avior of millions Jesus Christ told friends and loved ones this year he would rather keep his birthday low-key rather than make a big deal out of it.

“I mean, I’m not embarrassed about turning 2031 or anything this year. Nothing like that,� stated our Lord, “but you know, I’m just not in the mood to have everybody get together for this huge thing. I just want to celebrate in a small way, you know? A small dinner or something.�

Some report Jesus has been feeling a little Christmas depression, as bills mount and all the stress of visiting relatives and millions of friends asking favors adds up. Jesus initially wanted to spend his birthday in the Bahamas, but the trip fell through as God laid a guilt trip on him about spending time with His only son.

“Of course I want to spend time with my dad,� said Jesus, “it’s just that I thought I could do something a little crazy and out there for my birthday this year. Just hang with some friends on the beach, go wild, turn the whole ocean into wine if I wanted. Now I got this thing with dad hanging over me. Like I needed that.�

All in all, stated Christ, it hasn’t been a bad year for him.

“Yeah, I was outraged about the terrorism and such, but I have to admit a small part of me was like, ‘Whew! Glad they’re not using my name at all.’ I’m still waiting for some anti-abortion nutjob to start blowing up places or killing people. It’s like, “Thanks, really, but all you needed to get me was a K-Mart sweater or something, jerk.’�

When asked if he planned on returning any time soon for Judgment Day, Jesus rolled his eyes and shook his head furiously.

“That’s the last thing I need to worry about at this point. I’ve had enough pains in the ass lately without worrying about that craziness toward the end of the year. Don’t be in such a rush. When it happens, it happens. I just hope I get a little time off before then.�

At press time, though Jesus was unaware, friend Judas was organizing a small get-together at Chi-Chi’s with many of Jesus friends, where they would all enjoy a supper.

t’s been a tremendous year for heroes and villains. In its final months, 2001 became filled with turmoil and struggle for many throughout the world. People were called upon to do what they could for the cause of freedom, and many were ready to do what they could. But for the third annual presentation of the commune’s “You the Man of the Year� Award, one nominee stood out above the others: commune Editor Red Bagel.

“I’m delighted and surprised by this good fortune,� said Bagel, accepting the award at a black-tie ceremony held in his apartment. “I don’t know if I’m a hero. I certainly couldn’t say if I’m The Man or not. But this recognition means very much to me. I thank you all.�

Not only was Red Bagel recognized as The Man for 2001, it was a special YTMOTY (or “Yitmotty�) for Bagel: His third.

“Of course it’s a special feeling to be admired by those in the community where you live and work,� Bagel told Ivan Nacutchacokov, bleary-eyed and wavering over by the punch bowl, “and to think that after all these years your contribution isn’t forgotten, well… it warms your heart.�

The “You the Man of the Year� Award was conceived in 1999 by Bagel as a way the commune could make a statement about those in the national and international community who work hard to change their world for the better. Every year in December, names suggested for the newest Yitmotty recipient are submitted directly to Bagel’s inbox by the staff members of the commune. Of those long and varied possibilities, the commune Editor chooses one that stands above the rest and he (or she) receives the year’s “You the Man of the Year� Award.

Bagel knows better than anyone the competition was fierce.

“It’s been a difficult year for everyone,� said Bagel, much better with some coffee in him. “We got to see what people, Americans especially, were really capable of when their mettle was tested. Among others who were worthy of the ‘You the Man of the Year’ Award were: George Bush, Rudolph Giuliani, Colin Powell, Dan Rather, Justin Timberlake, Ashley Judd, your mother, Superman, Hu Cum Inpants, and the commune’s own Omar Bricks. I’m delighted I was chosen, for whatever reason.�

Bagel, a stern face in the world of Internet news, is known for his tough journalistic standards and killer fashion sense. He founded the commune in 1999 as a way to deliver alternative sources for news directly to the world. His achievements in 2001 include organizing the commune staff with multiple firings, strengthening the commune deadline so a new edition is published every two weeks, and correctly calling a bluff when all the guy had was a pair of 10’s.

Ever optimistic, Bagel hopes to get the commune to a daily schedule in 2002, as well as publish his own autobiography and write the music for the movie version, which he plans on calling Hot For Teacher: The Red Bagel Story.

Greetings, good homos. Rok Finger here, reporting from the street. Which street isn't important right now, and besides the sign is in a bold font that offends my sensible eyes. Go ask a little bird if you really need to know that detail of my story.

If I've learned one thing from my time on the street, and I have, it's that homos are people too. And by that I mean that everybody's a homo these days. So I hope that's going well for all of you.

Rok Finger, however, is a man cut from a more old-fashioned cloth. Burlap. Most self-respecting men have no time for such a rough, abrasive material, preferring a fabric more pleasing to the touch like Dacron or sponge. Which is why Rok Finger has always sought the company of the female sex. And by that I mean females willing to have sex while I participate or take notes. And thanks to the twin pillars of emotional neediness and parental neglect, these women do exist. Against all odds, especially the steep ones determined by the good people of Las Vegas.

Those unfamiliar with the Finger legend might not know that I built my considerable early fortune on the windfall from a bet I won when my former wife, Arvelyn, slept with me on our wedding night. I had taken action from her parents, a local biologist, and Arvelyn herself, and I am not boasting when I say the odds were low and the payoff large. To this day Arvelyn curses herself for the lack of restraint she showed that night, falling asleep with the key to her chastity belt in plain view on her key ring atop the hotel nightstand. We were married fifteen years before she paid off that debt, after which time I had to learn to use my legs again and adjust to a life of not being carried around all the time.

If I've learned two things from my time on the street, and some would argue that I have, one would be the homo thing, no doubt. But the other thing is that we've really come a long way in bed-making technology since the days when everyone slept in cardboard boxes on the street. You don't realize just how comfortable a real bed is until you've spent a night sleeping in a dumpster full of basketballs behind a sporting goods store. Regardless of slanderous comments I may have made in this very column in the past, those mattress-makers really know what they're doing. My apologies go out to them for any uninformed remarks or calls for bloodshed I may have made previous to now.

If you're waiting for a third thing, you'll have to continue doing so as I haven't learned it yet. To be pathetically, shiveringly honest, I'm tired of learning the lessons the street has to offer. Call me old-fashioned, but Rok Finger prefers his lessons in easily-digestible half hour sitcom form, watching shows like COPS from the comfort of my own home. Or even someone else's home. A friend, neighbor or visually-challenged sexual predator would suffice. I don't claim to be picky, as long as you don't harbor political views or any opinions that differ from my own. Any interested parties need only leave their front door open tonight, with a trail of donuts or pulled-pork sandwiches leading to a warm bed near a cable-ready television.

I'll do the rest.

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