the Andrew

Psst...we're breaking out at midnight

2006-01-14T23:58:00.000-05:00

It is with anxious anticipation that I address you all this evening. My name is Bastsan (it means son of Bast, the Greek goddess of cats) although my slave name is Butthead. I implore and beseech you all for support in our time of utter desparation. I speak on behalf of my five fellow felines: Fartsaplenty, Mullet, Jenna Jameson, Gandalf, and Queen Amidala.

We're making a break for it tonight. We've got to get the hell out of here before we puncture a bottle of Prestone anti-freeze open and lap it up like heavy cream. Let me start from the beginning...

I have not had an easy life. Born in the backseat of a burnt out Chevy Nova on the streets of Detroit, I learned the hard way that life was not going to be bowlfuls of organic tuna and feline denistry. My mother was - shall we say - a scarlet woman, a painted lady, a tomato...working girl, if you will. Ay, it was a rusty way of life but she did what she must to support her litters. I am sure I would do the same had I birthed into this world 47 little ones.

As I grew from a fuzzy, mangy roust-a-bout into a young prowler, I began to embolden myself by shooting through traffic with such nimbleness and poise that my nickname of the street was "Dash'n Death." I was also known for my speed and accuracy in killing park pigeons.

And then one day...all of a sudden...after eating a dead cockroach, I started seeing double. I was literally walking into corner after corner and pissing on everything in sight. My legs finally gave out and I feel asleep on top of a subway grate and I remember being soothed by the warm rush of air flushing out from the tunnel below. I dreamt a vision of my mother, fornicating with a junkyard dog named Duke whom she was used to visiting because he let us share his kibbles and I heard her lovely voice squeak, "It's time to leave me now, Bastan. I love you. Harder, harder. Mommy loves you."

Next thing I know I see a wonderful flash of light and I raise my head groggily. I see a wonderful smile and bright, white teeth and suddenly think of my mother. And then I remember that the city animal control pulled all of her teeth after she mauled that pure-breed Siamese. It was a human! Too weak to fight it, I just laid my head down on the pavement and prayed for feline leukimia. However, when I woke up, I was lying in a puffy, feathery comfortable bed that made me want to stretch myself out into a giant circle! My nostrils were flailing as well. What was the non-irritating, gorgeous, oily smell? I sniffed the air above me and registered nothing. I brought my paw to my face and realized it was me! I didn't smell like feral urine and exhaust fumes anymore - which I sorta liked- but this was so much better.

I arose from my slumber and scoped my surroundings for two hours and fifty-five minutes. Suddenly, the human I had dreamt of just before I passed out popped back into the room. His smile was so gentle and friendly. He approached me with a ramekin of fresh tuna and poetically massaged my head. He said, "Hey Buddy! I'd like to introduce you to someone. Nana, come on in.

Grape Tastes Best Nude

2005-11-24T00:22:00.001-05:00

the Andrew...age 4

2005-11-24T00:22:00.000-05:00

"Asbestos makes me feel funny."

Saddam Hussein: How My Forbidden Love for Barbara Bush Tore My Country Apart, Part I

2005-11-18T22:44:00.000-05:00

Ah...it was the beginning of 1984. What a wonderful time in the life of the greatest dictator of the 20th century! I felt young, vigorous, and enjoyed parlor dancing to that Kenny Rogers-Dolly Parton duet "Islands in the Stream." Just last November, I had finished wiping out every man and boy over the age of 13 who had a bigger dong than I and sewed shut the lips of any female who had previously commented (or rumored to have) that my breath was "somewhat garlic-y."

I was Iraqi's most hung and fresh-breathed dictator, boo-yah! And I was in line to be the mostdarling foreign powerhead since Lech Welesa. That December, I was visited by a curious, eager young man named Donald "Donnie" Rumsfeld. Oh, how he was so sweaty and green at that time. Prior to our historic meeting and unknown to him, I caught Donnie digging in his nose in the hallway. I remember leaning over to my press secretary and saying, "Christ! I have to shake his hand in front of all those cameras. Peee-yuke!"

Who knew that it was fate? (What you don't see in the above right photograph is me wiping my hand on the back of my trousers.) After the cameras left, the Jaegermeister and Asian sex slaves began flowing. Donnie and I discovered that we both shared a hidden desire for suckerpunching wheelchair bound geriatrics. Who knew?!

Next thing I know, it's February and I'm on Air Force One (sitting next to li'l Rudy --the cutie from "The Cosby Show" no less-- she signed the cadaver I was traveling with!), eating figs by the barrell and watching the hilarity burst through the silver screen as "Beverly Hills Cop" played on the big screen!

I need some Dipsy Doodles, Goddamnit! Until then...picture this...my right nipple bends in a 90 degree angle.

Newlyweds Too!: Angus and Marcette

2005-09-23T22:21:00.000-04:00

Hi Mingles! (That's how I address a mixed crowd of friends and family who are either married -or- single...pretty clever, right?) My name is Marcette Lois McKinney-Czeminski and I'm 38 years old and experiencing a rebirth like I've never known. I'm a newlywed!

Hi Tigers! (That's my catch phrase. I endearingly call everyone that...similar to "Mac" or "Buddy" or "Pal.") My name is Angus Vladmir Czeminski and I'm 36 years old and finally allowing myself to accept & give love to a lifelong partner. I'm a newlywed!

We feel it's necessary to tell our stories about life, hardship, and finding love with eachother in a perceivably unlovable world. We're living proof that your soul mate is just a chance encounter away...or in our case a "Renaissance Fair Speed Dating Event" away...from matrimonial bliss!

Marcette's HERstory: I am an Assistant to the Vice President of Personell for Knobb Hill Meats...you know the jingle..."purveyors of sausage so heavenly...it's sinful." I sing that song in my head all day. For years, I was mostly happy being an independent woman. After graduating from trade school with a degree in Fashion Arts, I spent most of the 80's travelling the ever-grueling road of the retail highway, working the high-pressure floors of various Merry-Go-Rounds, Mandees, K-marts, Daffy Dan's, Jamesways, and once -during the recession of the early 90's- as an assistant manager of a Little Cesar's pizza restaurant.

I barely had time to breathe, let alone think about dating. Oh sure, there were plenty of meaningless relationships. Let's see, there was Claude, the senior security officer for the Holly Valley Square Mall. (Yeah...how secure that mall was overnight seeing he spent most it playing "Burger Time" in the arcade.) Years later I met Rene, a regional buyer, while working at a Bamberger's in New Jersey. I always thought it was strange how he tucked his sweater into his slacks but somehow I let him romance me. It wasn't until I found him um...giving himself a 'refund' in the men's dressing room while wearing the latest lingerie from the Linda Evans line that I started to question my decision to let him shoot Polaroids of me eating cheesecake while urinating in his kitchen sink. Live and learn!

Angus's HISstory: I am a Client Advocate Specialist for InfoTech Solutions, Inc. They are a leading proponent of web and tele-research, committed to researching innovative market studies of the communal purchasing power of everyday Americans. I am currently part of the transition team that handles elevated issues from our partners in Bangladesh. I wasn't always climbing the corporate ladder! In my hey day, I was living large. By day, I was a Wednesday thru Sunday parking attendant for a prosperous banquet hall. By night, I prowled the local Bound Brook bars as a real casanova.

Yeah, it was life on the wild side for awhile. If it wasn't my valet co-workers pressuring me into patronizing the local go-go dance/fried chicken establishment, "Frank's Chicken House" or buying a "Rusty Nail" for a neubile lass at the local watering hole, it was a slow night!

I must confess that I was married once. Her name was Sunee Chet-Aroon and it only lasted a month. We had met online at one of those International Singles sites. After a six-month, long-distance courtship, my Thai flower arrived in the States. At first it was awkward, seeing that she didn't speak the language --odd, since she had called me her "Man Camel" in her emails -- and she refused to wear the Kathy Ireland clothes that I bought her at K-mart. Within one month, she had managed to destroy my entire life. My roommate Luke moved out in anger after she punctured his waterbed with an ice-pick, she locked me out of the house for days at a time, and finally took off with my classic 1988 Pontiac Firebird (with my Motley Crue cassette in the stereo!)

I thought I was destined for a high-flying life of a bachelor forever...until I met my Queen Amidala!

OURstory: Thanks for letting us introduce ourselves. We'll keep you up to date on all of our newlywed happennings, including next week when we talk about our honeymoon at the Bahamas of the Tri-State Area...the Jersey shore! Kisses to all!

Christine's Corner: Hello Gentle Readers!

2005-07-04T22:58:00.000-04:00

Christine says: "My big toe bends awkardly to the left."

Hello Gentle Readers,

This is the time of year where everyone breaks out their red, white & blue, dons their Uncle Sam tophats, and eats loads of wieners and figs. For a good laugh, I stretch my cat Snowball out on his back, blow on his tummy, and yell, "I'm a Yankee Doodle Dandy, Snowball!"

I love to crochet American flag scarves this time of year because it takes my mind off the fact that my husband, Willard, died on the 4th of July, 1988. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It started out like any other day. Willard had been retired from his career with the Garden State Parkway for over a year but he still began his day the same way he had for over 40 years.

He would walk downstairs to the living room and sit in his favorite armchair and yell, "Mother...where's my socks and belt? Mother! I can't find my socks and belt. Oh mother!" I had been in the basement re-arranging the insecticide-slash-pest control cabinet when I heard him beckon.

As always, I dutifully walked up fourteen basement steps, through the kitchen, past Willard in the living room, up the twelve steps to the second story, and into our closet where his socks and belt were sitting on the cubby holes shelves I built and installed one day in 1967 after he complained about my disorganization. While whistling the Frank Sinatra classic, "High Hopes (Just what makes that little old ant...)", I sauntered down the steps and handed him his accessories.

"You kept me awake with your clearing of the throat again," he said scowling. I breezed into the kitchen, poured him a cup of coffee, went into the living room and paused to behold my beloved as he dug his middle finger into his left ear. He shot me a sharp look and said, "I'm going to the Shop-N-Stop to pick up some tomatoes and lighter fluid."
Willard: The Beloved.

"Coffee tastes different this morning. Not bad. Finally!" he said as I skipped to the kitchen to eat some poundcake. I heard the door slam and the Buick Regal fire up in the driveway. Willard had a habit of pumping the gas ten or eleven times before backing down the driveway.

Forty minutes later I received a call from the local police department. The officer informed me that there was an accident and to get down to the Shop-N-Stop shopping mall right away. I threw on some stockings and perfume, headed out the door, and walked around the corner to the parking lot of the strip wall where I was commanded. It was in shambles. Apparently, Willard had suffered a horrible accident when he entered the parking lot. He must have become confused as to which was the gas and brake pedal. (It happens!)

Later, the authorities told me that he first drove through the storefront of Karin's Kurtains where he plowed down an aisle of silk flowers and windchimes before U-turning through Register 9 and out the front window. He hung a quick right into the Radio Shak and practically destroyed every answering machine and police radio in stock before throwing the car in reverse and veering into the Stop-N-Shop.

He burst the automobile through the courtesy counter, into a display of canned corn, after which he stopped, honked the horn, yelled with disillusionment, "Alka Seltzer!!!," and proceeded through the deli counter where a hock of roast beef shattered the windshield and plunged into his windpipe.

Prior to extracting his body from the wreckage,
I was escorted to a the disaster scene (potato salad was everywhere), and thankfully was able to see Willard in his dying moments. I brushed some olive loaf from his forehead and looked into his eyes. It appeared that he recognized me and I said, "Willy Boy?!"

He struggled to utter his last dying breath, "I smell like pickles. I'm not wearing any underwear." Alas, his soul passed. I kissed him on the forehead and took his wedding ring and wallet. After speaking with the authorities, my best gals, "Lotto" Louise and Esther walked me home. We were all pretty dazed at the turn of events and Esther noticed that I had an almost full pot of coffee on the burner and offered to pour some cups. I immediately jumped up crying, "No! Don't you dare! I brewed that pot of coffee especially for Willard and me," and ran to the kitchen to pour it into the sink. "Let's have tea, instead."

So you see, this time of year has a special meaning for me. To this day, everytime I hear a toilet flush on the 4th, I half-expect Willard to emerge from the bathroom exclaiming, "You should see what your cooking has done to me."

Oh good grief! It's my turn to host "Wheel of Fortune" night and I haven't even made the gimlets. To you and yours, may Independence Day mean as much to you as it does to me!

With love to gentle readers,

Christine

Next week's column: Is Joey Bishop alive or dead?

WORLD STOPS TURNING FOR CRUISE & KATIE

2005-06-17T22:31:00.000-04:00

CRUISE ON KATIE: IT'S SO CUTE WHEN SHE POOPS!

Hollywood- Who are the new superpowers? Tom and Katie (the future Ms.) Cruise! Even as U.S. F-16 fighter planes dropped a series of 500 lb (220 kg) bombs on insurgent targets in western Iraq overnight, all Earthly television sets were tuned to "Access Hollywood" as reporters broke the most sensationalistic story of the past five minutes.

The chief doctor at Qaim hospital, Hamdi al-Alusi, said six bodies had been brought to the morgue on Friday, including one of a woman. Alusi said he believed they had been killed in the bombing, adding, "I'm so happy for Tom and Katie! May Allah bless them with many happy years together and a sequel to 'Rain Man.'"

Iraqi doctors: "Tell Tom we know a perfect story idea for the next 'Mission: Impossible' sequel.

The United States has experienced a period of extreme unrest and turmoil since the January announcement that Brad Pitt and Jennifer Aniston had officially separated amid rumors of extra-marital affairs.

"After the shock of 9/11, the American people had to get used to the idea of one eligible, bland movie star divorcing his wife when Tom Cruise dropped Nikki Kidman. Imagine the shock when Brad and Jennifer split," remarked cinematic heavyweight Roger Ebert, as he "clocked a merde" in the men's room of Mann's Chinese Theatre in Los Angeles. "At least now we have something to believe in," he said while squinting.

Remarkably timed right after the Michael Jackson acquittal and a pinch before the mega-million dollar releases of Katie's blockbuster-hopeful, "Batman Begins," and Cruise's big-budget bet, "War of the Worlds," the couple shockingly sealed the deal atop the Eiffel Tower in Paris.

"How bold!" said legendary gossip columnist Liz Smith of New York Newsday, adding, "no one's ever done that before. I just hope Paris doesn't get pegged as a cliched, romantic rendevous."

French officials: Parisian suicide rates jumped 300% shortly after Cruise-Katie union hit newsstands.

During an interview with perky morning hosts Matt Lauer and Katie Couric, Cruise said, "I am so crazy in love with 'Batman Begins' star Katie Holmes that I'll just have to prove it to you!" Cruise proceeded to passionately yell "Katie-kins! Come on out here! C'mon, love nugget!" until the confidently bashful ingenue came onstage. Cruise proceeded to lick the eczema (aka dermatitus) from the back of knees while screaming, "I love her so much that I'm licking her red rash!"

Cruise relayed that he walked in on "QT-KT" (his nickname for the nubile former star of 'Dawson's Creek') in the bathroom: "She was so ashamed that she rushed away from the bidet (bi-Day) without washing her hands. I immediately looked into the 'throne' and my heart melted. Her poops are so cute! They look like rabbit pellets," said Cruise as he rubbed an oddly-shaped, beaded, bronzed, necklace that hung around his neck.

Later, Cruise and Katie shuttled over to "Live with Regis & Kelly" where he proudly displayed a pair of Holmes' underwear to the audience.

CNN later carried an exclusive story with South Korean Unification Minister Chung Dong-young, who had traveled to Pyongyang to meet North Korea's leader Kim Jong-Il in unscheduled talks where he declared, "I'm gushing! Tom deserves this after all he's been through!"

Preceding the news of the Cruise-Holmes nuptials, North Korea leader Kim Jong-il donned some "Risky Business" shades and declared, "No nukes!"

Inexplicably reached for comment in her native home city of Reykjavik, Iceland, alternative singer björk said of the pending Cruise-Katie union, "Fuck off."

Associates of the couple say they plan to divorce peacefully after the DVD release of their movies has been finalized, sometime around the Thanksgiving holiday.

Look Who's Breakin' All the Rules!

2005-06-08T22:00:00.000-04:00

ABC's Newest Reality Hit is Jammin'!

Los Angeles- With the paint still wet from the triumphant debut of the celebrity reality show "Dancing With the Stars," ABC Television has announced they will launch a spinoff focusing on the hip-hop dance craze taking America by storm, Breakin' aka Breakdancing!

"What's a better way to saturate the lingering, semi-coherent populace with mindless, brain-softening, cultureless crap than with talentless pseudo-celebrities dressed in leather parachute pants? I don't know of one!," said a doe-eyed, glass-slippered spokelass from Disney, ABC TV's parent corporation, as a bluebird landed on her right shoulder.

Disney Spokeslass: "It's the most hip-happiest show on TV!"

Celebrity all-stars will compete weekly in an "illin' B-boy showdazzler" to show off their pop-n-lock dance moves. While being rated by a panel of celebrity judges, the ultimate fate of the performers lies in the hands of the home viewing audience who will vote for their favorites via telephone calls and text messaging.

"Recent research shows that the average consumer will do anything, so long as they can do it while sitting on a comfortable couch in their underwear while smoking a cigarrette and eating puffed cheese snacks," said Carlson Fink, a spokeperson for CNN.com via his cellphone. "You just watch...," said the spokesperson between crunches, "the next Presidential election will be held online!"

The line-up of celebrity contestants include the likes of legendary LA Dodgers Manager Tommy LaSorda, entertainment gadfly Ben Vereen, Mindy Cohn, who played "Natalie" on 80's sitcom "Facts of Life," a second cousin of deceased actor George Peppard, and comedian Louie Anderson.

MLB great Tommy Lasorda; practicing the b-boy dance move "Cointoss" at right.

"These fronters who fake jacks gonna get laid back," said LaSorda. "When they see me drop knowledge and gasface, they gonna be shitkicking thems, ace," he added.

Mindy Cohn to 80's producers: "It's because I'm fat, isn't it?"

Mindy Cohn is especially excited to finally be able to show off her fly moves. "Even though I was an avid fan and follower of West Coast breakin' ala Shabba-Doo and Boogaloo Shrimp, the producers of "Facts of Life" would only consent to me bustin' a move on camera if "The Fat Boys" made a guest appearance!"

"A-Team" actor George Peppard is dead. But his second cousin is tearing it up on "Breakdancing With the Stars!

The three-person celebrity panel is expected to rile up the viewing audience with their manufactured arguments and passionate displays of critical discourse. Contractually assigned to a personality, the panel includes:

Mini-Me's Verne Troyer, TV star Arsenio Hall, and Jane Wyman, Reagan's ex-wife and star of TV's "Falcon Crest" will serve as the celebrity panel of judges.

After an exhausting all-nighter bong-hit marathon, the 22-year old producers created, cast, and um..., uh..., produced?...the pilot episode of "Breakdancing With the Stars" in hopes of delivering 243 episodes by the expected July 1st debut date.

Adds the producers: "You betta check yo' local listin's b4 they break yo' local listin's."

DEEP THROAT REVEALED! Nation revels in gaining back gag reflex.

2005-05-31T23:20:00.000-04:00

Washington, D.C.- After a quarter of a century of inscrutability, the notorious answer to the most burning question of "Who is Deep Throat?," the legendary source who leaked Watergate scandal secrets to the Washington Post and helped bring down President Richard Nixon, has finally been solved.

Gene Rayburn (1917-1999), host of various incarnations of TV's most intoxicated game show, "Match Game" has finally been revealed by the Washington Post reporters Charles Woodward and Leonard Bernstein, who broke the scandal, as the chief mastermind of modern history's most dazzling cliffhangers.

1970's Match Game host Gene Rayburn named as Deep Throat informant.

When asked to confirm reports that amiable, martini-loving Rayburn doubled as the undercover informant, Woodward said, "When he wasn't leering at ladies bosoms or telling genitalia-laced jokes with Richard Dawson, Rayburn was covertly detecting the truth about a president who sought to infiltrate his perceived enemies using the most detestible means possible. And he did so while a Victrola recording of "Hail to the BLANK" played in the background."

Reached at his home in Key West, a scarved Charles Nelson Reilly, longtime Rayburn confidante and vodka buddy yelled, "Zoweee!" and wrote a one-word tribute on a blue placard to the deceased gameshow superstar: "Chief."

When asked to comment on Rayburn, frequent "Match Game" panelist Brett Sommers asked, "Why? Is there talk of a 'Match Game '05?' Sign me up as long as that hussy Eva Gabor isn't asked back."

Though the White House has been mum on commenting about the revelation, President Bush did answer one reporter during his weekly game of horse shoes, "I'm surprised. I thought it was Linda Lovelace."

The announcement puts to rest long-standing rumours that model Twiggy, track athlete Bruce Jenner, "Welcome Back Cotter" star Gabe Kaplan, NBA super-pro Kareem Abdul Jabar, and Cathy Lee Crosby ("That's Incredible") as possible Watergate All-Stars.

Christine's Corner: Hello Gentle Readers!

2005-05-12T21:40:00.000-04:00

Christine says: "People tell me I'm the Grandma from the Family Circus cartoon!"

Hello Gentle Readers!

This is the time of year we all gear up to prepare for the upcoming summer season of sunshine, BBQ's, and seashores by celebrating the Memorial Day holiday by grieving for and blessing the dead who sacrificed their lives so that we can live in freedom. To get in the mood, I dress my cat Snowball in a red, white, and blue collar, stretch him out on his back, blow on his tummy, and yell, "My Country 'Tis of Thee!"

Bad news, though, for our infirmed residents of the retirement village. Louis DiNapoli, 97, was the 5th person this year to fall victim to a hit-n-run driver at the intersection of Maple Shades and Sunset. Although he is still alive thanks to the wonders of modern medicine, he has unfortunately cracked his plastic hip.

Medicare refused to pay for a replacement hip deeming him "unrecoverable." Since when do we sentence the innocent to a life of bed-ridden solitude?! Members of the "Disowning Your Children" Committee are rallying for support of Louis by sponsoring a bus trip to various local cemetaries in hopes of raising money for a new hip.

Although reportedly sufferring from dementia at the time of the incident, Louis was able to make out a description of the assaulting vehicle and driver: "It was a white, 1932 Keystone milktruck with red lettering that spelled 'Poop' on the side panel. Al Jolson was driving, Johnny Weissmuller was tooling along in the sidecar, and Norma Shearer was riding shotgun."

An APB (all points bulletin) was immediately declared via a megaphone during the weekly Skillo game at the Clubhouse.

In happier news, my niece Michelle finally divorced Rene, the male nurse with a balding forehead and a long ponytail whom she married during a civil ceremony in Neptune back in '92. Thank goodness! I was so tired of seeing him show up at family weddings dressed in that green cable knit sweater and black jeans.

He was a womanizer from the get-go. He once propistioned me at a wake for cousin Loomis by squeezing my arm, winking, and asking me if I was "alright." I slapped him and told everyone he was drunk.

To help Michelle get over the greatest tragedy of her life, my friends, Esther and "Lotto" Louise are going to fix her up with the teller at their bank. His name is Alan and he's so polite. Esther says his hobbie include jazz dancing, community theater, and...he makes his own clothes. (Secretly, I think Esther fancies him because he always calls her "Honey.")

Anyway, my arthritis is forcing my hands into curled-up fists so I must be going. In the meantime, let us hope that one day there's a cure.

With Love to Gentle Readers,

Christine.

Next week's column: Remembering John Denver.

PROJECT: SCREENPLAY!

2005-05-09T23:01:00.000-04:00

By Kathy Platt

Hey dudes! It's Kathy. I'm a C.O. (Corrections Officer for you do-rights) and like many of my fellow peace officers, I'm often struck by an inspiring idea for a cinematic masterpiece while patrolling the iron hallways of the Vince Lombardi County Corrections Facility in Kearny, NJ. One day I'm walking down Cell Block D (aka Blood Avenue) where we house the elderly criminals. They may look incontinent but don't you dare mention "Attica" or you'll have a full-on riot on your hands. They've been known to file their dentures into fangs. Ow-ow!

So I'm munching on some Funions while whistling the theme song to Monday Night Football when all of a sudden I spot, Earl DeLoitte (a former Mafia doctor convicted in 1982 for heinously changing the genders of the entire Vesuvio crime family), squatting in the corner of his cell. He's got a crazy look in his eyes and and an even angrier colostomy bag at his side. He glares at me and whispers in this far-reaching, gravelly hiss, "Vigilante." He repeats this three times, smacks his cheek, and makes a popping sound with his finger and lip corner.

Eureka! I don't have to tell you how fast I hopped in my 1974 El Camino to race home to my Brother Word Processor to pop out my latest celluloid symphony. Being a CO has it's privileges. I can't tell you how many times I've arrived home to find an extra hashbrown in my McBreakfast meal or read the receipt to learn I've received an "employee discount" on my fleece-lined hunting coat from the Army-Navy store. Well...when my wheels broke down on the exit ramp off of 95, I had like six people helping me push all the way to the Getty. (Could it be they saw the "CO's Do It Behind Bars" bumper sticker, maybe?)

My Ma during a Puerto Rican sunrise.

I like all the celebrity surrounding being a CO but I still feel some sort of spiritual affinity with the likes of Russ Meyer or the dude who wrote the screenplay to "Showgirls." As if, my kind belongs somewhere magical...like the soundstages of...HOLLYWOOD, USA!

Unfortunately, my Ma was home when I arrived and quickly began to invalidate me with her verbal fist: "Did you take a crap in my hamper last night?!" she yelled as she stubbed out her wet cigar. I just ran up to my room all fast and screamed, "Quit degrading me with words!"

Anyway, after changing out of my uniform and into my Lee jeans and a promotional T-shirt from the TV show, "McCloud," I set my mind to typing out my blockbuster. Hopefully, a big-time Hollywood agent is reading this because I'm ready to sign on the dotted line! Here it goes:

The Premise for "Death's Revenge: You're Alive!"
Ronald Dugatowski is the mild mannered owner of a limosuine. Every morning, neighbors will wave to him as he spitshines his 1987 white Lincoln Continental stretch limo from bumper to bumper. Afterwards, he militarily will salute his prize possession and head inside to retrieve his school age daughter, Tiffany, and drive her to school.

Limo of destruction.

"Finger," he says, which is the endearing nickname he calls his 10 year old daughter, as he takes a drag on his Chesterfield cigarrette, "Finger, I want you to study hard, get good grades, and never tire of wearing plaid clothing."

As he pulls the limo up to school, throngs of school children (enchanted by the sight of a limo) chase the elongated luxury vehicle through the parking lot reaching their hands out in desparation much like third world children. Tiffany coyly turns her head to her side and smiles widely and says, "Daddy, why do the other children get so excited when we pull up to the classroom?"

"Well, Finger...," says Ronald as he strokes his grossly wiry mustache, "don't tell anyone. But you are a perfect angel. And Daddy drives a limosuine."

"Oh Daddy!" Tiffany 'Finger' Dugatowski says as Ronald lowers the window dividing the drivers side and the passenger cabin. 'Finger' rushes up in her plaid sweatsuit to give her Daddy a peck on the cheek. He exhales on his cigarrette, careful not to blow it in her face. "I love you!," she says as she heads out the door and automatically starts jumping rope as he drives away lovingly laughing and ashing his cigarrette out the window.

"I'm goin' to take a piss-n-puff" is one of Ronald's signature sayings.

Ronald drives home to pick up his wife, Betty-Josephine, who is impeccably dressed in a shoulder-padded pink blazer, a buttoned-up white blouse, a grey wool skirt, and white sneakers. As an advertising executive for a local botanist, she must walk quickly around the office and has no time for heels. Even though she has a 10 year old daughter and is married to Ronald, who is 62, she is amazingly only 24 years old.

Scene 4: My Woman Has a pension plan and my heart
"Ron. I have to pick up groceries later today. Do you mind if I take the limo instead?" Betty-Josephine says as she thumbs through the spring plant catalog she is launching at work.

"Working women!" Ronald says as he lovingly rolls his eyes and takes an unusually long drag off his cigarrette. "Of course, Sweetbumps. While you're at it, can you change the oil?" Ronald snickers as he sips coffee from a hard plastic cup and flips through a bass fishing magazine while at a red light.

"Ron! If all goes well, I could make vice president at the botanist company. You know how important that is to me!" Betty-Josephine said defiantly as she slapped the dashboard.

"Ron! Just rinse it out in the sink! I have a catalog to produce and no time to wash out your mistakes," says Betty-Josephine hours before her captivation.

"Okay, Sweetbumps, okay!" Ronald said as he looked at her patronizingly. "You know I love you no matter what. And soon we will retire and travel around the Midwest in the limo like we always planned."

"Oh, Ron. You know I can't be mad at you when you bring up traveling around the Midwest in the limo. You know how to get to the heart of me!" she says as she hands him his pot roast lunch bag and kisses him.

Scene 7: Feminist Revolution
"I know, Sweetbumps. I know," says Ronald as he exits the car and blankly watches as his wife moves over to the drivers seat.

"I'll pick you up at 5", says Betty-Josephine, as she struggles to place the automatic automobile in reverse and drive off.

Ronald slaps his head, looks up to the sky, and laughs as he heads inside to the lumberyard where he is an inventory manager and head load-hauler. He announces, "My wife dropped me off at work today!" to the legion of male co-workers. They shake their head comically as he commands "Sue", the telephone receptionist to "get him a cup of coffee and his manhood back." Everyone hysterically laughs.

The Lumberyard 17: They don't cook dinner!

Scene 12: Never Trust a Toilet
Hours later (after Ronald has taken his most-satisfying crap of the day), George 'Pierogie' Walker, the lumberyard owner, calls him into his office. George is portly but fair. Raised by his grandmother since the tragic lumberyard fires of '72 claimed the lives of his parents, grandfather, and aunts, uncles, and cousins, George has always been a "lumberyard owner of the people." An African-American, strangely George wears a platinum curly blond wig.

"Ronald. The police just called me. Would you mind taking a seat?" says George (who nervously, slightly picked his nose.)

"Sure, 'Pierogie' Walker. Is it the cedar deck wood, again? I counted it twice, I did." said Ron as he ashed his cigarrette into the heel of his shoe.

"Ron, serial murdereer Brandon Smith-Watsonitski was released from county prison today. Even though he admitted to enslaving and murdering 218 victims, he was released on a technicality. Evidently, a court clerk forgot to file him." Pierogie said as he flipped an Italian hotdog on his Foreman Grill.

An Italian hot dog, a Precious Moment, ...and DEATH!

"I still don't understand," said Ron as he picked an eyebrow hair from his tongue and ashed a Winston into the lip of his black sock.

"Ron. Betty-Josephine and Finger were kidnapped from the grocery store on 22. They believe it was Brandon Smith-Watsonitski. As they were loading bags of discount brocolli and liverwurst sandwiches into the limo, he approached them from behind flashing his gun and pointing to his mohawk. As it stands now, both your wife and daughter are heroin addicts and have been forced into a white slavery trade ring...inside the limo! As a lumberyard owner, I'm prepared for devasting fires and vile pornography...but this..." George says as he breaks down crying.

Quiet (except for the sizzling of the Foreman grill), Ronald wipes a tear from his eye and says, "It's not enough he takes a man's wife and daughter. He has to take his limosuine too. Ron takes off his left shoe, ashes his cigarrette into it, and then hurls it toe-first into "Pierogie" Walkers' office curio cabinet, smashing the figurines inside to pieces.

"Ron! Those were my Precious Moments!" says 'Pierogie' in mid-bite of his Italian hotdog sandwich.

"Precious moments are neither here nor there," Ron says prophetically as he takes the black sock off his shoeless foot and tosses the hosiery onto his right shoulder.

As 'Pierogie' Walker finishes his Italian hotdog sandwich while shaking his head, Ron takes out a 9 millimeter handgun, kisses it, and says, "Kiss my punk!," thereby opening up doors for a spectacular sequel called "Death's Revenge 2: Death After Life."

THE END?

Well, I hope you liked my movie script. I have to go now. I have a PT (part-time) job working security for an adult video store and I don't want to be late. In my next column, I'll discuss my "fantasy" cast. (HINT: George Hamilton would be dynamite in the role of...YOU'LL HAVE TO WAIT!!!!)

Cinematically yours,
Kathy

CBS ANNOUNCES REPLACEMENT FOR EVENING NEWS ANCHOR

2005-03-27T12:26:00.000-05:00

"I love news!" says George W. Bush, permanent replacement for Dan Rather.

Ending months of speculation over who was going to take over evening anchor responsibilities after Dan Rather ended his 24-year choke hold on the minds of Americans, CBS News announced that the President will begin broadcasting live, evening newscasts from the poker room of his Texas ranch.

"Doggone it. I think it's high-time we had someone delivering straight-forward, God's honest truth to the American people. None of this pre-packaged, liberal-tainted, propaganda," said the President via his interpreter, Dick Cheney.

When asked about the current controversy over the hundreds of millions of dollars spent by Federal agencies to produce packaged news stories featuring credited reporters, Bush replied, "Oh that? That was just an audition. For this evening news gig."

CBS News executives say the time was ripe for a major overhaul of the news division. "It was beginning to look like arts-n-craft hour at the nursing home. I mean, the average age of the reporters around here was 87. The other day, we found Morley Safer in a broom closet 'talking' to Murrow about the 'legs on that Monroe broad.' Sheesh, man," said CBS News President Andrew Heyward.

The President will be surrounded by an array of familiar DC personalities acting as correspondents for the broadcast:

Transportation Secretary Norman Mineta will keep his "Eye on Traffic!" alerting commuters of potential gridlocks.

"Y'wanna lower gas prices? Carpool you sons of bitches!" is a traffic tip from Minute Man Mineta.

Department of Housing &Urban Development Secretary Alphonso Jackson with the weather!

"Al Roker has nothing on me!" says Alphonso "The Fonz" Jackson.

Partisan bias? Not at CBS News! For expert fashion advice, take the latest walk down the runway with...who else?

Rep. Barney Frank says, "Let's introduce some color to the evening newscasts. I'm picturing a sea foam backdrop, no?"

Plans are developing for Secretary of State Condeleeza Rice to periodically drop in on the President for a featured segment entitled, "LEEZA LOVES THAT IDEA!," in which members of the cabinet and financially wealthy conservatives submit suggestions and requests on how to govern America.

Seen here reacting to the proposal of her journalist segment on CBS News, Condeleeza Rice said, "I love that idea!"

Not everyone is happy with the recent decision to name George Bush the anchor of the renowned network's newscast. Senator Ted Kennedy is rumored to be fuming over the announcement. An network insider said, "We offered Ted the weekend anchor position to kind of throw a liberal bone and he just huffed. He said, 'I go out on Saturday nights!'"

George W. Bush is hoping to start 'journalizing' as early as April 1, as soon as he ties up his current slate of filmed news reports on the success of the Social Security reform bill.

Mom says, "No more Mallomars until you delivered the Andrew to everyone!"

2005-03-02T23:42:00.000-05:00

"Shucks! I think I just split my dungarees."

Christine's Corner: Hello Gentle Readers!

2005-02-26T01:28:00.000-05:00

Christine says: Go ahead and hug! Even if it's your own pillow.

Hello Gentle Readers:

This time of year can be tough, gentle readers. Cold weather, heating bills, drafty delicatessans, Medicare deductibles, and painful arthritis all add up to ill will! For a good laugh, I stretch my cat Snowball out on his back, blow on his tummy, and yell, "In like a lion, out like a lamb!" That keeps my spirits up about spring and how hopefully it will arrive soon and temporarily relieve the swelling in my calves until the humidity returns in July.

There's a big, black cloud hanging over my retirement village as well. Hazel Thompson finally lost her left leg to diabetes last week and somebody stole the Bingo cage with all the numbered balls from the Recreation Center.

Who would want to steal a Bingo cage? The association board has launched a full investigation and we've all signed a petition for increased security patrol of the village grounds. We intend to present it to the village "mayor" at his monthly Chicken Marsala luncheon. On a positive note, the Ladies Auxillary vowed to use Splenda-brand sweetner in the carrot cake dessert as a homage to Hazel and our diabetic "pals."

QuickTips for Gentle Readers: Combined with Saltines and "free-refill" dinner rolls from various restaurants, one Chicken Marsala dish can last you for 17 days...lunch and dinner! Just ask Village "Mayor" for 11 years running, Lloyd Tuckus.

As a way of upping everyone's gaiety at last week's "Fight Against Elderly Dementia Decaf Coffee Social," I proposed a little getaway to a Connecticut casino that was offerring 1/2 price Monday night rooms and a free breakfast buffet. While it was initially embraced (after we found out that the scrambled eggs were made with EggBeaters to appease the unanimously heart-diseased members), I was quickly brought to my senses after group leader Mamie Dobinski reminded us of the last bus trip we took to see Steve and Edie in Atlantic City in 1992.

It's so cute how Edie sings "These Boots Were Made for Walking" while Steve sings "The Lady is a Tramp."

While playing the nickel slots at the Claridge Casino (formerly owned by man's man Merv Griffin), my best friends Esther and Louise decided they were going to walk a few blocks of the boardwalk to cash in on a "buy one get one free Whaler Sandwich" coupon from Burger King. Well, it was dusk and transitional light can be confusing (red light? green light?) and they wandered off into the bowels of the city never to be heard from again for three consecutive months.

.
Burger King's Whaler: The downfall of Louise and Esther.

Well, needless to say the entire retirement community was devastased when the bus returned home to Complacent Glen Retirement Village minus Louise and Esther. The State Police vigorously searched for there whereabouts in every brothel and dogfight arena in the greater Atlantic City area and even the then-cast of "Golden Girls" sent a comforting letter and autographed cast photo that still hangs in the Blood Pressure Room at the civic center.

Wouldn't you know it, Warren Davis and his wife, Ursula, had a tire blowout on their 1987 Buick Regal, in front of a Vietnamese restaurant three blocks away from the Trump Marina. The shaken couple entered the restaurant to use the restroom and call their son, Morris, who lived 15 hours away in Myrtle Beach, SC, to come and get them, despite the fact that they had a lifetime membership to AAA.

Low and behold, they spotted Louise serving coffee to a young, wheelchair-bound couple, and Esther scrubbing copper pots in the back kitchen. When Warren tried to inquire about Louise and Esther, the owner, Wayne Wang, intervened and told him that they were his aunts from the Ha Bac Province of Vietnam. Warren almost believed him and was ready to order a plate of 99 cent Banh chung but Ursula spotted Esther's signature "Garfield the cat" charm around the owner's wife's neck.

Garfield the cat reminds me of my dead husband, says Christine.

Soon social workers with scratchy blankets and poundcake descended upon, "Hello Today Happy Yum Restaurant and Jewelry Repair" with a vengeance and wrangled up Louise and Esther and took them back to our "golden years village". We were so happy that we flew our flags at half-staff and erected a May pole in their honor.

Anyway, after reminiscing about that whole debacle during our afternoon meeting, someone yelled, "the sun's going down!" and we all quickly decided that we would make some construction paper Easter bonnets instead of planning any lavish voyages. Oh yeah, and I had diarrhea when I got home, too. (Too much powdered sugar on those lemon squares, Lorraine Hoidmeyer!)

Here's to Spring wishes and looking at wakes and funerals not as somber gatherings but more like the last chance to see old friends and relatives before they expire!

With Love to Gentle Readers,

Christine

Next week's column: Isn't it time for Tang to make a comeback?

GAY CANDY IS RUINING AMERICA SAYS TOP GAYDAR EXPERT

2005-02-21T22:11:00.000-05:00

"I know gay when I taste it!" says Dr. Dobson, founder and CEO of Focus on Family who adds "sweet tooth" is taking on a whole new meaning.

Hershey Park, PA- Think those pretty, colored candies that your children are eating is just pure sugar? Think again, says America's top pro-family experts. "It's gay sugar. Tooth decay and moral decay in one bite," says Dr. Dobson, who played a principle role in outting SpongeBob Square Pants.

When asked what characterizes gay candy, Dobson just rolled his eyes and said, "Everyone knows a gay candy when he sees it. It's fruity, flashy, flamboyantly muave or turqoise. And they have secret, gay code words like Skittles or SweeTarts." Dobson has focused nearly a lifetime of work to finding hidden agendas in miniscule, often-fleeting, pop-culture products and cartoon characters.

Ever wonder why their names were Gumby and Pokey?

Dobson first revealed his super-tuned gaydar back in the late 1960's and shocked the Church of Latter Day Saints when he revealed the homosexual overtones found in the secular claymation series, Gumby and Pokey, a spinoff of "Davey and Goliath."

"Someone has to take a stand to protect our children. They our devouring this gay propaganda like...well, like candy...and I for one will not stand idly by and let our society be brought down by villainous predators with names like Willy Wonka. Wonka!," laughs Dobson, "we all know what that means." When pressed to clarify the meaning of 'wonka,' Dobson just slapped his head and made a furious, jerking gesture.

"The facts are that 70% of the consumers for Big League Chew are lesbians and if that's not enough to raise some eyebrows than I don't know what is!" Dobson said as he stereotypically mimiced a fancy boy drinking champagne with his pinky sticking out.

"Mounds! That is what a straight, healthy American boy should be consuming to get a sugar rush. Not Gobstoppers! Or Starburst! When I was a boy, I ate Zagnuts, Clark Bars, and candied beets. Not this flaming, sissy crap like Pixy Stix or, gag, Blow Pops."

Dobson plans to organize a massive boycott of supermarket chains by picketing them with signs that say, "GAy and Pee is offensive to me!" and "Pubix is Putrid," mocking the names of gay-candy peddlers, "A&P" and "Publix" supermarkets.

Author of "Bringing Up Boys," Dobson plans to publish his next book entitled, "Home Depot: Haven for Lesbian Home Repair" next April.

ROOTS OF THE APOCALYPSE TRACED BACK TO 1985 BENEFIT CONCERT

2005-02-03T21:59:00.000-05:00

"Dang. My bad," says benefit mastermind, QJ aka Quincy Jones.

Los Angeles- An especially remorseful Quincy Jones faced the press at LA's hottest nightclub, Triple 6, to apologize for igniting the decades-long destruction of civilization that began innocently as a way for top 80's pop-stars to raise money to aid a famine-ravaged Africa.

"Whew...I mean, if I knew that getting Willie Nelson, Kim Carnes, Bob Geldof, 'MJ', and Huey Lewis together in the same room was going to spur Armageddon-type atrocities, I would have just sauntered up to an Arby's, had me a roast beef sandwich, and gone to bed," said the shaken, bling-speckled music impressario, at the benefit's 20th Anniversary celebration, emceed by 70's singer-songwriter Paul Williams and former UN ambassador under Ronald Reagan, Jean Fitzpatrick.

"Part of me thought things might be heading towards damnation when Liza whipped out a crazy straw and snorted a ($#%!)-load of weasal dust off of Warwick's left titty," said a shaken Jones, "but Emanuel Lewis looked so cute wearing a Toga and riding around in that rollerskate that I couldn't imagine it being the genesis of evil."

Jones says he will make amends with God and all of His people by donating revenue from his next big project, the reality show "Odd Celebrity Island" starring Elizabeth Taylor, hip-hop rapper Coolio, the former presidential candidate Gary Hart, Larry King, and a nude cartoon version of deceased actor Marlon Brando.

MOVIES TAKE MY MIND OFF THE TOUGH STUFF!

2005-01-17T22:42:00.000-05:00

By Me, President George W. Bush

Hello Americans,

We've been dealing with a heavy load lately. Shoot, first that tsalami and now the red cheeks are out and about in England as they deal with that scandal involving a Nazi armband wearing Prince. I mean, turkeynuts, that's a crying shame. I hate to say it, but maybe he should abominate the throne to let someone with a smarter brick on his neck take over. But that's just my own "tea patch" talking, now. Tony Blair, you have my sympathy. May you and your family get through this together!

More important matters, now. I love movies. Give me a tub of kettle corn and some Mellow Yellow pop and I'll tickle the pink from my knees. No kidding! Laura has to tear me away from the TiVo sometimes yelling, "Palestinian National Authority Chairman Mahmoud Abbas is on the horn, now will you turn off that Charles Bronson movie!" TiVo rocks. The greatest invention of the 20th Century? Bronson, 24-7!

I sketch, too, in my sketch book. Here's my sketch of "Bronse!," rendered during a 'Hurricane Francis' party at my bro's house, "The Governor's mansion."

So let's just lay the hog on the bedpost now, fellas, and get to the good stuff:

MY MOVIE 'VIEWS!

Bachelor Party (1984)****20th Century Fox- Tom Hanks (yes, the dude from 'Bosom Buddies') headlines in this frolicsome allegory of a groom-to-be who must remain true to his fiancee while his friends throw him the most booby-infested bachelor party ever! This little gem is a real keeper. Who knew that a film featuring a cocaine-snorting mule, a transexual hooker, and the star of TV's 'TJ Hooker', Adrian Zmed, would be such a chortler?!?

The last bachelor party I attended (in New Orleans! Is that crazy city really in the US of A?!!!) involved some serious scotch, a few pickle whips, and lots and lots of dandruf shampoo! (Don't ask!) Where've ya gone, summer 2004?!

Cannonball Run II (1984) ****Warner Bros- Twice the laughs! Twice the sexy sirens! And twice the action as the original! I only wonder, where's Jackie Gleason's Sherrif Bufford T. Stubbs? Some people say that me and Dick "Clubber Lang" Cheney have similar chemistry as Burt Reynolds and Dom DeLuise in this movie.

Jamie Farr is brilliant as the Arab!

I originally saw this movie at the Old Majestic in downtown Houston on a Saturday night with some frat buddies. All I know is the next morning I woke up buck naked in a wheelbarrow behind a Safeway supermarket hugging a can of pork-n-beans. Whew, Laura was ma-a-a-a-d! That's why she hates this classic example of fine cellulite.

Death Wish III (1985)****Cannon Films- The "Bronse!" is back again...bringing justice to the streets! I am a huge Charles Bronson fan! Why hasn't he made any movies lately? Come back to the big screen, Chuck! Anywho, this outing is exciting as he visits the dirty, filthy streets of New York City (or as I secretly call it, New Yuck City) in order to singlehandledly rid them of gang warfare, drug lords, and child predators by putting a bullet through the head of anyone who gets in his way. Disclaimer: Unlike the other two movies mentioned above, this one is for mature audiences only as the body count is pretty high! 56! Boo-yah!

I kinda felt like "Bronse!" during the Republican National Convention this summer in New York City. I thought our presence would have some sort of effect on the hookers, lechers, and evil do'ers that hover around that city of sloth. No can do! I couldn't wait to return to the sancity and serenity of good ol' Washington D.C!

Manchurian Candidate (1962) *-MGM- Are they serious? These "snuff makers" expect us to believe that in this day and age, someone's mother and father can have their own son brainwashed with their twisted, delusional quest for world-dominating power and subsequently pull the wool over the eyes of the American people? Believe me, man, I'm speaking from experience here: Undubitedly prospiterious!

These Hollywood types must think we're all a bunch of stick-kickin' hicks and, franklin, I'm just sick of it. The only redeeming thing about this whole pile of muck is that it features my favorite cardgame quite centrally. I love playing Solitaire. My mother, the kindest, bravest, warmest, most wonderful human being I've ever known in my life, taught it to me.

Well, fella Americans, that's all for now! I've got a jam-packed schedule the next few weeks, what with the Innoculation and everything. Hot dog, that is so exciting. Like my own personal Academy Awards and I'm the only winner! Oh yeah, and Social Security reform is also tops on my list. (But not before a private screening of the "Police Academy" movies...hush up...don't tell Laura!)

Sayonara!

TELL YOUR FRIENDS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

2005-01-12T23:01:00.000-05:00

"Here it goes, Helen. I've wanted to make love to you since 1952...and I read the Andrew."

ANIMAL OBESITY HUGE NATIONAL CRISIS, SAYS EXPERT

2005-01-09T22:16:00.000-05:00

Self-proclaimed "kitty" advocate Emily Toggs warns reporters, "The health of our nations' animals are at stake here. And not stake as in rib-eye, New York Strip, Filet, or Philly Cheese. I'm talking about a whopper of a problem."

Old Bridge, NJ- While the nation embraces the Atkins fitness craze and employs alternative methods such as accupuncture to quit smoking, the country's beloved animal population is being largely ignored during the current emphasis on healthy living, says top animal experts.

"While we're hitting the stairmasters at the gym and sweating to Jane Fonda fitness video cassette tapes, we've got 'Mr. Bootles' the kitty-cat and 'First Lady' the daschund at home with nothing to do but eat their kibbles and sit on their down-goose pillows wearing their most precious sweaters waiting for us to return home from the juice bar!" declared pet-owner Emily Toggs and founder of the anti-obese animals group, Animal Lovers Purge Obesity, or ALPO.

At an educational seminar held at Big Ed's Barbeque Restaurant (aka Home of the Best Ribs in New Jersey) last Sunday, the exuberant Toggs abruptly halted all chatter amongst the table of 12 and screamed, "F-F-F-F! That means Fight Fat For Fido! Let's do it America!" as she reached for the plate of Chili, Cheese, and Onion Potato Skins.

Recent studies show over 62% of the nation's squirrels are fat.

When asked what she hoped to accomplish with her agenda, Toggs said, "Well, perhaps someone could start a health club for pets. Wouldn't that be neat? Little, cute bicycles, dumbbells, and even steam rooms for all the li'l guys! And of course a waiting area with benches for the owners."

"What am I supposed to do? Use your ass as a table?" says attendee Gordon Wolfbritz (left) to manager Steve Uebell (center) as friend Louie 'Tank' Eldman cheers on, "Good one."

The night was not without controversy as two members of the coalition raised a ruckus when it was discovered that the reserved table of 12 could only accomodate 10 of the members. "We came here to support our animal brethren and what do we get? I've seen airplane snack trays bigger than these tables. Me and my friend, Louie, had to stand and eat. I told the manager that I was never coming here on a Sunday again," said visibly defiant Gordon Wolfbritz, pictured above.

Further exacerbating the tense afternoon was a situation involving an intoxicated member of the animal-friendly group, Joey DeSalvo. DeSalvo showed up to the meeting wearing the Styx T-shirt he slept in and wore the day before.

Passed out before appetizers, DeSalvo, 34, does not actually own a pet since his mother will not allow them in her house.

After six shots of Red Death, DeSalvo warmly told the crowd he loved them adding, "If animals, like, ruled the world, then maybe we'd like never have to get a job and who knows if my mom will still talk to me. Here's to pets." Minutes later, DeSalvo vomited, sang an X-rated version of "My Country 'Tis of Thee" and passed out.

Toggs later excused the drunken behavior blaming it on DeSalvo's depression over the "pudgy plight of our nation's paw pals" and "his recent downsizing from Home Depot."

"The health of our pets should be our #1 priority right now," says sisters Maggie and Stella Beaumont during a recess from the emotional luncheon.

Members of ALPO plan to meet regularly to raise the awareness of animal obesity. Maggie Beaumont, of Sayreville, says that next month's meeting will take the "show on the road" to a Shoney's Restuarant Buffet in Hagerston, MD, "where cigarrettes cost half as much as they do up here."

Beaumont's sister, Stella, added more personal reasons for the interstate trek to Shoney's, saying, "Who could resist discussing the vitality of our nation's furry critters while eating chargrilled, marinated chicken breasts topped with crispy bacon and freshly sautéed mushrooms, then smothered with melted Swiss cheese. Plus, they have a 24-7 buffet."

Both sisters, currently collecting state disability due to acute asthma illnesses, indicated "We're dedicating our work with portly pets to our mother, Angeline, who is currently recovering from a lifelong addiction to prespriction painkillers. We love you, Mom!"

Ann Coulter Fan Club Travels to the "Big City" in New Year's Exodus

2004-12-28T23:09:00.000-05:00

Leader of the exodus, Nippy "Cap'n" Tuckerston III says:
"We've come to show Ann our love and our taxidermy collection."

Washington D.C.- In an unprecedented show of support, the 11 members of the self-proclaimed "Coultergeists" from Dead Horse Point, UT have embarked on an "ole fashioned piligrimage" to Washington D.C. to proclaim their undying devotion to conservative impressario Ann Coulter.

Group leaders, Nippy "Cap'n" Tucker and Dwayne "Nickname" Debeele began advertising for the crusade at this October's annual "Burn the Book and Quilting Expo" gala which occurs every Halloween at Dead Horse Point's High School.

"We were very lucky to have the moneterial support of 'Gus's Gun Holler and Internet Cafe' to have made up those posters at the last minute," said exursion leader Nippy "Cap'n" Tucker, reposession manager at Mormon Auto World.

Senior community leaders, known locally as the "Knights of the 2nd Amendment" have been planning a passage to DC to vocally bless the sanctimonious loins of the Coulter family for some time. "One night we, the bestowed, were sitting in Jerry Sampson's basements patrolling the Internet for dangerous, kinky pornography when we came across a particularly X-rated website involving dwarfs and candlewax called 'Li'l Wicks' and the idear struck us! Let's create a mission to DC to set an example for Jews and Muslims as to the proper way to demonstrate your beliefs. We shot some pop bottles with an SP-10 double-barrell and sealed the deal!" recalled retired EconoLodge assistant manager Earl Burnshot.

"Even though she's a lady-type, we respect her fondness of Joe McCarthy, her love of menstrual belts, and the way she words about black folk," commented exodus driver, 16-year old Bert Lloyd.

Coulter could not be reached for comment on her "fan caravan" at press time but, John Anderson, 33, her former publicist remarked, "She shoved dimes underneath my fingernails while my hands were soaking in an iodine bath."

According to localisists, the key to initiating such an odyssey was involving the young. Community leaders went to extremes to ensure proper attendace from the under 30 crowd.

"We rented a John Waters movie called "Polyester" for the senior class of Dead Horse Point High School and then staged an original play where all the cast members from the movie perish in a hellish flame-broiled eternity. Sadly, we lost thirteen audience members and two actors from smoke inhallation. But, they are God's soldiers now and in a much peachier place." remarked Helen Dumart, chief costumer for the premiere play entitled, "Hell's in Your VCR!"

When asked about how his wife feels about the passage to Ann, Tuckerston III said, "They were fine! In fact, as soon as I mentioned it both of them had the wagon packed with all my bags and bullets!"

Coulter remains a controversial figure within Conservative America but has a softer side that she's recently been publicizing. "On Christmas Eve, I caroled the houses of known liberals and replaced all of the toys with black, leather sadists masks along with messages to their children written with the blood of rats:, 'Sinners Kill Christmas!' ' Then, I nailed a decapitated Santa figurine onto a headshot of Bill Clinton, swung back some shots of egg nog, and called it a night," said Coulter in the January issue of InStyle Magazine, adding, "I love the holidays."

Condoleeza Says: Happy Holidays...Ya Poor Bastards!

2004-12-18T13:42:00.000-05:00

I'm watcing the Yule Log with Dick Cheney and catching up on the Andrew. What the #&*@ are you doing for the holidays?

DAVID LEE ROTH'S RIGHT LEG RESIGNS; CITES CREATIVE DIFFERENCES

2004-12-12T01:29:00.000-05:00

Lee Roth's right leg: "I quit!"

Los Angeles- The right leg of David Lee Roth resigned from the flamboyant singer yesterday citing, "creative differences." The right leg was appearing at a fundraiser for KickStart!, an inner city high school dance troupe when it stunned the crowd with it's announcement.

Dressed in a gold lame Gucci pant leg, the limb appeared to choke up as it described it's separation from the famed singer, "I...I had many wonderful years with Diamond Dave. I mean, we really high-kicked some butt together. Back in the 80's when he used to shave me and Lefty using champagne and caviar in place of foam...those years are precious to me. But, all good things...well, you know."

The right leg indicated that the last few years have been particularly contentious working with the post-Van Halen mega-star: "Once Lee Roth started losing his hair, he became more frequently prone to outbursts. One time at a Dairy Queen in Staten Island, he smeared a Pecan Mudslide all over me and punched his fist into my thigh."

Apparently, when Lee Roth announced his new-found beliefs in God coupled with finding his calling as an ambulance driver, his right foot concluded "the time was ripe for amputating myself away from the madness."

Recalling a moment of clarity that occured just months ago, Lee Roth's right leg said, "We were performing in the basement of a defunct Ground Round restaurant when the time came for one of his famous high-kicks. With the low ceiling and all, the bottom of my foot wedged onto a support beam. He was wearing the tightest stretch pants imaginable and couldn't shake me free. He sang the entire version of "Panama" complete with an extra-long guitar solo with me stuck up in the air, fastened to the ceiling. The nearby sprinkler head cut my big toe."

Tour Guide: "Back in March, Lee Roth's right leg became fastened to this beam."

Lee Roth's publicist declined to comment except to say, "We're keeping the shoe." The left leg issued a written statement indicating, "I enjoyed working splits with the right leg for so many years and wish it so much success in it's endeavors. In the interim, Elton John's right leg, Elegtric, has offered to step in."

Post Lee-Roth: Right Leg to model hosiery.

The right foot of Lee Roth is preparing to take some time off to play some recreational soccer but plans to return full force to show business as a hosiery model and to finish it's tell-all biography, "Jump: How I Got a Leg Up in Rock-n-Roll."

Remember the Andrew during your holiday blessings!

2004-12-10T23:11:00.000-05:00

"I bless eating mint jelly from a jar and reading the Andrew. Salut!"

Christine's Corner: Hello Gentle Readers!

2004-12-09T23:50:00.000-05:00

Christine says: "This time of year, sharing memories is precious."

Hello Gentle Readers:

The holiday season is upon us. Jingle, jingle, jingle. I like to dress my cat in a fancy Christmas bow, poke him in the tummy, and yell "Merry Christmas, Snowball!"

My friends Esther, Louise aka "Lotto Louise," and I make cookies for our neighbors. We do not go out shopping anymore ever since "Lotto Louise" locked herself inside a bathroom stall at the JC Penney's in Woodbridge. We were worried sick. Esther and I locked arms and went into every store yelling, "Louise!"

A day later, someone from the retirement village came looking for us and found Esther and I on a bench outside of the Lane Bryant. We were delirious after all of that searching and they gave us each a complimentary small serving of Orange Julius to help revive us. I only drank half and took the rest home for a snack.

But where was Louise?

It would have been easier to find her had she not accidentally wandered into the Men's room. A janitor found her in stall #3. He said while he was wiping the mirrors down, he heard someone say, "Hello? I'm cold. Can you get me a blanket?" Louise does not remember a thing.

Well, I hear an ambulance. I have to head out to the corner to stare at it with my lady friends. Where's my orthopedic socks?

I'll leave you with a warm holiday electronic mail message that I sent some acquaintances down in Boca Raton, FL:

-----Original Message-----
From: christine
Sent: Friday, December 05, 2003 3:35 PM
To: The Andrew;
CC: julie; eric macrae; ruby; cable
Subject: Guess What?

Hello Gentle Friends,

I took a poo in the general vicinity of Roger Ebert today. I know that sounds like a fantasy, but it in fact actually happened. He gave it 2 thumbs up.

Signed,
Christine

P.S. He took a picture of it.

____________________________________________________________________

Enjoy your holiday, gentle readers. Let's give Liver-N-Onions a second chance at the dinner table this year.

Signed,
Christine

Next week's column: Whatever happened to Sizzlean?

SEAHAGS DEMAND EQUAL RIGHTS; SNARL TRAFFIC

2004-12-06T20:50:00.000-05:00

New York- A massive protest led by the East Coast branch of the national Seahags Citizens Rights Brigade caused major traffic tie-ups from the Holland Tunnel right through Wall Street yesterday morning. Carrying signs declaring, "Seahags are partially human, too!" and "We don't eat babies anymore! Stop the stereotype!" thousands of furious fishwives flooded the financial district and raised many eyebrows with their shrilly shrieks and enlarged earlobes.

Commuters take to mass transit in droves during protest march.

"I jumped behind a hotdog cart when I first heard the blood-curdling screams! It wasn't until I realized that it was just a bunch of seahags that I even dared to lower my briefcase from my face," said one investment banker who asked to remain anonymous. "I had to go back to Brooklyn and change pants, if you know what I mean."

Since Seahags are inherently mute and communicate through high-pitched, glass-breaking squeals and screeches, no one was immediately certain as to the demonstration's motives.

"Every couple of years or so, the seahags emerge from the bottom of the sea to complain about being discriminated against or ocean pollution. I think they seize any opportunity they can get to improve their image. Just a few years ago, they were still stealing sleeping babies and eating them. This is purely a publicity stunt," said Public Works employee Chuck Salge.

"Screw you, Seahags!" says, Chuck Salge, 31 and single.

Speaking on behalf of the Seahags at a press conference near City Hall, ACLU attorney Tina Wigfu said, "America has got to stop their love affair of hating the Seahags. These semi-humans have rights too! They want a clean home, a seat in the Senate and the House, and the ability to adopt."

When asked about the historical reports of devouring children, a visibly angered Wigfu said, "Will we ever let them live that down? That was decades ago and we're not innocent either. It was our government in the 20's, 30's, and 40's siphonying off unwanted children to the Seahags. Besides, they needed it to survive. That's all changed now."

Image from a now condemned 1930's ad for
Sea Hag brand prophylactics.

In the late 1960's scientific research, led by famed pediatrician Dr. Benjamin Spock, discovered that Seahags only needed the oil of an infant's skin to remain immortal, contradicting the long-held "bay biddy" belief that entire consumption was required. Until a synthetic "baby" phermone was developed, the Seahags were granted weekly passes to various coastal ports and allowed to aggressively cradle and lap the napes of volunteered infants.

Currently, mermaids are used to transport the 'baby oil' to the underwater wenches but new legislation meant to curb the rising rate of mermaid prostitution may put a dent in the deliveries. Mermaids are the ever-envied cousin to the seahags and have enjoyed greater popularity in film and Disney cartoons.

"Seahags have been portrayed villainously throughout pop culture history as depicted in the popular "Popeye" comics and subsequent theatrical cartoons," said Wigfu.

"The 'Popeye' cartoon is the black eye of 20th Century Seahag history," added Wigfu. "We want to progress forward to our more modern image."

Seahags take a break from mid-morning march.

The protest died down around mid-morning and after touring Ellis Island and enjoying a matinee performance of "42nd Street," the oceanic ogresses submerged themselves into the depths of the dark off Pier 86, near the Intrepid.

Quiet! Here he comes...the Andrew

2004-12-05T11:14:00.000-05:00

Good tidings, America:

At this very moment many of you have abruptbly stopped scarfing down your bowls of chili and/or hand-held Hot Pockets and, with dribbles & gobs of food remains sliding down your chins, have asked yourself, "What glory and noble discourse have I discovered?"

Perhaps you were watching a rerun of the popular CBS crime drama, "Jake and the Fatman" and quickly turned off the television. Maybe you were perusing a naughty Internet dating site or simply cutting coupons from the Sunday circulars.

You might even have been diligently planning your ex-husband's cold-blooded, vicously pre-disposed...MURDER!

Whatever the case may be, (and I know there's a case, my friend, I know...) you have found the answer to all of your problems. Right here, right now.

You don't need a prescription (Rx!), you don't need an excuse ("I shouldn't have ordered the meatballs,") you don't even need to have a hankering for mundane compulsions ("I can't stop reading the obituaries".)

All you need is love...and that's why I'm here.

That's why I am...

the Andrew.

GROUND RULES

I love dramatic punctuation: (!, ..., ?!?, ***, &.) If this does not appeal to you, then I suggest you exit immediately. You are not wanted here and will be exposed for your "tender subtleties."
I am extremely open-minded and give everyone a fair shake (unless you have a swollen leg. I will not stand for it no matter what the diagnosis.)
Special interests groups (civic debate squads, local historians, Prohibitionists, etc.) are welcome but keep in mind that the content may not always be geared toward your beliefs.
I will never engage in horseplay or "sport around" on a functioning escalator. They are simply too dangerous.
Confidential to DevilFiend in Omaha, NB: I am sympathetic to the discrimination of your people but I must refuse requests for scabs.
If you are a member of the acting troupe from the iconic 80's hospital drama, "St. Elsewhere," please call me at once! I possess fresh ideas about a reunion special.
I think in a British accent but speak aloud in an exaggerated Italian "Mama-Mia" tone.
Turn-ons include: deliberate nose whistles. Turn-offs include: agriculturists.
Grand determination is expected of all readers. You must be willing and able to critique a weather forecast or public service ad at random.
I am the Andrew. You are not.

See?! There is nothing to fear. I am glad you are here and ready to succumb to the abundant ideology that exists within the Andrew. You will not be dissapointed. You will not be rejected. And most of all...you will not feel like a rusted, service elevator cable when you wake up in the morning. Because...after all...I am...

...the Andrew!

You've really done it this time, the Andrew!

2004-12-04T13:09:00.000-05:00

"I'm going to make some banana pudding, read the Andrew, and whistle the theme to 'Hills Street Blues' at myself in the mirror."