The Week in Review

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 23: Sigh. Week in Review doesn't know what it'll miss more about Comdex: the fake-hip geek cachet, the quasi-religious tech bluster or the gigantic wads of slutty cash those Comdexters would throw around in Vegas like so many tear-stained Orson Scott Card novels on another weepy, dateless Saturday night. Either way, it's official: There'll be no Comdex this November. Hobbled by dwindling turnout in recent years, organizer MediaLive International decided to cancel the annual geekfest, proving that technology without real-world, porn-based applications is a fleeting as Candi's affections for Cornelius when he quiveringly pulls out his last crumpled twenty.

THURSDAY, JUNE 24: A 4-year-old superbaby in Germany has a genetic mutation that makes it develop ultra-strong muscles, the New England Journal of Medicine reported, meaning if you pinch this kid's cheeks, it'll squirm, giggle and then rip your fucking head off. Scientists speculate that the condition results from the suppression of a gene that caps muscle growth; so, by the time you read this, the kid'll be the size of some rampaging Japanese movie monster, but, like, German. You good boy? Good boy want big red ball? Big red ball bounce on top of North Korea! Go get big red ball! Go get it!

FRIDAY, JUNE 25: Britney Spears, the dancing, singing curiosity provided for our planet's entertainment, is gonna get married again. This time the bopperbot is engaged to dancer Kevin Federline, who already has a kid by a previous marriage. But seriously, isn't it kinda comforting to imagine Spears affirming her maternal, nurturing side, caterwauling on her cell phone to her manager about the concert rider not including organic whole wheat pita while hammering Lupe the Nicaraguan wet nurse over the head with a Lucite heel for daring to make eye contact with her precious stepchild? Touching.

SATURDAY, JUNE 26: If you thought gayness was just a Stateside fad fueled by the hair-care products industry that got just a leedle bit out of hand, think again: It's global. Ubiqueertus, you might say (shoot me). That was apparent this weekend as countries around the world celebrated Gay Pride Day, from Berlin to Mexico City, from Toronto to Paris. Gays dressed as mariachi musicians, Victorian dandies, construction workers, cowboys, drag queens and leather cops! While organizers say they're heartened by recent strides in the area of gay civil rights, many challenges still remain, including getting over this frothing obsession with turning everything into a Village People tribute show.

SUNDAY, JUNE 27: Grumbling as it removed the jumper cables from some urine-sprayed Iraqi dirt farmer's balls, the CIA decided to suspend use of aggressive questioning tactics--that's "enhanced interrogation techniques" to you, mister, and your genitals jammed into the chin of a fellow sex pyramid member--to cull info out of possible Al Qaeda supporters, the Washington Post reported. The decision comes after the Abu Ghraib prison abuse scandal sparked inquiries into the agency's tactics, which includes hit singles like "Feigned Drowning," "Refusal of Pain Medication for Injuries," "Stress Positions" and B-side "Light and Noise Bombardment."

MONDAY, JUNE 28: In a bid to stump insurgents who might have been planning to blow shit up on the June 30 handover of power in Iraq, George W. Bush, president and Iraq stockholder, gave the country back its sovereignty two days ahead of the official Sovereignty Schedule. Hurraycoughcoughnotreally! U.S. troops will remain indefinitely, multinational contractors will continue to crawl over the country like ants on PCP, rebel forces will still be yabbering in the streets with guns and Stone Age guns known as rocks, and kidnappings will continue with grim regularity. But it's a start, perhaps best captured by what Bush scrawled in the corner of a note given to him informing him of the early handover: "Pls. send farewell gift: fruit basket & gourmet teas w/ Courtney Love."

TUESDAY, JUNE 29: Barbie's got a new beau, Mattel announced Tuesday. Taking the quaint idea of arranged marriage to the frontiers of cyberspace, the toymaker unveiled the results of an Internet poll in which more than 2 million surfers chose Blaine, a piece of mass-produced plastic molded in some Third World NAFTA deathbox to look like a cute miniature Australian surfer, to be Barbie's new boyfriend. Blaine will be available in August. In the meantime, Ken can be found in his shithole East Hollywood apartment, drinking the pain away as he waits for a call from his piece of mass-produced plastic molded in some Third World NAFTA deathbox to look like a cute miniature agent.

--ANDREW KIRALY