News direct meets Germaine Greer

Todays special interviewee is none other than Australian feminist, writer and literary critic, Ms Germaine Greer.
Although we at News direct do not agree with Ms Greer's outrageous views on the supposed equality of women, we feel it's in our readers best interests for us to expose them to even the wackiest ideas.

News direct- Ms Greer, why do you hate men so much? Are you a secret Australian lezza?

Germaine Greer- Well you waste no time getting to the crux of the issue do you? I've only just sat down and you have already painted me as a man hating antipodean lesbian.

Nd-Just answer the question Ms Greer, don't think you can come in here and soft soap me with your "charm"

GG-I wouldn't dream of trying to soft soap you, although you do look as if you could use a good bath.

Nd-Will you please answer the question!! Women!

GG-Why is it that you hate women so much that you see any intelligent articulate woman as a man hating lesbian? Is it perhaps an inbuilt fear of yours? Are you scared of strong women? Is that why you persist in trying to demean and stereotype women?

Nd- I don't demean women. Well not unless they ask me to, you know in a bedroom type situation there was this one woman once and she asked me to sh..

GG-I am not interested in your bedroom behaviour thank you very much!

Nd-But you asked and I was telling you about this woman I knew, she would make me crouch over her chest....

GG- Enough!

Nd-But I didn't finish the story....

GG- No I asked you a question and you careered off into a sexually perverted rant fully expecting me to be interested, which I can assure you sir I am not.

Nd-But..

GG- No buts you horrible little man, either you gather together some sort of professionalism and conduct this interview with the respect I deserve or I will be forced to terminate it forthwith. Do I make my self clear?

Nd-What?

GG- You heard me perfectly well the first time I shall not be repeating my self and stop chewing your pen! You are not a child.

Nd- I wasn't, I was scratching.

GG- You were not scratching you were chewing, give it here please.

Nd-But I need it to take notes.

GG- Pen please.

Nd-But..

GG- Thank you, you can have it back afterwards.

Nd- (Handing the pen over) It's got David Beckham on it.

GG- You will get it back afterwards. Now can we please get on with this silly little interview. Next question?

Nd- Should all women be forced to stay at home and cook pies between bouts of submissive sex with their men?

GG- No, next question?

Nd- But..

GG- But what you silly little man? If you think I'm going to debate you juvenile attempts at an opinion you are sorely mistaken.

Nd-But...

GG-Do you really believe I would consent to an interview without doing a little research on the publication involved? I know what your "technique" is, you invite people to a serious interview and then use the opportunity to parade your repertoire of bad knob gags and childish inuendo. Well I'm afraid I won't be playing along.

Nd-A long what?

GG- You sad, sad, sad little man.

Nd- So that's it then?

GG- I don't think there is any value in me staying around do you?

Nd- Nope I don't suppose there is really, unless.......no you wouldn't want to.

GG- I wouldn't want to what?

Nd-Nah forget it you wouldn't want to, Anyway thanks for coming.

GG- Wouldn't want to what?

Nd- Suck me off.

GG- Heres your pen.

Nd- It's got Beckham on it.

GG- Yes it has.

Ms Greer's lawyers have asked us to point out that there was no oral sex involved in this interview.

McCain steps up his momentum.

Idaho-Yesterday it was a school for the deaf in Florida, today it's an audience of farmers in rural Idaho, tomorrow Senator John McCain hopes it will be the presidency of the United states of America. After an exhausting round of Republican primaries the seventy one year old former POW looks to be on the verge of winning his party's nomination.
The campaigning process is an exhaustive non stop trip around the country so it was a tired looking Senator that took the stage in the small gymnasium of Richard M Nixon high school. The homemade signs handed out just moments before, by party workers, were duly waved as the septuagenarian Senator wearily began his eighth speech in six hours.

First on the Senator's agenda was the beauty and patriotic fervour of this particular part of Idaho, this opening gambit was duly lapped up and was followed by the obligatory chorus's of USA USA USA USA.
McCain basked in the chanting crowd before slowly raising his arms and appealing for quiet.
When McCain received his requested silence he launched into his now familiar story of how being tortured by the Vietnamese had made him the only candidate in America worthy of carrying on President Bush's long long long long long war (Which is what the war formerly known as the war on terror must now be known as)
Warming to his theme the Senator from Arizona told the fevered crowd of semi illiterate inbreds
that "All the time I was in that there Hanoi Hilton bearing the most unimaginable tortures and humiliations, I swore to myself that if I ever got out of there I was gonna become President of the United states and make sure that crimes and wars like that never happened again and that's why if elected President I would only sanction wars and torture against foreigners and of course all domestic dissenters, that's the American way and that's what I stand for!"

After the cheers and applause died down the Senator took questions from the floor, the first of which asked about the Senator's stance on universal health care to which he replied "Well as I'm sure most of you are aware, I was savagely tortured while doing my duty in Vietnam and as I lay on my piss soaked mattress in that Gook hell hole dreaming of Cindy Lou, Coca Cola and white picket fences, I swore to myself that one day I would become President and make sure that every American has the right to buy health insurance at prices set by the god given mechanism of the free market. I'm sure that's what God would want."

The next questioner asked the candidate what role faith played in his life, the Senator's face took on a humble, almost pious look as he answered "Faith has played a very important role in my life, as some of you may know I was tortured in Vietnam and all through that horrible forty two years in captivity I talked to God every single day and when the psychological torture was at its worst and they were putting very hot chili peppers in my daily rice rations, God used to say to me 'Forgive them John they know not what they do, they are foul yellow skinned devils and you will one day be President of the greatest holiest freedomest lovingest country on the face of the whole wide world!!!!!' So to answer your question Sir, I take my faith in the baby Jesus extremely seriously and I will kill any man who says I don't."

The Senator then raised his arms and led the now near rabid crowd in a loud and raucous rendition of 'Born in the USA' as images of torture and war were beamed onto the large flag covered wall behind him.
If McCain does win the republican nomination and goes forward to do battle with the chosen Democrat it will be a brave man that bets against the fighting spirit of Senator John McCain.

On the trail of the Giant Squid

Arrrgghh mon Kapitan, dis iz what we call le squiddly gigantique. Regardez vous iz deadly tentacles!!! Dis deadly fish can snapez un homme like a petit femme!
Jules Verne- Twenty thousand leagues under the sea.

New Zealand- Ever since man first gazed across the endless blue expanse of the world's oceans, he has been both enthralled and disturbed by the fathomless mysteries contained deep within its salty heart.
When mans thirst for adventure and unquenchable curiosity eventually pushed him out from the relative safety of the land and on to the world's oceans he was reluctantly forced to come face to face with his most ancient and deep seated of fears.
The unknown creatures of the deep.
Today we laugh at the notion of supernatural sea monsters but ever since the earliest times, returning sea voyagers have gathered the land loving around flickering fires and told them the heart stopping tales of the giant calamari known to sailors since the days of ancient Greece as the Kraaken!!

News direct decided to send me to New Zealand's southern most island to meet a man who not only claims to have seen the legendary Kraaken, but also to have had endured a fifteen day life and death struggle to avoid being its unwilling prey.
Oban is a pretty little harbour town nestled on tiny island of Stewart, at first glance one might suspect that incest and casual buggery were its main preoccupations but a short walk along the noisy quayside soon dispels one's worst fears and replaces them with an admiration that you are obliged to feel for any man who willingly braves the inhospitable southern oceans in order to feed his family.

On a small promontory over looking Oban harbour sits the legendary seaman's pub, The wary cabin boy, where I am to meet Captain Nate Skidby, ex master of the Tuna boat the Lucky penguin.
I entered the Wary cabin boy cautiously, aware of its reputation as rough house and a place where a man could be violently shanghaied and sold to white slavers before he had even reached the bar.
After accustoming my eyes to the gloom I was surprised when a spotty teenager in a striped shirt and eye patch sidled up to me and shakily asked "Will you be eating a hearty pirate's lunch with us today matey? Our lunch specials are salty sea pork with Pacific rice or Barbary chicken served with Bluebeard's fries."
I politely declined his offer, still unsure as to whether this was one of the old white slaver tricks they used to lure unsuspecting men into their foul trade, and told the suspicious looking lad that I was here to meet the Captain of the Lucky penguin.
He eyed me nervously and no doubt figuring I was wise to his dastardly plans, he changed tack and said "Can I get you a drink while you wait?"
I ordered rum just to make sure he knew I wasn't some soft handed, martini drinking land lubber itching for five year trip on his brine cursed slave schooner to hell.
After he had told me it was company policy not to serve straight rum in the afternoons and I had changed my order to a dry white wine he showed me to a small corner table and told me he would inform me when the captain arrived.

Two hours later I was still sat at the gingham covered table playing with the ship shaped salt cellar and watching the savage bar staff sing "Happy piratey birthday" to a fat young Asian lad who was too busy hoovering up shrimp to notice their tuneless rendition.
I was just about to give up the hope of ever meeting Captain Skidby when a ominous Captain shaped shadow cast its self across my table and a wind flaked voice said "Arrr be you the one that seeks knowledge of deadly beast some call..... the KRAAKEN!!!!?"
I turned quickly, to see before me the Captain of the Lucky penguin and the only man alive to duel with the parrot faced beast of the deep and live to tell the tale.
The captain took a seat beside me and pulled out a weather beaten old pipe and after the suspicious stripy shirted teenager had told him he couldn't smoke, because we were apparently seated in a non smoking section of the Wary cabin boy, he began to tell me his amazing tale "Arrrr the sea, she be a cruel mistress, one minute playful and the next a foul enchantress hoping to take your briney soul to the depths of Davy jones locker arrrr."
At this point the suspicious kid had returned and told the Captain if he didn't put his pipe away he would have to ask us to leave.
The Captain cried indignantly "It's not even lit!! I must say this really is appalling, if I have to suffer another unwarranted interruption from you, I will have to have a word with your supervisor, it's really not on!"
After the acne incubating lad had slinked away into the nearby kitchens the Captain returned to his salty tale of doom "Where was I?"
"The sea is a cruel mistress."
"Oh yeah,thats right, arrrrr that she be. Now lad, I had been the master of the Lucky penguin for more years than that old rust bucket had rivets."
"How long was that?"
The Captain looked in to the far distance and mentally counted the number of years he had navigated the old girl through the cruelest of seas.
"About five years, no tell a lie, about three and a half years. Anyway, arrrrrrr she was a good ship but the crew were the scurviest set of dogs you would ever 'ave the misfortune to meet. Every man jack of 'em would sell their mothers for the price of a keg of grog or the latest mobile phone. They were wanted in every port from the Barbary coast to the straits of Malacca, but they were my crew and together we worked that old ship like she was a ten dollar Filipino whore."

Before the Captain could continue, a new stripy shirt had arrived at the table trailing the young stripey shirt behind him "Excuse me Sir, Gavin says you have a problem with our non smoking policy for this area of the Wary cabin boy bistro and bar."
"Jesus Christ!! I took my pipe out, not to smoke, but to give a little bit of atmosphere to my tale and this kid runs over and tells me I can't smoke here!!! I wasn't smoking it, I don't even smoke! I'm not even sure this is a real pipe, I got it from that souvenir shop on the front there."
The new stripey shirt apologised to the captain and said "I'm so sorry sir, Gavin can be a little over zealous because he is new and wants to impress me. I hope this hasn't spoiled your authentic pirate experience here at the Wary cabin boy Bistro and bar."
The captain sighed "No it's fine honestly."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah, dont worry about."
"Can I give you a complimentary dish of salty pirate nuts?"
"No honestly its fine."
"You're sure?"
"Yeah."
"And this minor inconvenience wouldn't stop you from returning to the Wary cabin boy Bistro and bar on future occasions to sample our authentic piratey family atmosphere?"
"No."
The Captain watched the striped shirts depart shook his head and resumed his tale of watery doom "Where was I? Ohhh yeah, arrrrrr we were five hours out from Oban on the oily trail of the elusive Tuna shoals, when things began to take a turn for the mutinous. I was in my cabin teaching the new cabin boy the ways of the sea and how to swallow "Oysters" without gagging, when the door to my cabin was kicked open and there stood before me was the blood thirstiest set of cut throats you ever did see!
I quickly pulled my pants up and asked what was wrong. The leader, black hearted Jake Mcoy, told me the crew were bored of fishing and had decided to take over the ship so they could take it further south and do some whale watching. I said "This is mutiny Mr Mcoy and you'll not take the Lucky penguin from me without a fight."
When I came to I was alone and cast adrift in the Lucky penguin's only lifeboat. No man can know the desolation of the open ocean until he has found him self adrift with nought but a compass and fishing line.
Four days and nights I was tossed about that small wooden boat, just waiting for the storms to calm so I could cast my line and try to catch something to save me from the starvation that was creeping silently into my hollow belly.
On the fifth day I awoke to a glass calm sea and quickly set about trying to catch me some dinner, if I had known now what trouble it would lead me into I would have lain down right there and then and let the cursed fingers of hunger drag me to my final rest."

The captain stopped for a moment and watched Gavin walk past "You little prick!"
Gavin pretended not to hear and the Captain wiped his sweating brow and ploughed on "Arrr so there I be, dangling my line into those fathomless depths when all of a sudden the line tightened and my stomach churned in anticipation of its first meal in days. I pulled on that line with all the strength I had left in my weary limbs, as I pulled and pulled I could feel my meal pulling back and knew that it was to be a life and death struggle."
Gavin's boss suddenly appeared at the table, notebook in hand and asked the Captain if he was now ready to order.
The Captain wearily placed his head in his hands and then looked up exasperated at Gavin's boss and said "No."
"Are you sure? Today's chef's specials are Long John Silver's jubilee shrimp platter and our most popular dish, Captain Morgan's mussel surprise."
The Captain framed his face in puzzlement and asked "Why is it a mussel surprise?"
"There's no mussels in it, it's a Moroccan lamb dish."
The Captain looked at me open mouthed, then back to Gavin's boss "We won't be eating."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes!!"
"No need to be aggressive sir!"
"Look, I'm sorry, but we won't be eating thank you."
"Is this because of your earlier difficulties with Gavin?"
"No, I'm just not hungry."
"I can recommend the Sardine mariachi, the chef takes fresh Sardines and marinates them in Tequila and chili while playing a specially chosen mix of traditional Mexican folk music."
"No."
"Sure?"
"Yes."
"And your refusal to eat with us at his present moment in time wouldn't stop you from choosing the Wary cabin boy on any future occasion you decided to turn your meal into a piratey adventure?"
"No."
Gavin's boss seemed happy with the Captain's assurances and seamlessly merged into the Wary cabin boy's nautical decor.
"Right, as I was saying, I pulled on that line with every last ounce of strength I had left in my hunger ravaged body and as my prize neared the surface it was then that the full horror of my impending situation hit home.
There it was!!! I was eye to inky eye with the KRAAKEN!!!! As I stared horrified into the mammoth eye of the great slippery beast I felt a gentle tap on my shoulder and turned to see one of its great tentacles poised to attach its suckers to the side of my shocked head.
Terror has a name and its name is KRAAKEN!!!!
Thinking quickly, I grabbed an oar from the floor of the boat and plunged it sharply into that dinner plate eye, the beast let out a blood curdling shriek and uncoiled its self from my tiny boat and slipped gently back into the foul depths from whence it had emerged.
I was in shock!! Of course I had heard the tales of the Kraaken but assumed they were an old sea dog's tale, but let me tell you my friend the Kraaken was as real as hemorrhoids and now it knew that there was a ready packed lunch floating just above its salty domain!
I knew that great fish would be back so I resolved I wouldnt sleep until I was either rescued or made land fall.
By day seven lack of sleep and hunger had taken their toll and I was convinced I was a young Judy Garland floating on a marshmallow sea in a boat made of silver pennies, those were my darkest hours and until a man travels into the dark night of the soul he can never know the terrors that lie in wait there.
It was the morning of day eight when the great beast made his second attempt on my life, I had just finished an obviously acapella version of "Don't rain on my parade" when I saw from the corner of my eye a heavily tentacled limb creeping over the bow.
In my delirious state, I at first thought it was Mickey Rooney climbing aboard so we could go over our new dance routines.
As it reached out and grabbed my ankle I remembered it was the dastardly Kraaken and began to beat it mercilessly with the oar I had luckily been using as a cane during my last song and dance routine.
It seemed like an eternity of hours passed as we danced that fateful samba of death and just as it seemed my last reserves of strength were gone, my slippery foe gave up and slinked back down into the cold deep pastures some men like to call the sea.
I never saw him again after that, I think he realised that I was his equal in all things, except obviously arm numbers. My guess is he had decided to try his luck with easier prey, maybe a sea sick porpoise or a disorientated whale, I just don't know.
Six days later I was picked up by the Lucky penguin on their way back from whale watching and I have never seen the great beast again."

The Captain leaned back in his chair, looked round him to make sure Gavin was watching, and stuck his pipe firmly between is teeth.
Gavin hovered nearby and covertly sniffed the air around him in the hopes of smelling some telltale evidence of the Captain's rough shag.
"That's some story Captain, did you go back to sea after your ordeal at the hands of the Kraaken?"
"Arrrr I never did lad, I never did, I figured the old woman of the sea had given me fair warning. Now I sell insurance door to door, are you covered?"
"Yeah, fully thank you."
"We do a very good home and contents policy, or there is a life and fire insurance that we only offer to specially deserving clients like your good self."
"No thanks, really I'm fine honest."
"We can comprehensively insure you and all your loved ones for an unbeatable price of five hundred NZ dollars a month."
"No."
"Pet insurance?"
"No."
"Window insurance?"
"No."
"Insurance insurance?"
"No....what is that anyway?"
"It's a policy I devised whereby you can insure yourself against the future cost of any insurance policy you may take out in the future."
I shook hands with the Captain and after refusing six more policies made my way out onto the terrace and looked across the unforgiving southern ocean and shuddered at the thought of that elusive beast lurking mysteriously somewhere beneath its white capped waves.

The curse of cenxorshxp

"All censorships exist to prevent anyone from challenging the current conceptions and existing institutions.
All progress is initiated by challenging current conceptions, and executed by supplanting existing institutions. Consequently the first condition of progress is the removal of censorships."
Zippy.
(1972-1992)

Doncaster-Arthur Krispnagel is an ordinary man, he lives in an ordinary house in an ordinary street with his ordinary wife. In fact, Arthur's most extraordinary facet is his sheer ordinariness.
So what is it about the ordinary Arthur Krispnagel that is drawing an unprecedented level of unwanted attention and constant harassment?

I met Arthur in a pub close to his house and, staring glumly into his half pint glass, Arthur began to tell me how his nightmare began.
"It all started about a year ago really when my wife, Edith, bought me a computer for my birthday. I didn't even know what it was at first and thought she had bought me some kind of huge calculator.
I wish now I would have gone with my first instincts and told her to take it back and get me a toasted sandwich maker, I love those cheese ones."
To try to build some kind of rapport with Arthur I agreed with him and mentioned my liking for cheese and ham toasties.
He looked slowly up from his half finished warm beer "I don't really like exotic foods, plain Cheddar toasties are fine for me, never saw the sense in damaging your taste buds with unusual flavours and fly by night, look at me combinations."

Undaunted by Arthur's damning indictment of the cheese and ham toastie, I pressed on and asked him to continue with his riveting story.
"Well against my better judgment I kept the computer and at my wife's insistence I connected it up to that interwebby thingy. After a few weeks I was quite enjoying it, I would spend hours looking at pictures of man hole covers, you know dreaming that they were mine, like you do."
An over eager barmaid emptied our empty ashtray at this point and I filled the created silence by asking "Man hole covers?"
"Yeah, that's been my hobby for over thirty years now as a kid I'd cycle all over the country just to see a new one, the Hollinger d420g was always my favourite though."
Arthur suddenly became animated and the words just tripped from his usually dour tongue "Oh yeah the Hollinger d420g, now that was a man hole cover, cast iron, raised anti slippage bumps, it had the lot! I think I have a photo in my wallet if you want to see it?"
I politely declined Arthur's offer and asked him to tell me more about the harassment he was suffering.
"Oh you don't want to see it? Suit yourself. So as I said, I was really enjoying searching the web and looking through the myriad of "Holie" sites I found."
"Holie?"
"Yeah that's what we call ourselves. we are all mad! You should see us when we get together, it's like bedlam! One night at a meeting of the Yorkshire and district manhole cover society, we stayed up till half ten looking at Maurice Clapperwaite's video of Bulgarian man hole covers. We are mental!"
I nodded and agreed with Mr Krispnagel's sage diagnosis.
"Anyway, after reading through a lot of these "Knowledgeable" sites, I realised I could do just as well if not better, half these people didn't know the difference between a Tattler 680 and a Moleston 2gf!
So I set up my website UK manholes.com and was immediately flooded with huge amounts traffic, at one point I was getting twenty thousand hits a day, which surprised me as I had believed man holes to be a minority interest at best.
After the first sixteen thousand thousand E mails, I had to add a disclaimer to my site saying that it contained no male nudity and was glad when the traffic dropped to a tolerable level of two visits a week."

I sympathised with him over the intolerable levels of pervosity prevalent upon the world wide web and asked him to explain what happened next.
"Well I was kept busy updating my site you know adding new hole covers and such and everything was going great until I decided to write a feature article on the Gladman 260, which as I'm sure you're aware is a big favourite among the Holie fraternity. The thing is it's a man hole cover I've never liked, far too decorative for my tastes. So anyway, I wrote an article expressing my heartfelt opinions on its unnecessary detailing and, in my opinion, its down right unacceptable showmanship.
If I knew now what a fuss it would cause I would never have wrote that damn article. Almost as soon as I posted the thing I began to be inundated with a deluge of hate.
I was getting up to 3 E mails a month saying what a disgrace I was to the Holie community and if I hated man hole covers so much why didn't I go live in Laos, which I believe uses some sort of bamboo arrangement.
But as bad as this electronic abuse was it was nothing compared to what I have endured from former "friends" the Yorkshire and district man hole cover society immediately barred me from all future meetings and trips and have requested I send back the coveted golden man hole cover badge awarded to senior members.
But worst of all Maurice Clapperwaite wrote an article in the Yorkshire man holes digest castigating me for treachery and what he called "Maverick tendencies unbecoming for a connoisseur of man holes" he even compared me to the Tom Cruise character in Top gun saying that I was "Displaying a dangerous tendency towards unconventional views within a community that prided itself on its total conformity"
It really has been a total nightmare and all because I think the Gladman 260 is the show pony of the man hole cover world."

I commiserated with Arthur and agreed that people don't like to be shaken from the comfort of treasured ideas and will fight tooth and nail to protect what they see as the rightful way.
I then asked Arthur how his world had changed since his heartfelt attack upon the golden calf of the Gladman 260.
"Well for a start I'm persona non grata within the Holie world, I've heard that they will not even use my name and only refer to me as the "Heretic" not everyone has been so judgmental though, I have had a lot of support from the born again Christians who for some strange reason are overjoyed that I have renounced my love of man holes.
Sometimes I wish I had just kept my mouth shut and let them continue to praise something which deep down in my soul I knew was wrong. But as my wife says, you can't live your life with the opinions of a stranger."

My meeting with Arthur Krispnagel left a deep impression upon me and I truly admired the man they now call the "Heretic" for his steadfast refusal to float with the tide of conformity and his magnificent one man fight to show the Gladman 260 for what it really is.

Chavez closes RCTV

Caracas- The streets of Venezuela's capital were last night scenes of confusion and chaos as thousands of anti Chavez demonstrators took to the streets to protest the president's controversial closure of RCTV.

Supporters of the renegade TV station claim CIA sponsored plots against the country's elected government were just a small part of the channels overall content and the majority of its supporters out on the streets claim the government has really closed the station due to them deciding to kill off the popular character of Chico Martinez in the country's longest running and most popular soap "Las putas de la calles"

Chavez was said to be so incensed at RCTV's
decision to kill off the Chico Martinez character that he withdrew to his bed room for four days and refused to eat or even speak to aides until RCTV reinstated the handsome yet reckless womaniser Chico Martinez.

Marcel Granier, the channel's general manager, sensing a weakness in the government's position declared that as long as Venezuela is run for the benefit of its poorest citizens and not American foreign policy and the country's bloated reactionary oligarchy, Chico Martinez will not be returning to the nation's screens.
It was this provocative declaration that seems to have finally pushed the beleaguered President
into the fateful decision to not renew the stations broadcasting license.

Immediately after RCTV's last tear filled broadcast, a new government channel appeared and declared after four hours of martial music and photos of the President that the new channel would be even better than the old one and would be starting its entertainment cavalcade with the new soap opera "El hermoso revolucionario"

The new soap, a story of a young and handsome socialist president fighting against foreign enemies and domestic foes, is said to have been written by someone at the very heart of government and is set to become required viewing for all government employees.
The main character of the new soap, Ugo shavex is said to be a devil may care freedom fighting anti hero with an irresistible love of danger and the company of beautiful women. Whether the new character can replace Chico Martinez in the nation's hearts still remains to be seen.

Burma's generals may release Aung San Suu Kyi

Rangoon- Today in the humid tropicality of the Burmese capital, a heavily perspiring military official from the ruling junta's ministry of readily prepared information announced to waiting journalists that following talks with leaders of the Burmese opposition party, (the national democratic league) the leader of the opposition, Aung San Suu Kyi, who has been isolated under house arrest since just after she was born in 1945, maybe released under a strict new government license.

Ms Kyi, whose father led Burma to independence from British rule before being assassinated in 1947, has won every election allowed by the dictatorship and is the rightful prime minister of the country even though she has spent her entire life under heavily secured house arrest.

After hearing the Junta's shock announcement I managed to lose my government appointed minder and make my way to the government provided house of Ms Kyi.
Speaking through the small letter box of her constantly locked door Ms Kyi told me, "I am cautiously optimistic after hearing the news but also a little wary as I have no concept of the outside world and find the wearing of clothes difficult."I then asked Ms Kyi of her hopes for the future to which she replied, "I'd like to see a tree and feel the soft touch of Burmese grass beneath my feet. But most of all I'd like to see this show they call friends."

Wether Ms Kyi ever does get the chance to laugh along with the rest of the world to the zany rerun antics of those lovable New Yorkers will depend entirely on the whim of the country's illigitimate leader General Than Shwe.

The general, leader of the ruling SPDC, has ruled the country ever since Chevron/Total decided they needed a truly democratic government in place before they could build their multi million dollar gas pipeline through the impoverished country.

The world will wait with undisguised apathy to see what effect Ms Kyi's release will have upon this small enclave of the military controlled corporate empire, and hope that maybe one day Ms Kyi gets her wish and comes to know the simple pleasure of friends.