian. "Big Gay Bear!"
"Yeah, well you mother goes down more than a German U-Boat."
"No, comrade," said the monsterish Russian. "Is not insult. Is great Russian biological weapon. It was to be a defensive weapon against American troops, should cold war antagonisms ever lead to actual fighting. Various germ agents are stored separately throughout Ukraine to prevent accidentally making weapon when bored lab assistants fuck around with materials. My comrade… Ala-Carte is not planning to hit one of fifteen laboratories… but all fifteen!"
It was the worst thing John Patriot had heard of since the last novel. He scratched his chin thoughtfully and then his ass. It looked like this was to be his strangest mission yet, teaming up with his old Russian adversary to stop the rising threat of Islamic fundamentalist terrorism so popular these days.   |
