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Little Mexican Boy Separated from Father Useless in Advancing American PoliticsReno: "(It) tastes like eggs." April 6, 2000 |
San Pocos, CA Reggie "Snapper" McGee Carlos Montoya lets a country down
And, according to Attorney General Janet Reno, Carlos has done little, if anything, to advance the American political agenda.
"I don't want to point any accusatory fingers," Reno said in a recent press conference, as she scowled at the little boy, freshly arrived for the press conference from a filthy cardboard box, "...
ine-year-old Carlos Montoya has been separated from his father since his mother, aunt, and maternal grandparents smuggled him and themselves across the Mexican-U.S. border in late 1999 to find work across the border. After his mother mysteriously disappeared, believe to be carted away by a pimp named Slappy, Carlos has lived with his aunt and grandparents in a dumpster outside a class in a poverty-stricken area of San Pocos, California. And, according to Attorney General Janet Reno, Carlos has done little, if anything, to advance the American political agenda. "I don't want to point any accusatory fingers," Reno said in a recent press conference, as she scowled at the little boy, freshly arrived for the press conference from a filthy cardboard box, "but we could sure use a lot of help with free-trade between ourselves and Mexico. Let's just say Carlos isn't doing much to help." Reporters were quick to remind Reno the Montoya boy is only nine, but Reno made a "pffft" sound with her lips and said, "Yeah, that's a good excuse. We all know there are kids out there younger than that who are doing a hell of a lot more to help out their country. I mean, I'm not naming names... but you know what I mean." When asked if Montoya would be returned to his father, Reno shrugged and responded, "If he wants him. Lord knows we aren't going to waste the Supreme Court's time with this matter. Hell, I wouldn't take this little sumbitch to People's Court." Reno laughed heartily at her own remarks, then belched loudly and said it tasted like eggs. Red Bagel is the commune's fearless news editor and he'll pull the plug to your controller out if you're beating him at Nintendo 64's Goldeneye. Lil Duncan is the sweetest piece of ass this side of the coast and we're glad she never reads the small print.
 | commune Chastised for Use of Word "Dick"Prudes get panties in bunches October 1, 1999 |
Greenwich Village, NY Al Graft the commune comes under fire
Many alternate names were suggested for future reference to the comedian in question. The Mennonite Express reprinted the commune’s article with the offending name changed to “Andy Penis.“ Yodum Yoder of the Amish American suggested a change to “Andy Yoder“ in future publications and reprints. Pointing out possible gendercentric leanings in the commune’s handling of the art...
recent story run by the the commune news about the arrest of comedian Andy Dick has inspired a maelstrom of reader mail and telephone calls, with readers taking offense at the commune’s repeated use of the word “Dick“ in that article. This is an issue that has sent shockwaves through the publishing community, shaking to the very foundation the way news is reported in this country. Many alternate names were suggested for future reference to the comedian in question. The Mennonite Express reprinted the commune’s article with the offending name changed to “Andy Penis.“ Yodum Yoder of the Amish American suggested a change to “Andy Yoder“ in future publications and reprints. Pointing out possible gendercentric leanings in the commune’s handling of the article, the Northern North Carolina Women’s Coalition has suggested the gender-neutral “Andy Genitalia“ for all future usage. Finally, a reader from Los Angeles going by the name Dandy Ick suggested the evocative “Andy Love Missile.“ The ruckus surrounding this issue has reached far and wide, leading to commune Issue 47 burnings all across the Southern US. Since the commune is an Internet-only publication, and isn’t at any point ever printed on paper, this led to the surreal scene of men in white robes setting fire to huge piles of PCs, laptops, and palm-top computers, in addition to telephones, phone chords, answering machines, reams of blank paper and sacks of kittens. To appease the varying interests among our readership and to diffuse any potential further controversy, from this date forward the commune will refer to comedian in question as “Adolf Hitler.“ Thank you. the commune News would like to thank Mike Tyson for teaching the world to love. Red Bagel is the commune’s fearless editor and Riverboat gambler extraordinaire.
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 April 3, 2000 Your Kung Fu is Weakthe commune's Omar Bricks explores his New Jersey heritage and the martial arts legacy of his elders No dice, no rice, don't think thrice—the conclusion is made, amigo. Your kung fu is weak.
I hate to put the tip on the table before the entre is served, but I gots to clear the air. I'm tired of every time I want to head out to the pub or county fair or some backroom cockfight somewhere every joker and their mother wants to try their kung fu against mine. You think that's an exaggeration? I ain't shitting you to no degree, man, a lot of fucking son-mother team-ups out there, a surprising amount. And they all talk trash about the kung fu of Omar Bricks. Until I put their sorry asses on the straight and narrow. They find out quick (kick?) enough my kung fu is no fucking joke.
Some people have stolen kung fu from ancient masters and stuff, but I assure you, commune...
º Last Column: 10-10-SELLOUT
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No dice, no rice, don't think thrice—the conclusion is made, amigo. Your kung fu is weak. I hate to put the tip on the table before the entre is served, but I gots to clear the air. I'm tired of every time I want to head out to the pub or county fair or some backroom cockfight somewhere every joker and their mother wants to try their kung fu against mine. You think that's an exaggeration? I ain't shitting you to no degree, man, a lot of fucking son-mother team-ups out there, a surprising amount. And they all talk trash about the kung fu of Omar Bricks. Until I put their sorry asses on the straight and narrow. They find out quick (kick?) enough my kung fu is no fucking joke. Some people have stolen kung fu from ancient masters and stuff, but I assure you, commune buddies, I've done no such thing. It took me many years to develop my own kung fu independent of all these other styles, and let me tell you the real bitch is that most all of the animals are taken—that shit's fucked up. I tried one called "Anaconda" for a while, and it sounded awesome, but since a snake has no arms or legs I got my cheeks kicked many a time trying to fight with my head, tongue, and ass; I decided to pack away the Anaconda kung fu for something else. My next big venture was Hungry Brando kung fu, but I could never gain enough poundage to make it work well, although the theory is entirely feasible. Any fat guys out there want to trounce your opponent, give me a ring sometime, I'll give you the lowdown. After that it was a one third-rate kung fu after another: Has-Been kung fu, Alley Cat kung fu, Wild Tree kung fu, Ricky Martin kung fu (the same as Has-Been kung fu, really, but just a few steps away), and Crunchberry kung fu. All were decent attempts—let's see you create a deadly form of martial arts from scratch! But then I stumbled upon the killer kung fu: Drunken In-Law kung fu. Key points in Drunken In-Law kung fu, as designed and copyrighted by Omar Bricks, you thieving prick dogs, are: Disable your opponent with unexpected passes at his spouse/girlfriend/love interest, barring that, a family pet or mom will do. Trip toward them and strike with unexpected strength. Your lack of balance is your friend as you can stand as quickly as you can fall. Give him a supreme tongue-lashing when he isn't expecting it. Never underestimate the value of pretending you've passed out, only to recover and attack them from behind. Create an uncomfortable fighting environment with uncalled for verbal attacks and vulgarity. Strike with wide swings, as if possessing blurred vision multiplying your enemies by two. Grilling utensils can be incorporated for full effects. Hopefully this will be good for a cease and decist to all the assholes out there who wish to challenge the Drunken In-Law kung fu of Omar Bricks. Your kung fu is weak. º Last Column: 10-10-SELLOUTº more columns | 
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Quote of the Day“My love is like a red, red wiiiine… go to my heaaaad… make me forgeeet… Wait. Sorry. My love is like a red, red rose… just like eeeeevery night has its daaaaaw- awawaaaan… Just like eeeevery cooowboy… Fuck.”
-A.D.DobbsFortune 500 CookieClowns don't hate you, they just feel sorry for you. Your "Don't Worry, Be Slappy" series of self-help books finally broke the five-copy sales barrier this week, and just got you sued by the estate of Slappy White. This week's lucky strikes: Clover-Workers' Union, ump didn't see ball careen off batter's jock and through strike zone, killed them all while they were dreaming about killing you, threw your ex-wife's severed head down lane on accident.
Try again later.Top Fake Names Used for Fraudulent Repeat Voting| 1. | Reginald Bushsucks | | 2. | Jon Bon Jovi | | 3. | Sir Votesalot | | 4. | John Jacob Jesushammersshit | | 5. | Barack Obama | |
|   Meyers Denies Being Andy Rooney BY roland mcshyster 1/1/2000 Hey troops, welcome back to Entertainment Police! Sorry for the gap in my columns, but apparently DUI stands for Don't Underestimate Interpol! Goodness me, well needless to say it's great to get back onto Yankee soil and back to the hunt for worthwhile Entertainment. A lot's happened since our last EP: the Oscars, the Golden Globes, the Peabody... and somebody told me Carmen Electra got married! Bless her heart. I asked around, but nobody seems to think Harry Connick Jr was the lucky guy... poor Harry. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. It's useless to dwell on the disappointments and massive cocaine busts of our past though, so let's get on with the show!
In Theaters Now:
Being John Malkovich
Hey troops, welcome back to Entertainment Police! Sorry for the gap in my columns, but apparently DUI stands for Don't Underestimate Interpol! Goodness me, well needless to say it's great to get back onto Yankee soil and back to the hunt for worthwhile Entertainment. A lot's happened since our last EP: the Oscars, the Golden Globes, the Peabody... and somebody told me Carmen Electra got married! Bless her heart. I asked around, but nobody seems to think Harry Connick Jr was the lucky guy... poor Harry. Always the bridesmaid, never the bride. It's useless to dwell on the disappointments and massive cocaine busts of our past though, so let's get on with the show!
In Theaters Now:
Being John Malkovich
Daring use of the helmet cam demonstrates the multitude of possible ways people on the street can say "What the fuck is that on John Malkovich's head??".
Bicentennial Man
Robin Williams stars as a Tennessee-native traveling soap salesman who won't shut up about his state's 200th anniversary. A chilling portrait of state pride. Eventually he's killed in Harlem. Watch for the surprise ending.
Man on the Moon
Hearing Neil Armstrong's boozy rant about how he's the "Greatest goddamn thing to ever happen to this planet" is amusing for maybe the first ten minutes, but this documentary has long dry spells between the magical moments. Moments like when Armstrong demonstrates that he can still urinate without getting up out of his recliner, or when he shows how he can take his dentures out and watch them float around the room in zero gravity. It's touching though when he begins to cry and explains that the dentures only float when no-one's watching, and now he's got carpet fuzz on his teeth. The last twenty minutes of the film show Armstrong snoring in his recliner, a daring artistic move that challenges the way we think about on-screen napping.
My Dog Skips
A fierce argument for child-safe windows is made in this film about a schnauzer who tries to chase cars, from the back seat of his family's Suburban.
Sweet and Lowdown
A deadly terrorist who leaves packets of America's favorite coffee-sugar substitute as his calling card is blowing up all of Seattle's great coffeehouses? Who do you call when the odds are long and the stakes are this high? Wesley Snipes, motherfucker. Always bet on black, and hold the cream!
The Talented Mr Ripley
An exciting but altogether bullshit-packed biopic of the late Robert Ripley, collector of oddities and the human bizarre. Nunchucks in one hand, highball in the other, this film paints Ripley as one bad, kung-fu motherfucker who had a soft spot for little kids with brass rings around their necks and guys who could eat shopping carts. But when he trounces an entire school of expert ninjas using only his gargantuan member, one is left to wonder: Believe it... or Not?
Now on Video:
American Pie
The touching story of an alcoholic from Wisconsin who wants nothing more than to be a chef at Baker's Square, this documentary documents his struggles through at-home, Thanksgiving and bake sale pie-making attempts and leaves you hanging with the final question: Will he ever earn that poofy hat?
The Iron Giant
This rote sequel to The Giant Iron isn't nearly as scary and didn't once keep me up at night, wondering if I heard a mister button clicking out in the hall.
The Red Violin
Seeking to snatch the inanimate-object leading man kudos from Disney's Brave Little Toaster, this is one communist-sympathizing musical instrument that's going to tickle your animated fancy. When he teams up with The Fascist Bathtub and the Socialist Salad Shooter, you know the fun's not going to stop until the capitalist pigs are dead.
T with Mussolini
Look out, action fans! Fresh off his Oscar-winning turn in Life is Beautiful, Benito Mussolini is back and this time he's left the pacifism at home! Mussolini teams up with American acting institution Mr T for this high-octane tale of Harleys, shotguns, and shit blowing up all over the place.
Wild Wild West
Adam West is back as a hard drinking, hard-loving two-fisted bar-brawling motorcycle-racing crazy man in a film that practically blows out it's own intestines in an effort to introduce West as an action hero for the new generation. West's credibility in this role is marred slightly by his paunch, thinning hair and the Ben Gay tie-ins throughout the film. Also destined to miss it's mark is his questionable catch-phrase of "That was so dangerous, I think I need to change my adult diapers."   |
