Mark Hoback: disturbed

Sun, 29 Jan 2006 15:42:32 GMT

North Korea Admits to Having Nukes
Also Claims Strong Dislike for Charles and Camilla

In a surprising announcement, North Korea's foreign ministry announced that it "really, really, really does have nuclear bombs, very large ones, the size of a small deli," and that they will boycott the US sponsored regional arms. Pyongyang said they have "manufactured nukes for self-defense to cope with the Bush administration's undisguised policy to isolate and stifle North Korea," and then in a flagrant display of rudeness, taunted the president's mother, calling her a "white haired hyena with eyes reminiscent of bloated water chestnuts".

Secretary of State Condoleeza Rice immediately rebutted this statement, saying the president's mother had beautiful eyes, and reminding North Korea that their leader "has a girls name, and looks like a squashed horny-toad".

Kim Jong II did not directly respond to these charges, opting instead to appear on state television, where he told the nation that Prince Charles and that Camilla woman are the two ugliest white people ever, and that even the possibility that they might somehow reproduce "should fill the globe with pangs of shock and horror". He then called the late Princess Diana "a saint, and an honorary North Korean," sang the first verse and chorus of 'Candle in the Wind' accompanied only by a DangPiri player, and retired to his chambers for a nap.

Wed, 18 Jan 2006 09:06:26 GMT

Some See Count Floyd in Underpass Stain

Beer cans from over three dozen countries have been left in front of the Floyd-like stain.

CHICAGO, Illinois (FGAQ) -- A steady stream of the faithful and the ludicrous, many carrying flowers and howling, have wandered to a highway underpass for a look at a gray and white stain on a concrete wall that they believe is an image of the Count Floyd.

Police have been guarding the area since last Monday as hundreds of people have walked down to see the image and the growing memorial of flowers and beer cans that surround it. Beside the image is an artist's rendering of Bruno embracing Doctor Tongue in a pose some see echoed in the stain.

"We believe it's a miracle," said Edith Prickley, 42. "A really dumb miracle, but a miracle none the less."

Tuesday morning, women stood with 3-D glasses behind a police barricade while men in t-shirts loitered before the image, guffawing and drinking. An angry commuter claimed that the crowd had caused traffic to back up for miles.

The stain is likely the result of salt run-off, according to the Illinois Department In-charge of Transportation. The agency does not plan to scrub it off the wall.

"We're treating this just like we treat any type of roadside miracle," said IDIOT spokesman Earl Camembert. "We have no plans to clean this site."

"We hah no plah to clee thih eyes," chimed in IDIOT resident cleaning woman Perini Scleroso.

The Roman Catholic Archdiocese of Chicago has not received any requests to authenticate the image as of Monday, spokesman Johnny Larue said. "Why would we? I mean it's true that Pope Benedict does look similar to Count Floyd, but that's more of a coincidence than a miracle. And the church takes no official position on Monster Chiller Horror Theater. Sometimes people ask us to look at these things, but we're pretty busy. Most of the time we don't. The meaning depends on the individual who sees it. To them, it's real. Go figure."

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 16:46:13 GMT

Biden Hunts Presidency Very Carefully

Senator Joe Biden has announced that he is exploring the possibility of a run for the presidency, but he is taking a cautious approach to the prospect, stating that for the next few months he would be determining "whether I can gather the kind of support" necessary to become a strong candidate. "If, in fact, I think that I have a clear shot at winning the nomination after a few months of very careful observation, then I'm going to go ahead and seek the nomination. I think that's what I'm going to do."

FGAQ asked the Senator if this conversely meant that he would drop his presidential ambition like a razor-wire coffee cup should a possible obstacle to his ambitions appear, and he told us that the answer was a definite yes.

"Hey, I'm no Don Quixote here, no impossible dream for this senator, no siree bob. If a major piece of talent like Hillary decides to run, I'm outta here, see you later, think of me when you're picking your veep. No reason to set out on a lost cause."

"John McCain? I don't know, John is a friend of mine, don't ask me to even think about that. Okay, I guess if John were to run, I wouldn't run. I mean, I would just give him that courtesy, even though we're in different parties. I mean, what if I were to run against him? I might lose, or he might win, and that would be just devastating to our relationship."

"Kerry? Oh no, if a man has been his party's nominee once before, he has dibs on it the next time if that's what he wants. Anything less would just be disrespectful. So, the answer is no, I would not run if Kerry should choose to run again, and really, I guess I should say the same about Gore. On the other hand, if it ends up like I expect, with just me and Lieberman, than I say 'Let the best Joe win'."

We asked Biden if he was worried that conservative pundits would try to sabotage any efforts on his part by retreading the same tales of plagiarism that sank his 1988 bid for presidency. He smacked himself on the forehead and moaned. "Oh man, conservative pundits. I didn't even think of that. You know, back in 1988 there were no conservative pundits, at least not the kind you have now on the radio and cable news shows. And the internet! They can tear you apart before you have a clue as to what's happening. Took Howard Dean down in about 36 hours. They can be vicious. Even though it's unlikely, I'd have to say that if the conservative pundits did choose to attack me, I'd fold quicker than 'Hamlet' in Mayberry.

Sat, 14 Jan 2006 16:15:20 GMT

Jackson Brokers Deal With Sunnis

Michael Jackson has accomplished what scores of politicians have been unable to achieve: bringing Iraq's Sunni population on board in support of the nation's newly minted constitution.

"Mister Jackson is very wise," said Islamic Party Secretary-General Tareq al-Hashemi. "He looked me in the eye and asked 'Why can't we all just get along'. I thought about his question, and found that the answer was that there was no answer. Of course we should all just get along. And so we shall."

Jackson was in Iraq at the behest of Secretary of State Condoleezza Rice, who had lobbied President Bush to name him as a special ambassador. "Everybody loves Michael," said Rice. "And he just seemed like a natural to bring the county's factions together. My only surprise was the speed with which he was able to accomplish his goal."

"We are giving him the key to Sulaymaniyah," said al-Hashemi, "and roasting up our fattest goats. Ah, if only everyone had the golden heart of this man, the entire world would be at peace."

"Truly is he a citizen of the world," said radical cleric Sheik Muqtada al-Sadr. "But for today he is the king of all Iraq, and more importantly, my friend. Just this morning he asked if my young son Akbar could be his companion for the remainder of his stay. Never have I been so proud."

Jackson demonstrates the moonwalk for a contingent
of Shi'ites, Sunnis, and Kurds

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 01:53:09 GMT

Former Jackson Jurors Punked on MSNBC

Jurors Eleanor Cook and Ray Hultman, appearing on MSNBC's 'Live and Direct' are unaware that Michael Jackson is eavesdropping on their conversation!

Entertainer Michael Jackson began his long awaited comeback today when he appeared on MSNBC's 'Live and Direct' with Rita Crosby. Jackson appeared on a segment in which he 'punked' two jurors from his recent molestation trials.

Eleanor Cook and Ray Hultman, sniffing their last fleeting chance for celebrity, were on the show to promote their (possible) book offerings, which promise to detail the fact that Michael was guilty as hell and they knew it all along.

"No doubt in my mind whatsoever, that boy was molested, and I also think he enjoyed to some degree being Michael Jackson's toy," Cook said, unaware that Jackson was peaking out from behind her chair, occasionally making devil horns above her head. The studio audience, which had been told about the prank before hand, were unable to contain their laughter, even though they had been asked to by the producer.

"What the hell are you people laughing about," asked Cook, who's book, if it ever sees the light of day, would be titled 'Guilty as Sin, Free as a Bird'. "There are some little boys out there who think it's cool to be diddled by rich pop stars, and there are some pop stars who think it's cool to..." Ms Cooks remarks were drowned out by laughter at this point, as Jackson moonwalked behind her chair, grabbing his crotch and making a cry-baby face.

Hultman fared no better when it was time to promote his imaginary book, titled 'Yet To Be Titled'. "People just wouldn't take their blinders off long enough to really look at all the evidence that was there," he said. "I know I didn't. No. Yes. Yes I did, but the other jurors threatened me. They coerced me to vote against my will all fourteen times." The audience went into hysterics as Jackson rolled his eyes and twirled his index finger around his ear in the international symbol for 'crazy old man'.

Tue, 10 Jan 2006 01:47:17 GMT

Next

US Agent Wally Baxter runs reconnaissance outside of Zanjan rock depository

WASHINGTON (CNN) -- The Bush administration has been carrying out secret reconnaissance missions to learn about nuclear, chemical and missile sites in Iran in preparation for possible airstrikes there, journalist Seymour Hersh said Sunday. The effort has been under way at least since last summer, Hersh said on CNN's "Late Edition."

"That's just crazy talk," said White House Communications Director Dan Bartlett. "If we were carrying out secret missions, that would mean that nobody knew about them. So if CNN is reporting on any missions, well, ipso facto, know what I mean?"

"Besides - reality check here - who are you going to believe, the United States government or some guy named Seymour? You know what most people think of when they hear the name Seymour? Seymour Butts! Yeah, and then they just can't take them seriously at all... Think about it. This Hersh fellow seems to be totally obsessed with butts. What was his last story? That's right, Abbie Grabbie, and all those pictures of dogs biting terrorists on the butt, and terrorists making butt pyramids, and on and on ad nauseum. Sheesh. The American people are in to values, not butts."

"Getting back to the issue, what we do know is that the Iranians are harboring huge stockpiles of deadly projectile rocks, many of which seem to be making their way into the hands of militant Palestinians. I won't deny that we've issued strong warnings to Tehran telling them that they must dispose of these rocks with great expediency, or else. You know what 'or else' means? Of course you don't. It's a secret."

Sat, 24 Dec 2005 16:12:37 GMT

Mike Tyson to Leave Boxing

Tyson, who has lost three of his last four bouts, indicated he would retire, saying: "I don't have the guts to fight anymore. My heart is not in it anymore. I don't want to disrespect the sport I love."

As bad as quitting might tarnish whatever is left of Tyson's once-proud legacy, his reputation would have been even further damaged if the fight had stopped after Tyson first tried to break McBride's left arm and then purposely head-butted his opponent, opening a cut above McBride's left eye. - Washington Post, 6/12/05

FGAQ caught up with the once great fighter after the match, and asked him about his future plans.

"I'm bwoke," he told us, "so I gotta keep on wucking. Not onwy did I woose this match, I wost a vewy wucwative contwact pwomoting Tyson chicken. I aweady cut two commuchas - 'It takes a tough man to beat a tender chicken'. Sigh. I weand aw the wuds wight, but they don't wan't a woosuh to pwomote theh chicken."

"So I'm gonna take this gig in Vegas as a human punching bag. Thew aw a wot of wich and famous peopo who wi pay a hundwed gwand to say they beat the champ. Fowah two hundwed gwand, I pwomise to not even hit back."

Fri, 23 Dec 2005 16:11:06 GMT

Hi. I'm the little angel of hope. Would you like a Twinkie? Gosh, you sure look like you could use one...

Sometimes I like to appear to people who are wearing frowny faces. Like you. Listen, there's no reason to be sad. Things could be so much worse. Look at me, for example. My beautiful downy wings have been transformed into these round Frisbee-like things. You're right, they do weigh a ton, and then when it rains they fill up with water and the next thing you know I've got birds and squirrels all the fuck over me. It's turned my hair white, it has, and there's not a goddamn thing I can do about it.

Still, I live in a beautiful garden, filled with fragrant flowers, along with the aforementioned birds and squirrels. Filthy creatures, those squirrels. And did I mention that this picture was taken a few months ago, before the flowers became nothing but dead memories. Pretty soon, I'll be up to my ass in snow, and like an idiot I'm wearing this thin summer dress, so in a word, I'm fucked. But you'd never know it, because my face is frozen into this vapid stare of perpetual innocence.

Sun, 18 Dec 2005 18:39:09 GMT

Opening remarks to the National Governors Association

My bird is a mighty bird. Spread your wings and fly like an eagle. Yeah, that'd be a trip, wouldn't it? I mean, if this thing just got up and flew away. Saw something like that happen once, back when I was a youth. Not a golden bird, something even weirder. It was a statue of Sam Houston riding a horse, and I swear I saw that statue salute me. Could have been my eyes playing tricks on me, could have been a miracle, either way, it's all the same.

You know Sam Houston, don't you? He was governor of Tennessee before he ever moved to Texas. Liked to hang out with the Indians. The Cherokees. Used to be a lot more of them in those days. They'd hunt and fish and occasionally get into the firewater, which in the Cherokee language was called kastoofuh.

Old Sam had himself a lot of adventures, like getting shot in the belly at the Battle of Horseshoe Bend. At any rate, he ended up, just like me, moving to Texas, where he got himself elected delegate from Nacogdoches to the Convention of 1833 at San Felipe. It didn't have any other name. Just 'the convention'. See, Mexico was getting awfully uppity, and it was about time to take Texas away from them if they couldn't be a little more reasonable. Wasn't going to happen. They don't teach this in school much anymore, but you know what those Mexicans did? They took Steve Austin and threw his rear end in jail. No charges. Nothing.

So what do you think? Should I do the same thing to Doug Wead? I mean, now that I have the tapes back and all. I had Gonzales take a look at it, and he thinks that embarrassing the president could be construed as a terrorist act. And if not, we can get Congress to start moving on the issue.

It's funny, isn't it? Here we have the Mexicans throwing Steve Austin in jail for no reason at all, and now we have a Mexican Attorney General. And the capitol of the greatest country on earth has a football team named after the Cherokees. And the Redskins are coached by NASCAR great Joe Gibbs, who's a white man. Only in America.

Sam Houston was there when Texas declared it's independence from Mexico, and in a blink of the eye he became commander in chief of the Texas army. That's something we have in common, I'm proud to say. Something else we have in common - and I'm skipping over the war, because everyone knows who won - was that Sam Houston was elected President of Texas. Most people don't know that Texas had it's own president, but they did, and that man was Sam. Elected twice, with a gap in the middle.

Notice how I'm not fumbling around with my words? There's a good reason. I'm drinking again, but only in moderation. Moderation, that's the key. A couple of drinks can help relax a president, and I'm sure that the American people don't want to see their president wound up too tightly. A nervous president is a risky president. That's what I've come to believe.

Not that there's anything wrong with risk. It's a risky world out there, which makes me wonder what on earth I was saying a minute ago. No, our troops... listen up. You want to talk about risk? Sam Adams wasn't afraid of the risk involved when he threw all that British tea into the ocean.

But we're talking about Sam Houston, and the best part of the story is that he stood up for what he believed. He didn't care what anybody else thought. When he was governor of Texas, and everybody wanted to secede from the Union - this just a few years after joining - he said no, no, a million times no. So they removed him from office, but he didn't care, because he did what he knew was right. That's why they called old Sam 'The Raven' and wrote that poem about him. When Sam said 'never more', he meant it.

So, anyway, it's great to have all you governors here in one room today. I'll tell you a little secret, and it relates back to what I was saying about risk. When they told me I had to meet with the NGA today, I thought they were talking about the National Golfers Association. That's right. I had an inspirational story about Sam Snead I was going to tell. And when I saw it was you all, I said, that ain't going to fly, and the rest is history. Very recent history, but history nonetheless. I'm looking forward to working with you all, and I'm excited about the next four years. Thank you all for coming, and we'll get to some Q & A as soon as I have the reporters escorted out.

Tue, 13 Dec 2005 16:32:25 GMT

Unscramble these letters to form common words and names. Then take the letters from the red dashes to discover today's final solution. It's fun!! Today's question: What's black and brown and would look good on Ted Kennedy?
democrat solution	_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _	GEXBSIAT
foxy lady	_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _	RTONELNAUC
who the liberals hate	_ _ _	ODG
insufferable talk show host	_ _ _ _ _ _	MELOCS
banshee in waiting	_ _ _ _ _ _ _	LYHIRAL
The final solution: This would look good on Ted Kennedy: _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

Sat, 10 Dec 2005 13:57:18 GMT

Senator Delay Narrowly Avoids Disaster
Liberal butcher Ed Fern unsuccessfully attempts to kick Delay's sorry ass.

Refusing to respond to his twenty-third corruption charge since the November elections, unsavory House majority leader Tom Delay castigated the left wing media for 'wasting the American people's time with the truth'.

"You can't handle the truth," he bellowed to the large cheering crowd who had turned out to see him and other ~~entertainers~~ ~~celebrities~~ people at a 'Christ Values Coalition' rally in Houston. As Delay began to squat down in a visual demonstration of what secularists would like to do to the constitution, a liberal disguised as a regular working class Joe rushed onto the stage and attempted to kick the Senator's ass.

"Protect your buttocks! Protect your buttocks!," shouted the horrified onlookers, giving him enough time to avoid the lawless foot hurtling towards his derriere. The assailant, identified as liberal meat-cutter Ed 'Happy' Fern from El Paso, was quickly dragged off by large Polynesians, but not before being bitch-slapped by the senator, and told, "Christ might turn the other cheek, but not Tom Delay."

Mon, 05 Dec 2005 17:00:42 GMT

Delay Disparages Supreme Court Decision

Uh, man, know what I just heard? That, like, the Supreme Court? That, like the Supreme Court says we can't smoke reefer anymore. F'n activist judges. Yeah, man. Who died and made them boss, huh. Like, I'm the federal government, ya know? No way, dude. They said that like if you've got cancer, or like your knee hurts, you still can't smoke a doobie. They're goin down, man.

I don't know. About an hour ago, I guess. Denny told me he just heard about it, so we decided to roll one up just down the street from the, from the courthouse - you could see it man, plain as day - and we smoked it outta protest. It was wicked. Then we had us some beers. The judges need to be intimidated, man. They need to uphold the Constitution. Nothing in there, the constitution, like, say I got Tom Delay disease, right, and my doctor tells me, he says, Tom, you need to carry a little weed with you at all times... right, right, like nitroglycerin tablets, right, yeah, then that's like doctor-client privilege. Whoa! Who's that behind us? Statue? Ah, dude, that thing looks real.

Some righteous smoke, man, I'm still trippin. Ya know, The times gonna come for the dudes responsible for this to answer for their behavior. You know, we set up the courts, we can unset the courts, know what I'm saying? I mean, they can have my bong when they pry it out of my cold stiff fingers. Or whatever...

Fri, 25 Nov 2005 14:51:30 GMT

McDonalds Names New CHO

Following the reinstatement of a ludicrous lawsuit by four blubbery New York teenagers who claim that Chicken McNuggets were the source of their girth, McDonalds Corporation has taken new steps to combat negative implications to their public image. In a less than surprising move, they have named Ronald McDonald as their "Chief Happiness Officer". Among other duties, Mr. McDonald will be visiting elementary schools to promote fitness, and an active balanced lifestyle. When contacted by FGAQ, McDonald, who is known worldwide for his 'dances with fries', expressed surprise with the decision.

FGAQ: We'd like to extend our congratulations.

RM: Sure, man. Thanks.

FGAQ: You sound less than enthusiastic.

RM: Sure. I hate this job. That's the sole reason behind my lack of exuberance. To be perfectly honest, I was quite happy with my old job hawking burgers. I was pretty damn good at it too, and I really hate to think about the repercussions that are bound to follow with the Olsen twins taking over PR duty. "Oh, McDonalds food made me too skinny". I mean, goddamit, you don't have to hire friggin Jared, but even if you forgo the delicious burgers and fries, you know, just stick to our special salads, you're living in a fools paradise if you think you're ever going to get that thin hanging out at the golden arches.

FGAQ: If it tastes good, it's probably bad for you, right?

RM: Bingo. I dare you to eat one of our healthful salads without soaking it in dressing. Oh, you can do it, sure. You can poke yourself in the eye with a friggin stick if you want to. I just don't give a damn. I happen to believe in a little something that I call 'free will'. Not a very popular theory these days.

FGAQ: No, it certainly isn't. Well, this should be quite a change for you, Mr. McDonald, hitting the lecture circuit, so to speak.

RM: Sure. At least I won't have to worry about my audience being too sophisticated for me. I can lead the classroom in a round of jumping jacks after I show them the food pyramid. Big fun.

FGAQ: You do get to be a role model...

RM: Oh joy. Oh glorious day. Let me tell you something. I hate having to wear this monkey suit. Whoopie doopie, I've gone from a clown suit to a monkey suit. The clown suit may have looked ridiculous, but what the hey, it was comfortable. It let my balls breathe, you know? Brooks Brothers, forget it. It's not me. But, I'm a company man. I'm going to do the best job I can as CHO, and then in about six months, I'm going out on pension.

FGAQ: Well, good luck to you.

RM: Let me just send a message to any snot nosed kids that may be reading this. You're fat? It's your fucking problem. Go run around the goddamn block. Sue mommy and daddy for not feeding you peas and carrots. I tell you what, you little bastards, maybe we just won't even let you in the place unless you get on the McScales first. It's a thought. How do you think you'd like that? Yeah, we'll put it on the loudspeakers, 'TOO FAT, TOO FAT', yeah, what do you think about that idea? Cause we'd be doing it for your own good. And then we could have our new mascot, Twiggy McDonald, march your obese pimply asses right out to the parking lot.

Fri, 18 Nov 2005 15:26:25 GMT

Okay, Gerhard, what happened next?

Well, the Jew walks in, sees the ghost of Arafat in his slippers, and says 'Oy vey! I don't care if they do call it a mesusalah, next time I'm going to take a hammer with me. Ho ho ho ho ho.

Heh.

Heh? Just heh? My joke just gets a heh? Let's here what you've got, Mister Funnypuss.

Oh, don't be such a prig, Gerhardt. I didn't understand half the words you were using. Have you heard the one about me and Chirac in the sauna?

You and Chirac in the sauna? No. That one I have not heard.

Okay, Jacques and I were in a sauna and...

Where was this sauna, Mister President?

It was, I guess it was in the Middle-east. And Tony Blair was there, too, but he had his pants on. So anyway...

Tony Blair was there also? Why was Germany not invited to this summit?

It wasn't a summit, it was a sauna. Any way, all of a sudden we hear ringing, and then Tony starts talking into his hand...

Oh, yes, the imbedded palm-phone. I've had one for about six months, and frankly, I don't know how I ever did without it.

I just have the secret service guys carry my phone for me. I mean, as leader of the free world, I don't have time for all that sort of nonsense. But, like I was getting up to, Chirac was real surprised at the one Tony had. And then he hears this voice, 'Hey George, don't forget that you've got a 1:45 with the Netherlands'.

I am puzzled.

Hold on, Gerhardt. I tell Jacques that it's my intercom he's hearing. See this square spot on my back, here?

That looks painful.

Not too bad, really. You get used to it. But anyway, Jacques seems real embarrassed, cause he's such a low-tech leader, and he runs out of the sauna. But then a minute later he returns and moons Tony and me. And you know what he's got hanging out of his ass?

No, Mister President. I would not even care to venture a guess.

Well, it's a long piece of toilet paper, musta been three feet long. And Jacques turns to us and says, "Pardon j'un moment, I think I'm getting a fax".

A telefax?

Yeah. What you said.

Ho ho ho ho. Ha ha ha hee. Very funny, very funny indeed. I can see it all in my mind's eye. Most clever, Mister President.

Well, it's off to meet the press.

After you.

Tue, 15 Nov 2005 13:38:03 GMT

Ohio Health Officials Totally Grossed Out

Ohio health officials have been acting with urgency recently due to the threat of Avian Flu. The disease has infected poultry in several parts of Asia but has not yet spread to the United States. The flu can prove deadly to humans, and the U.S. government has banned all imports of poultry from Asia.

On Thursday, authorities began finding packages of boneless chicken feet at oriental markets that had been smuggled in from Thailand and labeled as jellyfish. Agent Penny Mackland was absolutely disgusted to find that many Asians consider boneless chicken feet a delicacy. "Oh, god, get out of here, they do not!," exclaimed Ms. Mackland, when told of this culinary oddity. "They do not stick those nasty things into their mouths".

Penny's friend and colleague Lieutenant Dennis was also skeptical of the theory that the feet were meant for human consumption, even though Deputy Chief Health Official Higgins had told him so. "Penny begged me to prove him wrong, so I got on the web and searched. There it was, articles, pictures, recipes, the whole shebang. Man, oh man, I've never seen that, even on 'Fear Factor'. I tried to put the best face on the situation and tell Penny that it was a big old world out there, but she just started bawling".

"I always try to treat everybody as an equal," said Ms. Mackland, "but those days are sadly gone".

Sun, 06 Nov 2005 00:00:19 GMT

Sure, it may sound unconventional, a town falling in love with a root vegetable, but then how could they resist? A veggie that can be eaten, dressed and used as a bowling ball is just too good to be true. Turnip enthusiasts are encouraged to join in the festivities this Saturday which include a cook-off, a turnip trot, turnip bowling and the crowning of Mr. Turnip. - The Cape Cod Photo Album

"This has always been fun, but I am getting to the end of my turnip creativity. I would love it if someone took over the responsibility of this festival and let me pass my turnip on." - Tricia Ford, organizer of Eastham's Turnip Festival, in The Cape Codder

"I am the turnip king. I can do anything." - Jim Morrison

When was it that the Turnip Festival turned from an event of joy into one of sorrow, from privilege into chore? It seems so long ago, yet I know the metamorphosis has been a rapid one. I see photographs from recent months where I still wear white and purple, and there is no discomfort in my eyes.

The dream dissipated as all dreams do when held up to the light of reason, a light who's harshness lets no illusion remain except that of wisdom. And I thought that I was wise, and I knew that I was sad, and the rutabaga's brother did anoint me. Call me by my name, Mister Turnip, then turn your head and let me pass in peace.

It appears that I may be the last to hold the turnip title. At first, the happy people of Eastham were delighted with their special festival, waiting in happy anticipation for the big day to arrive. Would the weather be okay? Who would be gracing us from the town's bandstand? (One year it was Tina Turnip.)

There were the crafts, of course; turnip wreathes, turnip centerpieces, and most popular of all, the little turnip costumes. People would dress their turnips as sailors and Indian chiefs. Presidential turnips were the big items for the first couple of years, with dozens of bright magenta turnips bearing the likenesses of Jimmy Carter or Ronald Reagan. The very first blue ribbon winner was a turnip dressed to look exactly like Mitzi Gaynor. The children did not know who Mitzi was, but we adults winked in nostalgic approval.

We played games of course: 'toss the turnip' for the kids, and 'turnip skee-ball' for the young at heart. Turnip bowling, while sadly declining in popularity along with the rest of the turnip oriented entertainment, brought families together in a warm glow of communal laughter.

And of course there was the food! Turnips, for the main part, but turnips prepared in a matter that would no doubt be pleasing to British nobility, should they choose to appear on that happy day in Eastham. Turnips au gratin, turnips scaloppini, candied turnip with marshmallow sauce, and the favorite of every fair-goer, teriyaki turnip on a stick. Oh, the wondrous memories.

But memories is all they are, and we must move on. Last year's festival was the first where no Turnip Queen was crowned. Today's modern woman, they say, no longer finds the title Turnip Queen an honor. Sad, really, that they cannot find the earth mother within which basks in what comes from Mother Earth.

And now, even Missus Ford grows weary of the Turnip Fest, wishing that someone would just take it off her hands and dispose of it as one would do with some lesser vegetable.

Truth be told, I am to be the last of the Mister Turnips, which means - I realize in an emotion somewhere between awe and horror but probably closer to the horror side - that I shall be Mister Turnip forever.

They say that never may Mister Turnip marry, nor shall he ever find true happiness. (This isn't strictly true since I was married to Rebecca Sue Harkins from 1994 to 1995, but the happiness part is spot on). No, I shall wander all my days through Cape Cod, down the shady streets of Eastham, telling anyone who lends an ear tales of fiber and low fat. Shalom...

Thu, 03 Nov 2005 14:48:54 GMT

White House Evacuated Again

The White House was evacuated just a few minutes ago, following a suspicious incident involving a big yellow truck which authorities claim may be carrying dangerous nuclear waste. The vehicle was first noticed driving erratically down Wilson Boulevard in Roslyn, Virginia. Police blew their horns at it, but the truck kept a'rolling.

Moments later the atomic truck was seen driving, still erratically, across the 14th Street Bridge, with the radio turned up all the way to some seventies station. There are reports that the driver littered the bridge with the wrapper from a Monster Thickburger, but these have not yet been confirmed. Bystanders stared angrily and yelled 'Slow down, Buddy', but the truck kept a'rolling.

DC police commissioner James 'Jim' Gordon called the special White House blue telephone with a warning, and everybody who is anybody has been whisked to a secure location.

Authorities worst fears were heightened when the truck made a sharp left onto Pennsylvania Avenue, overturning a hot dog cart owned by Abu Nahasapeemapetilon. "I have asked you nicely not to mangle my merchandise," shouted Abu. "You leave me no choice but to ask you again." Police fired warning flares which missed the truck, instead hitting the remains of Abu's cart.

At present, the truck is parked directly in front of the panic stricken White House. Authorities have not yet been able to make contact with the driver, a big yellow man with three hairs. Senior presidential adviser Karl Rove says that the chief executive will be appraised of the situation as soon as he returns from his bike ride.

Sun, 16 Oct 2005 16:41:04 GMT

Do it for me Bobby. Come on, do it like you used to do.

Ah, please Jerry, there are other people in the room.

Come on! You've got to do it. I haven't heard it since Ronnie's first term. Come on, man. I love that imitation.

All right, but afterwards you've got to buy me a Danish, okay. And an Expresso.

Deal. Now do it.

My dear Professor Strowski, twenty years ago I was banned from my homeland, parted from my wife and son never to see them again. Why? Because I suggested to use the atomic elements for producing super-beings, beings of unimaginable strength and size. I was classed as a madman, a charlatan, outlawed in the world of science which had previously honored me as a genius. Now here in this forsaken jungle hell I have proved that I am alright. No, Professor Strowski, it is no laughing matter ... Home ? I have no home. Hunted! Despised! Living like an animal... The jungle is my home. Then I will show the world I can be its master. I will perfect my own race of people, a race of atomic supermen which will conquer the world!

Wah hah hah heeheeheehee hee. Whew. A gah hah hah hoo hee hah hah...

Get a grip, Jerry. You're gonna give yourself a heart attack.

Har har har har, uh hee hee hee...

Come on now.

Huh huh ha, I'm sorry Bobby, man, but I just love that. You sound more like Lugosi than Lugosi does.

Well thanks Jerry. I'm partial to my Jimmy Cagney, myself.

No. The Lugosi. You should... you should do it at the hearings today. Loosen everyone up, show em you're a regular guy.

You really think they would like it? I do have it down pretty well...

Absolutely. I know these thing. I mean, you don't get to be president by knowing nothing.

Sat, 15 Oct 2005 16:57:05 GMT

Surprise Guest Surprised

Political hotshot and famous bald party hound James Carville was totally taken aback when he showed up as surprise guest at the Autumn luncheon of the Democratic Action Focus Team.

Carville explains. "I was looking around the table to see who was there, and suddenly it hit me. I'm completely surrounded by babes."

Sat, 08 Oct 2005 01:17:56 GMT

Rumsfeld States Case For Burrowing Weapon

Defense Secretary Donald H. Rumsfeld met with the House Armed Services Committee yesterday to defended a plan for studying the feasibility of an nuclear warhead that could burrow it's way underground, saying that many low down and dirty countries are unfairly burying their weapons underground so just what the heck are we supposed to do.

In 2004 Congress narrowly voted to discontinue funding for this program, but this is 2005, a new year with a new mandate and the people have voted to let the president have anything he wants, no matter how ridiculous.

Gen. Richard B. Myers, chairman of the Joint Chiefs of Staff, admitted that some of the bad countries were indeed hiding their weapons underground, but suggested a policy of post-emption, where the U.S. would wait until the naughty nations brought their weapons above ground and then bombed the hell out of them.

"That's ridiculous", shouted the Defense Secretary.

"Why?", asked Myers.

"Because once the weapons are above ground, there they are, all ready to shoot", replied Rumsfeld. "What do you propose to do about countries that leave their weapons underground? Huh? Maybe they're working on burrowing weapons of their own. I'd hate to have to explain to some Iowa farmer how a nuclear warhead just happened to pop out of his cornfield".

Energy Secretary Samuel W. Bodman asked whether this study was possibly just a cover for the Defense Department's top secret 'Agharta' program.

Rumsfeld laughed so hard that little bits of spittle filled the air and a button popped off his shirt, then proceeded to have Bodman arrested. President Bush will nominate a new energy secretary later this month.

Sun, 02 Oct 2005 15:23:18 GMT

photo from Associated Press

"Listen, Abdullah, I really do need some help with these oil problems I've got. I mean, people go to fill up their tanks, we're talking thirty-five, forty dollars a pop."

"Ah, trivial matters, trivial matters."

"Well not to me. Man, those prices go up, people expect you to do something when you're president of the United States."

"But what can you do? You are but one man in a world of billions."

"A lone cowboy..."

"What does this mean, a boy made of cows?"

"Say, that gives me an idea... no, nope, scratch that. Say, uh, Prince - that sure is a pretty dress you're wearing today."

"Oh, thank you, but this is not a dress. This is a traditional Saudi business robe. Perhaps the color is a little flashy for me, do you think? I just felt like something brown today."

"Well, it's real nice. Goes good with your towel."

"This is not a towel, Mister Bush, and I did not make this trip to be insulted. Now take my hand."

"What?"

"Take my hand, and let us stroll a while, discussing these needs of yours. How much oil do you think you need in order to save face with your people."

"The more the better, that's all I can say. How much you got?"

"Many, many barrels. But not an infinitesimal amount."

"A what? Sorry, I don't speak Saudi."

"Not an unending amount. The supply is limited."

"Well, so is my patience. Look here Prince... Hey! Someone just took my picture!"

"You should try increasing your security."

"That ain't funny!"

"You are correct about that, Mister Bush. In my country, if two men are seen holding hands on a Tuesday, they are both known as Lefty on Wednesday."

Sat, 17 Sep 2005 14:39:38 GMT

Oh My God! Look at the Size of Those Things!
'The Killer Shrews'. This fine film dates back to 1959, a period during which many gigantic creatures roamed the earth. Rodan, Mothra, Gamera: they were all big and they were all mean as hell. [editors note - Gamera was not always mean as hell. In many of his early films he was referred to as 'friend of all children'] So it is no surprise that during the trailer to this feature, the creatures were described in the voice over as 'The Giant Killer Shrews'. Nor was this a misnomer as the average shrew is a very small critter, a fact that can be verified via a visit to this scientific site, wherein the shrew is described as 'the world's smallest mammal'. So by everyday standards, one can quite rightly describe these particular shrews as enormous. To quote the trailer once again "You'll be terrified by their very nearness." How was the film, you ask? Well, duh. Fantastic. Let's make it through the setup in one sentence. A rugged and kind-hearted cargo captain is making a delivery to a mysterious island, accompanied by his trusty but black first mate, when they notice that a hurricane is coming their way, so they anchor the boat off shore and decide that they're going to spend the night, but as soon as they set foot on land they are met by a kindly old scientist, his beautiful daughter, his nerdy assistant, a Mexican laborer, and a drunken asshole, none of whom are particularly happy with the fact that the twosome is planning to spend the night, although common courtesy requires them to invite the two in the house (even though the black first mate declines because he has chores to do), and then drink lots of martinis until the horrible truth slips out that the island is inhabited by Killer Shrews. Okay, Sherlock, you figure it out. 1959, a Black, a Mexican, a Nerd, and a drunken asshole. Who's gonna get eaten on this island? [Fun Film Facts - The part of 'Drunken Asshole' was played by Ken Curtis, famous for his role as 'Festus' on the classic TV show 'Gunsmoke']

Fortunately, the rest of the movie steers clear of political subtext, and concentrates primarily on the shrews efforts to eat everyone on the island. Did I mention that the shrews are large? I don't think that I can overemphasize this point. These are huge shrews, about the proportions of a medium-sized dog; that is, if one were able to imagine a dog with long dagger shaped bicuspids that drip deadly poison and had fur that appeared to be dipped in the wreckage of the Exxon Valdez. I don't want to reveal too much of the plot, in case you are fortunate enough to view this movie at some later date, but suffice to say that much excitement ensues when these horrible creatures begin - literally - to eat the house.

And I don't think I'll be giving too much away if I say that the good captain devises a way for the survivors (who are they, hmm?) to escape to the boat by wearing protective shrew-proof human-sized oil cans as they make their way to the safety of the little cargo ship which has been miraculously unharmed by the hurricane. p.s. - Festus is lunch.

Tue, 06 Sep 2005 18:46:38 GMT

Tales of the Ex-Presidents

George: Hurry up with the glad handing, Bill. McCartney's getting ready to go on.

Bill: Don't worry about it, George. I told em not to start the show until we got back in our seats.

George: Why don't we just take these people's seats? They're closer to the stage.

Bill: Good idea... Jack, tell these folks to move along.

Jack: Yes sir.

Bill: Good deal, they left their beer. Oh, look, here he comes now. Paul! Paul! It's me. Bill Clinton.

Paul: Oh, Mister Clinton, good to see you chum. And who's your mate? Don't tell me... Chester Peabody, right?

Bill: No way I'd be here with Chester, Paul. This is George Bush.

Paul: Holy cow! Pardon me for saying so, sir, but you look a hell of a lot older in person.

George: Well you don't look like any spring chicken either, Beatle Boy.

Bill: It's the first president Bush, Paul.

Paul: Bloody 'ell, there's more than one of em? ...Very funny, Mister President, you had me going for a moment there. Well, got to run. They've lit up the stage.

George: Take a look at the lights on that stage.

Bill: Pretty gaudy, huh. Maybe they're gonna show us some haute couture.

George: Ces grenouilles peuvent le souffler hors de leur âne... Where's the band, Bill? All I see is Paul.

Bill: They're down there in a little band hole, so you don't have to look at them. Like this song?

George: It's a little wild for my taste. I wish he'd play one of his catchy little ditties, like 'Get Back'.

Bill: Not a problem. We'll send one of the secret service guys up to tell him. Jack, tell Mac 'Get Back'.

Jack: Yes sir.

Paul <from stage>: For me next number, I've got a bloody request I can't refuse... 'Jo Jo was a dancer up...'

George: Thanks, Bill. I didn't know we could do that.

Bill: Hell, George, you telling me you didn't know that? Being an ex-president is loads more fun than being president. You can do anything you want, and people just smile and wave. If I wanted a bacon-wrapped steak right now, they'd get me one in about five minutes.

George: Filets? Mmm, I could go for that...

Bill: Jack, get us a couple petite filets, wrapped in bacon, and, uh...

George: Wine.

Bill: ...and some chardonnay, maybe a bottle of Antinori Cervaro Della Sala.

Jack: Yes sir.

George: Whoa! What's happening up on stage?

Bill: It looks like some sort of serious guitar malfunction.

Paul <from stage>: 'elp! Me bleedin guitar is getting away from me!

George: Never saw that happen before...

Bill: Jack, go find Sir Paul another Hoffner, or if you can't find that, just bring him a piano.

Jack: Yes sir.

Bill: And Jack, shoot off some fireworks while you're back there. I like fireworks.

George: Everybody does... What the hell? What the hell is this racket?

Bill: Oh, that's his James Bond song. 'Live and Let Die'. Really sucks, doesn't it.

George: It sure does. I wish he'd just play 'Hey Jude' and get the hell off the stage.

Bill: Jack...

Vatican Madcaps

<knock knock> Hey Bill, open up. And tell Moose out here to let go of my raincoat. It's number 41. <whispers> I have something good out here.

Clinton: Hi there George - what's that you've got?

GBI: I snagged some of those little airport bottles of J&B. Let's get a little buzz on, whatcha say? I hate these funeral trips.

BC: You took those bottles off of Air Force 1? George, I'm going to teach you to be an professional ex-president yet. Watch this. <opens closet> Jack, get me a bottle of Wild Turkey, a bucket of ice, and some nice smoked salmon. Anything else, George?

GBI: Cheese.

BC: And some cheese. You like those little slices of American, don't you George?

GBI: You bet. Like the song goes, "The USA it always pleases, first in war and first in cheeses"

BC: "And first in liquor, thank you Jesus!"

GBI & BC: Heh, heh, ha ha hee ha ha...

Jack: Here's your order, sir.

GBI: Man, that was fast. And look, he even got the individually wrapped Kraft slices.

BC: You've got to learn to use your secret service guys effectively, George. They can do some quality work. After all, that's what they're here for.

GBI: You're right, Bill. I guess I just never had anybody to show me the ins and outs of being an ex-president.

BC: Tell me about it...

BC: Who's there.

Voice: It's number 39.

GBI: Oh no, it's Jimmy Carter.

BC: Aww, shit. What's he doing here, anyway? We didn't invite him. Jimmy is about the least fun ex-president...

Voice: I've come to booorrrreee you. Let me in so we can all discuss world hunger.

GBI: Hide the booze! Hide the booze!

BC <low voice>: Go away. There's no ex-presidents here.

GBI: Go back to the peanut patch, farm boy.

Voice: Shoot the door off, Moose. <bang bang> Hey, it's me! Number 43! Scared you guys, didn't I?

GBI: Son, one of these days those hijinks of yours are going to get you into real trouble. Now sit down and have yourself a nice drink.

GBII: Quit torturing me with that joke, Pop. You know I'm tempted... What a day. I could go for a glass of Country Time Lemonade and some ribs if I had my druthers.

BC: Jack...

Jack: Here you are, Mister President. Extra Bulls Eye Spicy Honey BBQ Sauce on the side.

GBII: Wow, Bill. Your guy is good! Where'd you find somebody like that?

BC: Tell you when you're an ex.

GBII: I'm holding you to that, compadre. Hey guys, guess what I have here in my hand?

GBI: A rib?

GBII: No, my other hand. It's the keys to the Popemobile.

BC & GBI: The Popemobile! Cool!

GBI: Thought we might take it out for a little spin...

BC: I get to drive!

GBI: No way Jose. Press ever found out that I let Bill Clinton drive the Popemobile, they'd never let me live it down. Plus, you always steer to the left.

GBII: As the senior ex-president present, I think I should be allowed to drive.

GBI: Forget it, Pop. You're already half in the bag.

Moose: Excuse me Mister President and ex-presidents, I've got trouble outside. It's Jimmy Carter.

BC: Fool me twice, shame on me. Okay, Moose, let him in.

GBI: Heh, heh. I bet it's Tony Blair.

Jimmy Carter: Hi fellows.

GBI, GBII, BC: Yiiii! Jimmy Carter!

JC: I had a heckuva time finding you guys. You know, your protocol chief had me way on the other side of Vatican City.

GBII: I knew I shouldn't have blown that door off.

JC: I thought while the four of us were together we could discuss election reform. You know...

BC: Oh, man...

JC: ...I have monitored elections from all over the world, and there is much we could learn...

GBII: Let me see that bottle.

GBI <whispering> Is there nothing we can do?

JC: ...from other democracies and from our own citizens. In fact...

BC: Jack...

Jack: Yes sir. Mister Carter, I'm afraid you'll have to leave. The ex-President's Club is strictly limited to the most current three ex-presidents, and of course, the sitting president, who chairs the club. Now if you'll just...

JC: But I am one of the top three!

BC: No, Jimmy, I'm thinking you're number four...

GBI: Yeah, that's right Bill. There's you, then me, then Gerald Ford, then Jimmy here...

JC: But I was after Ford!

BC: That's what the president said, Jimmy. Me, George, Gerald, and then you. Now if you would be so kind...

JC: This is revisionist history! I'm not leaving until...

BC: Jack...

Tue, 30 Aug 2005 15:50:34 GMT

Mister President, what do you have in your hand?

What do I have in my hand? Come on, you guys. Give it a guess. You press boys think you're pretty smart most of the time. Guess. No, it's not a Hershey's kiss. Nope. Not a peanut M&M, either. Although that's a heck of a good guess. Not a food substance of any kind. Joe Lieberman's balls? Quit kiddin around guys, that was downright mean. Funny though.

That's enough guessing. It's a parable. I got me a parable in my hand. Passed down to me from my daddy, who got it from his daddy, who made it up one winter's day in Foggy Bottom.

Once upon a time there was a wise old Texan and a young whippersnapper. That boy wanted to outsmart the old man more than just about anything. He was a bad kid, real bad, and he was just determined to make the good-hearted Texas gentleman look like an old fool. That's one kid that could've benefited from a good ass whippin.

Anyway, the kid goes out and captures a little baby bird, and he cups it in his hand, cause he's up to no good. Then he walks up to Birch Street in Austin, which is where the old Texan hangs out around the convenience store, helping widows with their groceries and gossiping with all the other old Texans. Did I mention that the old guy's name was Chester, just like the guy on 'Gunsmoke'? Or was that Festus... I get em confused.

So the kid pops up and shouts 'Hey old man, guess what I got in my hand'. And Chester, he knows right away that it's a bird, cause it's sticking out all over the place, so he says 'It's a dang bird kid. Now get your delinquent ass out of here and go to school'. And he spits some chaw at the kid, which just makes the kid madder than the dickens. So he thinks that now he's gonna trap the old guy and prove him wrong for once and all. So he says, 'Well, you got that right you old fart, now let's see if you can tell me whether it's dead or alive'. What he's thinking, see, is if old Chester says dead, he can open his hand, and let the bird fly away, and then laugh at the old guy. And if Chester says the bird's alive, the kid can crush the life out of it and throw it at the old man. Kinda makes you sick to your stomach, doesn't it?

But the wise old Texan knows what the boy's thinking, so he looks him up and down and says "What kind of moron are you kid? I might be old, but I'm still not deaf. I can hear the damn bird squawking. Now you let go of that critter this minute or I'm gonna tan your hide".

Now the moral of this story is that the people of Iraq are trying to get their ducks in order and be a proud independent people. And they shouldn't be intimidated by some smartass kid who wants to crush their bird, because the bird represents freedom, and freedom will prevail.

Next question?

Fri, 26 Aug 2005 16:41:09 GMT

In honor of the DC sniper's hunger strike, we are pleased to
reprint the following piece from his first trial.

Temporary Sanity

John Allen Muhammad temporarily lapsed into temporary sanity today, and fired himself as attorney. "I am totally inept," he complained. "I certainly deserve better representation than I am able to give me."

John Allen Muhammad agreed with this assessment. "Look at the facts. John Allen Muhammad may have killed a dozen people, and terrified an entire region with his so called sniper shootings, but John Allen Muhammad is not able to get half the press coverage that Kobe Bryant is getting. That gentleman never killed anyone."

John Allen Muhammad then turned and smiled. "Or did he?"

"What is the truth?" queried John Allen Muhammad. "Well, let me give you an example. A small round example. It's kind of like this. If I say I don't like basketball, that's my opinion. I don't like basketball. You got a problem with that? It's the truth. But if Kobe Bryant come along and say, I like basketball, then in actuality what he just said is what I said, but it's not the whole truth of what I said. He left something out. Therefore, it cannot be considered the truth. It's a lie. Because I don't like basketball - I love basketball. See the difference. So you see how the truth becomes a lie."

"That's exactly right," replied John Allen Muhammad. "I love basketball too. Almost as much as my favorite daughter Taalibah loves chocolate cookies."

"Oh that's a good story," said John Allen Muhammad. "Tell the story about the chocolate cookies. It illuminates the fine line between truth and illusion. It's a very good story, because it's the truth, even though it's about a perceived untruth, otherwise known as a lie."

"Well, Taalibah, she loves chocolate cookies. As I was leaving one day, going somewhere - but where you do not know with any certainty - she said, "Daddy, can I have some chocolate cookies?" and I said, "Sure. I come back, we'll go to the store, and we'll get some chocolate cookies, but don't go in the cookie jar and get no chocolate cookies until I come back." She said, "I won't, Daddy. I won't."

"Uh oh, I know what's coming next, sure as my name is John Allen Muhammad."

"So I leave. I come back about an hour later. I see my baby daughter out in the yard with cookies in her hands and eating chocolate cookies."

"Bet you whipped her ass, didn't you John?"

"You don't know if I whipped her ass. You never saw me whip her ass. Anyway, I am upset now because from what I see, she disobeyed. I got the evidence in her hand. I got her eating cookies. I even got her sister saying she saw her going in the cookie jar; so I'm very upset now because my baby daughter have lied to me. That's what I am thinking, . . . and she starts hiding the cookies. That is more proof. She is being deceiving now, so I tell her I want to see her in the house."

"Is that where you whipped her ass, John? May I call you John? I guess I am you. But maybe not. Who can say?"

"Well John, in truth, you are a very sorry representation of me. You don't recognize the truth when it kicks you in the nuts, do you?"

"Fuck you! Strike that remark."

"Well, fuck you too. You're just not good enough. Moron."

"Oh man."

Can't deal with it. Can't deal with it. Can't deal with it.

"Well, You're fired. You can't judge me."

"No, you're fired. You sniping asshole."

"I quit!"