THE DAILY DIRT: FAIR AND BALANCED! According to a report at Ananova (and where has their dated-before-she-made-her-debut computer avatar "hostess" gone, anyway? Wasn't she supposed to be that site's entire raison d'etre?), Saddam Hussein's personal sorcerer was picked up during a military sweep on the outskirts of Baghdad last week. As you could probably have guessed, the un-named oldster has some pretty nasty things to say about his old boss, so he wants to keep his name and whereabouts strictly on the Q.T. for the time being. "That man is still alive, so I'm afraid," the magic man explained. "I helped him, his sons, his ministers, his wife, his cousins, but I can't mention names. When he is dead I can talk about him." Among the more startling accusations leveled at the former Iraqi dictator by his former witchery-weaving employee is his claim that Saddam had some budding wizardly talents of his own! The Beard of Baghdad would scrye prophecies from the sands, and was even capable of summoning genies! A pair of magical golden statues protect Saddam from the wrath of his enemies even now. And we can trust this information, because he was given it by "the king and queen of genies," with whom both he and Saddam communicate on a daily basis. And they're at least as credible an information source as Colin Powell at this juncture. Actually, come to think of it, if this guy is who he says he is, yer old pal Jerky wonders how anyone in the know could fail to identify him. I mean, seriously, how many sorcerers could Saddam Hussein possibly have had "on staff"? Believe it or not, that question has an answer. According to this Mohammedan Amazing Kreskin, Saddam's stable of paranormal consultants consisted of two other magicians from Iraq (for a total of three home-boys), another one from Turkey, an Indian "holy man," an Arab French national and "a beautiful Jewish witch from Morocco." So the answer to the previous paragraph's second question is… seven. But all that otherworldly assistance won't do the runaway rat-bastard a lick of good. According to his own Sorcerer Supreme, American troops will find Saddam Hussein's corpse near Dhuluaiyah, a village 55 miles north of Baghdad, sometime in the very near future. It's at times like this, after getting a hot tip from a reliable source, that yer old pal Jerky wishes DARPA hadn't been forced to scuttle disgraced Iran/Contra figure John Poindexter's plans for a "futures market" in Mid-East terror (which would have effectively allowed terrorists to make a killing, so to speak, by betting that the Saudi embassy in Kenya would be firebombed in October, then, in October, going out and firebombing the Saudi embassy in Kenya). Anyhoo, don't let the doorknob jam itself up your ass on your way out, Poindexter! That's one down, Godzilla knows how many more to go! Send all Jokes, Letters and other stuff to Jerky: feedback@dailydirt.com

ON THESE DAYS! August 14 VJ DAY! On this day in 1945, reeling from a thermonuclear one-two punch, the nation of Japan surrenders unconditionally to the United States of America, thus ending World War II... except, of course, for the few die-hards who toughed it out on deserted jungle islands for lonely decades out of devotion to Emperor-God Hirohito, who sold them out to save his own ass. August 15 On this day in 1969, the Woodstock Music & Art Fair opens its gates to record crowds in dairy farmer Max Yasgur's feild, and you know what? They're still cleaning up the mess left by those filthy hippies. August 16 Carl Panzram, one of the most unapologetically evil fuckers ever to roam the planet, is arrested for the last time in his miserable, misbegotten life on this day in 1928. Born to a couple of Minnesota dirt farmers, young Carl got off to a rolling start when he was incarcerated for public drunkenness at the ripe old age of eight years old. From that point on, his life would be half-spent in Christian correctional schools, county lockups and state penitentiaries. The other half of his life was devoted to theft, arson, forced buggery, child rape, serial thrill-killing... you name the evil deed, and Panzram was an authority. During the course of his long career as an almost elemental force for evil, he plied his Satanic trade on four continents, murdering untold numbers of victims, including six men in one day, whom he killed during a crocodile hunt in Africa. Truly, Carl Panzram was too evil to live. August 17 On this day in 1990, the movie Exorcist III premiered. Not a bad flick, not a classic, but the reason yer old pal Jerky is including it here is because he happened to see it on the day it opened, and there's one particular scene in the flick which almost (not quite, but damn close) caused him to send a brown torpedo slithering down the theater aisle. If you've seen this movie, you know exactly what I'm talking about. August 18 On this day in 1227, the merciless Genghis Khan - who, beginning as a juvenile delinquent gang-leader in his early teens, led one of the most expansive and successful world conquests in history, laying the foundations for a family dynasty that lasted centuries - dies after a long illness. Near the Xi Xia region of China at the time of his death, Khan's soldiers march their beloved leader's corpse back to Mongolia, killing every living thing that crosses their path along the way. Is it wrong for me to want that? To desperately, sincerely WANT it?

THEY SAID IT! "Although I still consider myself Jewish, my identifying with this entity and my fulfilling the rituals, etc., of the entity - that has ended. By and large the faxes from Christians have been very loving, very supportive. From my own religion, I have either gotten nothing, which is 99% of it, or two of the nastiest letters I have gotten in a long time. I guess that's my point - I don't get much back. Not much warmth coming back." - This is how "Doctor" Laura Schlessinger began her August 5 program: by a) confessing the petty, shallow, and arbitrary quality of her religious belief, and b) hinting that she might be making the big switchover to the expansion team, where a far larger demographic pool of far greater demographic fools are just waiting to be plucked clean of feathers. *** **** *** "Like baby chimps, we have soft, downy bodies, flat faces and large, rounded heads. Like them, we too want to be kissed, cuddled and stroked; we remain playful, compliant and comparatively mild-mannered for the whole of our lives. We've known for years that homosexuality is linked to a playful, creative character. Homosexuals excel as artists, thespians and other playful, mimetic professions. Being playful is at the heart of being human. It's something that should be celebrated. You could say that homosexuals are at the pinnacle of human evolution." - Yer old pal Jerky can't say that he agrees with UK author Clive Bromhall's conclusions: that infantilism is rejected by straight people as they age, and therefore gay men and women are evolutionarily superior. Still and all, this false belief does me no more harm than Christians who think they're going to heaven after they die.

JOKES! Today's first joke was sent in by our old pal Hickman. I was happy. My girlfriend and I had been dating for over a year, and so we decided to get married. My parents helped us in every way, my friends encouraged me. And my girlfriend well she was a dream! There was only one thing bothering me, very much indeed. That one thing was her younger sister. My prospective sister-in-law was twenty-two years of age, wore very tight mini skirts + very low cut Blouses. She would regularly bend down when near me and I got many a pleasant view of her underwear. It had to be deliberate. She never did it when she was near anyone else. One day "little" sister called and asked me to come over to check the wedding invitations. She was alone when I arrived. She whispered to me that soon I was to be married, and she had feelings and desires for me that she couldn't overcome and didn't really want to. She told me that she wanted to make love to me just once before I got married and committed my life to her sister. I was in total shock and couldn't say a word. She said, "I'm going upstairs to my bedroom, and if you want to go ahead with it just come up and get me." I was stunned. I was frozen in shock as I watched her go up the stairs. When she reached the top she pulled down her panties and threw them down the stairs at me. I stood there for a moment, then turned and went straight to the front door. I opened the door and stepped out of the house and walked straight towards my car. My future father-in-law was standing outside. With tears in his eyes he hugged me and said, "We are very happy that you have passed our little test. We couldn't ask for better man for our daughter. Welcome to the family." The moral of this story is: Always keep your condoms in your car. *** *** *** Thanks to our old pal Henry Bent for sending in today's second joke. A man appears before the pearly gates. "Have you ever done anything of particular merit?" St. Peter asks. "Well, I can think of one thing....", the man offers. "Once, I came upon a gang of high-testosterone bikers who were threatening a young woman. I directed them to leave her alone, but they wouldn't listen. So, I approached the largest and most heavily tattooed biker. I smacked him on the head, kicked his bike over, ripped out his nose ring and threw it on the ground and told him, 'Leave her alone now or you'll answer to me!'" St. Peter was impressed. "When did this happen?" "Couple of minutes ago." WORST JOKE OF THE DAY Today's worst joke was sent in by Edward from Chile. An elderly couple hear about oral sex and are amazed. They had never had oral sex. At the first chance they get into bed and decide to give it a try. The old chap was somewhat reluctant as the stench coming from his wife's cunt was quite something. Nevertheless this was new and had to be tried. So off he went down to her privates and started sucking and liking absolutely horrified with the smell. His wife just went off into the most cataclysmic orgasm she had ever had and between her screams and groans she let out a most powerful fart, to which her husband reacted with. "Wheeew!!! at last a bit of fresh air!!!!

ASK JERKY! Relationship troubles? Philosophical quandaries? Nagging doubts about your spouse? Jerky knows the answer! Send your letter to the feedback address at the bottom of the page: Dear Jerky; I don't think it even has a shred of reality, but in a perfect world here's what would happen with the CA governor election [Please... it's the "Special Elections." - Jerky]. Arny continues to smile and ride that name recognition all the way to the polls, without ever uttering a word of policy. He'll win in a landslide and go on every channel in the world for his acceptance speach. "You stupid fahking Ahmericans, you don't know what I stand for yet you vote for the pretty face. I go back to Europe now, here's a Kennedy to play with." It would never happen, but you've got to admit it would rock like Road Runner by Humble Pie. Oops, dated myself. Signed: David Dave; It's way too early to call this thing, but it's starting to look like Ahnuld's "popularity" might not be enough to vault him over his most daunting obstacle: the UNpopularity of the recall effort, itself. At the time of this writing, anti-recall protest vote Cruz Bustamente - Cali's current Attorney General - has a small lead over Schwartzy in der latest polls. And the fact that Arnie's answering every reporter's question with a stock: "Nowz nodda time to twalk abouddat. Deh peepole of Caleeforneea desuhv LEEE-da-ship!" can't be helping things, either. Just answer the fucking question, Arnold! People want to know where you stand! *** **** *** Jerky- Some soapboxes are ridiculous, others are givens, still others need addendums or retorts. Sometimes you give out the author's e-mail, but at other times you don't. It seems that everytime you publish something I want to talk about with the author, you leave out the e-mail address. Do these people ask you to keep their e-mail address out of your public's eye, or do you just not run them? Frankly, I'd love to respond to a lot of them, but I can sympathize with those who don't want to get a bunch of shit about a drunken rant they don't remember sending you. So, what I'm trying to say is... well, shit, the homemade peppermint schnapps and Keystone Light are fucking with the point I'm trying to make. Oh yeah - print their e-mail addresses if they don't tell you not to! (If that's what you already do, please disregard the aforementioned.) Signed: -6 Dear 6; I run Soapbox submitters' addresses only when they expressly tell me it's okay for me to run their addresses. For a number of reasons - many of which are still a mystery to yer old pal Jerky - having your e-mail address published in the Daily Dirt is a sure fire way to get your inbox to o'erflow with virtual garbage. You oughta see the crap that comes to feedback@dailydirt.com! Yer old pal Jerky spends half his workday deleting e-mails as it is, and it's only getting worse. I'm not just talking your ordinary, everyday, run-of-the-mill, get-a-bigger-weiner-find-a-friend-drop-the-flab-x-ray-binoculars SPAM, here, either. I'm talking about being put on all kinds of mailing lists - everything from "clean joke a day" to "Thunderfront," the web's pre-eminent right-wing hate-site. So now you know why we haven't run Soapbox e-mail addresses for over a year. So if you don't mind that kind of shit, by all means let me know and I'll run your e-mail address in the next issue of the Daily Dirt!

READER'S SOAPBOX! Got a gripe? Pet peeve? Have your say in the Daily Dirt! Columns can pretty much be about anything, as long they meet the following criteria: 1) don't write shit that'll get us in trouble. 2) Keep it interesting. 3) Keep it short. 4) We don't edit your mistakes. Oh yeah! feel free to send a picture of yourself if you want. TOPIC: DO NOT READ THIS Care of: The K.A.O.S. operative known only as "6" The President takes me aside after a meeting with a few Latino bigwigs from California using the old "What about the children" approach to something to do with environmental concerns. I say, "Yes Mr. President, what is it?" He responds, "I've always wanted to suck on your butthole, to taste that white man anus that doesn't belong to me." "Indeed, the white man's butthole is a sweet gem to be savored. Should we spend time together stinking up Clinton's Oval Orifice?" He nods in the affirmative. Within minutes I am naked on the desk, he sucks away at my pucker like his mother's mammary gland, darting his steaming tongue in and out in rhythm. It feels good and I feel my prostate swelling with glee. I imagine his quick tongue squelching aside the ripples in my gold dollar, my Indian-faced mancavity and feel a squirming in my genitals, one that can only be satisfied, resolved, by hot man-on-man action. Jesus, my cock is harder than a goddamn stovepipe. I strip him down nice and nekkid and run my spit-lubed finger down his crack into his butthole. He gasps as I insert it one knuckle at a time into his ever-loosening bung, stirring it like a hot cauldron. It makes squishing noises and I know he used one of those KY jelly injectors to prepare himself. I feel cheated that hot frothy loogies spit out onto my finger were not trustworthy enough for him, but I proceed as usual, rubbing the swollen helmet of my cock against his nether regions until I explode into his warmth. Unfortunately, I know I'm not going to last long. His sphincter is tight, his rectum free of debris. It's all pure presidential pleasure at this point. It's true - the cream of the crop milks the cream of the cock and my manhood tingles from the balls up the length of my shaft to the pisshole tip of my member. Orgasm is on the rise. Like the flash of a camera it shoots through my spine and I ejaculate, pulling out at the instant a spurt erupts and tags the inside of his pucker like a shot in the dark (or in this case, the pink) and thick spurts of semen adorn the hairs on his ass cheeks like the garlands on a christmas tree. Collapsing like beaten savages, the act finished, we begin to re-robe. Next time, the pucker will not be left so delicate and sweet, I promise myself. Next time, there will be a scab of shit, maybe a stroke of blood against my veined manstir. - 6 [You're trying to get me killed, aren't you? - Jerky]

Send all Jokes, Letters and other stuff to Jerky: feedback@dailydirt.com