The Republican National Convention kicked off tonight, and in what is being considered a controversial move even by some GOP insiders, nine black people were kidnapped and forced to stand on stage as proof of the party's new dedication to "inclusiveness." Gen. Colin Powell--who, rumor has it, may be black himself--gave the keynote address urging all members of the party to rally behind Gov. George W. Bush. As further proof the Republicans are down with the homeys, yo, they approved a platform including the following preamble: "To all Americans, particularly immigrants and minorities, we send a clear message: This is the party of freedom and progress, and it is your home." The document went on to say that minorities would always be welcome in their home as long as they stayed in the servant's quarters, and didn't mind doing windows.

Today, with a generous donation of $11.5 million to the California-based Search for Extraterrestrial Institute (SETI), Paul Allen spurred on the hunt for superior life forms on other planets. Why spend such an outrageous amount just to look for butt-probing aliens? Here's our theory: For the past several weeks, like a cat in heat, Blazers power forward Brian Grant has pimped himself out to the Lakers, the Knicks and the Pistons. Reportedly disgusted with Grant's disloyalty, Blazers' owner Paul Allen started spending the team's money like a jilted lover. Instead of going into Grant's pocket, the $11.5 million will now be used to fund a cluster of super-sonic telescopes like the ones operated by Jodie Foster in her break-out 1997 movie, Contact. That'll show 'em, Paul!

played tonight at the Crystal Ballroom, and while the inherent talent and gorgeousness of these three rock 'n' roll ragamuffins are beyond reproach, the evening was still besmirched by the scent of scandal! According to two of our city's prominent musicians--who unsurprisingly prefer to remain anonymous--Zac, the youngest member of the trio, was pulling a Milli Vanilli and NOT playing his bass drum! Now, before you conclude that this accusation stems from professional jealousy, the anonymous musicians offer the following points as proof: 1) Zac's bass drum did not appear to be miked. 2) The head of the drum was not "poofing out," as is the case when a drummer kicks the bass-pedal, and 3) while Zac often got off tempo while playing the snare and high-hat, the bass coming out of the speaker kept perfect time.

But the scandal doesn't stop there! According to high-level Hanson sources, the boys require fresh socks and underpants backstage at their concerts! And not just regular underpants Calvin Klein black bikini briefs! My, they do grow up fast.


Even with 200 films under his belt, One Day had a difficulty charting Indian movie superstar, Rajkumar, back to our own national cinematic treasure, Kevin "Footloose" Bacon. Our sympathies go out to the people of India who are suffering through a nail-biting drama after their silver screen hero Rajkumar was abducted earlier this week by a nationally wanted criminal, Veerappan! Rajkumar is the Clark Gable and Ethan Hawke of India's bustling Bollywood film community. Veerappan (the villain in this tale) has been on the lam for over 15 years, hiding out in the dense forests, poaching elephants and smuggling rare emeralds. More than 200 Indian police officers have been assigned to track him down, and he has killed a dozen. His latest stunt--kidnapping the dashing Rajkumar--was done as a desperate attempt to barter the movie actor's life for his own clemency. The commercial hub of the country, Bangalore, remains shut down today after thousands of rioting fans took to the streets. One Day can only pray to Lord Ganesh that nothing so dreadful will ever happen to our beloved Mr. Bacon.

In local news, the ever-controversial Chief Kroeker's latest decision went into effect today: employees must stop dressing like stinking hippies, and start dressing like officers of the law. Under a new order called "Appearance & Grooming Standards," mens' hair cannot touch their shirt collars or extend over their ears. Mustaches (a time-honored cop fetish) must not extend more than a quarter-inch beyond the corners of the mouth, and absolutely no beards are allowed. Naturally, there was much grumbling from the ranks about Kroeker, including hippie cop Tom Mack who whined, "I don't know who made him king of fashion!" Native American officer Dave Barrios, who is refusing to snip his long, luxurious ponytail because of "religious reasons," also came out against Kroeker stating, "If we individually can't be respected for our differences, how can we be expected to understand other people's differences?"--obviously hoping this would give him implied permission to start beating the shit out of people with his nightstick.

It's a scientific fact that almost nothin' scares a bronco-bustin' rodeo rider, except for perhaps one thing--IMPOTENCE! According to today's Oregonian, the Washington County Fair and Rodeo, who for years has refused any tobacco related banners or marketing, is now refusing an anti-smoking sign as well. The banner, part of a state-sponsored anti-smoking campaign, depicts a cowboy with a droopy, flaccid cigarette hanging out of his mouth, with the slogan, "Warning: Smoking Causes Impotence." Fearful that youngsters who see the sign may not understand the implications (i.e. cigarette smoking can take the hardest, veiny penis and turn it into a shriveled, non-functioning noodle), rodeo organizers put the kibosh on the sign. Though the Tobacco-Free Coalition thinks this argument is ridiculous, fair officials are adamant that the rodeo "should not cause family discomfort." One Day agrees with the rodeo officials, secure in the knowledge there is absolutely nothing discomforting about your seven-year old seeing a clown trampled by a horse, or the tip of a bull's horn forcibly penetrating a cowboy's scrotum.


Speaking of visual discomfort, to end our week, here is yet another item for the "Things We Wish We Hadn't Seen" file. Lounging in our yard this afternoon, our attention was drawn to an older model Cadillac crawling down the street at one mile per hour. The older gentleman behind the wheel was sporting one of the most vicious scowls we've seen, giving us the distinct impression he was planning on stopping byperhaps just to kill us. However, as the car crept by we learned the real reason for his scowl and speed--he was walking his very old dogfrom his car! The elderly dog was attached to a leash, which the gentleman held on to with one hand, while steering with the other. But the gentleman's plan was foiled whenever the mutt would stop to sniff the odd pile of poop, causing the driver to slam on the brakes, and smack his head on the steering wheel. We assume he was scowling to somehow prevent us from erupting into gales of laughter, but he needn't have worried--why should One Day ridicule people in public when we have the benefit of hiding behind an entire column?

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