n the face of wildly escalating violence in Israel and Palestine, political commentators the world over have been looking to American President George W. Bush for a sign as to the path America will take in dealing with the Mideast crisis. After making an early dismissive statement about how at least the Palestinians don't have flight schools, Bush had been conspicuously quiet on the issue. Some observers theorized that the president was carefully weighing America's options before he made a public statement, while others argued that his attentions had been split between a new model train set and the Fox prime-time drama 24. Today's announcement might have proved either side correct.

In a press conference this morning, Bush unveiled plans for a new Office of Martyr Prevention, headed by syndicated radio call-in therapist Dr. Judy Kuriansky and manned by a staff of 300 licensed suicide-prevention professionals who will be available via a toll-free telephone number 24 hours a day.

"I have created the OMP in response to the internationalary outcry for American action to address the Mideast peacelessness," Bush stated. "Suicide bombers are threatening world peace and the time has come to find a solution. These young men and women need to be shown that there are other, better ways to express their anger and frustration than blowing up a Circle K with explosive underpants.The answer is not to perpetuate terroristical attacks of an inhumanitarian nature. I understand that the people of Palestine, and other miserable places I need not mention by name, need a shoulder to cry on. Now they know that America is there for them, over thousands of miles of telephone wires. No need to come here, we'll pick up the phone bill. There's nothing to blow up here that you couldn't blow up back home, anyway. Operators are standing by."

Dr. Judy Kuriansky accepted her appointment with a brief speech on the Mideast situation. "It's time to break the cycle of violence. The time has come for Palestinian youth to understand that the dark, dead pit of bile in their chests is not the bitterness of living in a relocation slum or the dull ache of hunger, nor is it some tiny embryonic Jew implanted in their chests that's gnawing at their internal organs, regardless of what their newspapers tell them. It's the all-too-familiar ache of feelings yearning to be expressed.

"What we need here is communication. Palestine needs to stand up and say to Israel: 'It hurt my feelings when you kicked the snot out of our armed forces back in 1967.' And Israel needs to say to Palestine: 'Hey, asshole, if you hadn't attacked us then you wouldn't have lost all the land you're bitching about now. What's your freakin' problem, anyway?' And Palestine needs to say back to Israel: 'Listen, we never agreed to let you guys move in here in the first place, and now you're trying to force us all to move to Jordan. Fuck Jordan, Jordan sucks.' And then the UN needs to come over and slap them both on the back and say: 'Alright, you're all a bunch of assholes, but we need to do something about this or the rest of the world is going to run out of explosives.' Then the UN can take them both out and get them drunk and hope they have sex together and we end up with a bunch of Jewrab babies so nobody can tell who they're supposed to blow up any more. But my point is that communication is the key."

National reaction to today's announcement has been typically harsh, with many critics pointing out that there aren't any Circle K stores in the Middle East. At press time, OMP staffers had received three phone calls: two wrong numbers looking for Sears AutoCenter and a call from Iowa asking if it was possible to overdose on mini-marshmallows.

Reactions from Palestine have been even less promising, with Hamas leader Zaccaria Walid Akel promising a large cash reward for the family of the first suicide bomber to blow up OMP headquarters.

.S. Representative James Traficant vowed not to give up his Congressional seat Thursday following the announcement of his guilty verdict on charges of bribery, racketeering, falsifying tax returns, and forcing his federal aides to dress in overalls and chew straw on his Ohio farm.

Upon hearing the guilty of verdict, Traficant, who represented himself, stated, "I accept your verdict." On the steps of the courthouse, despite his attorney's counsel, Traficant vowed to appeal the verdict.

"I refuse to accept a verdict of this nature," Traficant told the commune. "This decision, indeed these charges, have all been politically motivated. I suspect everybody involved in this trial, from the prosecution to the judge to the defense attorney to the jury is out to ruin my good name. I reject this attempt to oust me from office. I'll see to it these charges are acquitted and my attorney is disbarred."

House Minority Leader Dick Gephardt (D-Missouri) called for Traficant's resignation. Upon being told Traficant was convicted of the charges, Gephardt was unswayed and still called for his resignation.

"Mr. Traficant puts a foul mark on all congressman everywhere," said Gephardt. "His conviction on bribery charges seals the deal. He cannot be trusted to represent the people of Ohio anymore. He is exactly why people hate politicians, and has been found legally guilty of doing what everyone else is only suspected of doing."

"I might also add," continued Gephardt, "that Mr. Traficant has, in recent months, been supporting Rep. Dennis Hastert as speaker of the House. You know, Hastert? The Republican? You put it all together, eh?"

When confronted with Gephardt's statements, Traficant was resilient about keeping his seat.

"I have convictions I will not turn away from. And by convictions, I don't mean yesterday's convictions, I mean my original convictions that brought me to office." Traficant accepted an envelope from a dark-suited man which he quickly pocketed. "They have tried to convict me on these charges before, when I first began my political career. They failed then and I believe they ultimately will fail again. These are my deeply-held convictions. Once again, I mean my personal convictions, not criminal."

When questioned about the charges, Traficant spoke vaguely. "Mistakes were made. Let's just say that and nobody gets hurt."

"My only regret," continued Traficant, "was that I didn't hire bigger and burlier aides. Somebody with a little farm hand experience. At the end of the day I could've gotten twice as much done. Or hell, maybe even just hired a couple of guys to run the farm without having to pretend they work in the office. It's not like I'm running short on cash, with all the bribes and underreporting on the tax forms. But that's not a confession—I mean, that's not to say I—aw, forget it. Talk to my attorney."

Now I know you been lookin' at me strange lately, Shorty, an I think the time has showed up for me to do a little explainin'. Thing is, I've been changed, Shorty, and sad as it may be they ain't never no goin' back. A new world been opened up for Jeeter an it's time I got to follow my callin'.

It all started a couple o' weeks ago. I was out at Snuffy's with Carl, you know the fella what has the big compost pile offa Dirt Bank road. Carl had him one of them laser doo-dads the big shots use when they want to point out somethin' they think everybody should notice. An you know Carl, Shorty, weren't long before he was foolin' around with the doo-dad, tryin' to shine it on airplanes that was flyin' by and tryin' to flash it up ladies' skirts and whatnot, an he got himself a little carried away an ended up flashing that doo-dad right in my nekkid eye.

Now I know what you're thinkin', Shorty, but don't get scared now, since I'm here tellin' you this story so you got to know it didn't go an burn out my brain like some science friction nightmare. You still got a partner for the tic-tac-toe tourney next month, an he ain't no hole-in-the-brain mormon, neither. But when Carl done shot that flasher into my eye-ball, I did see a beam o' redness an got dizzy in my head, an when I woke up I was layin' out on the street, ass-deep in a pot hole with no memory about what had gone on beforst.

'Course, Shorty, you know that weren't much different than your average Saturday night, so I didn't think much nothing of it. But not long after that I started to notice some strange thoughts a-brewin' in the ol' Jeeter brain-trap. Not normal strange thoughts, neither, like thinkin' great big fat womens is sexy. No siree. These was some powerful brain-rumblins about science and maths an' whatnot. An the next thing I know I was in my garage, buildin' on some new-fangled inventions what gonna change the world. Laugh if you might, Shorty, but you won't be who's laughin' when Jeeter's drivin' around in his car what runs offa toilet paper, will ya? An I imagine you'll want to be warmin' up your hands around my new skunk furnace come wintertime, I have to imagine. We're gonna be rich, Shorty, as soon as I get me one of them pattons for my Smellarm Clock an my flypaper wallpaper, I tell you no lie.

But it ain't just that, Shorty. It ain't all just new doo-dads and whatnots I got spinnin' around up in the attic. I got me them deep thoughts as well. Like what for we gotta bury folks in a coffin for, anyhow? It's not like they gonna crawl on up outta the ground we don't nail 'em in a box first. An when you're makin' breakfast chow, what comes first: the chitlins or the eggos? Lots of them head-scratchers scratchin' round up in my head, Shorty.

But don't you worry, old friend. I ain't gonna get no big head just 'cause my head got bigger. I'm still the same ol' Jeeter. Just cause I learnt French last night in one sittin', while you was pickin' your toes and watchin' a fly try to get out the closed window, don't mean we ain't still tight. When we go out to the France restaurant, you an' me, you just let me do the talkin'. When I say "Parkay food, Frenchie?" to the fella in the duck suit, you just keep your trap snapped and we'll be knee-deep in corned beef before you know what.

Stick with me, Shorty. We're headed somewheres.

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