OP leaders announced at a press conference yesterday that Vice President Dick Cheney would be gradually written out of the Republican party over the next few months.

"As everything progresses," said President Bush, "you'll be seeing less and less of Dick Cheney until his contract expires. He'll sink more into the background, with the idea being eventually we'll replace him entirely."

Insiders say that disappointing approval ratings and a lack of appeal among female constituents 18-49 led to the decision to do away with the Vice President. An unidentified source, namely some guy we didn't know, described the Vice President as "a bad idea from the get-go."

For months rumors persisted that the diminishing role of the Vice President was a sign that producers of the Republican party were unhappy with his performance. Continually the president denied such claims, but with recent announcements, many are taking it as proof positive the Vice President failed to live up to expectations. President Bush disagrees.

"Dick Cheney was fine for the time and place, he was instrumental to early success of the Bush administration," the president said. "But he's grown artistically, as we all have, and would prefer to pursue solo projects at this time. And we in the administration feel like the Vice President position would be better served by someone else as well, so the parting is amicable."

GOP analyst Milton Monopoly has another version of the story.

"Let's face it, the president is a much bigger hit than anyone expected. You got this fairly young tough-guy president and who's covering his back? An ancient legislator," Monopoly said. "Okay, he was interesting in the beginning, the reckless young president and the wisened old congressman with the bad ticker, sort of like a 'Jake and the Fat Man' team up, or 'Hardcastle and McCormick.' But he never pulled the ratings like Bush did, so they axed him. It was obvious from a few months in he was on his way out, then when the terrorist plot was in full steam he's mysteriously missing all the time when as Vice President he should be knee-deep in it like the president. Everybody in Washington knew Cheney was being written out, especially Cheney."

Monopoly suggested Cheney would be replaced immediately, and a replacement may already be on the way in.

"Some people are saying Guiliani, but that's unrealistic, the president won't have some guy who's a huge threat to him. The more obvious choice, and what I think they're going to do, is Colin Powell. There's a lot of excitement there, with Powell being a former military man and Bush an administrator with not as much 'street' experience. Plus, there's always the exciting racial tension. You're talking a party that everybody will be tuning in to."

truck laden with hundreds of packages of a mysterious white powder attempted to cross the border here today, drawing scrutiny from the Border Patrol and local law enforcement officers concerned that it could be just the latest in a series of terrorist attacks involving Anthrax. After closer investigation, a spokesman revealed, with some relief, that the substance turned out to be simply 94% pure Colombian cocaine.

"We were awful worried at first," said Sheriff Fluff Drivel of nearby Littlehead City. "These days everyone's on edge whenever they see white powder. Hell, my wife refuses to bake anything that involves using flour right now."

Drivel's partner, Officer Roy Dither, added, "I was the one to investigate the powder itself. You remember that TV show, I think it was 'Banacek' or maybe it was 'Mannix,' that one back in the '70s? Anyway, it was just like that episode of 'The Streets of San Francisco,' where they caught that guy with the big bag of white powder, and George Peppard or Karl Malden or whoever stuck his finger in the bag, right up to his knuckle, and then tasted the powder and said 'Pure horse.' Well, I just went ahead and scooped up a big handful of the powder in question, and I was all ready to say that, to say 'Pure horse,' but before I could, my mouth had got all numb and everything, and then I was thinking about how my neighbor used to have horses when I was a kid, and he used to race them, and I used to see him giving them some white powder before the races, and that got me to thinking, well, maybe it was something else. Then I remembered how these ants used to be all over the stable where he kept the horses, these really interesting little black ants, you know, and they would just all follow each other in a big long line up the wall, and I always wondered what made them do that, and then-"

Sheriff Drivel then gently interrupted his partner with a friendly, two-handed smack to the side of the head with his baton. Officer Dither reeled off, twitching spasmodically, his arms flailing and blood streaming from his nose and ear, while Sheriff Drivel continued.

"To make a long story short, we had the powder analyzed, and it turned out that it wasn't Anthrax at all. It also wasn't 'pure horse,'" he snorted, casting a glance at his still-convulsing partner. "All it turned out to be was your plain old garden-variety cocaine, so we sent these jokers on their merry way. I can tell you, we were awfully glad to find out it wasn't Anthrax, though. We hate that kind of music down here."

Dear commune:

I have a bone to pick with you, commune. It's about time someone stood up and stated the obvious: the commune's mascot, Poopey Chalupa, is a shameful and offensive stereotype that cheapens, exploits and degrades the fine heritage of the people of Mexico. And if you're reading this out loud, you'd best be sure to pronounce that "Mey-heeco" to avoid further damage to these fine people.

Shame on you, commune: this kind of schoolyard tomfoolery is beneath you and frankly I expected more from the publication that has brought us the wit and wisdom of Tom Turkel's "Home Town" for more than 20 years. You may consider this formal notice of the cancellation of my subscription.

Beth Romerlaud
Pierce Mountain, Delaware


Dear Beth:

The commune shares your outrage at the exploitation of helpless minorities, unless they're on our payroll. No one here will soon forget the intolerance and hatred bred by shows like Taxi and Perfect Strangers in years past, and we have no interest in breeding further misconceptions, or rabbits. However, we regret to inform you that Poopey Chalupa does not work here; in actuality he is the mascot for El Común, the newsletter of the annual Mexico City street bazaar. Have you seen our mascot, lady? We'd kill to get that cute little sombrero-wearing rascal.

Furthermore, Tom Turkel's "Home Town" has never appeared on the commune, and it never will; not so long as he keeps putting on airs like he's better than everyone and has a special need for medical and dental coverage.

Lastly: though we don't sell subscriptions to the commune, we'd be happy to cancel yours and send a bill immediately. Thanks for your letter, and we'll be sending a box of rabbits to help ease your liberal guilt. Feel free to keep them as pets or eat them or whatever bizarre kinds of shit you people do.

the commune

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Dear commune:

Yeah, I've got a question for you. If all that we see or seem is but a dream within a dream, then why the hell won't my Chevy start? Normally when I have a dream it's something like I've got a chicken head where my penis is supposed to be or my mother-in-law is trying to give my dog an enema. Never anything about a blown head gasket or scored pistons. What gives?

John John Fridley
Elmwood, Texas


Dear John John:

Like most teenage English majors, it appears that you've confused poetry with reality. If life were truly a dream within a dream, your letter would have been from the commune's ex-girlfriend, confessing that she really did steal the commune's CDs and the commune's Notre Dame sweatshirt. There is an upside, however: that bird that's been following you around isn't really a nagging reminder of your lost love, it just wants some of the beef jerky in your pocket.

the commune

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Dear commune:

I'm dick and tired of hearing the stereotype that all men are obsessed with sex and that they can't help but think about tit every ten seconds. Sure, some guys may be certified hooter hounds, but that doesn't mean the chest of us are just helpless dogs, salivating at the taut of glimpsing naked female flesh. It's unfair to hump us in with that fist group, when we as a sex have cum so far. I'm a head-blooded American male, boner of a healthy sex drive, but I ride myself on being capable of suck things as intelligent thought and higher brainal function, and I think moist men are, ass well.

I thrust that we're in agreement on this topless.

Kent Boobner
Knobjob, New York


Dear Kent:

You have a good point there, Kent. Good fuck with your crusade, and spank you for riding.

the commune

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Editor's Note: the commune news would like to issue a warm greeting to our new scab tiny-type writers, even though it feels kind of weird to issue a warm greeting to yourself. But what the hell, they pay better than Stride Rite.

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