I'm Justin Perkins, and I approved this message.

I'm a busy man. I've got a movie to shoot, a full time job, and a wedding that I have to stand in pretty soon. (Although I can't remember who's getting married) But I still have enough time during the day to show up here to make sure this page is presentable and offer myself to the masses.

SO WHY AREN'T YOU?!?



Is it the weather? The new layout? The undenying fact that I'm no longer funny now that I'm employed? What could it possibly be?

ANSWER ME!!!!



I'm a human God-damn being here! I've got a lot of things on my plate to take care of, and I can't be expected to bring my "A" game day after thankless day, without so much as a "Hey, good job man!", or a "Wow, that was radical!" I'm only one man! I...need...support!!!



All right, I'm sorry. I've gotta calm down here. It's not your fault. You've got things to do, too. Jobs to attend, tans to achieve, plasmas to donate. We're all busy, and I can't expect you to be here for me whenever I need you.

Being the good businessman that I am, I know what to do in a situation like this... another total format change! So the next time you come back here, expect something different from the usual talk. I'll bring something different to the potluck dinner, as long as you promise to bring your little plastic sporks and foons. You deserve it. I'm keeping the format because I like it, but it'll be a different experience, I promise.



Have a great day!

I'm James K. Polk, and I approve this message.

Some quick things I wanted to share with you today:

1. 3 cheers to FOX for bringing "Arrested Development" back for a second season! Please watch this show every Sunday, as it is the best thing on television in the last 2 years.

2. My first week of work went fine. I'm slowly learning to function on my own, and I'm quickly realizing that I am the lowest rung on the ladder. I will be the "utility" man, which means I will do everything and anything they want me to do; but I'm going to get my own cubicle out of the deal, so I'm going to keep reaching for the rainbow. Wish me luck.

3. We spent this weekend in Minnesota at the Mall of America. We were in the area to pick up our marriage license for our upcoming wedding at Thayer's. Celia got an "Eggstractor" that doesn't work.

Other than that, I'm preparing for a get-together this Friday, and me and Celia are working like feverish little yuppies. I'll have more time to chat this week, but right now I have to watch the season finale' of The Simpsons.

Seacrest...ooot!

I'm Ryan Zeinert, and I approve this message.

I'll be brief. My first day of work went as planned. I have a lot to learn, but I'm excited and willing. Everyone there (about 120 people) seems very nice and supportive, and I feel more comfortable there than I thought I would. And I made about a hundred bucks today watching someone else do my job, so I'm not about to start bitching yet. We'll see how tomorrow goes though.

As a side note, I've noticed that the page has been acting up again concerning the "www" in the URL. You don't have to type that in to get here, and it will save you a headache. Bye.

Nah, I'm not stressed out.

I should be happy. After a 2 year unemployment stint, I'm finally going back to work on Monday. Starting May 17, I'll be a Program Assistant at the Department of Regulation and Licensing here in Madison. This is just a fancy-pants way to say I'll be answering phones and opening mail, but I can handle that. I get to leave the house, push aside insanity, and make more money than I ever have before. I really should be happy.

But, you know me. I'm chewing my nails down to the skin with anxiety. Any big change in someone's life is greeted with this sort of response, regardless of if it's a good change or not. It's not so much the change in scenery I fear (I really need that), it's just my fear of failure.

My track record with sweet lady "F" is long and dark. From Kindergarten, when I was the last person to learn to tie my shoes; to 6th grade, when I threw a broken whiskey bottle at a cop while swallowing a condom full of heroin. Some things never leave you, and they haunt every new opportunity, lurking for a chance to emerge.

My 4 year term at the Larsen Cooperative wasn't so much a success, but more me just getting paid to be nice to people. Some day I'll write a book about that place. You'd think for a gas station in Larsen, there wouldn't be so much underage intimacy with paraplegics, but there was, and I'm serious.

Apart from all the worry, I really am looking forward to seeing if I can hack the busy nature of a State Department Job, or get fired 4 hours in. My Mother was ever so gracious to purchase me a brand new wardrobe, complete with dress shirts, ties and Docker slacks to stay in agreement with the strict dress code. In this compromise for money, I've become a sad shell of what I used to be. The blue-haired teenager with an infected piercing has become a tie-wearing corporate whore in his early twenties. Normally this would sadden me, but I look super hot in these clothes. More women will notice me now than when I thought bowling shirts were cool. Celia will attest to this. It's a fair compromise.

This is another issue. I'm the only male working at this place, and I'm completely serious. It's been really hard for me to get a job that's usually dominated by women. However, I don't feel like working in construction, pro sports or anything outside, so office work is where it's at for me! Bring on the cubicles and stone age computers! Bring on the water cooler and the office gossip! I'm a big boy, I'm ready for it!

I'm going to go and puke now. Then I'm going to enjoy my last Friday of unemployment in front of the television.

Hello there, we're the Polysics! We're just taking a break from being the coolest band in the world to stop by our favorite American site, Communist Dance Party!

We really hope that you can see the above picture of us. Ryan really wants you to be able to see it too. In fact, if you can't see our picture, Ryan might hang himself. So unless you want Ryan to end his life tonight, leave a comment as to if you can see our picture or not. It will mean a lot to us and Ryan.

Have a great day!

(EDIT: The image worked, so my new image host works! Expect new images up and working from now on. As for the old archive stuff, well you're just going to have to imagine how funny they were with pictures. Be creative! Pretend the red X's and Angelfire logos are point of view pictures of me or some stationary object. You didn't miss much.)

Welcome to the all new Communist Dance Party! I tried my best to make sure that this page had everything that the last page did, and make it prettier to boot. I changed the comments engine, but I'm sure you can all handle it. I'm still working on the image problem, so the archives might be a tad messy, but what can you expect?

Drop me a line and tell me what you think.

If you haven't done so yet, head on over to the "72 Hours" page to see not only up-to-the-second updates on my no-budget movie, but to see it's brand new look! It's sexy, yet sensitive. Due to images problems on this site, expect a COMPLETE overhaul of the Communist Dance Party in upcoming weeks. You should be excited.

Me and Celia enjoy watching rodeos on television. Not the steer rasslin' and the calf lassoo-in', but the bull ridin'. Even though we are animal-loving vegetarians, I do enjoy a good hour or 2 of bull riding every week.

Why? We cheer for the bulls, and they usually win.

It's way too easy to bicker about bull riding not being a real sport, just as people from the south need mock sports like this and stock-car racing to feel adequate with the rest of the nation. I'm not going to rip on those sweaty, racist bastards any more than I have to. Screw the south, they don't deserve the time it takes for me to insult them. So I'm not going to.

So anyways, we cheer for the bulls. I like how they give the bulls scary names like "Big Daddy" and "McNasty". (Although I personally don't find these names particularly frightening, I guess people from the south do. They think lots of things are scary when they really aren't. Like snow and empowered women.) I think if they want to give the "cowboys" some incentive to win, they should give the bulls wimpy names like "Kitten Rainbow", or "Lollipop Pillow Basket". If I got my ribs kicked in my "McNasty", I'd still be respected. But if a bucking steed named "Pink Triangle" caused me to lose a testicle, I'd never hear the end of it. That's a bull I'm going to want to stay on.

Even if you have to watch 20 guys in a row last 8 seconds with the bull, it's all worth it for the inevitable goring that takes place at every rodeo since the beginning of time. I know you think that seems grim, but I never told them to hop on a bull and sinch a thick length of sandpaper on their weens. That's their fault, and they deserve it. We get to see 20 different slow-mo replays of the bull swinging his head back to not only knock out the man trying to dominate him, but taking out 3 or 4 clowns in the process. But that's not even the best part.

The best part is when they are trying to get this guy on the stretcher for 10 minutes, and the commentators have to go on about how big of a tragedy this is, and how it's always unexpected. Are you kidding me? You go to rodeos for the same reason you go to a NASCAR race or a cockfight, you want to see things get hurt! Did you honestly think that riding this bull was a good idea? Did you think you'd be respected as a hero and a big man? Well, it was worth a shot, but now your ribs have been cracked like uncooked spaghetti, and your redneck kids are crying in the bleachers. But never fear, imbred youth! For all your Daddy's trouble, he's bringing home about $100,000 for being a loser. Aren't you proud?

I know I am. Never stop riding bulls, guys.

I removed the images from the main page, because people have been complaining that they are not showing up, thus making my Blog look unsightly. This is odd considering that I have no problem making it work on my computer. Nevertheless, the posts will have to be image-free for a while, while I find out what's wrong. I didn't remove the images from the archives, so if you want to check out the old stuff, you're just going to have to put up with it. Cheers!

I'm no stranger to people thinking I'm gay. Ever since I was young, people would always speculate as to if I was practicing an alternative lifestyle. Admittedly, having a bona fide homosexual as your best friend was no saving grace. The general public just assumed that we were lovers. No amount of flirting or games of flag football seemed to change this stereotype. I like lots of "guy things", such as sports, explosions and Asian women; But I also like lots of "girl things" too, like listening, honesty and common sense. Apparently, that was the final straw for most, and I was branded a fruit. This has never bothered me, because now I'm all poised to marry the most beautiful woman in the world, who throws more lovin' at me than I could ever handle. I'm a lucky guy.

But as of recent times, the gay assumption has gone away, despite my skyrocketing femininity. I'm way more queer now than I ever used to be. You can see it in the way I dress, the things I like to talk about, my extensive macrame' collection. My "metrosexuality" is at critical mass, but now nobody seems to care, as it's becoming the male norm. For years, women have always said they prefer a funny and caring man over a rugged and handsome one, and now that seems to be sweeping the nation. Of course, I still know that most women are completely full of shit. I just try to stick with what works for me.

Which leads me to last week. I was in the Post Office, informing them of my change of last name. My clerk was a muscular, rugged and handsome man named "Jurgen". I told him that I was changing my last name, and all mail under "Zeinert" should be forwarded to me from now on. He paused for a bit, eyed me up and down, and decided that he knew why I was changing my name.

"Are you getting married?" He asked me.

"Um, yeah I am. But that's not why-", I tried to explain.

"No, no, that's fine! Lots' of guys do that!" He said, reassuringly. I tried a few more times to explain what was going on, but Jurgen had me all figured out. He thought one of two things:

1. I was changing my last name to Celia's last name, because I'm a weak, sad man marrying a domineering woman.

OR

2. I was about to marry a man.

I know this seems like I'm reading into things too much, but I can assure you that Jurgen thought I was gay. Now, there's a number of ironies for a man who's named after a lucrative hand lotion company to think that I'M the one who is about to buy a plane ticket to San Francisco. I could have been snippy with him, but it would have only proved his point more, and he was large enough to stuff me into a legal size envelope. I decided to leave quietly.

"So what?" You're thinking right now. "He's probably forgotten all about you!" You'd like to think that, wouldn't you? Is it humanly possible to forget about someone who you think is gay? Every time you see someone you think is gay, the first thing that pops into your head is, "He's gay!".

So, flash ahead to today. I stopped in to buy a book of stamps. Once again, Jurgen looks at me for a bit, and asks me what I need.

"Book of stamps, please." I said in my deepest voice.

"Okay. Would you like the American flag stamps, or..."

Jurgen paused, and looked right at me.

"...Would you like some fancy stamps?"

I became wide-eyed as he began showcasing various colorful stamps commemorating Dr. Seuss, Andy Warhol, candy hearts and breast cancer.

"Um....Just the flags, please." I got my stamps and left briskly. Does Jurgen think I'm gay? Or did he honestly think a straight 22 year old male would give more than a poop about what he has to place on the upper right hand corner of his outgoing mail?

I needed some advice, so I called up my good friend, Jerry Falwell.

He said to me, "Faggots will burn in eternal hellfire. God hates them, and so should you."

I said back to him, "Jerry, is that the way you always answer a phone?"

This is the last time I will mention the upcoming movie shoot on this page. I'm BEGGING you to head over to the "72 Hours" page, and find out what kind of progress we are making with this thing. It will be updated just as much as this page, if not more, with every little detail in the process. If you have any comments about it, want to help out, or just want to see the script, leave comments here or e-mail me at CTAKX@YAHOO.COM. I also put the new link on the right over there. Thank you for your support!

Hola, amigos. I know it's been a long time since I rapped at ya, but-

I better stop right there. If I keep up the Jim Anchower bit, The Onion can legally sue me for millions.

I've noticed a disturbing trend as of recent with this page. Back when I had nothing to do, when I was blindly accepting unemployment and agoraphobia, this page was a lot funnier and more interesting. I always promised myself that if I were to start a weblog, that I'd keep it void of petty day-to-day details and pointless opinion. I'd keep up the satire, and it would rise above the usual online drivel. I have recently fallen short, and the Communist Dance Party has become nothing more than an online diary that nobody wanted to read. I'm sorry.

There's many contributing factors as to why this has happened. First off, I have things to do now. Sure, it was easy to think of things to write when the only decision I had to make in the day was when I was going to eat. I'm on the move now! I'm a hair away from finishing my first screenplay, as well as shooting my first movie, I'm failing job interviews left and right, and I've got a wedding that's a lot closer than I think it is.

But, I'm no longer going to tell you about those things, because you don't care. I'm just going to stick to the poop jokes and gratuitous nudity. And as a reward for your loyalty, and your promise to return to the Communist Dance Party, here's a topless picture of me!



Show your friends, cause I'm not going to do this again! Right now I'm listening to "Letting Off The Happiness" by Bright Eyes, and I'm watching The Price Is Right. Me and Ben are going to start pre-production on the movie next week, I think, but I won't bother you with details of it here. I've decided that I will create a different weblog just devoted to the shooting of my movie. There, you'll find all the little details about everything that goes into making a no-budget mockumentary, from beginning to end. I'll give you the link to that once it gets going.

I've got a showcase to bid on.

Last week was fun and busy, but I'm glad it's over.

First, the business. We sent out all the wedding dinner invitations, I took care of all my out-of-house errands, and I changed my name. We also got all the RSVP's back for the actual wedding except for Cassie + Dustin. They had over 4 months to get back to us, so in my opinion, they have no excuse. Celia insists we give them more time, and I want to give up their room to someone else. Of course we will wait, but I'm pissed, and I hope they know it. Celia bent over backwards to do her part for Cassie's wedding, and all we needed from them was a 10 second phone call, and they fell through. Not only that, but Cassie had the nerve to take an attitude with Celia. That's bullshit, and I'm furious about it. But enough commentary for now.

We went to the zoo this weekend! Me, Celia, Ben and Sherry spent a beautiful Sunday afternoon at the Henry Vilas Zoo, here in Madison.

I could show you all the nice pictures, but I'm sure you know what a Zebu looks like, and nothing there was as great as Tinker is. But I will show you a picture of Ben and Sherry measuring up to the primate family.

My script will hopefully be finished by the end of the week, and I have more job interviews on Thursday and Friday. Don't forget to stop by Celia's blog, because it's been completely revamped. Say hello, and cheer her up at work.