Al-Zarqawi Shot Dead in "Iraq War"


One of Al Quaida's main honchos has been eliminated in yet another publicity ploy to get us behind the president. Bush's people have really put a lot of eggs in this basket, occupying not one but two headlines on the Yahoo homepage alone.

Of course I would feel slightly more impressed if I actually believed any of this war.

It's time I share with the masses what I've known in my gut for a long time now - that the Iraq War is a sham. I don't just mean we were led into an unjust war for made-up reasons - no - I mean it's 100% completely staged.



Think about it people - when was the last time you went to "Iraq"? Exactly. That's because it doesn't exist. "Iraq" exists only in the backlots of Los Angeles studios. It is the brainchild of a joint venture between the White House, Fox Media and Kentucky Fried Chicken, and it's purpose is to bolster support for the president, put us into a state of fear so that our civil rights can be eroded and just to generally spice up prime time news. (The KFC link is still being proven at this point, so I'll just leave that bit out)



Why do you think they chose a desert state, people? Why are there so many deaths there all the time? It's gang warfare, alright. But they ain't "Arabs".



Here is an exlusive photo, taken by one of Weezine's crack sources.
According to that source, the green man featured, "Al Greenfada"
was to play the villain role which ended up going to Ari
Shmechdel, whom you may know as "Al Zarquawi". Wise
choice, I think. Puppets are just too loveable to play villains.

Of course, now that Ari's character has been written off, we may be seeing more of Greenfada after all.

One of the outcomes of this whole bamboozle has been the upsurgence of money in Hollywood. With thousands of out-of-work actors finally bringing home steady pay, the studios being paid millions in hush money, and just the general "trickle-down" economics of the area, the whole film industry has been thriving.



While this was initially thought to be a bonus, (romantic comedies being the number one method of oppression in America), an unexpected result has been the ability for some of the studios to take some bigger risks. Like Brokeback Mountain. George Bush was recently overheard complaining to Cheney, "But Uncle Dick, you didn't never say they'd be 'lowed to make homo movies!" Cheney then bitch-slapped the president and sent him to bed.

Okay, I know that for some of you this is going to be a lot to digest. Undoubtedly, you've already been completely taken in by the whole media blitz, much like the original "Moon Landing" or "Baby Jessica in the Well".

And to those of you, I say simply - You're welcome!

UMMMMM . . .

Has anyone ever read the label on a bottle of Dr. Bronner's Magic Soap?


I did.

We're going camping soon and I think you can use it for dishsoap but just wanted to make sure. Instead of instructions though, there's a bunch of stuff about God and how we should all follow the Moral ABCs, which apparently include using a lot of soap.

Here all this time I thought my camp soap was non-denominational but no, Dr. Bronner's is very passionate about the "All-One", which sounds suspiciously like the diety worshipped in Walter Kirn's latest book, Mission to America.*



And it isn't just a little mention either. The entire label is filled with this teeny-tiny print that I bet most of us have never bothered to read before, and I'd say 90% of it is spiritual. Here is just a little sampling:

"Who else but God gave man Love that can spark mere dust to life! If you can teach each unforgiving minute, the Moral ABC that unites all mankind free, come hell, hate, ban, you'll enjoy God's spaceship Earth and do great work within it, and which is more my son you'll be a Man! A Man! All-One!"

I mean, this isn't just your regular loopy Christian stuff, this is like some Tom Cruise shit. Which is why I like it.

Stop by the comments section and wash your hands - we're giving out free samples of Dr. Bronner's Hemp Almond today.

* Walter Kirn is a gifted writer and I am not saying he stole this idea from the soap. Though it would be funny if he had. You should read his books, and decide for yourself.

A BEAUTIFUL MESS



What the hell is up with all these copycats lately? I'm not just talking about fashion (though obviously that bitch on the left should've gone home and changed). No, I'm referring to something much closer to my heart - plagiarism. It's becoming a national phenomenon, like avian-flu anxiety or those pink Uggs from last winter. And I'm beginning to find it just as disturbing.

At first I thought it was funny, with that spoiled Harvard brat getting caught and then trying to lie her way out of it. I mean, it's "chick lit" after all - one of the main requirements is to be as generic and redundant as possible.

And I just found it sad when this guy at school stole several poems to compete in our dinky little school poetry slam. (Taking second place and walking away with a candy bar - which should have been MY candy bar!)

But then it happened to me.

It was unintentional, and the guilty party didn't even attribute the work to herself, (which as it was my writing obviously was a wise move), but to someone else. Who knows how she got mixed up - I'm sure there was no malice intended whatsoever, and in some ways this makes it a pretty mild case of plagiarism, though still, it hurts that I get no credit for the work whatsoever.

Incredibly, the woman who did this is an author herself.



Then Friday at work I open up a letter accusing one of our contributors (I work at a small literary magazine) of plagiarism. It was just a few lines of a poem,

Like a party dress
the night
fell at her feet
in a beautiful mess . . .

Or something like that. And I don't even remember who the authors' were, so in a way I'm plagiarising right now. (Except that nobody reads this).
Could this have been accidental? Maybe.
Maybe not.
Could several people have had the exact same image take form in their heads? Why not? Or, more likely, could one of the authors have gotten the line so embedded in his or her head they started believing it was their own?

Plagiarism, upon closer inspection, is no black and white issue. Like when I did my study on censorship, I'm finding it can be a very small, very personal act. Like repeating a joke, getting a laugh, and then forgetting to credit who it came from. No big deal, right?

What about describing something a certain way, like "She's as dirty as Paris Hilton"? Does this warrant a footnote? Or what if you're one of those really annoying people that quotes whole passages of things when the mood hits you?
Like maybe you're sitting out on the deck, sipping your pink Zima on ice and suddenly you're all

"So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day.
Nothing gold can stay"

And then everyone else is like "wow, that's really beautiful man". And maybe one of them knows you're quoting Frost but two of them don't. Is this plagiarism?

It's a slippery slope, you know? I'd love to know what you all think - any personal experience here? Any ideas?

Sorry for the delay - I wandered into the comments section of The Daily Header and lost a couple days. The last thing I remember Smellrat was asking if I wanted a Helen Keller. Anyways, here's the poem that won 3rd place in the highly prestigious Vermont College Poetry Slam.


It's So Easy

feeling superior when
you live in this house.

The haze of strong pot
grown in closets, with love,
fills our livingroom where I know
loose-jeaned boys will sit through the night.

Moose barks at one who knocks at our door.
Shaggy hair will not hide
his mediocre dreams.
Condescending, I know.
But it's true.

They laugh too loudly at Caddy Shack
and at all the wrong times.
Cypress Hill fills the background
and they mistakenly think,
you can tell by the way that they sit,
that by listening they have become cool.

It's so easy to sit here
silently mocking
their narrow lives that fit
so nicely
down the mouth of a bong.

And here I sit
with my own friend
this screen.

We whisper like gossips over coffee
me in my ratty pink slippers and she
in her plastic and glass
who always understands me
and always laughs.