Pat: The Magazine for Guys

(Originally printed in Pat: The Magazine for Guys #10, Dec. 2000)

By special request of Patsy Fishbait, editor extraordinaire and all-around boy-band hunk, here, for your perusing and possible worship, is another glimpse into the twisted, blood-soaked psyche of the man with no name, Kevin Whatever. You need a hero? You're sick of people still talking about assholes like Michael Jordan and Gandhi and Nathaniel Hawthorne? Come on over to the darkside. Our hero for this month, and don't tell me you didn't see it coming...

Ted Bundy.

Is there anybody at this point who can't recognize the true greatness of this man? Ted Bundy killed a lot of girls. A fuck of a lot of girls. So many, in fact, that the FBI keeps finding them buried in hillsides and state parks now, 11 years after Florida gave him the chair. Jane's Addiction wrote a song about him--"Ted, Just Admit it"; Mark Harmon played him in a two-part made-for-TV mini-series--The Deliberate Stranger; and the highest honor of all--Kevin Whatever, ever the master of pointless deviousness, is listed in a group photo in the WIU yearbook for the '97-'98 as, you guessed it, Theodore Bundy. There's even a punk rock band out there somewhere called The Ted Bundys, and another called Ted Bundy's Volkswagen, but they're probably crap.

It's believed that Bundy killed his first victim, an eight-year-old blonde girl who disappeared from his neighborhood and was never found, when he was fourteen. When he was put to death on Jan. 20, 1989, in the electric chair known as "Old Sparky" in Raiford State prison in Florida, law enforcement had only managed to pin 37 murders on him. His actual body count has been estimated at 172, but with so many serial killers running around in the Pacific Northwest in the 1970's, some of whom have never been caught, it's unlikely that all of these victims were Bundy's. I'm willing to split the difference and call it 169, which is still impressive as all hell.

Bundy was an actual genius, with an I.Q. of at least 164, and a professional student. He studied law, Chinese, sociology, even worked at a rape-crisis center with Ann Rule, who would go on to write The Stranger Beside Me a few years later (an excellent book, if you can find it). He liked to use college campuses as his hunting grounds, faking injuries to get stupid chicks to carry his books to his car, where he kept a crowbar hidden behind the rear tire. When they weren't looking, WHAM, no more sorority bitch. As near as anyone can figure, Bundy's main thing was anal sex. He loved it so much he not only killed for it, but sometimes went back to a drop site two or three times to butt-pop the corpses until they got too ripe.

His greatest achievement was at the Chi Omega sorority house on the Univ. of Florida campus, where he broke in, went ballistic, and killed and/or raped four girls, even going so far as to shove a Suave shampoo bottle up one chick's ass, which it took the coroner a half-hour to get out the next day. Then he went six blocks over, broke into an apartment, and killed another chick. Then he stole a car, rode around for two days straight, kidnapped a twelve-year-old girl, and gave her the full Bundy Blind Date treatment. Not exactly the stuff Boy Scout merit badges are handed out for, but you have to admit he was ambitious. Patsy and I haven't had that much fun in the last year and a half.

The cops caught Teddy, but his fun still wasn't over. While sitting on death row in Raiford he had plenty of time to catch up on his newspaper reading, and discovered that a kindred spirit, the Green River Killer, was racking up a lot of dead hookers on his old hunting grounds. Bundy, ever eager to be a good citizen and pissed off that somebody was going to beat his record, offered to help the cops catch the new guy, as long as they would let him see crime scene photos of the dead bodies. The FBI visited him in jail, with pictures, and freaked out when they realized that Bundy was getting raging boners looking at decomposing sluts. One of the best books ever written describes these meetings in graphic detail--The Riverman, by Robert Koeppel, one of Whatever's Recommended Reads (it gave him nightmares for a month straight the first time he read it, and he's polished it off four more times since).

At the end, things didn't go so well for our man Ted. The Governor of Florida stopped granting him stays of execution, and Bundy started confessing to a bunch of other murders in the hopes that they would let him live long enough to try him for them. No dice. Bundy fried. The Green River Killer was never caught, and Seattle police have his body count numbered at a minimum of 44.

As bad as this looks for the Bundy name, the game is not over yet, loyal readers--while in prison, Bundy managed to get married and father a daughter, so there's still a chance that somewhere out there, under a different name, the Bundy gene is coursing through another set of veins, just waiting for the rainy night when the right chain of events will set it off. Makes you wish you'd paid more attention to the Biology lesson on Punnett Squares, doesn't it?

Now, what have we learned from all this? Girls need to quit freaking out over goofy butt sex, for one thing. If Ted Bundy had been able to get some back door action on a regular basis, a lot of people would still be alive today. I mean, Jesus Christ, ladies. If it comes down to you having to deal with a pain in the ass and somebody else dying, is the diameter of your asshole really all that important? It's not like you walk around showing it to everybody. Just bite the pillow and think of Florida, for fuck's sake. Porn stars do it all the time, and most of them look like they're having fun. Chicks always freak out any time you try to go in through the sunporch. "Why would you want to do that?" But there's a medical reason, bimbos. The anus has 83 more muscles and is 17 degrees warmer than the vagina. So give that shit up, bitches, and everybody's happy. Hells yeah. And a butthole is good all month long, if you know what I mean. As Ted Bundy would say, go anal or go face down on a mountainside with a bottle of Suave up your keister, sweetie.

If you haven't read Part 1 or Part 2, yet, do so immediately, because there is no possible way you will ever understand this article without some solid background information on what has come before.

Opening an umbrella while indoors

We all know that "gettin'-Mary-Poppins-wit-it" inside is bad luck, but if Thai legend is to be believed (which it is), now you must also beware of opening a poltergeist-portal. A ghost-gate. A bridge to Booberry. But why? My guess is these are benevolent, helpful ghosts. If the movies Ghost Dad, The Heavenly Kid, and The Exorcist have taught us anything, it's that some ghosts are friendly. Umbrella-influenced specters could be the kind that appear to warn you about being irresponsible and possibly poking out the eyeball of whoever's standing nearby. Seriously, watch it! But it could also be just another vengeful spirit, ready to possess you and slaughter your family with an ax or flame-thrower.

There is no way I am going to test this out myself, for two reasons: 1. I do not need any more fucking ghosts interfering with my day-to-day activities, stealing my shit, or cock-blocking me, and 2. I can't find my umbrella. Let's take a look at some authenticated* case studies from Hardcore Readers:

"I have opened an umbrella indoors on more than one occasion. But that is mostly because it was raining outside, so it just seemed more convenient to open the umbrella while I’m still inside and not get wet. I can’t say if it led to anything strange at a later time--I misplace my keys on a daily basis, food is always disappearing in my house, and my luck goes down the shitter every time I try to take my car anywhere. Also, I regularly cross paths with my (black) cat (hard to avoid since he follows me around) and I was born on Friday the 13th. Basically, every time I accidentally taunt bad luck it just adds to the pile--I have given up trying to avoid it. In fact, I may have become a social worker to tip my karmic scale in the other direction. In conclusion, fuck open ladders." --Stephanie

It looks like you have tempted fate three too many times, which you are now paying for in the form of a massive infestation of evil spirits. You should check the microfiche at your local library (unless you have any outstanding fines) for all newspaper articles (dating back at least three hundred years) for any mention of foul play or mysterious happenings in your apartment building, which I'm assuming was built on an ancient indian burial ground (at best). My only advice, other than moving/suicide, would be to go for the "Black Maria Gambit." If you are knowledgeable in the card game "Hearts," be aware that the technique of "Shooting the Moon" can work in real life as well as in this fun recreational activity (recommended for four players, ages ten and up). For those ignorant of the game, first of all, you're missing out. Secondly, according to the rules, taking any trick containing a heart is a point (which is bad), and the Queen of Spades counts for thirteen. However, if during the course of the game, one player sucks down all of the hearts AND the bitch, everyone else eats it big time--to the tune of twenty-six points. So Stephanie, because you already have all this overwhelming metaphysical shit stacked against you, I say walk under that ladder next time, and follow it up by breaking every fucking mirror in the house. You have a 18% chance of developing absolute control of White Magic and becoming the new Supreme Mother of Domination, 72% probability of instant death, and 10% says nothing happens other than people worrying about you.

"I opened an umbrella indoors and immediately passed out under a hail of ping pong balls. I woke up a few minutes later pregnant and wondering why the cereal Grape Nuts doesn't have any grapes in it. Weird huh? By the way, self-aborting with a hanger hurts. And Captain Kangaroo would have made a terrific father." --Karen

Jesus Christ, this is terrifying. A near-fatal assault by table-tennis accessories followed by unconscious rape at the hands (and cock) of a deceased children's television host? If any of our female readers even THINK you sense the presence of Mr. Rogers, don't hesitate, just BEAT IT. As for Grape Nuts, PM has previously stated--with extreme prejudice--our position on breakfast cereals. And don't try and escape down Sesame Street either, I heard the original Big Bird committed suicide in '87 after getting busted for some bogus real estate deals. I can just picture his wandering soul looking to pop your newly-reconstructed hymen with his hideous yellow beak. I'm still picturing it. Nice. Hey, one of your boobs is bigger than the other. Anyways, you did the right thing by tearing the demon-fetus from your uterine wall; I'm assuming you said 100 Hail Marys, flushed it down a toilet consecrated by a bishop, and then rubbed tannis root and Nutella on your belly so it doesn't come back stronger, right?

So let's just wait until we get outside to "make like Rihanna," even if you do get sprinkled with a little rain and it frizzes out your hair, ok?

Next: Part 4.

*By the people who e-mailed me.

[Insert your own photo here]

Now more than ever, my fellow Americans, we need to step outside in the back alley and puff a little dirty air. If not for our own well-being, then for the future of this country. A society better than most developing countries on other continents--at least in water quality.

We need to get away from all the orifice-pounding wordplay of those suit motherfuckers that want you to punch their name on that special day in November. All this turning from the right to left then back to the right has us dizzy. At this point, their half-assed ideas, promises, and banter is seeping from all our cavities. And it’s not over yet. It won’t be over. All this talk of change, but they’re still worried about their place on the left or right based on what God, the Devil, or one of Jesus’s buddies say.

After you read this, get away from all the media, communication, and sounds of day-to-day living. Just for a bit. Be with yourself. If you don’t like yourself much, just pretend you do. Just like you pretend to like that asshole boss of yours around the time yearly reviews come out.

If we stepped out for a few, we could get some peace and not worry about Mr. T selling us some kind of convection oven, Fallout Boy teaching us how to feel bland, Oprah giving us reading assignments, or that one old guy with the moustache selling us diabetes supplies.

Because who can afford to get sick anyway? It’s cheaper to do a line of coke than take most “straight people” drugs. And how much does that tongue dispenser they’re shoving down your lumpy throat really cost to make? Sterile my ass, people have been coughing all over the room all day. And the doctor only has time to grab your wanker once? For the price he’s charging, I could get three cheap hookers to do that. If I just took a quick drive down to my favorite little red light district…

Oh wait, I’ll have to bike. Or walk. Or do something about the MPGs in my moving vehicle. It only takes the “collapse” of an economy to finally drive gas prices down. Or is it because election time is near? Or the country really needs you to save some money so you could blow it on tacky holiday gifts for people at your office? Do the assholes I work with really need a flavored coffee set? Gift certificates to places that sell bath and body stuff? Do I really want to know what they put on their bodies as they are getting out of the shower?

No. Definitely not. I just want to go out for a smoke break. Have the rest of the world do it too. Not all at once in the same place. Let’s find our own little niches in the dark alleys and just sit there in peace, puffing away.

And it doesn’t matter what you smoke. Have some cancer sticks. Have a fucking cigar. Smoke some dope. Smoke banana peels. There’s more people addicted to “medicinal” pills than fired-up banana peels. But seriously, spend a few minutes doing something other than the something you usually do in the middle of the day. Go out somewhere and realize most things you do on a day-to-day basis aren’t all that important. No matter who you are.

And if smoking isn’t your thing, go ahead and suck in some of that air. Sure, it’s got some impurties,* but there’s all kinds of well-intentioned groups out there ready to save the world from these perils. They’ll get in your face, your mailbox, your email, and let you know their cause is the most worthy. Their cause is going to make this hellhole of a blue and green planet a better place. Just send some of that hard-earned money, and they’ll get together in a pleasant conference room, sip expensive coffee, then talk about what great people they are for saving the world/humanity while the rest of the common people just dance and drink and screw because there’s nothing else to do.

And if you are really worried about what you’re putting into your body during that five minute break, laugh it off. Think about this: your body is failing, your mind is numbing, and your soul is depleted of energy. You’re going to get back to your day, shove a bunch of processed food into your mouth while letting machines do your thinking. After a hard week, maybe you’ll go to some house with a cross and let them tell you what is right even though their views are as skewed as the guy with the beard who smells like gin and keeps reminding you the end is near.

No. Not Santa Claus. He’s dead. He died broke and depressed. It turns out those people at the top of the consumerism chain sued him then broke all his reindeers' magical legs.

It’s the new 60s. But this time we’re not into fucking everybody else literally, we’re much more into doing it metaphorically. If you’re putting your hands in my pockets it’s not because you want free love. You want to get something to pay for your anytime minutes, satellite television, DVDs for the minivan.

DVDs for the fucking minivan! Last time I checked there were windows to look out. Let the kids see the country going to shit as you waste gas. They don’t need to see any shapely fairy tale princesses they’ll never look like. How many young girls see a vagrant at a bus stop and think about becoming anorexic?

Not the chicks I’ve known.

What I’m trying to tell you is America is fucked. It needs change but not the kind of change any of these “bipartisan” assholes advertise. I’m firing at slow moving targets, I know, but America has become one bloated, creeping target. We have become robots. We have become products of the lives as seen on television.

But robots don’t smoke.

So get out there America. Get out the door, light up whatever you want, and think for yourself for a minute. Think what you want with this country. Think what you want with your life. And if everything you want just seems like a commercial for Capital One or American Express, have yourself another smoke.

When you figure out what’s really important, you can go back in.


*So just fucking smoke something

Anytime I see a wide-eyed young person walking down the street sporting an "Obama '08" button, I think to myself, "They must not follow politics."

It all started during the (s)election of '04. PM writer Mikey Annihilation predicted popular new Illinois senator Barack Obama would be the next President. (Read the comments for some other insightful guesses.) As liberal as he was supposed to be, I was still skeptical as to whether or not he would actually stand up as a leader and provide any opposition to the running-rampant-with-Democrat-approval Bush second term. I immediately pointed out with little fan-fare that his first two votes in Washington proved me right (as always), and set the tone for him as another disappointment, although at this point, we all should have seen it coming. The Dems then continued their habit of getting paid to do the opposite of what they were put in office to do. Next came '06, when they took majority control of congress, led by tough-talking Nancy Pelosi. Surely, things would be different now! No, but at least I waited a few months before making fun of them on my wildly successful blog. So after eight years of letting Bush get away with murders, and providing lame-ass candidates Gore and Kerry, we're supposed to stay with them and get excited for Obama because he's different, he's special.

To begin with, I'm assuming no one who reads this site would ever vote for McCain, so making fun of him at all is redundant. Far be it from me to preach to the choir when I can instead alienate the rest of our dwindling audience.

First of all, ask yourself why you think Barack Obama is so great? You heard he's the "good guy," he's like Martin Luther King, or Abraham Lincoln, or Jesus, or Luke Skywalker, or like Neo, or Frodo, or maybe even Bono. Maybe you identify with immeasurable, abstract concepts used in lieu of a real campaign slogan, like Change, or Hope, or Magic, or Shock and Awe, or Free Appetizers.

Let's take a look at his top campaign contributors, or rather, the companies he's sold his soul to. These groups are going to be expecting--and receiving--some big favors. He's been bought and is in these guys' pockets, regardless of his inspiring oratory skills, dazzling smiles, and charming wife:

Goldman Sachs, JPMorgan Chase & Co, Citigroup Inc, Google Inc, UBS AG, Skadden, Arps et al, Lehman Brothers, National Amusements Inc, Microsoft Corp, Sidley Austin LLP, Kirkland & Ellis, Morgan Stanley, Time Warner, Wilmerhale Llp, Exelon Corp, Latham & Watkins, etc.

If you don't recognize some of those names, the people financing his run are banks (that caused the current worsening financial and housing crises), energy (oil) companies, and corporate law firms (that stop the government from regulating the first two). This means more tax breaks, bail-outs, and give-aways.

If you say you agree with his stance on the issues, that's probably because you don't know what they are. This is not your fault. The media doesn't report on any issues during election season. When they talk about Obama, it's all been lipstick, his pastor who alleged that blacks were once discriminated against, some radical terrorist guy he may have bought a cup from at a college dorm party, etc. They didn't have time to let you know that he's not the "opposite" of McCain's republican platform. That would've been too easy. No, you'd actually have to go to Obama's website or listen to him speak to find out that your own left-leaning, socially-conscious values don't quite jibe with his. When you hear that he's been the "most liberal" senator since '04, take into consideration that the Democrats have been steadily moving to the right, meaning Obama would be... in the middle. A centrist. "A step in the right direction," I've heard cautious supporters argue. No, by voting for Obama, you're participating in your continual disenfranchisement by the two-headed, one-party, corporate-run system. Obama is more of the same and part of the problem. If you vote for him, so are you.

If you look at his voting record, you'll see he has actually been a pretty big fan of a lot of George W Bush's proposals, such as renewing the Patriot Act, letting the government spy on you, and of course, the Iraq war. Obama wasn't yet a senator during the first vote in '02, but he said at the time he didn't know which way he would have voted. It's easy to predict he would have followed the lead of fellow Democratic stalwarts such as his running mate Joe Biden, Hillary Clinton, John Kerry, or John Edwards, who all voted in favor of war. By the way, NO ONE IN CONGRESS ACTUALLY THOUGHT SADDAM HAD ANY WMDs. When he did get the chance to bravely oppose the war, he instead voted to keep funding it, over and over:

$67.55 billion for the Emergency Supplemental Appropriations Act
$31.6 billion for operations and maintenance
$15.46 billion for procurement of aircraft, missiles, weapons, combat vehicles, and ammunition
$10.2 billion for military personnel
$3.7 billion for the Iraq Security Forces Fund
$1.96 billion for the Joint Improvised Explosive Device Defeat Fund
$1.91 billion for the Afghanistan Security Forces Fund

Obama's current idea is basically to sort of end the occupation, but not really, and not any time soon. He would like to redeploy more troops to Afghanistan for some reason. You may remember we already kicked their ass some years ago, by blowing up dirt with million dollar, state-of-the-art, bunker-buster missiles, letting most of the terrorists get away, putting a bunch of non-terrorist "enemy combatants" in Guantanamo Bay prison for life, and letting the Taliban and their bananas back in. So I guess we can attack them every four years, like the Olympics. In one of the debates, he mocked McCain for saying he wanted to bomb Iran, but agreed he wanted to also. He then showed enthusiasm for starting wars with Russia, and possibly China, but that may have just been the recent episode of "South Park" where Cartman yells at Butters for shooting a SWAT team member in the dick.

Then there's the gay marriage situation. Here's Obama during his nomination acceptance speech: “I know there are differences on same-sex marriage, but surely we can agree that our gay and lesbian brothers and sisters deserve to visit the person they love in the hospital and to live lives free of discrimination.” That's a classic Bush move, addressing an issue while simultaneously side-stepping it completely, but he brought it up himself. Amazing. He won't be helping you out at the federal level, he favors limited and unequal recognition for same-sex couples.

Here is some more mud-slinging that I'm paraphrasing/plagiarizing from whatever my sources are:

"*Obama supports the failed and costly War on Drugs, and will continue the Andean Counterdrug Initiative, which has funded US assistance for repressive police and military forces in seven South American countries.
*Remains silent on many cases of police and court abuses.
*Remains silent on the privatization of the prison system.
*Supports the death penalty.
*Was not involved in assistance for gulf Coast residents in Katrina aftermath.
*Would allow states to restrict late-term 'partial-birth' abortions.
*Has not responded to election irregularities in '00 or '04."

I don't have time or care enough to go through every single thing, but here are some more topics that are OFF THE TABLE for an Obama presidency:

"*Adopt single payer national health insurance
*Cut the huge, bloated, wasteful military budget
*No to nuclear power, solar energy first
*Aggressive crackdown on corporate crime and corporate welfare
*Open up the Presidential debates
*Adopt a carbon pollution tax
*Reverse U.S. policy in the Middle East
*Impeach Bush/Cheney
*Repeal the Taft-Hartley anti-union law
*Adopt a Wall Street securities speculation tax
*Put an end to ballot access obstructionism
*Work to end corporate personhood
*Defend, Restore and Strengthen the Civil Justice System
*Adopt the National Initiative"

When is it time to say enough's enough and collectively look elsewhere? Do you really think things are going to be that different? What is there left to lose? If you actually want to cast a ballot for a candidate who represents your ideals and beliefs, Ralph Nader or Cynthia McKinney are great options. Chances are you know someone who keeps talking about Ron Paul. Maybe you should listen. Bob Barr the Libertarian is on the Illinois ticket as well, look the L Word up yourself on Wikipedia, I'm busy trying to replace my injured tight end in fantasy football.

Halloween Candy and your Personality



There has been a flurry of terrible articles recently released supposedly revealing your personality traits based on the type of candy you wolf down in a frenzy of sugar withdrawl. The flimsy correlations were obviously not researched and tested by hard-core journalistic-types making these articles nothing more than fluff--a waste of your precious time. PM’s mission statement strictly prohibits articles that are anything less than the most valuable information you’ve ever read. So we are going to amend the crap that you might have read or heard about to better fit the hard-hitting, truth-seeking lifestyle you live. If there is one article you will read this year about eating candy and the depths of your being, let this be the one.

Get your insulin out dear readers, we’re taking a trip to Candy Land.


Candy Corn
You are out of touch with reality. You are superficial to a fault. Your quest for self-definition often ends with two overturned bottles of cheap wine and an empty box of Kleenex. Your fashion sense is a combination of Old Navy catalogues and Sesame Street reruns. When you meet someone for the first time they are immediately repelled by you. They prayed they brought hand sanitizer after they touch you. You love puppies.

Tootsie Rolls
You have severe dysfunctions. It took you many years to get potty trained. Your obsession with shit probably has gotten you into the medical field or several unsavory websites. You don’t value anything worthwhile. If someone set off an H-bomb tomorrow, you’d still be hunkered down next to your laptop watching two girls eat each others’ shit. You’ve always wanted to make a quilt.

Blow Pops
You didn’t get the love you needed when you were a child. Your formative years were spent longing for a TV-perfect lifestyle that your alcoholic mom and semi-straight dad never could give you. You try to find the beauty deep inside things, but once you get to the core of everything, it’s nothing more than a tasteless disappointment. Though you enjoy the finer things in life, you often ruin them during hard alcohol blackouts. You keep your fingernails well-maintained.

Any kind of Fun Size Candy Bar
You are comfortable with the size of your genitals, but you don‘t properly use them. Maybe it was something traumatic that happened on your prom night or maybe all those years of watching your older brother’s cheap porn, but something has you convinced your moneymaker isn’t worth shaking around other people. You like to hit the streets for a good party, but you retain no information about people you meet. This is why your rich aunt didn’t leave you anything in her will. Blind people tend to love you.

Candy Apples
You are a non-conformist. It’s not that you hate all of society’s current fatal errors, it’s that you are too dumb to know even the most basic social mores. Come on, fucko, candy apples aren’t candy, they’re fucking apples with a bunch of unhealthy toppings on them. You value your health, but you’re too dumb to know the difference between saturated fats and trans fats. You coast through life without really thinking about anything and the day after you retire you’ll be sitting on the beach wondering just what the hell you did with your life. Strangers define you as fun-loving.

Nerds
You are a greedy megalomaniac. You feel the only way you could make something of your life is by crushing everyone and everything around you. Competition is not just a personality trait, it’s also your laxative. Sometimes your mom wishes she smothered you when you were an infant. You are a damn fine tennis player.

Hershey’s Kisses
You desperately live in the past. Seriously, when the fuck can you really get Kisses aside from Valentine’s Day? Any other time of year they are just stale overstock never bought because some enlightened people actually know cockroach-sized pieces of chocolate aren’t the quickest way to a lover’s zipper. You have trouble taking on big projects that involve proactive thinking, which is why you are still a cashier at the local convenience store. That stupid shirt you bought in college that you still wear during your “nights on the town” doesn’t fit you anymore, asshole. Throw it out. Your wit keeps old women smiling.

Lemonheads
You don’t know how to have fun. Whiskey benders are not for sunny days at the beach. You can’t read a book during a Motley Crue reunion concert. You hate yourself for all the wrong reasons. You set goals that are unreachable then you punish yourself with self-loathing because you’ve never considered your limitations. You take long road trips only so you could look at trash that’s gathered in the corner of rest stops. You are depressed out of your mind. You read the newspaper very fast.



In conclusion, don’t eat candy. It’s fucking up your life, your health, and the pretty smile that put your parents in debt. Eat some fucking carrots.

Demons 2 (Not to be confused with Night of the Demons 2) The very definition of "balls out" (not literally, nobody wants to see that). Somehow I've never seen a movie before with this type of underused monster—fast-moving zombies that have sharp teeth and claws. The story takes place entirely in a high-rise apartment complex and begins in a very 80s party where the Smiths’ “Panic!” has a group of yuppies dancing the night away like only filthy Italians can, until a demon comes through the TV and infects the birthday girl, who goes apeshit on her guests in true “It’s My Party and I’ll Kill if I Want To” fashion. Soon enough, they’re all transformed and running rampant, knocking shit over, getting stains in hard-to-clean places, and stranding residents in the elevator. Who will survive? The prostitute? The pregnant chick waiting for her husband to come back with cake who has to fight a tiny little creature a la the Zuni fetish doll from Trilogy of Terror? The group of short-shorts wearing bodybuilders led by a 2nd-rate Louis Gossett Jr in the basement gym? The five-year-old? The couple that’s introduced randomly 2/3 of the way through the movie? Dario Argento’s pre-pubescent daughter, Asia, before she grew up to be hot and got a tattoo of the Virgin Mary right above her wooly, gorilla-esque vulva? I won’t give anything away, but if you enjoy biting, and scratching, and breaking appliances, and fires, and dancing, and car crashes, and feats of strength, and gymnastics, and falls from great heights, this one’s for you. If not, eat a dick.

Cannibal Holocaust Banned all over the place upon its release, this finger-lickin' good meal of a movie will sicken even the hardest of the core. An anthropologist must go deep into the jungle society of cannibals to rescue footage shot by a lost film crew, believed murdered by the tribe. The remainder of the movie is what they filmed, which includes the obvious eating of human flesh, gang rape, Vlad the Impaler-style execution, and other atrocities that actually occur all the time in humanity, so don't act like you're so above it just because you haven't participated in all three of the aforementioned personally. Aside from the disturbing fictional aspect is the off-putting fact that several animals are truly killed on-screen during the course of the film, including a large turtle, a pig, a muskrat, a large spider, a squirrel monkey, and a snake. The director actually had to bring the actors to court to prove they were not killed as part of a snuff film.

Them (aka: Ils, not to be confused with Them! about giant ants) When this was recommended to me, I was advised not to read the back or any synopsis, because it has more of an impact if you don't know anything about it ahead of time. I will say it concerns a couple alone in a large house at night who become terrorized by... them. If you saw The Strangers with Liv Tyler, think about how great it would have been if it hadn't sucked balls. Based on a true story, for what that's worth, and subtitled in French--but there's not a lot of gabbing to begin with in this minimalist chill-fest that will have you oui-oui-ing in your pants.

Who Can Kill a Child? A more violent version of Children of the Corn, set on an island, and replacing Linda Hamilton and Peter Horton with an unknown Spanish couple. If you've always wanted to see a live, human piñata, this is it.

Zombie (aka: Zombi 2) The in-name-only Italian sequel to the original Dawn of the Dead, this is a lesser-known classic of the brain-eating-corpses genre, directed by splatter-king Lucio Fulci. Renowned for two infamous scenes every man, woman, and child worth their weight in Tootsie Rolls and Smarties must see: 1. Shark vs. Zombie. 2. Eyeball vs. Splinter. You'll never guess who wins. One interesting thing is the actual look of the zombies themselves; usually you see the undead depicted "wet" with rotting flesh, coagulating blood, and pus, whereas the FX guys here went for more of a "dry-rot" look, a crumbling, almost mummified appearance. It makes for a nice zombie sorbet, something to cleanse the palette. I think there's a hot chick in here too, and you can see her boobies.

Inside (aka: À l'intérieur) Another 4-star outing by our beret-wearing, baguette-chewing pals in France. This one also takes place during one night in one house, as a nine-months-pregnant mademoiselle answers a knock at the door to find a mysterious woman from her past wants to come inside, and she has a really large pair of razor-sharp scissors. A blood-bath ensues (the good kind).

The Haunting of Julia (aka: Full Circle) This family-favorite starts off with Mia Farrow's daughter choking to death on an apple at the breakfast table. Kicked to the curb by her hubby, she takes up in a big spooky house, which quickly lets her know it's haunted. Investigating the eerie goings-on, she begins tracking down some older folk who knew the little girl whose ghost has been harshing her mellow. This leads to some really creepy monologues by the geezers about their creepy past with the creepy girl and then of course people start dying in macabre circumstances and yeah, I was into it. Nice ending too.

Masters of Horror: Imprint Directed by Japanamaniac Takashi Miike of Audition and Itchi the Killer fame, this is the one episode of M.O.H. that Showtime refused to air--after telling the directors in the series they would not be censored—and just recently became available in the U.S. The story is that of an American man (played by Billy Drago, the guy who kills Connery in The Untouchables) searching in an 18th century Japanese island brothel for a hooker he fell in love with and promised to return for. Instead, he meets a facially disfigured colleague of the girl who knows what happened to her, and tells the very disturbing tale, sparing no explicit detail, until dude wishes he never asked. I would say this movie has every horrible thing you could possibly imagine, except you wouldn’t imagine any of this shit because you’re not a sick fuck. When I first watched this, I thought to myself about ten minutes in, “Oh yeah, I can see why they didn’t want to put this on TV. Oh shit, no, I didn’t expect that last part and now I am feeling appalled. Oh, this is now definitely yuckers. Hey, there’s a nipple, now I’m slightly turned on. Ok, that next part turned me back off, possibly for good. Is that urine?” And so on and so forth. Clocking in at just a speedy single hour, Imprint will leave its mark on you for minutes afterward.

The Mist The Best Stephen King adaptation in years (from the Skeleton Crew collection) takes place in a small-town grocery store whose customers are trapped inside, unless they dare to venture out into the sudden, mysterious mist, and take their chances with the various hungry creepy-crawlers awaiting therein. The strength of this movie lies with the great ensemble cast of bit players and character actors headed by Thomas Jane as a father trying to keep his young son safe from the monsters outside--as well as in--when a religious fundamentalist begins forming a cult during the prolonged panic. Features CGI creatures that actually look real and scary. Loses some of its impact out of the dark, loud confines of a movie theater, but a gold medal-winner nonetheless.

The Orphanage Another woman in a big haunted house story, but with a twist. Directed by a protégé of Spanish filmmaker Guillermo Del Toro (The Devil's Backbone, Pan's Labyrinth), in a stark, atmospheric style complete with little kid ghosts, one of whom wears maybe the spookiest mask ever. This is a good date movie and could easily provide chances for some above-average 2nd-to-3rd-base action if utilized properly.

The Devil in Miss Jones Most people would call this 1970s XXX-rated feature a "porno," but it should at least be sub-categorized as horror because of the following scenes depicted: close-up wrist-slashing in the tub, a pact made with the devil, a woman practicing fellatio by using a live snake as a surrogate penis, the use of black magic such as the disappearing banana trick, seemingly endless mounds of pubic hair, a woman hungrily slurping on a butt-plug that had been two inches deep in her rectum mere seconds before, an ill-conceived act of double-penetration resulting in one man accidentally wiping his post-ejaculate knob-slob off on the ape-like ass of another man, and a tag-team blowjob resulting in some lovely girl-to-girl snowballing.

Click any of the following for more: Scary Movie Picks '05 Part 1, Scary Movie Picks '05 Part 2, Scary Movie Picks '06 Part 1, Scary Movie Picks '06 Part 2

Late in the primary season, it seemed like Democrat America couldn't decide whether they wanted a white woman or a black man to be President. What they didn't tell you is that you can still vote for both! Although PM has officially endorsed Ralph Nader again, we want you to know that if you don't trust independents, there is still the Green Party, and their nominee, Cynthia McKinney, who is black and a woman. It's the best of both worlds, people. And she actually has your interests in mind, as opposed to Nobama, who no one even knows why they're into.

What is Cynthia's background?

1. She was a six-time congresswoman from Georgia, home of REM, the B-52s, and peaches (the fruit, not the girl who sings "Fuck the Pain Away").
2. She was a Democrat but seceded from the party, I assume because she realized they weren't much of an opposition in practice--so much as preach--anymore.
3. Cynthia "has gained international reknown as a tireless advocate for human rights, voting rights, and holding government accountable" (according to her website, which I am stealing most of this from).
4. Cynthia "served as Secretary of her freshman class, as the first freshman to head the Women's Caucus Task Force on Children, Youth, and Families." Are you, or do you know a woman? Ever been young? Were part of a family? Thank Cynthia with your vote this November.
5. She was "appointed to the powerful and prestigious Armed Services Committee and the International Relations Committee, where she served as a ranking Member on its International Operations and Human Rights Subcommittee. In this capacity, McKinney sponsored the Arms Transfer Code of Conduct, aimed at preventing the sale of U.S. weapons to dictators." This has been a key problem with America of late, because we've gone to war twice with Iraq, who we sold weapons to during their 1980's war with Iran, who we also sold weapons to, and now we complain that Iran is selling those same weapons to the Iraqi "insurgency," who are also using the weapons that were left lying around to be picked up in unsecured armories after the "liberation" in 2003 (see also: No End in Sight).
6. "As a member of the International Relations Committee, McKinney took a leading role in promoting stronger ties with African Nations." That way, we can give them a false sense of security, making it easier to bomb them and steal their diamonds, instead of letting random death-squads do it and then buying directly from them. This is called "cutting out the middle-man."
7. Cynthia allegedly punched a cop who grabbed her when she was entering a Capitol Hill office because he didn't recognize her.
8. Cynthia introduced legislation to impeach President Bush, just like Dennis Kucinich (Kucinich is the guy that most liberals' beliefs match up with in blind online polls, but the Dems don't nominate him because he has massive ears and is a vegan). If Obama wins, not only will he not attempt to prosecute Bush, he will probably french kiss him at the inauguration.
9. Cynthia voted against the war all the way back in 2002.
10. She has "spoken out for the rights of survivors of Katrina in New Orleans in 2005, against the inadequate government response, and has criticized bipartisan policies that have displaced thousands of poor residents in the wake of the hurricane. She joined the Select Bipartisan Committee to Investigate the Preparation for and Response to Hurricane Katrina, disobeying Democratic leadership's call for them to boycott the committee. McKinney introduced a comprehensive environmental clean-up plan to deal with the toxic aftermath of the hurricane, and another to deny funding to the Gretna Police for one year for turning away desperate survivors, and cosponsored numerous bills seeking relief." That's even more than Sean Penn and Kanye put together did! (See also: When the Levees Broke by Spike Lee, it's only four hours long.) If you're thinking, "Well, why didn't the residents just drive their SUV to a hotel before the storm, or stay at their relatives' summer home in the Hamptons?" or "I heard they were using their FEMA checks to buy porn," you're probably already voting for McCain and can stop reading this.

What about her running mate?

Is it another white-haired, centrist Democrat with a genetically engineered smile, who occasionally makes vaguely racist statements, or a schlockey mom, walking-punchline, who smells like mass-produced Kool-Aid?

10. Well, would you believe she's a Puerto Rican hip hop activist? That's right, Cynthia's running mate is Rosa Clemente, an independent journalist, just like Pat Magazine!
11. Only she has slightly more street cred, with a resume I don't feel like talking about but I will note that her ground reports from Hurricane Katrina were broadcast on Air America, NPR, Democracy Now, Indymedia, and some other crap.
12. She is also a community organizer--just like Obama was mocked for at the Republican Convention--only she must be slightly less organized, because I haven't seen the Greens doing any cheesy commercials outside rural dildo factories where they tell lies with their sleeves rolled up and approve this message.
13. She's from the South Bronx and has a fucking tattoos, not even Nader is that hardcore.
14. Public Enemy's Chuck D says about her, "When you need a dynamic, stylish women to get your campaign going or to get your organization excited about activism, Rosa is the person you are looking for, she speaks from the heart with truth, fire and passion. She is one of this generation's most important political voices." Chuck D, man. What cool black people does Obama have? Oprah? Shaq? Kriss Kross?

What are their plans for our nation, if elected?

15. "Oppose the War on Drugs, calling it a war on African American, Latino, poor, and young people. They favor legalization of marijuana and medical treatment for drug use and abuse instead of prosecution." The W.O.D. costs a lot of money; prosecution/incarceration is more expensive than treatment, as is burning down drug crops in other countries and what-have-you. President Bush actually paid the Taliban millions to destroy opium farms in summer of 2001. Also, think about how aesthetically offensive it is to break a bong someone spent hours lovingly crafting. I just watched an episode of "Intervention" on A&E where this girl huffs ten cans a day of computer duster spray. Molested at age five and abandoned by her father or not, what a crazy bitch! But she doesn't need to be in jail.

16. "Oppose privatization of prisons, which has created a new industry demanding increasing numbers of inmates for corporate profits. As a result of the Prison-Industrial Complex, the US incarcerates more citizens than any other country in the world." One plus-side of the P.I.C. is that it has resulted in two awesome songs, "Do You Like Me?" by Fugazi, and "Prison Song" by System of a Down. I say we wait for a third cool jam before we shut down this growth market.

17. In response to creepy Republican chants of "Drill, baby, drill," Cynthia says, "Leave the oil in the soil. Right now we've got two energy policies in this country, one is war, the other is drilling. And neither one of them works."

18. "Would repeal the USA Patriot Act, Secret Evidence Act, and Military Commissions Act." The Patriot Act is worse than The Patriot starring Mel Gibson, and Patriot Games starring Harrison Ford. If the Patriot Act was a movie, it would star Carrot Top. And Kate Hudson. I don't know what the Secret Evidence or Military Commissions acts are, but they sound both ominous AND foreboding--not a good combination by anyone's standards.

19. "Support full and equal recognition for same-sex marriage." Finally, the gay, queer, and homosexual readers of PM will be able to finger--and/or butt-bang with the full legal approval of the IRS. Funeral-protesting goof-troops, as well as God, however, still frown upon your mantics.

20. "Support full reproductive rights/Call for abolition of the death penalty." If I already have to pay for executions of inmates who may or may not be guilty, I might as well chip in for abortions too. That is, if I didn't decide to stop paying taxes (not that I make enough to owe any).

21. "Support reparations for the descendents of African American slaves in the US." This would really piss off descendants of plantation owners, who are still seeking their own reparations for hundreds of lost post-civil war labor hours.

22. "Take no money from corporate contributors." Not that they're likely being offered much dough from their sworn enemies to begin with. I mean, you don't see Green Bay fans buying a lot of Hester jerseys.

23. Free Mumia. Seriously, Rage Against the Machine said that like fifteen years ago. Why can't we just free Mumia already?

24. "Has spoken out against the Republican theft of the 2000 and 2004 elections. Greens led effort to expose obstruction of voters and manipulation of votes. Seek public financing of elections, free time on public airwaves for all candidates, repeal of ballot access laws restricting third party and independent candidates. Instant runoff voting, proportional representation, and other reforms to ensure democracy." The fact that this shit even needs to be addressed is why I don't blame people who don't vote, when it's turned out time and time again that the electoral process isn't respected or upheld by the government itself, or rather, it doesn't defend anything that could alter the status quo against its favor. Michael Moore said United Nations peace-keeping forces should have been called in to liberate the U.S. after 2000's Florida fiasco and the Supreme Court appointing Bush President. Then again, Gore and Kerry both conceded prematurely like the cowards they are, so who cares if they don't?

These girls are actual feminists, not like Hillary Clinton who probably hates herself as much as Ann Coulter and has never done anything for the ladies that I know of. Almost getting another lame, right-wing Democrat nominated isn't a victory for womankind just because she's female. At least Sarah Palin is honest and stands up for what she believes in (however Whack-a-Mole her brain geography might be), Hillary caved in on her beliefs, if she had any to begin with.

In contusion, since it's pointless to vote in this election anyway, you might as well vote for McKinney, or Nader, or some others I might profile later if I get around to it. Will someone write about Ron Paul or Bob Barr for me? Hello? Jim? Cody? Lilly? Anyone?

(Ed Note: We are beginning to reprint--for the first time ever online--Kevin Whatever's "Heroes for the Depraved" series, previously only available if you knew me personally like ten years ago. This one's from Pat: The Magazine for Guys #9, 1999. Two newer articles, Ed Kemper and Albert Fish were already published on this website.)

This is the first edition of a possible series for PM. In an attempt to bring even more degenerates into our ineffectual clutches, we came up with this idea to like, do a column on people who are not widely heralded. In other words, horribly freakish fucking assholes of the Kevin Whatever variety. And who better to do the column than our own frightening beast of a motherfucker, the man himself—WHATEVER. (We wanted to print that word in his blood, an idea he was totally up for, but nobody wanted to risk touching it at the printers and the way he wanted to get it from himself was too fucking twisted to even think about repeating. Pat, Lola, and two girls fainted when he said it, that's how bad it was. So like, try to imagine it in blood, or something.) And now, without further stalling...

This guy deserves credit for being one of the first famous serial killers, even though his body count was pretty low. Maybe he should get credit for being one of the first slackers, too, but as our readers know, it's all politics, which none of us give a shit about. So there you are.

Ed was a big fan of necrophilia (fucking corpses, for the unenlightened among you) but he did it the old fashioned way. He was digging up dead bitches before Marilyn Manson ever dry-fucked his first squirrel. Ed's mom was a bitch that bossed him around a lot; his brother Henry got shot in a “hunting accident” that everybody later pinned on Ed because, hey, if they find you eating soup out of the top of a human skull, you're pretty much in no position to deny anything.

His big fuck-up was killing people in and around his hometown of Plainfield, Wisconsin, which had a population of about 100. The high-strung among you should take note of this. If you know everybody in town, it's probably not too swift to start icing them one by one. It's not as stupid as going to college, but it's right up there.

So finally they caught him with his second victim hung up in his shed by her lying whore ankles, cut from ditch to doorknobs with her head gone. The plan was to flay her out and use her skin for eveningwear while he had sex with some preserved vaginas he had stored in a Maxwell House coffee can. Apparently he had some fashion sense, because the cops also found a belt made out of human nipples. (No, I am not making this up.)

Anyway, they locked him up in the nut house until he died in 1984 at age 77. In one way or another he inspired Psycho, my personal favorite date movie The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, and a lot of other movies that were crappy and impossible to find now. I know this because I looked for them. For romantic reading on the subject, check out a book called Psycho by Paul Anthony Woods, including a special incoherent chapter by Lux Interior, lead singer of a band with three fans (of which I am one,) called The Cramps. Ed's face is on the cover, and the pictures are fucking awesome. Numbering among them is the actual crime scene photo of the last victim in all her headless glory. There are also pictures of her when she still had her head and was pretending to be alive, but probably skip those. Ed sort of did her a favor, if you see what I'm saying. And if you've read this far, I think you do.

First, Ashley gave you some great ideas on how to make a sexy get-up with simple, house-hold items, then we told you what your costume choice said about you, and now we bring you a brand-new set of costumes to make sure your treat receptacle gets filled to the rim with sugary substances!

Alice in Wonderplace

Pat: Throw this on, check out your reflection through the looking-glass, and know that everyone wants to fall down your rabbit-hole! Halloween is one big mad tea party, so get out there and shake your jabberwocky, or off with your head! Hike up the skirt just a little and you won't even have to set out any "eat me" signs!

Supergirl

Ashley: Is your body oddly disproportionate? Perfect! Accentuate your football-player-on-steroids neck with this sexy Supergirl costume! Don't worry about the fact that this outfit is not conducive to any sort of climate, temperature, or geographic location; it'll be on the floor of a frat house faster than a speeding bullet!

Disclaimer: This outfit does not give you the power to fly. Even if you've dropped a lot of acid.

Tavern Tease

Pat: Is it your dream to have random guys start conversations by calling you "beer bitch" all night, each thinking they're the first one to say it? Probably, so why not dress up in this provocative, yet occupational ensemble that can also double as an impressive power-suit during job interviews. In fact, you can also wear this as a set of fancier pajamas on those cold November nights when you're lying in bed wondering where it all went wrong.

Sexy Construction Worker

Ashley: There are few words one can use to describe this sexy number: classy, realistic, sexy, and classy. You won't need a stud-finder on your tool belt while you're out on the town this Halloween! Studs won't be able to resist you in this classy, realistic, sexy, and classy ensemble! In fact, there's a money-back* guarantee if you don't get "nailed" by midnight!

Sexy French Maid

Pat: Are you the least creative person on Earth? Can’t be bothered to come up with a remotely interesting or new idea? I don’t even know if house-servants in France even still dress like this, or if they ever did to begin with. They probably just wear their street clothes this day in age. What I do know is that this outfit will always get you attention from married men, and there are always plenty in stock wherever finer adult costumes are sold. If your favorite ice cream flavor is vanilla and you’ve never had an orgasm with someone you were emotionally involved with, pick up that duster and start fluffing!

Sexy Tin Man

Ashley: Nothing screams "Sexy" quite as squeakily as you will while dressed as a Sexy Tin Man! For that constant plea for an oil can you'll be expected to make all night long, simply have a close friend punch you in the throat! Or, go the extra mile and have your doctor puncture it with a scalpel to insure accuracy!!! Here's a money saving tip: Have the doctor remove your heart while you're in the office! You have an HMO, right? No? A PPO? Oh, well, I mean... Girl, you look Sexy!!!

Deluxe Sexy Nurse

Pat: Every blood-pressure reading will skyrocket once you step into the room! Bed-pans, IVs, and catheters are your specialty, and soon enough, he'll be begging to take your temperature with his own thermometer before the mercury pops... right up your ass! And if you get paged, let's review: Code Blue=Patient has stopped breathing. Code Orange=Fire! Code Brown=Patient has shit himself. And most importantly, Code Pink=Infant has been kidnapped.

Leopard Thing

Ashley: This Sexy Luscious Leopard is the perfect look for all of you overweight hotties who happen to have sexy shoulders! Ladies, you know you're out there! The boys won't be able to take their eyes (or hands) off of your sexy shoulders! Your sexy shoulders will unquestionably lead to your domination of the sexiest shoulders in a Halloween costume contest! Honey, you work hard to keep your shoulders sexy. Why not show them off this Halloween?

Sexual Camper Girl

Pat: Get all the trick 'r treaters compasses pointing north, pitching tents, and earning their merit badges in knot-tying with silk scarves! Everyone will want to dip their fingers into your box of cookies and the campfires will never stop burning with this costume! But remember, a girl scout should always come prepared, that's why it includes crotchless camouflage panties and a hidden pocket that holds your favorite brand of s'mores-flavored lube!

Sexy Nun

Ashley: "Oh My God...Oh My God... Oh Jesus..." That's what you'll be screaming while having sex with the Mexican Bus Boy at your favorite bar this Halloween night! After your fifth Stoli Blueberry and Redbull you'll realize his name isn't actually spelled "Hayzoos," and you're a Naughty Nun... why not please the man upstairs vicariously through his only son?!?!?!

*You will actually get store credit at your local Spooky Halloween Store. Store credit is valid for six months from date of return. Spooky Halloween Stores are open from September 15th to October 31st of each year.

Ed. Note: The following article was originally published in the pre-internet Pat: The Magazine for Guys #10 in December 2000 (note that we waited until the election results to endorse a candidate. That's cutting-edge.) Also, the paper version of PM had a considerably smaller audience, which accounts for the numerous in-jokes and references to the half-dozen people or so we knew at the time). Since nothing has really changed, we don't actually have to alter the text to update it for the current election (bar replacing the reference to Bush/Gore with O'Cain/McBama).

In keeping with our ongoing commitment to public service, the common good, and like, hot sluts and beers dude, PM has decided to endorse Ralph Nader for the office of President of the United States of America. After 98% of the country decided not to vote for Ralph Nader even though they all said, "Well, I like Ralph Nader and everything he says," and "Ralph Nader is the only candidate with any integrity," "Ralph's got my vote," "I'm voting my conscience this year," "Dude, Ralph Nader is awesome," and "My vote can't spoil a system that's already rotten to the core." Even though it's funny to be a Texacutioner or an outright liar with delusions of grandeur, Ralph made a lot more people mad by saying stuff they didn't like. Ralph taught us lots of good things, like:

--That it's good to establish a living wage allows all working people to stay above the poverty level and not have to let people spit on their buttholes and stick fingers in them.

--That it's a good idea to re-negotiate international trade agreements to fully protect labor rights and American jobs so I don't get fired from Duk's Hotdog Stand.

--That we should have publicly guaranteed, universal, accessible health care for all Americans now, so that sluts like Morgan can have that burning sensation taken care of.

--That it's funny not to raise corporate soft money contributions and make fun of everyone else that does.

--That it's funny to not accept political action committee contributions and to make fun of everyone else that does.

--That it's cool to breach dams to restore habitat and flood control as well as to protect endangered species so that Freddy Freaker has better places to pass out.

--That defense industry pressures on politicians and like, outdated foreign policy have led to a bloated military budget that we don't need in this post-Cold War era, or something.

--That a consumer advocate is a person in your neighborhood.

--And that our government is slowly becoming a government for the Exons, of the Sodexho-Marriots, and for the General Motors, and like, there are really stupid people running it all.

But there's a lot of swell stuff that most people don't know about Ralph Nader that makes us like him more than Bush or Gore or Buchanan or Hagelin or Thomas, or like any of those guys. Like the fact that Ralph is agnostic but he doesn't belong to a religion but he does like a lot of things about Satanism but not all of them. Ralph is 66 years old and he still isn't married--that suggests an acceptable level of like integrity or something. The fact that Nader lost and Bush or Gore is going to be in office is a great reason to continue not getting out of bed. Nader also fucking kicks a lot of ass because he taught us that it's okay to wear the same clothes every day because Ralph does. And Sarah gets mad if you play the Ralph Nader campus video 46 times in a row. Nader Babes are like really fucking hot. And last, but certainly not least, we already know that Ralph lost. We can't lose by endorsing him now. We're all winners when we endorse Ralph Nader.

Ed. Note: Before the 2004 election, I pseudo-debated Ralph twice, which you can read by clicking here and here. Alarmingly enough, the topic of those debates--important issues that were not being addressed by either candidate (especially those that should've been included in any "liberal" Democrat's platform)--are still being largely ignored four years later, which resulted in me moderating debates with similar questions, this time pitting Nader first against the cast of VH1's "Rock of Love 2" and then the cast of MTV's "The Hills." Check them out and let me know if Barack is still your Real American Zero.