Obscure Onion Journalism Honored by Krankiboy Khronicles

The Khronicles would like to take this opportunity to recognize a lesser known publication for it's fine journalism.

REAGAN PYRAMID NEARS COMPLETION

SIMI VALLEY, CA
Slave manpower was doubled this week in an effort to ensure that erection of the gigantic Reagan Pyramid remains on schedule to be completed in time for the 40thh president's mummification and ascension into the Afterworld.


Above: Builders expect the Reagan Pyramid to be ready in time for the Great Communicator's mummification and ascension into the Afterworld upon death. Among the items to be entombed with Reagan are 2,500 MX missiles, a golden chalice of jelly beans, and his beloved servant, George Bush Sr.
Swift completion of the towering structure is "of paramount priority," according to Republican Party insiders.

"Only the most gigantic tomb ever created will be worthy of the Great Communicator," former Reagan Secretary of Defense Caspar Weinberger said. "As his mortal subjects, it is our holy duty to provide Reagan with a burial commensurate with his stature, in order that he may enter the Realm of Death bedecked with raiments and honors so that he may take his rightful place beside the mighty Sun God, Ra."

According to project overseer and Reagan Attorney General Edwin Meese, the 118,000-ton pyramid, which is visible from a distance of more than 40 miles and has already cost the lives of some 50,000 slaves, will serve not only as Reagan's conduit to the Empire of the Gods, but also as an earthly repository of the deified Republican's vast wealth.

"Buried with Reagan will be his finest treasures," Meese said, "including 2,500 MX intercontinental ballistic missiles, 15 stealth bombers, a golden chalice of jelly beans, and his most prized servant, former president George Bush Sr."

Bush told reporters, "It is my honor and duty to have my sinus passages ceremonially packed with sand before my still-living, pain-racked body is forever locked with my leader's within the Great Reagan's final resting place. Let us all praise Osiris."

Reagan's mummified husk will be placed in the burial chamber as intact as possible. To this end, Reagan's internal organs were removed shortly after his death and preserved, encased in ornate protective ceramic vessels and sealed in beeswax.

There's more to the article but I gave it a proper comedic circumcision.

They broke a rule of good comedy and used the word spleen. I pardon them for their youthful transgression.

I like that they didn't mention having to remove the brain for the mummification process.

http://www.theonion.com/news/index.php?issue=4026

Snakes and Snails and Salamanders...

I just finished The Pig Man, a book written in 1968. A few references aside I quite enjoyed it. Of course it's written for young teenagers. But I didn't get into much trouble when I was a teen so it was nice to live vicariously through the wise-ass characters in the book.

Like I said I was a pretty boring teenager aside from the roman candle incident. But to my credit I really thought that the cat would move out of the way. I also blame the lack of proper adult supervision.

I got into a great deal of trouble from age 4 to 10. I have the honor of being the only child ever expelled from Noe Valley Preschool. Yes, I did take a metal chair and use it to open up this other boy's head, but he was like three months older than me and he had the nerve to roll a rollerskate at my leg. There's other stuff that I'm not particularly proud of, mostly because I was small and so I learned to fight dirty. I was a hyperactive child with some anger issues. Now I've traded that in for lethargic and jaded. I takes a lot less energy to scoff at badly made films and make sarcastic quips than it does to go leaping Super-fly Jimmy Snuka off the top of the monkey bars leveling the schoolyard bully and choking him into submission. I still feel bad about that one too. I found out later that he was in the special ed program. I suppose if I still had the unlimited energy and rapid healing ability I'd be tempted. As long as I'm getting acts of violence off my chest, I want to make a personal apology to those salamanders I dropped onto that cactus to see what would happen. Like comedy and tragedy little boys also straddle the fine line between curiousity and evil. I just pray that when I have a child that it's a girl. That way she won't be awful until she's 13 or 14 and that gives me time to save for a good Scandinavian boarding school.

One, Two, Three Many Drinks

"A man has got to know his limitations." Anonmyous

Unless of course he's as drunk as I was this Saturday night.

When you are at a party and you go to make yourself another drink you may discover that the ice cubes are all stuck together in one solid block. It is not advisable to make a fist and then punch the block of ice as hard as you possibly can in an effort to break them up so you can put them in your drink. Also don't hit it five times because the only silver lining to that activity is that when your hand starts to bleed and swell, you are able to immediately ice your injury. Also I was lucky because I'd had so many drinks that the pain was greatly dulled. That's thinking ahead. "Always be Prepared" I would have made a first rate Boy Scout.

I'll get you next time Vodka. That's not a threat that's a promise.

I'll also have to tell you about this little skanklit. It was a casual outside party chatting and drinking, but this girl is in her spandex haltertop with the belly cut out with some brand name in huge letters across the front is not just dancing, but grinding on this drunk guy at the party. This little Brittney wannabe was wearing enough makeup and thick blue eyesshadow that her face would stop a bullet. She wasn't even tall or coordinated enough to make good tips as a stripper. She'd get coins instead of bills tucked into her thong. So we named her Brittany Dimecrotch. We enjoyed talking loudly about her while she stood right next to us.

And then three was Zora, (her real name) the dog that liked to fetch rocks. She would fetch anything you'd throw for her. I wanted to throw my car keys, but the party was a bit crowed by them. Instead I found a twig and threw in under Dimecrotch's leg hoping there would be a bitch collision. SInce you don't know what happened let's just pretend that Zora ran under Dime's legs and she fell onto the concrete but thanks to her protective Maybeline face-coating.

I also had to send my wife in to save our friend Wess from this stand-up comic chic who came across like Margaret Cho's less talented cousin. Now that I'm married I pride myself on being a good wing man who can lock in on the bogies and bravely send my wife over to scare the pushy girls away.

All said it really was a good party and my hand is healing nicely. I think that soon it won't even hurt when I type.

Dogs, sand, and insanity.

I went down to Huntington Beach with Lady R. She's former Mossad, MI6 and doesn't want me to use her real name. Huntington is a rare and wonderful place where dogs of all shapes and sizes can run free on the sand, frolic in the surf, sniff whatever they want and chase slobbery sand-glazed tennis balls as long as their instincts demand. Lady R, let's call her Rachel. We build a rather elaborate, mildly, impressive bust of giant dog sticking out of the sand with a stick in it's mouth. Although the one dude who saw it said "Hey, that's a cool-looking bear." But if we'd hit that boy with an SAT exam I don't think he'd have impressed any of the Ivy league schools. Then he proceeded to ask me where I was from three times. Sadly he didn't even seem to be stoned.

It was a good outing for my two dogs because the bigger one, Loki, a male, refused to be mounted by a big prison-minded Labrador. It gave me the feeling that I imagine a father has upon sees his son finally stand up to the local bully. Most of the people and dogs were very nice. However, there was one lady who continuously swore obscenities at her dog whenever he wanted to romp around with the other dogs. She seemed to think that it was somehow highly inappropriate for dogs to chase one another and play. Highly inappropriate for a legally Dog friendly beach. "Uh... My dog is such an asshole," she explained to us. "Get over here you stupid fuck." I looked around to see if she had any children that I needed to kidnap and put into social services, where they might actually have a chance at self-esteem. She didn't. Even those homeless, mentally unbalanced people who travel around with their dogs tied to shopping carts always seem to treat their pets with kindness. I think this lady was the person that the pet rock had been invented for. "Good, rock. Sit... stay... Good boy."

I wonder if there is a place that would intervene in a situation where a dog is being verbally abused. Hopefully the woman will come to her senses, otherwise the dog will undoubtedly turn to a life of crime and use hardcore narcotics as a means to escape his everyday reality.

Another highlight of the day was when I tossed a large dead sand crab into Lady R's mouth. She didn't even punch me. I was shocked to get away unpunished for such a gross little boy act of vileness.

And to top it all off we found an enormous piece of seaweed that was as thick as a baseball bat around and about the size of my arm. This thing was bendy yet solid, which was fully proven when Lady R hit me with it in the spine, sprawling me out on the ground. After the pain and humiliation of being felled by a piece of ocean plant. I immediately determined to bring it home and place the enormous brown slimy tentacle looking thing into the toilet to make a scientific observation. What would my wife's reaction be to a massive U.F.O. (F for floating) sea weed chunk. I'll let you know.


Back to the cussing dog owner for a second.

The last time I got so angry with a dog owner was in Palm Springs. I was in a restaurant parking lot and I heard this little whimpery yelping coming from inside this big Ford SUV. I peered in to see a teeny, seven-eight week-old puppy no bigger than sub sandwich. This little, barely-weaned pup was inside a sealed SUV, inside a doggie carrier. No air, no water and parked in the 108 degree sun.

So, being the prick/animal lover that I am, I went into the restaurant asked to speak with the manager and immediately told him to page the owner of the SUV and it's license plate number. He obliged.

The guy was... how can I put this objectively...? He was a goomba fuckhead turd for brains. He was at first worried that he was in some kind of trouble and said he'd only left the puppy in there while he had lunch with his friends, because it wouldn't stop crying. Oh, yeah, can't eat your blueberry pancakes with a crying puppy around, better to fry him to a crisp.

I told the guy I was with P.E.T.A and explained what that was. Then he immediately wanted to know if he was getting a ticket. Unfortunately I told him I was from LA and he immediately began to doubt that LA P.E.T.A. had jurisdiction on him. He told me to fuck off back to LA. So I obliged him by getting in my car and calling the local police, exaggerating a tad about how long the puppy had been in the car. I'm sure he was gone by the time they showed up, but in my imagination the police maced him and choked him into submission with a nightstick.

I was proud to stick up for a helpless creature. I'm looking forward to getting a fake or borrowed badge for use in the future. Maybe a tazer too.

Flirting. How much is too much?

Good. Question. Me.

#1) Acceptable compliments a man can make to another woman when one or both of you are married.

I really like your shoes, where did you get them?

You're very funny, I love listening to your stories.

Your wife has a great smile.

#2) Unacceptable compliments (same situation)

You have a really amazing body, I'd love to see what you look like naked. Nothing beyond that, just like I'd want to see a great sculpture. I just love the female form.

I love the way you smell. Not the perfume, but you just always smell so wonderful.

Your hands are cold. You can put them in my jacket pockets if you want to warm them up.

Most of the unacceptable compliments would get people totally uptight if not irate. I sometimes wish that I had been around in the free love era. I'd still want to be in a committed relationship but the attitudes would be more refreshing. Less "Why you lookin' at my lady?!" and more "You guys seem nice, how about some wine and a foot massage?"

I trust my wife and so seeing a guy flirt with her is nothing but a turn on and validation that I have excellent taste in women. I get to see her react to the fresh feeling of being desired and flirted with. It's a powerful feeling. Who doesn't like being on the receiving end of a coy smile.

I think that there needs to be more research done into the area of interpersonal relationships and the role that flirting serves. I am a flirty person, just outgoing and desirous of people taking a shine to me. It's validating. But how do you know when you're flirting too much? Is it a human compunction that replaces the need for sexual conquest? For me it's enough just to know that I could have gotten physical with the girl I was flirting with. Most guys have close female friends who we'd like to hug and show affection towards. But with a wife or other friends around, too much will get read into a situation. It sucks to be on guard worrying about sending mixed messages. I would be refreshing if you could say to your platonic friend, "Hey, I feel like cuddling with you or hugging you without it being a big deal." It wasn't a big deal in college But now I don't think I know anybody who can comfortably do that without fear that some deeper meaning will be attached to the desire to hold somebody you care about. I know there are more than a few open relationship couples who allow their partners to have sex with other people and say that they're not jealous. But it seems to me that they're generally jealous when they're not included and that most of those relationships are on their last legs and turn to threesomes or foursomes as an effort to save a sinking ship. It happens. But I don't get it. You're sitting on the couch watching some TV while your wife is in your bedroom with your friend getting pounded like a naughty veal cutlet. How does that work outside of a Cinemax movie plot? Perhaps it's just a mutual understanding that sex doesn't mean love. There are successful gay relationships that allow for sex outside the relationship. It seems to make sense it could be that males are biologically inclined to play the field and wish to have the opportunity to do so, whereas females attach security and love and trust to the act of having sex. I agree that love making is much better when it's with somebody you care about, but sometimes sex is just sex.

I'm a recently married guy and a little jealous can be healthy for a relationship, but how much is too much? I wish we could all be a little more open minded about sexuality, myself included.

Even dogs get jealous when you pay attention or "flirt" with another dog or a sibling. It seems that this need for intimacy and attention runs pretty deep if it's emotional behavior that even dogs display. I guess the main thing is establishing boundaries that you are both comfortable with.

Well, I must cut this post short. I want to tidy up the apartment before tonight's big circle jerk. Should I serve red wine or white wine?

Joe Cool without his Shades 

Get your Space Badges here!

 

He's so commanding. 

I meet these two at a dance club on Halloween. Guess which one I married 

This is as patriotic as I get 

John's parties are off da hook yo! 

Get Your Blog On!

I haven't thought about blogs in over three years. I truly, truly forgot that I had even ever written one, so much to my delight I find that there is one that is moderately amusing. I feel that from moderately amusing it's just a quick hike up to Humor Hill. After establishing a base camp there. I can edge my way along The River of Tragedy and Sorrow to Laugh Out Loud Funny Gulch - (Gulch is a funny word) Just getting off track from this not so funny bit about funny bits I would like to say that I would like to introduce a bit of slang into the English language. I would like to contribute something to society that will live on after I am redistributed to the earth. The slang is "Baby's Bottom." As in smooth as a... This is an example of how it could be used correctly.

Maxwell: Hey, Doug, how have things been since you got out of rehab?

Doug: Baby's Bottom. Haven't even had the desire to slide that sexy needle into my body into my arm sending me off on a heaven-ascending magic carpet ride of warm spongy bliss. How are you handling the divorce.

Maxwell: Things haven't been exactly Baby's Bottom these days. I still wish that I could have my marriage intact. How did I know those back-stabbing girl scouts were going to come to my house seven months pregnant with a sob story that my wife just lapped up like a kitty on Milk Day.


Well... Let's hope that Max and Doug can turn their lives around, but in the meantime let's get out there and start using Baby's Bottom like it was the title of a Jay-Z hit single.

If you could do that for me that would be totally baby's bottom.