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"The Truth" Goes Unrecognized at White HouseFebruary 4, 2002 |
Washington, DC Rico Pollico/the Commune Many are disoriented when faced with "The Truth"
White House spokesman Ari Fleischer said "The Truth" looked very much a like "a guy I once hired to put up some sheet rock in my basement, and a couple times we would go off into the little closet down there to smoke crack and give each other handjobs, but other than that, I can't place him."
The president himself was similarly disinclined to speculate on ...
ormer heavyweight champion Carl "The Truth" Williams visited the Bush White House recently, at the invitation of Secretary of State Colin Powell, and no one there seemed to have a clue as to who he actually was. "The Truth" got the grand tour, meeting with the president, the vice president and many members of their respective staffs, yet all expressed puzzlement as to who he might really be or why he was there.
White House spokesman Ari Fleischer said "The Truth" looked very much a like "a guy I once hired to put up some sheet rock in my basement, and a couple times we would go off into the little closet down there to smoke crack and give each other handjobs, but other than that, I can't place him."
The president himself was similarly disinclined to speculate on the identity of his guest. "How the hell should I know?" he asked. "All them fellas look alike to me. He's not the guy who delivers the pretzels, is he? Because if he is, I got a few words of ornerification for him."
Vice president Dick Cheney, when asked if he recognized "The Truth," responded by saying that it was possible that he did, but that it would endanger national security and the ability of future vice presidents to effectively do their job if he admitted it. He went on to say that if "The Truth" were to accompany him to an undisclosed location, perhaps they could discuss the matter further by the side of a warm fireplace full of shredded documents.
Mary Matalin, Cheney's spokesperson, came closest to recognizing "The Truth" when she admitted that, "after studying him closely, he does look very much like that guy that fisted me and my serpentine husband up the ass without Vaseline one afternoon last November, but I can't be positive without James here."
Mr. Williams said that, despite the lack of recognition, he very much enjoyed his tour of the First Residence. "Muthafuckahs be livin' large here, y'all!" he was quoted as saying when the Secret Service escorted him out by way of the South Lawn. "Word, dawg, place be almost as happenin' as George Foreman's crib. Sheee-it." the commune news is proud to say that it always recognizes The Truth when it is accompanied by a valid picture ID and a short bio. Bludney Plud, desperate for a little recognition himself, has been
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South Korea as unruly, embarrassing as South U.S.
SUVs hazardous to kids, but still a lot of bad points about SUVs
Washington: Dollar down, unemployment up, economy fantastic
Los Angeles Gangs Infuriated by YU55 Drive-by
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Cheney Comrade Injured During Hunt for Bin Laden Arizona Border Patrol Installing Landmines Serial Killer’s Neighbor: “He just wouldn’t shut up about serial killing.” Heather Graham’s Career Found Dead in Apartment |
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 October 28, 2002
GET UP!"GET UP!"
screamed the miter
(a miniature mote)
who'd grown up in the bottom
of the back of a boat.
"RISE!"
cried the tiny little segmented man
whose hat was bright purple,
but his body was tan.
"HUZZAH!"
he repeated, at the top of his lungs
the very tip top,
so loud it rattled his bung.
"GOOD MORNING!"
he shouted.
"MOOD GORNING!"
he out-snouted
through the reverberant caverns of his nose
as he screamed and he scramped
and he ripped off his clothes.
"BRRRRRANT!"
on his bugle he bugled the note.
Then he honked out a ditty
that he'd recently wrote.
Into his mega he phoned
and he bellowed and moaned
as he screeched and he warbled
like a boy band on fire
and he pierced the sky with high notes
like a castrated choir.
He jumped and he leaped
as he stomped and he beeped,
making such a racket as to wake up the dead
who would wake with a ring and a buzz in their heads.
But even when threw a drum kit down the stairs
and gave untuned tubas to the back-country bears
and told the hyenas a side-splitting joke
and he banged on his gong till his gong-banger broke,
on his chalk board he screeched a quarry's worth of chalk
and he gave the loud-talkers a license to talk
and he shoved a canoe...
º Last Column: Mouse in My House
º more columns
"GET UP!"
screamed the miter
(a miniature mote)
who'd grown up in the bottom
of the back of a boat.
"RISE!"
cried the tiny little segmented man
whose hat was bright purple,
but his body was tan.
"HUZZAH!"
he repeated, at the top of his lungs
the very tip top,
so loud it rattled his bung.
"GOOD MORNING!"
he shouted.
"MOOD GORNING!"
he out-snouted
through the reverberant caverns of his nose
as he screamed and he scramped
and he ripped off his clothes.
"BRRRRRANT!"
on his bugle he bugled the note.
Then he honked out a ditty
that he'd recently wrote.
Into his mega he phoned
and he bellowed and moaned
as he screeched and he warbled
like a boy band on fire
and he pierced the sky with high notes
like a castrated choir.
He jumped and he leaped
as he stomped and he beeped,
making such a racket as to wake up the dead
who would wake with a ring and a buzz in their heads.
But even when threw a drum kit down the stairs
and gave untuned tubas to the back-country bears
and told the hyenas a side-splitting joke
and he banged on his gong till his gong-banger broke,
on his chalk board he screeched a quarry's worth of chalk
and he gave the loud-talkers a license to talk
and he shoved a canoe through a tight leather shoe
and he told teenage girls they were bathing in poo
and he amplified a donkey to the power of six
and he beat the complainer at a game of pick-up sticks,
he alarmed an alarm
and he pantsed a school marm
and he dropped twelve ball bearings on an aluminum barn
and he crept into the pope's bedroom and he screamed "DARN!"
still
Roofer McGoofer McGoo
slept
and he slept.
Goddamn dog. º Last Column: Mouse in My Houseº more columns
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|  December 9, 2002
Volume 31Dear commune:
My name is Kent and I am 8 years old. I am doing a biography on President George W. Bush and I would like to know all about him. Please tell me everything about him, like where was he born, how did he become president, and what does the president do?
I think the commune is a great news website.
Kent Birkell
Ohgett, Utah
Dear "Kent":
Nice try, Al Qaeda! Sounds like a good plan right off the bat, doesn't it? Write to some unsuspecting, poorly-run news organization, like the commune, and pretend to be a grade-schooler so you can get all the elusive secret information about the leader of the free world. Well, suck on it instead, dickless!
You aren't getting free information from us, Al-Shabib. You made two mistakes in your otherwise-brilliant plan. For one, you referred to George W. Bush as the president without quotation marks—you're either a Republican or a terrorist, and either way we don't trust you. And second, the commune—a great news website? You must not be from this country.
We hope your little dirty bomb or whatever goes off during construction and leaves you a dirty smear, terrorist asshole.
In the off chance you are a real 8-year-old who just doesn't know enough about the "president" or the commune's "news" department, we offer sincere apologies. Terrorist asshole.
the...
º Last Column: Volume 30
º more columns
Dear commune: My name is Kent and I am 8 years old. I am doing a biography on President George W. Bush and I would like to know all about him. Please tell me everything about him, like where was he born, how did he become president, and what does the president do? I think the commune is a great news website. Kent Birkell
Ohgett, UtahDear "Kent":
Nice try, Al Qaeda! Sounds like a good plan right off the bat, doesn't it? Write to some unsuspecting, poorly-run news organization, like the commune, and pretend to be a grade-schooler so you can get all the elusive secret information about the leader of the free world. Well, suck on it instead, dickless!
You aren't getting free information from us, Al-Shabib. You made two mistakes in your otherwise-brilliant plan. For one, you referred to George W. Bush as the president without quotation marks—you're either a Republican or a terrorist, and either way we don't trust you. And second, the commune—a great news website? You must not be from this country.
We hope your little dirty bomb or whatever goes off during construction and leaves you a dirty smear, terrorist asshole.
In the off chance you are a real 8-year-old who just doesn't know enough about the "president" or the commune's "news" department, we offer sincere apologies. Terrorist asshole.
the commune
Editor's Note: the commune news is not responsible for the wind beneath your wings, so quit blaming us for it, maybe it was the dog.º Last Column: Volume 30º more columns
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Milestones2001: Red Bagel foolishly promises paid vacations next year, only to be later surprised the commune still in business at that time.Now HiringRoadie. Duties include setting up mics, antagonizing audience hours before band comes on, picking up busty ladies of legal age for private band business. No pay, work for throwaway ladies.Top 5 commune Features This Week| 1. | Boris is Gay | | 2. | Ms. Cleo's Special Sauce Recipe | | 3. | Big, German Jugs | | 4. | The Dangers of Breastfeeding Wildlife | | 5. | Apple: Computers for Commies? | |
|   North Korea Pissed Their Real-Life Hunger Games Nowhere Near as Popular as Movie BY B. Brown Dullard 3/5/2007 Floof GoofersThough these words may appear to be written in modern English, rest assured they have been conveyed via thought concept and visual feedback, therefore appearing in your brain as your own native language. Trust this illusion only so far as it serves you to do so.
What follows is a concise and revelatory history of Teefsak, the planet more commonly but less correctly known as "Earth," and Zefro, the celestial overlord most responsible for Teefsak's tragic and frothy past. The Teefsak tragedy has gone down in the annals of galactic history as a tear-jerker of epochal proportions.
Seventy-five million years ago, give or take several weeks for Spacelight Savings Time, Teefsak was one of 76 planets in a Galactic Conformerancy known as D12. The ruler of the Conformerancy...
Though these words may appear to be written in modern English, rest assured they have been conveyed via thought concept and visual feedback, therefore appearing in your brain as your own native language. Trust this illusion only so far as it serves you to do so. What follows is a concise and revelatory history of Teefsak, the planet more commonly but less correctly known as "Earth," and Zefro, the celestial overlord most responsible for Teefsak's tragic and frothy past. The Teefsak tragedy has gone down in the annals of galactic history as a tear-jerker of epochal proportions. Seventy-five million years ago, give or take several weeks for Spacelight Savings Time, Teefsak was one of 76 planets in a Galactic Conformerancy known as D12. The ruler of the Conformerancy was Zefro, a tall, stern-looking gentleman with the letter "Z" shaved into his afro. For all other intents and purposes, Zefro greatly resembled Charlton Heston. Zefro had proposed radical new ideas for the Conformerancy, including personal income taxes, passports, and collectable trading cards bearing the likeness of every citizen of the Conformerancy. In direct opposition to Zefro's radical policies stood Zefro's arch-nemesis, LouRawls. LouRawls was a loyal officer, dressed in off-white. Zefro was forced to call in Master Lord Chew, the Master Lord of the Conformerancy, to resolve this dispute. Chew looked exactly like a pig squeezed into a tuxedo. He is completely ugly and worthless. Chew says the Martians are invading and everyone should throw porridge at Zefro. Everyone cheers LouRawls and Zefro is made to dance naked in a telephone booth in front of the entire Conformerancy. Zefro, disappointed, goes home and orders Doctor Snoot to robotize his mistress, Lady Man. "Depersonalize her with neurosurgery!" Zefro demands. Doctor Snoot accidentally robotizes Zefro's dog, Pooches, instead, and Lady Man escapes by not knowing any of this was going on and going to lunch. On the way to lunch, however, she crash lands Doctor Snoot's space Harley, which she had shoplifted, on the forest moon Smendor and lives there the rest of her life as the Queen of the Cats with Batfaces. Meanwhile, Zefro is meeting with his most trusted conspirators on NotEarth, planning the immanent destruction of all that is good and oily. Zefro orders that all black people, the elderly and golfers be rounded up via space freighters and brought to Teefsak for "rewardation." Zefro's psychiatrist goons love their work only too much and also round up all the cosmetologists, the Dutch, homeowners, crossword puzzle enthusiasts, children between the ages of seven and ten, light sleepers, the underweight, doctors, show ponies, everyone living east of Kansas City, baseballers, disco musicians, the large of hair, craps junkies, anyone over six feet tall, sailors, presidents, watchmakers, reggae fans and oakies as well. All are drugged and brought to Teefsak, and strapped to volcanoes for safekeeping. Atomic bombs are stored nearby in case they are needed. But suddenly, and without prior warning, Zefro goofs the floof and orders that all the atomic bombs be detonated! The result would not make a very nice card from Hallmark. Zefro would later be defeated by LouRawls after a colossal and exciting space battle where at the end Zefro tried to go for his secret hidden gun but LouRawls kicked it away and said "That's just like you, Zefro. But not this time. You are hereby sentenced to imprisonment in a mountain sustained for eons by life support." And that's where Zefro remains today. So let that be a lesson to us all. Send me $59,000 if you want to know what the lesson is.   |
