daring pre-dawn raid on ADVO national headquarters, concluding a joint investigation between the FBI and the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children, has resulted in the discovery of thousands of missing children this week. Americans from all walks of life have responded, in unison, (kind of like in Pink Floyd’s Another Brick in the Wall, except they’re not all little English kids) “Holy shit? Really. Wait, what’s ADVO?�

ADVO, Inc., the nation’s largest full-service targeted direct mail marketing services company with annual revenues of over $1 billion, is best-known (and by that we mean among people who can tell the difference between different targeted direct mail marketing services companies, so like four people in Iowa maybe and probably your dad) for its partnership with the National Center for Missing & Exploited Children. Together, ADVO and the NCMEC have mailed “Have You Seen Me?�® cards weekly to over 79 million American households and nearly a dozen people who are having their mail forwarded to Canada.

ADVO began its partnership in 1985, and in the seventeen years since over 100 missing children have been returned to their forgetful parents after being featured on the ubiquitous “Have You Seen Me?�® cards. Until very recently, the rest were all thought to be lost to the sands of time, or baked in a witch’s cake or something. But in fact most have been working at ADVO mail processing centers around the country the entire time, living in military-style barracks and not getting any kind of chocolate milk whatsoever. Twenty ADVO centers have been operating solely on missing-child labor since 1985, distributing both Super Coups™ mailers and, ironically, the “Have You Seen Me?�® cards themselves.

“In retrospect, it should have been obvious,� said Mark Schroeter, head of the FBI’s investigation for the last ten years. “I mean, duh!� Schroeter continued, violently smacking himself on the forehead. “What a fuckin’ dipshit move! I’m so fucking stupid! Stupid!� Schroeter carried on further, attempting to kick himself in the ass before losing his balance and falling into a stack of phonebooks.

“This is JUST like the time those jewel thieves hid in my trunk and I unknowingly transported them away from the crime scene and to eventual freedom. Way to go, dumbass! You fucking gimp, how’d they ever let you into the Bureau? You couldn’t find a white guy at a boat show! Gaaaaaaaaaawwwd!� Schroeter said as he stomped up and down and threw his government ID into a nearby tree.

“We’re looking for these kids in fucking Guam and the whole time ADVO is just scooping them up off the streets and putting them to work in the mail processing centers. Shit do we look dumb. Way to go, guy, that was sure some tax money well spent, you dickless wonder. We practically printed them up a license to steal. Or kidnap, or whatever. You know what I mean. Do I just have total shit for brains, or what? You shouldn’t even be interviewing me. I’ll probably fuck up your newspaper somehow.�

A dramatic scene had unfolded that morning as ADVO head Scranton McNally was led away in handcuffs by FBI agents, pausing briefly before cameras to snarl “And I would have got away with it, too, if it weren’t fo-� before he was cut off by Agent Schroeter, who stormed through the middle of the scene, shouting: “Fucking lousy cop coming through! Make room for the imbecile! Everyone gather round, have your picture taken with the amazing asshead! Come on, kick me in the nuts while I can still feel it!�

Thousands of relieved parents who had been flown in from around the country for photo-ops stood teary eyed through the mass reuniting, then spontaneously broke into the chorus of “Teach Your Children Well� before being interrupted repeatedly by sounds of a tussle as Agent Schroeter attempted to run himself over with an FBI van.

or a record 28th year in a row, Yasser Arafat, leader of the mega-popular boy band PLO, has been voted "Hunkiest Palestinian." The award, which often leads to lucrative endorsement deals and speaking engagements, was not unexpected. Mr. Arafat had token opposition from members of PLO-spinoff bands Hamas and Hezbollah, but no one seriously expected any of them to challenge the reigning MC Mullah of the Gaza for the winner's turban this year.

In a café here on the West Bank, 16-year-old rock-throwing enthusiast Rajouba Aswan said about Mr. Arafat, "He's the OG, man. He's to die for." Friend Jamil Barghouti, 17, chimed in, while adjusting an explosive-laden vest. "That's right, yo. Yas-Dog – I mean, Mr. Arafat – is da bomb."

Cited by West Bank teenagers as reasons for voting for Mr. Arafat as the Imam of Palestinian Hunks were, among other reasons, "the way that big bottom lip of his quivers when he talks," and "his rad beard, dude." Also mentioned were his "big, sad puppy dog eyes," and his "cool sense of fashion."

Asked for comment, Mr. Arafat responded, "I am humbled to be once again chosen, praise Allah, and I would like to send my thanks and blessings to all the young G's and martyrs out there, to all my peeps and homies. May Allah smile upon you, and may your quota of 70 virgins in paradise be each one beautiful and have all of their own teeth."

I think it's about time we found out just what's going on over in Tunisia. Things have been a little too quiet over there for a little too long, if you ask me. Which, fine, maybe you didn't, but it's only a matter of time before it would have woken you up in the middle of the night in a cold sweat. Some might argue, in their whiney little "hip-hugging jeans are out this year" voices, that we haven't heard much from Tunisia since nothing is going on over there, and besides it's a big freakin' desert with like ten people living there and even if something did happen nobody would be around to see it since they'd be huddled in their caves, avoiding the near-constant sand storms. To which I have to respond that Lil Duncan is most definitely on the rag this week.

And beyond that, isn't this just want the Tunisians want us to believe? That all's quiet on the Tunisian front, meanwhile they're building armies of giant baby-eating robots in the dead of night, planning a complete takeover of the Western world? And we're over here sleeping like a bunch of saps who don't know that the creaking, jittery Armageddon is fast approaching? Fuck that, I say! Fuck that right in the earlobe. Because Omar Bricks may not have any babies or anything edible like that to worry about should the invasion come, but I'm going to be goddamned if I let some shoddy Tunisian robots leave a trail of dirty diaper carnage across my lawn and I have to go out there in my bathrobe in the morning and hose-blast all of that shit into my neighbor's driveway. Fuck that right in the appendix.

Tunisia can take a flying leap at a short Pierre if it thinks Omar Bricks and other Omar Bricks-like Americans (you know who you are) are going to stand for that kind of sci-fi bullshit. Maybe back in the 50's, when the sight of a 40-foot-tall galvanized behemoth with an Osh-Kosh-clad leg dangling from its titanium jaws would have made for a charming anecdote at a Tupperware party, but not today. By now, Americans have put up with Vietnam, Watergate and Family Matters and we've got a seriously short fuse. The slings and arrows of everyday life have pushed us beyond common courtesies like signaling for lane changes or recognizing crosswalks, and you can forget about the quaint 50's concept of "warning shots." A truly large, mechanical fuck-up like a Tunisian Cannibot invasion would undoubtedly snap our pajama elastic for good and it wouldn't surprise me if you saw the American people banding together and forming into some giant anthropological Voltron figure that mercilessly beat the living shit out of everything in sight, including the entire Middle East and Robin Williams.

In short, I don't think Tunisia has any clue what kind of flaming shit bag it would be stomping on, should it go forward with this whole half-baked baby-eating robot plan. Sure, we can't "prove" that this is exactly what they have in the works, and little is known about Tunisian robot technology beyond Red Bagel's book on the subject. But we're writing one dangerous IOU if we don't send a diplomatic envoy over there to scope out the situation. Maybe they'll find nothing but a whole bunch of desert and some tan-assed turtles. But will this mean that there never was a Tunisian Baby-Eating Robot Project, or just that they got wise before they strapped on the parachutes and loaded them into the man-cannons?

Only the desert will know for sure. Bricks out.

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