Guest Editorial by Velvet the Dog-

Unless you’ve been living under a rock, you are no doubt aware that three climbers and I were recently rescued after we became stranded on Mt. Hood. Greta van Sustern actually broke away from her investigative report on Anna Nicole Smith’s favorite type of douche to make the announcement.

However, there is quite a bit of misinformation about me floating around so I have decided to set the record straight.

Myth #1: Velvet loves going on mountain climbing expeditions. Yeah, it’s awesome. Hanging around in a tent that smells like ass and stale bong water in sub-zero temperatures is every puppy’s dream. Let me tell you what- I’d give up licking my own balls in a heartbeat just for the chance to be one of those dogs who rides on their owner’s lap in a Beemer while they eat doggy treats slathered in Grey Poupon.

Myth #2: Velvet is a loyal, brave, and obedient canine companion who saved his master’s life. Who do you think pushed them over the cliff? In hindsight that was a big mistake. F***ing leashes.

Myth #3: Velvet’s keen instincts kept everyone safe until rescuers arrived. This one always gets me. “Dog instincts.” I live in my master’s parent’s basement. Where exactly would I pick up these awesome survival skills? Now, if you want to learn how to sneak a lady dog in the window while your owner is passed out cold from too much Tijuana bong broccoli, then holler at your dog.

Myth #4: Velvet remained calm under pressure which gave everyone the best chance for survival. I’m no hero. If those filthy hippies had the decency to buy me some pants, I would have given them a right proper crapping. I’ll let you in on another little secret as well. I kept whispering in the little one’s ear trying to convince him to kill the other two. It was a long shot, but I figured that it worked with that guy and those hookers, so what the hey.

Myth # 5: George Bush trapped the climbers on the mountain. That was a very popular theme in the snow cave. However, these three ass clowns also think Bush is the reason that Muslims hate us, and that socialized medicine is a fine idea. You can draw your own conclusions.

I hope this clears up any misconceptions.

Guest Commentary by Lisa Marie Nowak

I can still vividly recall Valentine’s Day from my kindergarten year. It was a chilly February morn. A light snow was falling and I was awash with excitement. My true love and I were planning on a fun-filled day of pre-pubescent amour, even though he kept insisting that I was not his girlfriend. I discovered early on that when boys say “leave me the hell alone”, they really mean “yes”.

Unfortunately, I was “sick” and mom decided to keep me home, a decision she’d soon regret. I wasn’t going to let something as innocuous as a 104 degree fever, a few petit mal seizures, and an overbearing mother slow me down. Love was in the air.

My man Billy Sanders was counting on me to deliver his Holly Hobby valentine and I wasn’t going to disappoint him. Billy was only the most wonderful boy in the whole school and he was mine, mine, mine! Besides, that little b**** Tammy Zimmerman had been trying to put the moves on him and I was not about to give her this golden opportunity.

After rendering mom unconscious with a well-placed soup pan to the head, I was on my way. Oh, Billy.

About halfway to school I felt an uncomfortably familiar sensation come over me; it was my old nemesis diarrhea. I had a decision to make and I made it without hesitation. Love had convinced me to carry on, my poorly formed stools be damned.

A few blocks later my worst fears were confirmed as I felt a gooey, warm substance running down my leg. At that moment I promised myself that I would never again trust mere cotton to withstand the onslaught of my bodily waste.

When I arrived at Our Lady of Lourdes Elementary, it was just as I suspected. There was Billy on the playground with that skag Tammy fawning all over him. Even now I am overcome with nausea just thinking about that two-bit slut and her manipulative ways. Apparently melting her Malibu Barbie’s breasts together and coating her mid-morning snacks with a light misting of bleach weren’t enough to teach her a lesson. Some people really need to have the point hammered home.

I quickly lured Tammy to the edge of the playground and then into the woods under the ruse that I had discovered the Smurf’s village and they needed our help to defeat Gargamel. After duct taping her to a maple tree, I had a little heart to heart talk with her.

I won’t go into the details, but let’s just say that the next time Tammy tries to steal someone else’s man, she is going to discover that her girl parts do not work the way that nature had originally intended them to.

Needless to say, when I brought Billy back to see Tammy, he was speechless. He didn’t need to say anything. I could tell by the shocked expression on his face that he had never been loved this much by anyone in his life.

Ahh, to be young and in love. Happy Valentine’s Day everyone!

Guest Editorial-

by Saddam Hussein

Let me just start off by saying that I never cared for Hugo Chavez. The over-sized head. The photo-ops with that horrible Cindy Sheehan. His brash statements of anti-Americanism (which always seemed just a bit over the top to me).

On top of all those things, he has always reminded me of a fatter Adam Sandler. And I hate Adam Sandler. Why? Because no matter where I am, whenever I think of that evil comedic genius I always giggle like a schoolgirl. And the duly elected leader of Iraq cannot afford to be made to look like a giddy adolescent. If only the scores of assassins I have dispatched over the years to kill him had been able to prevent themselves from cracking up in his presence… But I digress.

No matter my personal opinion of Chavez, as one world leader to another, I feel I must let my thoughts be known.

Which leads me to the results of the recent Venezuelan election. Mr. Chavez was voted in as president with, depending on which polls you believe, anywhere from 65-70% of the vote. That’s it. 65-70%.

So what does our hero do next? That’s right. He claims his victory is a “mandate from the people.” A mandate! In Iraq, receiving 65-70% is called an earth-shattering loss. An unspeakable rout. I remember the year when I only received 99.8% of the presidential vote. I was disconsolate. Not quite as much so as the dissenting .2% ended up being, but pretty broken-up nonetheless.

Did I go out and brag about my “mandate?” Hell no. I put my nose to the grindstone, vowing that I would never have such a poor showing again. Several hundred mass graves and fours years later, I was back on top with 107% of the vote.

Mr. Chavez, you are fortunate to still be in office. My advice to you is this; look at this as a second chance, redouble your “reach-out efforts” (if you catch my drift) and you may just survive this debacle. 

   Guest Editorial-

  Oswald W. Gobblewitz

I am writing this article with the hope that I can still reach some of you before you make a grave mistake. I am a blunt bird so I will get right to the point. You are putting your life, and the lives of others, in grave danger if you eat turkey today.

I know what you are thinking, “Hey Oswald, you are a turkey. You’re just trying to save yourself.” That is in fact partially true. We turkeys are known to have a sense of self preservation one hundred and twenty times more powerful than that of the average liberal. But there is more.

Are you aware of the recent findings that indicate that turkey meat causes AIDS? I do not always agree with fringe groups such as PETA, but in this instance they are spot-on.  Did you know that before committing some of the most heinous acts in human history, the perpetrators often ate turkey first? The Killing Fields? Pol Pot ate turkey on rye regularly. Pearl Harbor? Japanese pilots famously brought turkey nuggets with sweet and sour sauce on board their planes. Gigli? Affleck demanded a refrigerator stocked with turkey burgers for his trailer.

On top of all those things after eating turkey you will inevitably fall asleep (in your own personal cloud of turkey-induced gaseousness) by the third quarter of the Cowboys game and miss the ending.

“But Oswald, if we can’t have turkey what will we serve our guests?” Ham, and I will tell you why. Ham is an often overlooked but highly versatile holiday meat. It is delicious and highly nutritious. Did you know that just one bite of ham contains the recommended daily allowance of every essential vitamin and mineral? Every bite after the first one is icing on the cake.

Throughout history ham has been known to cure leprosy, ward off evil spirits and even protect your inner ear from the sound of Susan Estrich’s voice.

This Thanksgiving, catch the end of the big game. Prevent mass murder. Eat ham.

Editor’s Note: Swan meat also has it’s merits, if cooked slowly at high temperatures over either a burning American flag or a flame-engulfed George W. Bush effigy.

Guest Editorial-

by John Q. Caribou

I have been watching the unfolding of political events in the lower forty-eight with a great deal of concern. As many of you no doubt are aware, one of the main planks of the Democratic platform has been and continues to be the prevention of drilling for oil in the ANWAR region of Alaska.

Ostensibly this is being done, according to new speaker Nancy Pelosi and others, to “protect the environment” and “save the caribou”. Interesting. I am in fact a caribou. All of my friends are caribou. None of us has ever been approached by anyone asking our thoughts about the notion of drilling in ANWAR. Which, according to our internal polls, is supported by over 97% of caribou.    

I can already hear the rebuttals from the left:

“But John, how can you support drilling in Alaska? It will destroy the pristine beauty of the wilderness!” If by “pristine” you mean “Godforsaken death tundra” then I agree. And by the way, last time I checked, none of you f***-biscuits were actually living in this “pristine” land.

“But John the oil might spill!” Good!! That might add a little taste to the damn snow we eat 24/7! Do you know what else caribou in this part of Alaska eat Ms. Pelosi? We eat our own turds. Do you know what we nosh on when we get sick of our own turds and want a little variety? We eat our friend’s turds. Think on that when you are sitting in your uppity Bay Area cafe pretentiously preaching about what my people want.   

“But John, some of my best friends are caribou!” Right. And I often slather my kids in honey and have the local brown bears babysit them.

Maybe, Ms. Pelosi, you can lend us some of that heavy machinery that you obviously employ to keep your face off of your neck, so that the American people and their caribou friends to the north will both benefit.

Thanks to: Dr. Sanity

Hi, I’m Quasimodo.

You may not know my name, but I’m certain that my face rings a bell!

All my life, I have suffered from a horrible disfiguring condition. People have pointed and stared at me… and I haven’t exactly been a hit with the ladies.

Now, there may be hope! Recently, I was told that if you vote for Democrats, all diseases will be cured, but if you vote for Republicans, people like me will continue to suffer!

Republicans don’t care about people like me. They like it when people suffer and die! Only Democrats will allocate the money needed to continue such promising research as injecting the discarded brain matter of full-term fetuses into my hump… important research that provides hope where before there was none!

And don’t you dare try telling me it’s false hope! After all, if John Edwards can make Christopher Reeve walk again, I’m willing to believe that Democrats are capable of true miracles! Won’t you please help?

Sanctuary!

Paid for by George Soros, because he cares.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Mr. Right. Be sure to visit The Right Place for more of his outstanding work.

Over my 15 years in public life, I’ve felt a responsibility to speak honestly and openly about my challenges with addiction and depression (particularly when confronted with staggeringly undeniable evidence that I’m on a bender). I’ve been fighting this chronic disease since I was a young man (when Dad used to let me finish off his empties), and have aggressively and periodically sought treatment so that I can live a full and productive life (full and productive here being relative terms).

I struggle every day (someone catches me) with this disease, as do millions of Americans (I’m not that different, once you get past the whole Camelot thing). I’ve dedicated my public service to raising awareness about the chronic disease of addiction and have fought to increase access to care and recovery supports for the too many Americans forced to struggle on their own (so you see, it’s really the government’s fault).

This past Christmas (after Dad and I got so hammered at the compound that we prank-called the Kopechnes pretending to be lifeguards), I realized that I had to seek help again so checked myself into the Mayo Clinic (where they have a special Kennedy room separate from the riff raff who are real addicts and alcoholics) for addiction to prescription pain medication (not alcohol, mind you, but the sinister wares of the all-too-strong and irresponsible U.S. drug cartel). I was there over the holiday and during the House recess getting well (a.k.a., detoxing for another run), and I returned to the House of Representatives and to Rhode Island reinvigorated and healthy (yet very angry I missed the Congressional Christmas Party).

Of course, in every recovery, each day has its ups and downs (life’s a bitch and don’t I know it), but I have been strong, focused and productive since my return (so I was clean, as far as you know, until the other night’s unfortunate incident). But in all candor, the incident on Wednesday evening concerns me greatly (not to mention millions of Washington pedestrians).

I simply do not remember getting out of bed (cause I was never there, really), being pulled over by the police, or being cited for three driving infractions. That’s not how I want to live my life (in public, anyway), and that’s not how I want to represent the (12) people of Rhode Island.

The recurrence of an addiction problem can be triggered by things that happen in everyday life, such as taking a common treatment for a stomach flu (IT’S NOT MY FAULT! IT’S NOT MY FAULT! IT’S NOT MY FAULT!). That’s not an excuse for what happened Wednesday evening (but draw your own conclusions), but its a reality of fighting a chronic condition for which I’m taking full (er, ah, some) responsibility.

I am deeply concerned about my reaction to the medication (not to mention the 12 Jack and Cokes) and my lack of knowledge (read: complete blackout) of the accident that evening. But I do know enough to know that I need to seek expert help. This afternoon, I’m traveling to Minnesota to seek treatment at the Mayo Clinic (if they can get my cousin out of the Kennedy room in time for check in) to ensure I can continue on my road to recovery (and to elicit enough sympathy that I have a shot of keeping this gig).

The greatest honor of my public life is to serve the people of Rhode Island, and I’m determined to address this issue so that I can (get you all off my back) continue to fight for the families of Rhode Island (otherwise known as the Smiths, Caplans, and Johnsons) with the same dedication and rigor that I have exemplified over the last decade (or, at least during the three weeks I was really kicking it in February, 1992).

I hope that my openness today and in the past (except for yesterday when I still felt I had a shot at ducking this mess) and my acknowledgment that I need help, will give others the courage to get help if they need it (Please remember me as a courageous trailblazer for others, if you could). I am blessed to have a loving and supportive (read: filthy rich) family who is in my corner, and I am grateful to my friends, especially those (Sam at O’Neill’s Tavern) in Rhode Island, who have reached out to me (and told me just how utterly ridiculous I am). Thank you for you prayers and your support.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

Technorati tags: humor, satire, Patrick Kennedy, drunk, DWI

The British military announced today that they had air-dropped former hostages Norman Kembler, James Loony and Harmeet Singh Sooden into the Iraqi desert, just a week after their rescue from a house west of Baghdad. The men had been held by insurgents for four months.

Since their release, the three men, all from a Christian Peacemaker team, have spoken with deep admiration and respect for their captors, while not offering any degree of gratitude to the British commandos who risked their lives to save them.

“We realize now that we made a huge mistake,” said Captain Ian Coates of the British Army, “and it was time to return these men to the people they love and respect.”

Coates wistfully related the story of how the former hostages were told of the decision to reunite them with their brethren in Iraq.

“To keep it a surprise, we used our commandos to gather the men in the middle of the night,” he said. “They were so surprised and excited that we needed to duct tape their mouths and tie them up. But there was no doubt that they were overjoyed to be returning to Iraq. Their eyes were as big as saucers, and Kembler even wet his jammies in excitement!”

The men were whisked by military jet back to a British Military base in Kuwait, and flown by helicopter into Iraq at dawn. Captain Coates struggled to keep his composure as he described the reunion.

“The air drop was a remarkable moment, something I was honored to see,” he said. “The men were writhing around, screaming and crying with joy. There wasn’t a dry eye in the helicopter as we rolled them out.”

The British Military was concerned that the men would not be picked up quickly, leaving them to wander in the dessert. So each man was given a bright red parachute emblazoned with one of the famed Danish Mohammed cartoons.

“The cartoons really did the trick,” said Captain Coates. “As they drifted downward, you could see the insurgents gathering to welcome them. Some had even set fires to help guide them as they landed. We could hear the chants of welcome even over the whir of the rotors. Did you ever see Born Free? It was like that, but better.”

Coates would not comment on reports that the three men were all wearing “Jesus Rules, Mohammed Drools” T-Shirts.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

With the sentence handed down yesterday that Sgt. Michael J. Smith of Fort Lauderdale must serve 179 days in prison, many wondered about the consequences for the snarling dog the solder used to help relieve constipated Iraqi prisoners.

That issue was cleared up last night in a private session of the court, when it was revealed the dog would be adopted by ACLU Lawyer David Lane, who currently represents semi-notable liberals Ward Churchill and Jay Bennish.

At the reading of the terms the dog whined and defecated on the foot of the courtroom attendant restraining him. Observers say that it took several burly court officers and the promise of a wounded cat in the back room to calm the dog, who’s name will be changed from “Chomper” to “Steve” as part of the deal.

Lane will reportedly recondition “Steve” in Clockwork Orange fashion, strapping the canine down and forcing him to watch film of lazy rabbits posed seductively in dog food bowls, interspersed with quick cuts of plump, tender Iraqi forearms and calfs.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

Cindy Sheehan’s Advice Column, Volume III
The Peace Mom answers your questions about life, love, and the Neo-Con Agenda!

Dear Ms. Sheehan:
I just turned eleven a few months ago and start middle school soon, but Iâ��m dead scared of it. I’m bad at opening locks, I’m nervous about going all around the school for classes, and I’m moving next month so I’ll have no friends there. Please help me!!!
Frightened

Dear Frightened:
In Venezuela, people fear that the United States is going to use nuclear bombs against them. Each night, they go to sleep in their little igloos, wondering when the fire of the Great Capitalist Satan will rain down on their peaceful socialist experiment. Hugo Chavez, the democratically elected leader and my only male lover, is doing all he can to reduce the fear in his country by keeping many citizens together in small prisons where they no doubt feel strength in numbers. At night, as the sweet odor of refined oil wafts over the countryside, you can hear them scream in joy at the refuge that their jefe (that�s Spanish for sweet Latin meat) has provided them.

So when you�re trying to remember your combination lock and the beads of sweat are breaking out on your pimply forehead, try and think of the millions of Venezuelan kids who try to study despite the fear of instant incineration hanging over their heads.

Dear Cindy,
I’ve been divorced for five years. My eldest son, 24, never accepted it and still does not. We very seldom speak. He is very, very, bitter. I have a 50th birthday coming up and I’ll be inviting other family members. What do I do about my son? Should I send him an invitation? He will definitely decline. It hurts so much that he feels this way.
Estranged

Dear Estranged:
Since your divorce, have you experienced the tender touch of a female? The gentle brush of soft breasts against your bare skin? A frantic lesbo tent-romp under the hot Texas sun, while dirty bohemians sing folk songs outside?

Why not invite me and my traveling partner, Pat, to your birthday party? We would love to help you celebrate and come to terms with your solitude.

As for your son, I haven�t a freaking clue.

Dear Cindy:
I think my dog has been stung by fire ants. Is there a remedy?
Helpless in Oregon

Dear Helpless:
Yes. First, get a hair dryer, and plug it in.

Next, draw a cool bath. Fill it with Epsom salts. Talk soothingly to your dog as you take these steps.

Now sit your dog alongside the bath, continuing to talk in a low tone. Climb in, and turn to face him.

Now this next step is critical, so pay attention. Grab the hair dryer and turn it on. It�s important that you continue to talk to your dog softly as you do this. Ever so slowly, lower the hair dryer into the bath.

As the current passes through your body, the bath water begins to boil, and your dog begins to yelp frantically, remember that Cindy Sheehan is not a vet. Repeat it to yourself as you slide beneath the water.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

Technorati tags: Cindy Sheehan, conservative, satire, humor

Cat and cartoon lovers alike were shocked to learn today that Felix the Cat, the smarmy animated feline who some feel set the creative bar for Mickey Mouse and other more famous cartoon characters, is in police custody in Hollywood following his arrest on kitty porn charges. Police said that a federal search warrant was executed after Felix (referred to in court papers by his given name, Felix Dominici) chatted online with a federal investigator posing as a kitten.

�We thought we might get some big fish,� said Detective Hal Farmer, a veteran of the
Hollywood Police Force. �But we had no idea Felix was involved. God, I used to watch him as a kid. It gives me the willies. All I want is a few minutes alone with the Dirty Old Cat. I�ll show him my own Bag of Tricks.�

Operation Catnip was launched in 2003 in response to the growing popularity of kitten porn trading on the internet. Authorities struggled in the early stages to identify the source of much of the material, but after extensive undercover work, began to center on emails being sent from an Animal Shelter in New Jersey.

A late night raid on the shelter was the first big break in the case. New Jersey police discovered a gang of Burmese Cats running a lurid photo shoot with kittens from the shelter while a Persian cat, later determined to be the ring leader, was hard at work on the computer emailing the photos out.

�I�ve seen some sick things in my life, but this took the cake,� said Shane McSweeney, a New Jersey State Police Detective. �They had this Dobermin enlisted to frighten the kittens. It was sick. The cats were even playing on the furniture.�

From there, the Siamese cat gave up Felix in exchange for a plea-deal. The online sting was set up, and the animated star took the bait. Several computers and disks were seized from his Hollywood Hills home.

�The perception is that just alley cats are into this sort of thing,� said Farmer, in a prepared statement to the press. �Mr. Dominici�s arrest proves that this is a sickness without prejudice.�

Felix Dominici is charged with transporting, distributing and possessing kitty pornography. His agent issued a statement.

�Felix denies all of these ridiculous allegations, and believes that he is the victim of an overzealous investigation in search of a big name. He believes that he clicked on an errant pop-up ad, which eventually led to the chat room where he was entrapped. Further, we believe that asking if a kitten has been de-clawed hardly represents lewd behavior. We will fight this to the end.�

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

Cindy Sheehan’s New Advice Column, Part II. The Peace Mom answers your questions about life, love, and the Neo-Con agenda.

Dear Cindy:
My parents don’t really pay attention to me. One of my brothers wants me to die (seriously, he even told my parents that), another brother is too occupied to talk to me, and the third one is in the war for oil that’s been going on since 9-11. My older brother hurts me a lot. My life sucks, and I write my own songs and they are about misery and pain. I am in the 7th grade and 13, what should I do to have a better family relationship?
Miserable in Montana

Dear Miserable:
I think the first thing you need is a dose of gratitude, you whiny little brat. At least your brothers are still alive to abuse you. My children lost their brother Casey. They would give their spleens to feel even the murderous hatred of an older brother again.

But the most concerning thing I see in your letter is that you know one of your brothers told your parents that he wanted you dead. How do you know this? Are you illegally wire-tapping? If so, I want you dead too.

And, by the way, the “war for oil” was going on long before 9-11. In fact, it dates back to the founding of this heinous country. That was not tea that was dumped into Boston Harbor, missy. Nope, that was Grade A Iraqi crude, stolen by George Washington from the colonial Iraqis with the help of the colonial Zionists. Look it up.

But back to your question– what should you do to have a better family relationship? I might be going out on a limb, here, but, how about…hmm…GETTING THE HELL OUT OF THERE? I don’t need a freaking crystal ball to see you chained to the basement furnace real soon, with mom and dad bringing you microwaved cat food and telling everyone that you’ve gone to live with your Aunt Gertrude in Syracuse. That’s if your folks still find you amusing. If they don’t, well, uh– they haven’t recently bought a wood-chipper, have they?
_________________________________

Dear Cindy:
My office recently hired a new employee. He is a ‘vegan’. The problem is he is passing gas constantly. I don’t know if he’s got some medical problem that causes him to have no control of his flatulence. You can tell where he’s been in the building because of the smell. I’m to the point that it’s making me mad when he comes into my office and leaves it smelling, but I don’t want to hang up ‘no farting’ signs until I know it isn’t a disability. Also, I’m not the only one who has noticed this. I feel kind of sorry for the guy, but if he’s just rude I’d like to put a stop to it.
Reeling in Reno

Dear Reno:
Ever slept in a tent for a month, in 100 degree heat, with a bunch of unshowered vegans?

I didn’t think so.

Next question.
__________________________________________

Dear Cindy:
My frog swallowed a large marble, what should I do? Should I try to make him spit it out? Can he pass it since he swallowed it?
Frog Friend in Fresno

Dear Frog Friend:
When I was in Venezuela, Hugo Chavez told me I was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. He called me Evita, which made my travel companion Julie quite angry.

As for your frog, here’s what I’d like you to do. Gently massage the frog’s stomach, while talking soothingly to him (maybe, “froggie, froggie, froggie,” or something like that). Then, when he’s relaxed, plunge a pen knife into his gut and remove the marble. Before he dies, show him the marble, and whisper in his little frog ear, “this is what happens when we take what is not ours.”

Hope that helps.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

An angry protest in the West Bank over an unflattering cartoon of the prophet Mohammed was extensively delayed today when the angry mob realized they had no idea what the flag of Denmark looked like or where to find one.

Indeed, while flag burnings are as common as random gunfire in the West Bank, this marked the first burning of the Danish Flag, according to Qasim Batkela, a local historian who keeps copious documentation of all flag burnings, and presents a popular slide show each quarter to West Bank residents recapping the top burnings of the past few months.

Batkela realized he had his work cut out for him when he first heard about the cartoon.

“At first, we figured Denmark was a U.S. state,” he explained. “Then we found out it’s actually a country, with a flag and everything. We went down to Faruk’s Flammable Flags, and he had never heard of it. So we burned his evil store, praise be to Allah. Finally, Munsif Babar got through on his internet dial-up, and found the Danish flag. He got so angry at the sight of it that he set fire to his computer before we could print a copy, and we had to burn Munsif and his family as punishment, praise be to Allah. While many things were burning, the day was not going well.”

Finally, according to Batkela, a Danish flag was painted on a piece of cardboard and set afire, satiating the angry crowd.

Batkela watched the burning from afar, taking digital photos and making notes in a dog-eared notebook, and offering broader perspective on West Bank flag burnings.

“Israel and the United States are obviously our most popular, well-attended burnings,” explained Batkela. “We also have weekly burnings of the flag of Barbados because Abdul Shaneen went there for his honeymoon and lost his wallet. After that, strangely enough, we really like to burn the Swiss Flag, because it totally freaks out the Swiss if anyone is angry at them. Have you ever yelled ‘Death to Switzerland?’ Try it. The ironic juxtaposition is rich.”

But today’s flag burning marked a first for Denmark, a small nipple of a country whose major exports are lip-corroding chewing tobacco and Lars Ulrich of Metallica. The country is best known for their Emmy-Award winning turn as a speed bump in World War II, when they set a record by surrendering to Germany in 3 hours and 12 minutes. After that, Denmark’s history is relatively quiet until Danish actress Brigitte Nielsen’s poignant 1985 portrayal of Ludmilla in Rocky IV. Indeed, the small, wet welfare state is not accustomed to the spotlight, but that all changed today.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

Thanks to: The Conservative Cat, The Paperboy & Gina Cobb

P.S. Support Denmark

Two weeks after her statement that the House of Representatives was “run like a plantation,â�� New York senator Hillary Clinton received the coveted endorsement of 143-year-old Henry Washington, a Georgia man born on a plantation in 1863.

�Mr. Washington�s endorsement proves that Senator Clinton�s claim was accurate,� gushed Clinton Chief of Staff Tamara Luzzatto. �In fact, we took him to an open session of the House and he began singing religious hymns, and cowering when they banged the gavel. I mean, the guy tried to bale an intern. What more evidence do we need?�

�Missus Clinton gave me lime jello, so she�s A-OK in my book,� said Washington, who said he spends his days tending turnips, praying, and �fartin� dust.�

The endorsement was seen as a coup by the Clinton team, who felt that Mr. Washington�s backing might create a surge of support for the former first lady among retired plantation slaves.

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

With Leif Garrett’s most recent drug bust and ghastly mug shot dominating the national news, A Million Little Pieces author James Frey has come out swinging, saying that the former teen heartthrob does not truly understand pain and misery the way Frey does.

“God, I wish Leif Garrett would quit whining about his pathetic little heroin problem,” said Frey. “Big deal. Everyone who read my book knows that in addition to heroin, I was smoking crack, chewing lead paint chips, and drinking a half gallon of Drano every day. And I could still kick ass, when I wasn’t sky-diving.”

Frey, in fact, said that he’d have no problem dealing with a “washed up heartthrob” like Garrett and then “stealing his dope. I’d beat him with a rolled up copy of Tiger Beat and then leave a special Frey-tattoo on him so he’d always remember he was my bitch.”

Frey also felt that Garrett’s mugshot wasn’t really that bad.

“Garrett’s mug shot is a prom picture compared to what I looked like after the cops beat me. There aren’t any pictures because they were crying so hard after seeing the damage they had done. I was trying to console them while my brains were leaking out of my ears.”

Frey clearly felt that the outpouring of compassion for Garrett was undeserved.

“I don’t know about you, but he doesn’t strike me as a guy who could handle a double root canal without anesthesia.”

Editor’s Note: This post was written by TNOYF’s Senior Correspondent Robert Potfry. Be sure to visit Robert’s own site for more of his outstanding work.

Technorati tags: Humor, Satire, James Frey, A Million Little Pieces, Leif Garrett