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Bagel Accepts Man of the Year Awardcommune Editor receives esteemed award for third time December 24, 2001 |
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 20...
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. the commune news stays on, even while swimming. Lil Duncan is a senior commune correspondent and looks better in a pair of thigh-high boots than anybody else at the commune, except Stigmata Spent and maybe Ted Ted.
 | Woman Sues Wal-Mart Over Snippy GreeterIrate shopper trouble with a capital T December 24, 2001 |
Cankersore, IN Chelton Rancor Mrs. Wang returning a $5 bill to Walmart customer service because of "unacceptable doodling"
Mrs. Anita Wang, of nearby Uvulaville, said that she had been in Wal-Mart three times in the last week, and that the greeter, a Ms. Diana Dwart, had ignored her on one occasion, greeted her with "just a flat smile and a close-mouthed 'mm-hmm'" on another visit, and was "downright snippy" the last time she went in the store.
"I mean, what do they pay that woman to do? To greet people, right?" asked Mrs. Wang. "Then why doesn't she greet me when I walk in there? Why doesn't she say hello, how are you, or something like that? I've watched her, and she always says ...
frequent Wal-Mart shopper alleges that the woman hired as a greeter at her local outlet is "not very friendly" to her, and is taking the chain to court for restitution for what she terms "mental distress."
Mrs. Anita Wang, of nearby Uvulaville, said that she had been in Wal-Mart three times in the last week, and that the greeter, a Ms. Diana Dwart, had ignored her on one occasion, greeted her with "just a flat smile and a close-mouthed 'mm-hmm'" on another visit, and was "downright snippy" the last time she went in the store.
"I mean, what do they pay that woman to do? To greet people, right?" asked Mrs. Wang. "Then why doesn't she greet me when I walk in there? Why doesn't she say hello, how are you, or something like that? I've watched her, and she always says hello to other shoppers. But when I come in, you'd think I was bringing the plague in with me. She looks the other way, she turns her nose up, and the last time I was there – and this was really the last straw for me – she actually sneered when I said hello first! Well, I just couldn't believe that Wal-Mart would hire someone that rude, but when I went to complain to the manager, he just looked at me like I was crazy. Like it was my fault that their employee was nasty to me! That's when I decided to take my case to court."
Asked to comment, Ms. Dwart said that Mrs. Wang has been a long-time problem at that particular store, and is well-known to management as "trouble with a capital T."
"She's been a burr in my bee-hind for years now," said Dwart. "If you ask me, she's not right in the head. She comes in here every week and complains about something. Last week, she went off about us not having 'blue-light specials' anymore. When we told her that was K-Mart, and not Wal-Mart, she started raising holy heck, and told us she was going to sue us all. The week before that, it was something about the soft-serve ice cream being too soft. It's always something with her."
When informed of Ms. Dwart's comments, Mrs. Wang responded by jumping up and down and shrieking, "She said that? Oooh, I'm going to sue all of them, I'm going to sue them until I own that company, and then I'm going to fire her fat b-u-t-t!" After approximately twenty minutes of this behavior, paramedics were called and Mrs. Wang was given a heavy dose of tranquilizers.
No court date has yet been announced for Mrs. Wang's civil action. Bludney Plud is The Reporter Formerly Known as Wallace E. Watermelon. When announcing his name change, Watermelon/Plud said, to no one in particular, "I know none of you bastards ever gave two shits about me before, but now there's a new Mr. Macho in town, and his name is Plud. Bludney Plud! Let's see how you treat me NOW!"He made a few subsequent comments, but was drowned out by the chirping of nearby crickets.
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 December 24, 2001 Jeff's Nuts Roasting on an Open Firethe commune's Omar Bricks is paid a visit by the Ghost of Christmas Past Lately it seems like every-damned-body has been asking me what I'll be doing for Christmas, as if I'm going to say that I'll be attending a Roman Orgy and then invite them along, or that I'm going to slip up and say that I'm taking my doped-up sex zombie out of the closet to beat him with a big rubber tit or something. Then they can act all offended and then say they're not surprised and knew what I was up to all along. I know their game, the bastards. I don't know what gets into people around the holidays, you'd think the eminent threat of an Amtrak train slamming through their living room while they're right in the middle of watching "Furby Christmas Feast" would be plenty of excitement for them, but you'd be surprised. Most still have interest left over to get all up in my shit on a reg...
º Last Column: Your Honor, the Whole Damn Vending Machine in the Hall is Out of Order
º more columns
Lately it seems like every-damned-body has been asking me what I'll be doing for Christmas, as if I'm going to say that I'll be attending a Roman Orgy and then invite them along, or that I'm going to slip up and say that I'm taking my doped-up sex zombie out of the closet to beat him with a big rubber tit or something. Then they can act all offended and then say they're not surprised and knew what I was up to all along. I know their game, the bastards. I don't know what gets into people around the holidays, you'd think the eminent threat of an Amtrak train slamming through their living room while they're right in the middle of watching "Furby Christmas Feast" would be plenty of excitement for them, but you'd be surprised. Most still have interest left over to get all up in my shit on a regular basis.
So before I start catching any nosy pricks going through my desk drawers looking for a turkey baster full of heroin, I'm going to set the record straight: I plan on spending this Christmas holed up at the Bricks estate, wrapped around a jug of Mike's Hard Eggnog and watching the Benny Hill marathon with my trusty basset hound, Foghat. And before you start ripping on Benny Hill, know that Foghat doesn't take kindly to such thick-headed slander, and the last fool to attempt such a breech of etiquette discovered later that the "Gravy Train" had made an unscheduled stop in his pennyloafers that night, if you follow my colloquial English here.
Now, I'm sure that the few of you who aren't asking yourselves why you don't own such a top-drawer canine are just itching your britches to ask why I'm spending the holidays alone this year, why I'm not nestled in the heart and hearth of friends and family and all that Hallmark shit. Well, the truth of the matter is that I'm still recovering from last year's Christmas debacle, when I spent the holidays with my friend Jeff who was visiting from Tampa and it damn-near turned me into a Buddhist, or some kind of non-Christmasing religious pain in the ass anyway.
Jeff and I go way back, we met during a spontaneous after-bar barfing contest back in college. We became fast friends after Jeff heaved one on a Hell's Angel and we had to dive into the back of a taxi to get away. It turned out that it wasn't even a taxi, just some dude with a yellow car, and I was in the middle of calming the guy down and explaining the situation when Jeff bjorked on that guy, too, and we had to jump out of the car in the middle of the expressway. Man, those were the days.
After college Jeff moved to Tampa to start a Ponzi scheme and I didn't hear from him for I don't know how many years. Though I was pretty sure I saw him in a security camera clip on "Bonehead TV", taking a digger on the wet tile coming out of a bathroom stall in Miami. Then, out of nowhere he calls me up last December and says we should get together and do something for the holidays. The next thing I knew he was on a plane.
Now, just for old time's sake, I played a little joke on Jeff and sent a bunch of guys dressed up like Klansman to pick him up at the airport. Bad idea. I don't know if he'd already paid for an airport shuttle or what, but he was in a seriously bitchy mood when he got to my house. There was a quick remedy for that at the bottom of a case of Safeway's cheapest beer though, and before long we were having a Christmas Eve for the ages.
In no time at all the hard liquor was out, Benny Hill was on the television and there was a roaring fire in the fireplace. We were all drunker than a couple of southern cops on a Saturday night, except for Foghat, who was lost in a world of Benny Hill's slapstick antics.
At some point in the night I asked Jeff what he'd been up to. I mentioned that whenever I'd asked around about him, I'd heard alternately that he was married to an entire tribe down in Peru or Ecuador or some shit, that he'd taken over the role of Birdie in the McDonaldland commercials, and that he was a door-to-door breast pump salesman in the Midwest. In response, he just stood up, dropped his pants and cut loose with a torrential stream of urine into the fireplace. I'm not sure quite what this meant, probably that they were all true, but before I got a chance to ask for clarification the flames leapt up Jeff's pee-stream and he flew about half-way across the room, screaming like a gopher running from a riding mower. Now opinions may differ on the subject, but I thought it was about the funniest thing that had ever happened in the Bricks living room, but then again it wasn't my Ballpark Frank that was getting plumped.
Before I could think to offer him an icepack or something, or even stop laughing myself, Jeff bolted out the door and into the wintry night, half-naked and still smoking. And I'll be damned if I ever saw that crazy fucker again. I doubt that anyone in my neighborhood will forget that night any time soon. Some say that on certain dark and quiet winter nights, you can still hear his woman-like shriek in the wind.
Personally, I'm getting low on old friends to blow up, so this Christmas Eve it'll just be me and Foghat basking in the warm glow of the television, turned up just loud enough to drown out the shrieking of the wind. Bricks out. º Last Column: Your Honor, the Whole Damn Vending Machine in the Hall is Out of Orderº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“If you love someone, set them free. If they do not return, then you were stupid for following my advice.”
-Bachard RichmanFortune 500 CookieDon't blame anyone else for your own problems, blame EVERYONE else. Try a new deodorant this week, your friends agree the theoretical kind hasn't been cutting it. You will meet a small armadillo that will teach you arithmetic, but few will buy that story at the trial. This week's lucky karate moves: The Iron Ostrich, Yun-Wi's Forceful Throat Massage, Western Ballsack Slap, and The Forbidden Tongue Stomp of Zi-Zi Tohp.
Try again later.Worst-Selling Meat Alternatives| 1. | M-Eat Brand Fungal Rot Cakes | | 2. | FEET!® | | 3. | Uncle Macho's Vegan Roadkill | | 4. | Henson's Best Muppet Meat Steaks | | 5. | Wiccan Nuggets | |
|   Osama bin Laden Captured After Rubber Band Connecting Torso to Legs Snaps BY roland mcshyster 12/24/2001 Ho ho ho, America! Season's greetings and welcome to a special Christmas edition of "Entertainment Police". What makes it special, you ask? I'm not sure, but it's Christmas Eve so why the hell don't you step off my balls, alright? Damn. If I'd known you were going to be like this I wouldn't have worn my new shirt. Why don't we just skip straight ahead to the "Ask Roland" before somebody blows a snot rocket in my eggnog, alright?
Q. Hey Roland, man, what have you been smoking? They must have some powerful drugs up there in commune land, because you forgot to review the greatest movie of all time: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone! You been living under a rock or something, man? This thing's bigger than Mama Cass retaining water! They should send some Magicals and Mug...
Ho ho ho, America! Season's greetings and welcome to a special Christmas edition of "Entertainment Police". What makes it special, you ask? I'm not sure, but it's Christmas Eve so why the hell don't you step off my balls, alright? Damn. If I'd known you were going to be like this I wouldn't have worn my new shirt. Why don't we just skip straight ahead to the "Ask Roland" before somebody blows a snot rocket in my eggnog, alright?
Q. Hey Roland, man, what have you been smoking? They must have some powerful drugs up there in commune land, because you forgot to review the greatest movie of all time: Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone! You been living under a rock or something, man? This thing's bigger than Mama Cass retaining water! They should send some Magicals and Muggles and some shit over to your place to give you a wake-up call. Fuck you, dude!
Marty Ramart, Luger, Oregon
A. Nice try, Marty. This reminds me of that "You should review E.T." joke that was going around several years back. Right, like they'd name a big-shot movie "E.T." What's that supposed to stand for? Evil Turkeys? Sounds like a bomb to me. If that was going to be a hit it would have to stand for "Enormous Tits" and it's not like we're in Europe here. Here in America we like our sex classy, like in "Bram Stoker's Dracula" or "Showgirls". I give you points for creativity in making up a title though, what's your movie supposed to be about? A wizard trying to pass his gallstones? Bombs away, Marty!
Q. Hey Roland. I just got done watching the second season of The Sopranos on DVD and I have to admit that I was surprised by the death of Salvatore "Big Pussy" Bompensiero. But even more than that, I'm curious as to how you get to be a big mob guy with a nickname like "Big Pussy". The last time I checked, that wasn't a compliment. I called an Italian guy "Big Pussy" at a bar one time and he hit me with a table. Is this just bad writing or is this some La Cosa Nostra secret that I don't know about?
Mersh Lauben, Ripe Grove, Wisconsin
A. Good question, Mersh. While many of us have watched this show faithfully, riveted by the exploits of these big fat singing Italians, few know the behind-the-scenes stories of how the characters came to be. Everyone knows that the lead character of Tony Soprano is based on rough-and-tumble opera bad-boy Lucky Pavoratti, who once beat up a small child for a candy bar during a layover at a train station in Europe. But what few know is that the character of "Big Pussy" Bompensiero is based on real-life opera fatass Flaccid "Big Pussy" Domino, who opens his mouth so wide when he sings that a cat once jumped down his throat after the tuna sandwich he'd eaten for lunch. Hence the nickname, and the occasional weak meows while he's singing. Personally, I can't wait for them to base a Soprano character on the third member of their trio, the certifiably hot Tia Carerra, who sings pretty good for a skinny chick.
Now that that's out of the way, let's talk movies!
In Theaters Now:
ALI
Listen, I looked the other way when the religious right got fed up with the current state of insipid, bumbling, amoral Hollywood movies and started making their own insipid, bumbling, moral films. Apparently "Super Jesus Christ Brothers" and "The Last Temptation Island of Christ" weren't enough for them, but that's fine, let them throw their money into making films that only the heavily stoned or alarmingly elderly will pay to see. But now that lawyers nationwide have decided that they should cut out the middleman and make courtroom dramas themselves, I have to ask: Where do you draw the line? Who's going to want their own movies next? Women? Black people? Fatties? Anyway, that's all beside the point, since whoever thought the American Law Institute was a good subject for a movie needs to be held in contempt of entertainment.
Jimmy Nimrod, Boy Genius
Okay, now I'll be the first one to admit that this, and any other, comedy about a retarded kid who thinks he's an inventor and super-spy is in bad taste. But you can punch my one-way Amtrak ticket to hell because this is the funniest movie of the year. You'll laugh until you need head restraints and a drool cup yourself when Jimmy unveils inventions like the dumpling gun and the magic "poop-to-pudding beam", or when Jimmy's secret spy pictures of the Russian operatives turn out to be just out-of-focus shots of his privates. I only hope the massive karmic debt wracked up by this film falls on the filmmakers themselves for making it, and not us for laughing because I plan on seeing it twice more this weekend.
The Lords of the Ring: The Fellowship in the Ring
I don't think I'm going too far out on a limb when I say this has got to be the most heavily anticipated gay boxing movie, ever. Finally a filmmaker has the cajones to address the obvious sexual tension that ensues when two men in their shorts pound each other's asses for an hour in front of thousands of spectators. Most boxing films to date (except the notable lesbian opus "Raging Bull") have drawn the line at hugging in the ring, but this brave film shatters that barrier with passionate open-mouth kissing during the fight's dramatic climax. Certainly more satisfying than the usual "beat 'em up" ending. Sensitive direction, fabulous costumes and Hector "Macho" Camacho's first inside-the-ring kiss make this a gay boxing film for the ages.
Now on Video:
Mule in Rouge
Scoot over Francis, there's a new mule in the spotlight! Loveable Moonie Margot Kidder stars in this hilarious farce produced by hubby, Mr. "Mission: Important" himself, Tom Cruise. Margot's brother Vlasik from Croatia needs a green card to stay in the country, so with the help of a farmer with a heart of gold, they dress up a mule like a woman to fool the immigration officials and pose as Vlasik's wife. The only thing is, Vlasik doesn't realize she's a mule! You can just imagine the comedy that comes shooting out that hole.
The Center of the World
Once again, those megalomaniacs in Omaha, Nebraska have tipped their hand and wildly overstated their case for tourism for yet another year. To hear these people talk you'd think that Omaha was the fashion, culture and banking capital of the free world. Every year they put out a new movie trying to rope suckers into visiting the Cornhusker state. This one is about on par with last year's "Omaha Spring Break" and "Nebraska: The Wet T-Shirt State" from the year before, but none can compare with their audacious 1992 entry: "Omaha: Everyone Gets a Blowjob".
Scary Movie 2
Generic-brand movies are all the rage this year, and why not? Their plain-text posters are easy to read, the admissions are cheap, and who's to say that once you get inside, they're not the same as the more expensive brand-name pictures? Who wants to pay for all of that expensive packaging and advertising anyway?
Television:
The Amazing Racist (CBS)
The network that brought you hilarious bigot Archie Bunker is hoping lightning strikes twice with this hour-long drama about a loveable Louisiana state legislator who always says the wrong thing, to the horror of his politcally correct spin doctors.
The Tick (Fox)
The terrifying Edgar Allen Poe story about a clock that won't let its owner forget the murder he committed doesn't exactly make for hit sitcom material. The star power of Tom Wopat is wasted and the show is neither funny nor scary. What a huge disappointment from the network that shook things up with groundbreaking shows like Married to Children and The Tex-Mex Files.
The Garbageman (CBS)
CBS turns to the tried and true formula for success again with this show about an amateur sleuth. In this case, a smart trash-talking garbage man (James Earl Jones) finds a dead body in a dumpster every week which leads him on a brand new mystery to find out whodunnit. Predictable? Maybe. Successful? Sure 'nuff! I'm predicting the biggest hit for CBS since Murder She Dead.
Video Games:
Forever Kingdom (PS2)
This game is, of course, based on that syndicated show about a guy who's a cop by day and a king of a small mediterranean country by night. Not bad, some fun moments, but the fact the show was canceled years ago doesn't get me very excited to play it. Just shows how long it takes to program stuff for that Playstation 2.
Blood Wake (XB)
Nauseating game where you're a teen-ager trying to find out why there's so much blood in your nocturnal emissions. I've never been into that zombie-fighting role player game crap in the first place, but this one hit a little too close to home for me. Trust me, dude, just cut down to three or four times a week and everything ought to be fine.
NBA Inside Driver 2002 (XB)
For all of you people who say there's never been a successful game playing as Shaquille O'Neil's chauffeur… you keep on saying it. This dillhole game is as boring as driving games get. Where to next, Mr. O'Neil? Nike endorsement deal? Kazaam sequel negotiations? Recording studio for another rap album? Yessir, your 10-foot-tall holiness. What a biter.
Okay, America. May you sleep tight tonight with visions of sugarbeets dancing in your head, and I hope Santa brings you everything you've ever dreamed of. Unless you've been dreaming of writing entertainment reviews for the commune. If that's the case, then fuck right off. And Merry Christmas.   |
