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In This Issue

• A Modest Proposal for Iraq
• An Indie-Rocker Falls Into the Gap
• Beware of People Selling Stuff, Except Us
• Women Need to be Vulnerable and Easy Again
• Marriage is the Perfect Career
• All The Cool Kids Are Doing It...
• Girl Sells Soul to Pour Investment Bankers' Coffee
• Wendy's Sells the Fuck Out: Lame With Mayo
• I Used to Listen to Jesus Christ, Before He Went Mainstream
• The Singing Senators: Behind the "Music"
• In Gateway, I Designed a 3-D Noose
• Barnard Woman Tries to Use, Not Give, Head
• Mexico: Taco Bell Without Plumbing
• Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200
• Wacky Fun Whitey Gets a Date
• Colombia Spectador
• Columbia Bookstore's Introduces New "Ghetto-fab" Line of Clothing

Ted Holden

Not to be outdone by Ozzy Osbourne, John Ashcroft often took to biting the heads off Unitarians

It is a classic story of rock and roll destiny: a promising group at the peak of their creative powers self-destructs, undone by ego, excess, or the harsh spotlight of fame. It happened to the Sex Pistols. It happened to Milli Vanilli. It happens to people of all ages, races, ethnicities, religions, genders and classes. It even happens to members of Congress.

The Singing Senators were once the most popular band of their kind in the world. They made a classic album, performed with their idols, sold out concerts and received international media exposure. They made their rock and roll dreams come true. But it was all over in a flash. The tragic story of this supergroup, which consisted of Republicans John Ashcroft (Missouri), Trent Lott (Mississippi), Larry Craig (Idaho) and Jim Jeffords (Vermont), will serve as cautionary tale to future generations of starry-eyed lawmakers.

John, Trent, Larry and Jim rose to the top from humble beginnings. Sons of a lowly preacher, a lowly pipefitter, a lowly rancher and a lowly state supreme court justice, and raised on the mean, unforgiving streets of Springfield, Missouri, Grenada, Mississippi, Payette, Idaho and Rutland, Vermont, these men received what little education they could from schools-of-hard-knocks Yale University, the University of Mississippi, the University of Idaho, and, um, Yale University. Yet despite the odds, all four triumphed over adversity to represent their respective states in the United States Senate. They became fast friends once they discovered that they shared a common passion: rocking out.

The Singing Senators were born in early 1995, when the quartet found themselves harmonizing a rendition of "Happy Birthday" for a fellow congressperson. It was pure beauty. With Ashcroft singing baritone, Lott singing bass, Craig singing lead and Jeffords singing tenor, they realized that they were unstoppable. Their first official gig occurred that October at a Young Political Leaders of America meeting, and the response to their gospel, country and patriotic covers and originals was overwhelming. In December, they performed on the Today Show. Requests for the Senators to play at parties, fundraisers and public events started rolling in. Country stars The Oak Ridge Boys, longtime idols of John, Trent, Larry and Jim, invited them to collaborate, and every major television network aired the results. In 1998, they recorded a ten-song CD in Nashville. Senatormania was sweeping the nation. From New York to California, men began showing up at the office wearing outfits inspired by the group's uniform of khaki pants and light blue button-down shirts.

Alas, there was trouble in paradise. Ashcroft had been writing and recording solo material since before the group's inception, and his 1995 cassette, Gospel (Music) According to John, was becoming increasingly popular. But before the other three singers could work up the nerve to acknowledge the growing tension and jealousy, the group was dealt its first blow. In 2000, Ashcroft lost his bid for reelection to Democrat Mel Carnahan, who happened to be dead. Despite the fact that you technically can't be a Singing Senator if you aren't an actual Senator, the four men pressed onward. They refused to rename themselves, perhaps because the name, "Three Singing Senators and One Singing Loser Who's Less Popular Than A Corpse "looks kind of awkward on T-shirts.
The group's fall from grace had begun, and like a fat kid sledding down a hill with an interstate highway at the bottom, they were headed on a collision course with disaster. On May 23, 2001, Jim Jeffords announced that he was leaving the Republican party and becoming an Independent, causing a major shakeup in Congress. John, Trent and Larry were devastated, though they had seen it coming- Jim had always been the least comfortable, most awkward member of the band. The three toyed with the idea of a replacement, but without Jim, they would never be able to rekindle the magic that once was. The Singing Senators would be no more.

Of the four voices, only John Ashcroft was able to retain his singing career following the breakup of the group. No longer a mere Singing Senator, he is currently enjoying worldwide fame as The Singin' Dancin' Super Kickass Camel-Jockey-Huntin' Attorney General of These Blessed United States, fighting crime and protecting his sacred mother country from Satan through the power of such original compositions as "Let The Eagle Soar" (look for the Neptunes remix soon). Though Ashcroft's star may one day eclipse that of his former group, this great nation will never forget the way it was once soothed and healed by the heavenly harmonizing of four crooning Congressmen.