he kangaroo trial of the century began this week, pitting former dictator Saddam Hussein against the entire Western world in a one-man cage match for crimes against humanity. The trial opened Wednesday, with the much-sought Iraqi ex-President facing charges of murder, torture, forced expulsion, illegal imprisonment, and being a late 20th-century Hitler.

The 68-year-old Hussein answered the charges with a loud raspberry, presumably learned from illegal copies of American movies or television shows. Appropriate charges will be added when the trial resumes in November.

While Hussein himself refused to answer any questions put to him by the judge, the ex-president's appointed lawyer, Barry Kitschwater, explained that his client refused to recognize the authority of the court over the president of Iraq. Whistles and cat-calls ensued, providing a salty opening to the most exciting trial since that of Manuel Noriega.

Kitschwater also added that his client asked to represent himself upon the trial's resumption. Vegas odds instantly doubled that the trial of the young century would become the hotpick for funniest damn thing on television.

In a 40-page letter to the American public (specifically not including the president and members of the government), Hussein outlined his plan for his own defense, most notable among the points an intention to call every living citizen of Iraq to testify on his behalf that he did not personally kill them. Hussein also footnoted that he planned to charge with perjury anyone that didn't testify accordingly.

Hussein also wrote a letter to the judge asking for the materials he would need to interview witnesses, including 200 thin sheets of bamboo, six batteries with electrical wires attached, and approximately 30 dank, windowless cells, or equivalent interrogation space. The prosecution immediately entered the request into evidence, and wrote a nice thank-you to the former dictator.

In his public letter, Hussein pleaded with the American people to defy the "propaganda" of its sort-of-elected leaders.

"Do not accept their polluted ideals as facts," wrote the eloquent scumbag. "Rise up and overthrow the whip-bearers who control your minds and bodies. Remove them from power and forge yourselves a land of freedom and opportunity. And if you really find yourself hurting for a new leader, it just so happens I'm seeking available positions as we speak. Perhaps we can work something out."

That letter, too, was taken into evidence by the prosecution.

The defense found itself getting off to an even rougher start than expected with the news that one of the lawyers of a Hussein co-defendant had turned up missing, presumed kidnapped. Hussein lawyer Kitschwater spoke for his client, saying his heart went out to the poor miserable infidel whose whereabouts were unknown. Kitschwater also reminded the press that he was not officially Hussein's lawyer, since the former dictator would be representing himself, and asked for the media to put that part in big print for everyone to read.

After concluding opening proceedings, the trial is set to resume Nov. 28, by which time networks officials and Pay-Per-View representatives hope to have some deal hammered out with trial officials. The high bet in Vegas at the moment is Saddam will show up on opening day with something obscene shaved into the back of his head, so get in on the ground floor if you have a good feeling about it.

t’s almost the time of year to start pretending you’re Christmas shopping while you look for swanky new shit for yourself, and the commune is there for you with our first-ever annual Fall Gadget Guide. Join commune Tech Correspondent Mitch Kroeger as he guides you through the bewildering wilderness of the new and the shiny.

















Be sure to join us again next year when we’ll take a look at the iPod Video, the Petco Remote Control Dog Neuterer and the Nokia Earring Phone. Until then, stay tight.

Have you ever seen Tom Cruise slying around town, trying not to be recognized? Well, if you live in one of the piss-poor excuses for a town that aren't Los Angeles or New York City, it's not likely you have. But if you do live in the regular world I do, you probably have. The sunglasses, the hat—it's all a disguise. There's a very attractive celebrity under that stuff!

Because celebrities are often actors or performers in some way, they have an innate ability to disguise themselves. You can't teach that kind of stuff, and it's good we already know it because no one does teach it. Celebrities know that putting on a hat shields the hair area and the forehead from being recognized—and the sunglasses? They expertly hide the eye area, which is important place to be seen so a celebrity can be recognized for their famous features. If you ever see a celebrity in a movie—and you probably will—wearing glasses or something, you'll notice they'll always take them off so the audience can say, "Hey! It's (so and so)!"

The reason for this is that normal non-celebrity people cannot see a celebrity in real life without storming them like a rampaging rhino. That's dangerous enough, and if there's more than one it can cause a riot. How would you like to be standing there, famous and all, and all of a sudden be swarmed by a couple hundred ravenous fans? Well, it's not gonna happen to you. But for celebrities, it sure sucks. That's why they wear the stuff they do.

For you novices out there, I'll give you some quick tips for going "in cognito," as we celebrities call it: The hair and eye areas need to be disguised. I've seen some celebrities disguise themselves with facial hair, and if you're as famous as J-Lo it's a good idea. But really it's a mistake to spend a lot of time and risk doing yourself permanent facial damage just to cover your chin and nasal ridge. Unless you're really famous for your chin, like Jay Leno or Popeye, it's not going to make a difference. Hair and eye areas. I repeat: Hair and eye areas.

I remember one time, this should tell you how fantastic an in-cognito artist I am: I was being followed into a grocery store once by a lunatic fan/bill collector. There's not a hat in the store, and all the sunglasses are sold out. Anybody else would've panicked and signed the autographs/summons papers. Not Clarissa Coleman. I made a quick disguise out of a box of Kellogg's Cornflakes and some Fruit Rollups—I literally had to eat the eyeholes out of my "glasses," and I was picking cornflakes out of my hair for hours. But I sure as hell got out of that store without signing anything. An expert? If I can say so modestly, fuck yeah.

If you're wondering what all this has to do with anything, it should be obvious by now: Since I'm no longer going to be using these skills on a regular basis as a big-time celebrity (having walked away, by choice, from the spotlight) I decided I would pass these skills onto tomorrow's generation of stars. For a price, of course, I'm not some good-hearted Gandhi giving it away for free.

The classes will be $30 a day, or $60 per hour. This is all based on how much money I think you'll spend on it. And don't go asking for acting lessons, because I've been ordered by a judge not to teach any more acting classes for money—apparently it constitutes fraud in this state. So all you get is the disguise lessons. It's just like the old expression goes—if you're going to act the part, dress the part first.

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