Khronicles Unexclusive: 16% of Stupid People Are Also Dumb

Gently Breaking News

In a new USA TODAY/Gallup poll published on Monday a record high 62 percent said the war in Iraq was not "worth it," and a record low 16 percent said the United States was winning, USA Today said.

Wow! I think I actually heard the sound of scraping as they hit the bottom of the intelligence barrel. So 16 % of those surveyed said we were winning the war. This must be the same 16% that can't read, don't own televisions or radios and sleep amidst their own feces. This 16 percent may not be aware that the first Gulf war with Iraq is over. Or perhaps they are still confident that our boys will pull out a decisive victory in Vietnam. But then again how smart can I be considering I read USA Today. I like the pretty color pictures. I hope they can create scratch and sniff news so that we no longer have to do all that hard reading of the words in the sentences. You'd simply scratch the picture of the news item and you could just smell the world events.

Pictured above are Floyd, Boyd and Lloyd outside Liquor Barn in Cowtippinton, Alabama.

The trio expressed their minority view that "The US of Fuck-a-duckin' A is totally whooping the turbans off them there ass-breath, camel-jockey turd lickers." "Terrorize this!" added Lloyd.

President Bush has commissioned the triumvirate to conduct and lead a second Iraqi Study Group. According to President Bush he is looking for "Sumthin with a fresh perspectivity that doesn't have so many fancy ideas." As he boarded Air Force One Bush added "We're doing, like, a war here folks, I don't have time to be reading big long-wordy reports. I got alotta presidentin' to do."

Happy Birthday Jesus

Shhhsssh the little dude is sleeping. Sweet him, he's got a huge little noggin'. I'd better get him the adult size ear muffs.

She what he's doing there in the picture? That's exactly how I intend to spend my Christmas day. Then when I wake up, instead of turning water into wine I'll be turning wine into urine, eating lots of chocolate and watching the entire Season 2 of The Office. It's my own lil Christmas miracle.

This year the only gifts I bought were for my dogs and my mom. I think I did a better job wrapping the present for the dogs but I'm sure mom will still enjoy the liver-flavor jerky.

Enjoy your gifts or stocking full of coal or whatever you can find. I recommend that you find a human who will let you touch their soft parts. Bust out some of the good hooch and smoke 'em if you got 'em. I pray none of you see any creepy Sith lords in your dreams.


Honestly, this dude is a scary-looking mother fucker. He's like a hung over Uncle Fester. I've heard of having bags under your eyes but his are so deep and dark that a large family of bats could live in there. He reminds me of the villains from Scooby Doo. "Like, zoiks Scoob, I think the Vatican is haunted!"
"Rut roh! Run Raggy, run!"

Friendship or Fetish?

It might have been one of those "You-had-to-be-there" nights but fortunately for me I was there.

I just got home from dinner with one of the dearest friends I've got on this doomed little planet of ours. It was a huge and much needed stress breaker to be my complete, uncensored, stupid self with a friend. It's freeing to behave in an utterly, politically incorrect way and feel unjudged. I forgot how rejuvenating it is to spend time with somebody who always has your back through thick and thin and always finds a way to make you laugh.

He was a bit sleep deprived and was especially loopy-goofy-punchy, which made for a memorable dinner. He even agreed to write a song for me entitled "Me Rawk You Long Time." We spent a few minutes looking at the menu and giggling like idiots over how the menu items at the tai restaurant also sounded like kinky sex acts. Our favorite by a mile had to be the "Beef Waterfall."

Him: "Son, if you're ever in the big city and a man comes up to you and offers you a Beef Waterfall... I want you to run..."

Me: "Run to the nearest moving bus and leap in front of it. Because if that man can get to you that means he can get to me....

Him: "Once them gays get our DNA we're done for."

I'm not sure what the young waitress thought when she overheard that riff. I was laughing too much to even care.

It cheered me up greatly and also made me sad that my friend isn't going to be in the same town as me any longer. Here in L.A. you tend to take people for granted and it's easy to drift apart for large spans of time. It's a rare and wonderful thing to have somebody with whom you can just pick up with right where you left off. Or maybe I just have secret fetish for balding men with sideburns. Don't tell his wife.

Urge to Purge #1

Things get stuck in my head. Sometimes they are nightmares, sometimes they're deep philosophical questions and sometimes they're just lyrics to a horrid Paula Abdul song like Opposites Attract. Most people have enough room in their brains to just store these things up. I don't have the space to keep it all. Unfortunatley for me between the demons that live there, my depression, and some light recreational drug use there ain't all that much extra brain space left. Whereas most people can store billions of gigabytes of such crap, I have about as much mental storage room as an ipod shuffle. The old one.

This is my attempt to clear out my mind's lint trap,purge my mind and give the nice demons a bit more room to put their feet up and stretch out while they play cards with old man Depression. I'm basically dumping out the crap that gets clogged in the pool filter onto my blog.

Here is the thing that's been bouncing around my head. Best Seller Lists. I know that they track books to see which are best sellers. Does this mean that there is also a list of worst sellers out there? Ever other book I see has something about it being a best seller slapped on the cover so wouldn't that make it more special for a book to be on the worst seller list? What in the name of beloved Baby Jesus are the worst seller books about? The History of Burlap? How to Boil Water? Ant Farm Maintenence?

My Idea is to simply put out some slapped together book but then give it the big fat cover title of "875 Weeks on the New York Times Best Seller List!!!" That is bound to sell a few copies. Well, I feel temporarily purged. Now if I could get the chorus of that crappy Ben Lee song Catch My Disease unstuck from inside my head I'd be a happy Krankiboy.

When in doubt, take the dogs back out

I'm visiting with my mom during an extended Thanksgiving visit. This is in part to see her to address my guilt over being a bad son and not calling her for many months, part to eat the amazing food that she cooks, family bonding blah blah, but mostly because I like it up here in San Francisco. Something that I find odd about my mother is her ability to have a completely one track mind.
Here are two such examples.
I'll say "Hey, krankimom, do you mind if I watch football on television?"
"Sure, that's fine...what do you think we should have for dessert tomorrow?"
"Um... whatever... or nothing."
"I can make a cherry cake. It will go well with the turkey soup."
At this point I pretended to be absorbed by the game rather than get into a stupid discussion over how cherry cake and turkey soup "go well" together.

She seems to use my visit as an excuse to make lavish deserts that she can then feel less guilty about eating.

Later the next day
"Mom, what channel is your CNN up here?
"I don't know but we need to go to the market before it closes to get the ingredients for the cherry cake that you asked me to make."
"I never mentioned cherry cake, Mom. You did."
"Well, whoever, I still need the ingredients if you want me to make it."
That's when I announced that the dogs needed to be taken on another walk. Why not, they hadn't been outside in nearly 35 minutes.

Happy Hollywood Holidays from Kramer and The Juice

Golly, it sure has been a fun week here in Hollywoodland.


Zany Michael Richards

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Lovable O.J. Simpson

I love watching the Michael Richards clip. There is something very raw and mesmirizing about watching a human being have a nervous breakdown and totally self destruct on stage. It's like watching somebody take leave of their senses and drive off a cliff on purpose.

Doesn't O.J. look happy lately? You would too if you just got paid millions of dollars for a TV show that is never going to air and a book entitled If I Did It Here's How it Would Have Happened. Bill O'Reily (Self Important Duchebag and MSNBC personality) is taking credit for having Fox decide not to air the tasteless attempt at ratings grabbing. The reality is that no advertisers wanted to buy time on the show which is the business decision for why it was scrapped. But the important thing is that O.J. got paid but still has yet to pay any of the 17.7 million dollar judgment that he lost in civil court. I wish the judgment had been that O.J. must rejoin the National Football league so I could watch them knock the living shit out of him every Sunday. I'm currently working on a sure fire hit. It's a wacky Buddy comedy Starring O.J. Simpson and Michael Richards as two LAPD Homicide cops who bond over their love of Necrophilia. Mel Gibson plays their kooky, Jew-hatin' police chief. Hilarity ensues.

I'm just going to sit back and wait for Fox and Rupert Murdoch to call. The O.J. and Kramer casting combo is gonna be the biggest thing since Chocolate met Peanutbutter. I strongly suggest that you start kissing my ass now so I'll invite you to the show's premier party. I've got to go now and pre-count my money. I just need some suggestions for a good name for the show.

xoxo Executive Producer, Krankiboy

Gobble Fucking Gobble

Yeah, it's nearly Thanksgiving time here in America or as the rest of the English speaking world calls it... Thursday.

Pardon me for sounding like a cuntarded stand-up comedian but I feel the need to make the observation that Turkey Day is a stupid holiday. The best thing I can say for the holiday is that millions of little kids trace their hand to make the outline of turkeys. Thanks to the Indians for helping the pilgrims survive the harsh winters when they first arrived in North America. Sorry about killing you all off and taking your land but if the Casinos do well enough maybe you can buy your land back and restock the place with buffalo.

Make your own Hand Turkey... Bitch Amusingish Hand Turkeys

Somebunny sent me something

About a week ago I got a package from some bookstore that I hadn't ordered. I'm not sure why I didn't open it as I was curious. I probably just set it down on the table in my living room. This table has properties very similar to the Bermuda Triangle and the package disappeared for quite some time. Today about two weeks later I get another package. This one has my address handwritten in pink pen. I opened it up right away and this book was inside.



I hadn't ordered this. Why would I? I wasn't doing any kids book research. I quickly did a hard target search of the Bermuda Rectangular table and found the unopened package from the bookstore. I opened it and found the identical book. This one had a receipt and it said that I had ordered it through eBay. I didn't. Why do I have two copies of It's Not Easy Being a Bunny?

What was especially odd was that at the time I was watching the film What the Bleep do we Know? It was all about Quantum Physics and reality and the perception of reality and how do we process what is real and what is perceived as real. Is what we perceive to be reality actually reality or just observed reality? They talked about how looking into this question will lead you down a "rabbit hole." That's when I went outside and found the Bunny book. Now I'm reading it looking for some deep hidden message of profound importance as if fate has placed this item in my path for a reason. So far all I can get is that P.J. Funnybunny, the story's protagonist, does not like eating cooked carrots for every meal and he does not like having such great big ears. It hasn't mentioned anything about time being a construct of applied perception. Maybe I need to reread the part where P.J. goes to live with the possums.

Blog Shy

Blogging used to be a nice escape and a way to connect with other people and sometimes prompt a laugh or two. A good unique creative outlet. Now everybody and their mother and their mother's cat have their own blogs. More than that however is the fact that I feel that certain people who know me well may be judging me and scrutinizing my blog and I'm not eager to provide them with any glimpse into my life. I'm frankly not interested in my almost ex-wife (for one) to have even a vague idea what is going on in my life. There is a 99.8% chance she and others never look at it but the 0.2% chance she is is enough to put me off the slice of life style blog. I'll have to find a way to express myself while sharing nothing of myself or putting my life into the spotlight. I always liked being able to just write whatever came into my mind but now the internal editor is working overtime and harshing my mellow.

My New Hero

Even on days when I am feeling down there are people out there who are able to lift up my spirits and hold me captivate in a state of awe.

I still find it remarkable that the internet connects the pure masters of their craft with a simple citizen like myself. Sometimes I feel unworthy.

You will want to have a pen and paper handy when you view this.















http://www.thorlinks.com/mediaview/978/How_To_Pimp_Slap

Wock On!

In the same week I had two somewhat similar first person accounts relayed to me. I feel guilty for finding them amusing.

The first was my friend Roz who went out on a date with a Chinese professor who works at her college. They went to see the professor's twin brother play at a small club. The twin is a serious musician. He sings vocals and plays acoustic guitar. He was apparently musically talented but his accent made all the R sounds into W sounds in a very Elmer Fudd fashion. Why he chose of all songs he chose to do Aerosmith's classic Wub in an Elewader and Joan Jet's I Wub Wock and Woll is a mystery. I wish I had been there to provide more details and squirm in embarrassment for him.

Tonight my buddy and I went out for drinks. I needed to de-stress badly so it was a rareish and much needed outing. He had been out at a bar and had the "pleasure" of listening to a very polished karaoke rendition of the song Working 9 to 5. However the singer happened to be mentally retarded and even getting the recap second hand I nearly wet my pants.

I hope the Retarded Chinese Musicians' Guild doesn't track me down. That could spell sewious twuble for me.

Yes, I'm going to Hell when I die but I won't be lonely.

Secret Identity

I had to remove that lovely post with the link to the picture I drew because I need to protect my secret identity. If you know my secret identity then you are truly lucky and/or saddled with me as your pessimistic friend.

At any rate I must be off to battle the forces of Evil wherever they may lurk.

Go here. Draw a picture. Tell me what kind of picture you get back. That will show evil who is boss.
www.sketchswap.com

Bumper Stickers

I was on my way back from Northern California today. While driving along the Pacific Coast Highway I saw hundreds of bumper stickers adorning cars and trucks. Here are just 4 of my favorites with some comments.


1) If you can read this then you can probably also smell the FART I just made for you. Stop Tailgating Me!

I truly hate people who drive so close to me that they make my ass itch. This bumper sticker is pro-safe driving and a bit low brow. I approve.

2) GOD was my Co-Pilot... but we crashed in the Andes and I was forced to eat him.

This one shows a blatant disgust for organized religion's pushy preachy attitude. Two thumbs up!

3) Shaving is behaving! Take a Razor to your Bush.

It's playful, slightly dirty, political, and it rhymes. I approve.

4) I Love Porn

Simple, brave, and refreshingly honest. Kudos to you sir.


Have you seen any good bumper stickers? Share.

I can count my L.A. friends on one finger

It's freeing to now be a self-proclaimed asshole. It allows me to say whatever is on my mind with 75% fewer apologies after the fact.

I read the news and saw a bit on TV about the plot to blow up planes headed into Los Angeles International Airport that was foiled a few days ago. Honestly aside from the cruel carnage and vaporizing a few thousand innocent tourists and one nice guy, Roy, who works as an airport baggage handler, I thought it was a pretty fantastic idea.

Blowing the living hell out of LAX could protect millions of people from exposure to this culturally and morally bankrupt sesspool. Blow the entire place up? A grand notion. In fact, I like the idea so much that I'll even do jumping jacks while holding sparklers and blasting ACDC tunes if you need a good distraction.

Actually, I hope they wait until February when I'll be gone from here? Unless of course I've already been forever tainted by this city and should be butchered like a diseased baby sheep. If so, please go easy on the pain level. Perhaps mine could be Death by Chocolate? Just a suggestion.

Taking a trip out of LA even for a few days has helped me realize what an ugly soulless steaming pile of shit this town is.

Los Angeles deserves to be blown to subatomic bits. Here is a partial list of reasons.

1) It's dirty. Even the motherfucking air is dirty. Yes, the air here fucks mothers. I am breathing in dirty ever time I inhale. I am polluting my lungs and not for a buzz or any kind of high either. Air is supposed to be invisible. LA air is frighteningly visible. In fact some days... chunky.

2) 104% of the people who live here do not give a shit about you, or me. They care about you if you can help their career, get them into a cool club or help them fuck somebody hot.

3) 96% of the people you mistook for your friends are fairweather friends. They think you're great unless you can't drive them to the airport and take care of their cat for a month while they go to Jamaica. Kitty is so easy to care for. Just dont' forget that kitty needs to have his teeth flossed daily and special cream rubbed on his kitty anus. If you aren't willing to do that and your "freind" no longer needs you to go out with them to make them feel socially secure and validated while they look for sex from another human being you are now disposable.

4) The California education system is the worst funded in the United States because people don't want to have property tax go to fund education like it does in the other 49 states. They don't see how having good schools would be of any benefit to them or their community. I think it's called prop 13 that made this happen. Now this year the schools in LA are getting an additional 60% cut in funding. Damn, my "become a teacher to get stinking rich" plan isn't looking so hot anymore.

5) Arnold Schwartzenegger is our Governor. Clearly he has the qualifications to run the 7th largest economy on Earth. Exterminate the terminator.

6) Most people here think plastic surgery is just fine. Beware the spread of the Tanorexic Bimbo Virus.

7) In LA you're only as cool as the car you drive. This leaves those of us who own beige 1990 Honda Accords shit out of luck.

8) Melanie Griffith, Carrot Top, Ben Affleck, Tom Cruise, Mel "I blame the Jews" Gibson, Joan Rivers, that arrogant ass-face rapper dude and that uberbitch what's her name?... You know the one who walks around with that smug perma-grin that makes you want to drop her down a dirty elevator shaft... They all live here.

9) Had they blown LAX airport up on schedule I would not have had my car stopped and impounded on Saturday by the Airport Cops. Granted my registration was overdue, but they in their wisdom decided not to ticket me but to make me get out of my car and impound it. I was driving my aunt to catch her flight at the time and we had to take a bus to the other side of the airport. How the fuck do you get around LA with no car? How the fuck do I even get home? I called my friend (singular) and she picked me up.

And finally
10) They're making another Rocky Movie. End the pain.

Los Angeles is supposedly part of humankind but I think they should be disqualified as the people here are neither human nor kind.

Soddom and Gomorrah certainly had their day of reckoning (if you believe that Bible book that God thoughtfully wrote for us is true). Personally I'm more of a Flying Spaghetti Monster advocate myself.

So if they got theirs then perhaps LA has it's day of recokining on the way. I'll try and keep the faith. I'd suggest that they posion the water supply but the water here is already so shitty tasting that we all drink bottled water as it is.

There are perhps 8 people I know in LA that I think are worthy of not being blown to high hell. Wait... sorry, it's 9 people who deserve to live. I almost forgot to include Roy the baggage handler.

How I Spent My Summer Vacation

I'm sure that in a few days millions of American school kids will be delighted to be starting back at school once again. No doubt the vast majority will be forced to write essays entitled "How I Spent My Summer Vacation" for their utterly fascinated teachers.

Mainly these Summer stories revolve around trips to Disneyland or Splash Mountain water parks or visiting grandma in Florida. There is always the little pompous rich kid who seems to enjoy addressing the class to tell them all about his European Excursion and all the countries that he went to and all the culture he absorbed. "I even ate snails!" Ewwwww. And their favorite place of all in Europe was France - gay.

Often there is a weird mischievous cousin in the story who either did something dangerous with fireworks or was cruel to somebody's pet cat or hamster.

Sometimes there is a family funeral that the kids feel compelled to write about and totally brings the class down. However that's only if it's one of those downer kids who shares things that nobody really gives a dead rat's buttock about.

There is the child of the hippies who went to agriculture camp and connected to the earth and will bother you for the rest of the year to recycle.

Theatre camp for some of the narcissist kids who have now been encouraged to be loud and sing show tunes on the bus to field trips.

And there is always a kid who will tell you in extreme detail what level he got to on his new Xbox video game

I have already written my own "How I Spent My Summer Vacation" essay. It completely covers everything new and different and exciting that I've done with myself over the last two months.

I hope you enjoy the read:
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How I Spent My Summer Vacation

by Anti-social Asshole

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This past summer I grew a beard. Then it got annoying so I shaved it off.

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The End

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Please submit your 1 to 88 line long essay that tells how You spent your Summer/Winter vacation. I will grade them and give you my inappropriate teacher comments.

Mongolian Barbecue and Giant Tortoises

I had some lovely Mongolian BBQ tonight. I left the house and everything. Drove a car... parked it... just like a real grown-up.

As I was eating the amazing food I was thinking about Genghis Khan the ruthless Mongol invader and wondering what prompts a man to go out and lead armies in the slaughter of other human beings when he could instead just enjoy a nice marinated juicy steak with some kimchi and an icey Coca-Cola

I suppose Genghis was intent on spreading the love of BBQ as far east as he could. A noble goal.

I also bought a book yesterday with a fact in it that blew my mind.

A tortoise was presented to Captain Kidd in 1770. This tortoise lived from 1770 until 1965. That is from the Revolutionary War all the way to the Vietnam War. From the birth of Beethoven to Bob Marley's first billboard hit.

That unravels my brain.

Aussie Anecdote

The vast majority of my readers (a.k.a. Davethescot) have demanded an anecdote:

Here is the first one that comes to mind.

Just before heading to the Meredith Music Festival in Australia I met this dude named Dangerous. Despite his scary sideburns he seemed nice enough and shared some joy pills with me. As the sun began to set this fellow Dangerous went out of his mind on drugs and he kept calling me Kranki-Cunt really loudly*. In my drug-addled sensitive puppydog haze I wandered away from this strange man to escape and hopefully find solace in the arms of hot sweaty dancing Australian women.

Many hours later, when my first foray into international flirting almost lead to a fist fight, I wisely decided to return to the campsite. A tactical retreat. However it was now very dark and I was most righteously stoned and lost in this strange land. I walked about for what seemed like hours and finally concluded that I was full-on lost. I started to panic realizing that I was on the other side of the Earth in the dusty outback with no clue what to do. Druggie tears began to well up in my big dopey eyes.

Just then, far in the distance, I heard the familiar sound of loud Scottish foul-mouthed boozhound talk. Allah be praised! I was able to follow these sweet, dulcet tones back to my campsite and tuck nicely into a warm friendly sleeping bag.

Thanks Dangerous. The next night I found Jesus but that's another story.

* It was actually perfectly normal drunken Scottish conversation volume but I didn't know that at the time. I also wasn't culturally aware that being repeatedly called a Kranki-Cunt was a sign of affection.

NAME CHANGE

I have attempted to modify the blog name for accuracy and veracity.

Please don't confuse the Anti-social Asshole Anecdotes with the Automobile Association of America. If you are stuck on the roadside and need help. I'm probably not the best person to call upon.

I notice the change from Krankiboy Khronicles to Anti-social Asshole Anecdotes has not actually happened despite attempts. Perhaps there is a profanity blocker on blog names. Stupid fucking Bloggerfucker.

Another Paranoid American?

It's not paranoia if someone is actually after you.

Poor Dave

read this


Came across this for anybody interested. Scary scary shit. If it is fiction then it's good writing. And if it's not, the world isn't going to hell, we're already there.

I embrace the fact that Chappelle has been able to point out the absuridity of racism with his brand of humor and have always been a fan of his. If I'm killed in my home you'll know that it was Oprah that did it.

Scientology, The Christian Right, The Black Crusaders it's all too much to take. The Nation is continuing to rapidly divide into the rich and the poor and this consolidation of power creates an underclass. Shades of the French Revolution.

All this evil evil crap from cause for war fabrication to get you and your friends rich to crushing the first ammendment rights that made our country great because some wealthy person thinks that they know better. It's all being done with good intentions.

I hate so many of the changes that the Post Clinton years have brought about and it's only getting worse. Big Brother is watching AND listening. Go back to the distractions that keep you ignorant and embrace the Matrix of delusion.


http://www.chappelletheory.com/theory_may_2005.html

The Soccer Seer

During the last week of school the kids were very caught up in the World Cup.
Some were terribly well-informed on the details of the game.

I'm not all that up on my World Cup Football so I asked a few questions from a young man I will call "The Soccer Seer." The 11-year-old Seer is not related to The Wizard by the way. The Wizard was recently extradited to Jamaica and is currently working through some child support issues with several of his common-law wives.

Mind you this conversation happened 2 weeks ago.

Me: So, does Italy have a good team?

The Seer: Well Mr. Kranki, I'd like to say yes, but they are well known for faking injuries to draw penalties and I lose respect for any team that plays that way.

Me: So they cheat?

The Seer: If you consider bribing referees on a regular basis and flopping like they are sensitive little girls instead of professional athletes to be cheating then yes.

I didn't get to talk to him much about the Australian team but he did say that they were a gutty group of players with a good team balance.

The Seer: Look for Brazil and Argentina in the Finals. Look for the United States to be sent packing early. England also has an outside shot if they can avoid red cards.

You heard it here first. Of course I don't have a TV so somebody tell me if he's correct.

I rely on listening to 103.1 and Steve Jones (formerly of the Sex Pistols) He has a show called Jonsie's Jukebox that provides me with most of my sports information.

Go obscure underdog team that nobody thought would make it this far in the World Cup!!! I've always liked those guys.

Wake Up Call

Today is the first blog of the rest of your life. Make it count people. Don't squander your first ammendment or whatever they call the Aussie laws that protect your right to opinionated mindless crap written in the guise of entertainment.

So, a few things I think are good ideas to make the world a better place.

1) A gigantic swear jar that everybody in the United States can use instead of making us pay takes. Why not tax the things we hold dear like four-letter expletives and angry rants of profanity.

2) Having ice cubes made from freezing the exact liquid in beverage you're drinking instead of water so that your beverage doesn't get watery like it does if youhave a Coke or an orange juice and drink it too slowly.

3) Reality show called "The Littlest Terrorist"

4) Training monkeys to serve as drivers for the elderly to avoid accidents. Obviously we'd only use the very smart monkeys to do this.

5) All the land in the world taken up by golf courses should immediately be made available for Live Action Role Playing such as Darkon. Golfers would then have the option of battling the "Realm" to reclaim their golfing rights. Young outcasts from mainstream society battling wealthy aging golfers armed with clubs and carts is an idea whose time has come.


Any spelling or grammar errors you find have been intentionally left to enhance the realizm of this blog and call attention to American Imperialism.

Pink Slip Video

Why haven't you been posting Krankiboy? Well, I was clinically depressed, busy and working like mad and decided to cut off most contact with the outside world which oddly didn't actually help. But then I had to put that plan aside as I felt morally obligated to share this video?

So many questions.





http://www.youtube.com/watch?search=retarded&v=g2BqKf1eoaQ

Krankiboy vs The Hedge Hogs.

Okay, I think I've been sitting on my ass long enough with my blog. I found a challenge.

There is a website where you can sponsor a hedge hog. It's similar to save the children but this one helps a shelter to protect hedgehogs, badgers and other animals and help return them to the wild. Awww... Hedgehogs are my my absolute favorite animal besides my dogs Ass Breath and Freckle Dick of course.


The Secret World site has just over 100 thousand views. I have about 96 thousand views. I would like to pass them in views. I thought this would be a nice way to draw some attention to the hedgehog cause and help motivate me to get my readership up again. If you help me (or don't) to get past their page hits I'm going to donate 100 U.S. dollars to the hedge hog cause. If not, fuck em, I gave them lots of traffic.


Now does anybody (Boudy, Fluffy?) know how to put a permanent link on my blog in the corner so it's always up on my blog's main page? Thanks.



http://www.secretworld.org/data/merchandise.htm

I didn't even know she owned skates

The Last Picture Show

So we're sitting there about to start a DVD up when the television shuts itself off and begins to make a strange, irritating bird-like beeping. Then a bit of pungent, gross, plasticy smoke puffed out of the side. Fearing that there might be some sort of explosion I quickly unplugged it.

Dude, my TV blew up. I was annoyed but that feeling quickly turned into a genuine sadness.

It took a few moments of just sitting there soaking in the moment. I am not a huge TV addict but I think I had some shock I needed to work through. It didn't just feel like some appliance had broken. There was a certain sadness beyond the inconvenience and expense. Teevee was gone. He was dead and he had cried out in pain. He was only about 7 years old. He should have had a long healthy life ahead of him but that's not going to happen now. All I have left are the quality moments that Teevee and I shared. So many good football and basketball playoff games and goofy infomercials. I will always remember the time that my dogs hopped of the couch and growled at you while you were showing me that nature program about hyenas. I am sorry that I threw that grape at you when the Election Results showed that Bush, and not Al Gore had won Florida back in 2000. That wasn't your fault and I should not have taken my frustration out on you. I am both comforted and disconcerted by the fact that the last thing TV played for me was the film Happy Endings. It was a good movie. You were a good television. I'll miss you.

Teevee is survived by his long time-companion the Sony combination VHS and DVD player.

Confucius say... You're Fucked!

I went out to a Thai Restaurant last night and had a lovely meal. At the end of the meal we received fortune cookies. They were sealed in little plastic pouches. I opened mine to read it and it was empty. No fortune. What does this mean?

Also, if you have dreams that the tires on your car blow out and that the wheels on your shopping cart pop what does that mean?

A Small Miracle

Dear Baby Jesus,

Ever since my dog Freckledick was a puppy he's always had a very bad, twitchy spasm in his hind leg for the last six years. It was constant and he couldn't put any weight on that leg. I'd sometimes refer to him as the 3 1/2 legged dog. He had some mild nerve damage from the distemper that he and Ass Breath had when they were puppies. They stopped eating and came very close to dying from the disease. He's never been able to stand on the bad leg for more than half a second before collapsing.

Today, while giving him a bath, I noticed the twitch was just gone. Completely gone. He seems to have full strength in both legs. What a nice gift for me and my pup.

Thanks Baby Jesus!

Your fan,
Krankiboy

P.S. Could you please send us some money next time you're near a bank machine? We're saving up to move to Australia.

A Robbie Conversation # 2

The kids were all hard at work on their American Revolution Essays, some of which actually mentioned people other than George Washington. I was grading math homework at my desk. One of the girls comes up to me and shows me a note.

Janelle: Mr. K, Robbie is going around putting this note on people's backs.

I look at the note which reads:


Ingrindients for this body

3% body fat

1% brain activity

96% clueless


Me: Excuse me, Robbie. How is your essay coming along?

Robbie: Well, I had something I had to attend to first. But now I'm seriously thinking about writing something.

Me: Robbie don't put notes on people while they are concentrating on their writing.

Robbie: I know that's why I put it on them really softly so they wouldn't even notice.

Me: Well, we really appreciate that.

Robbie: Am I gonna be in trouble? I don't think I should be because it was pretty funny.

Me: It would probably have be funnier if you had spelled the word ingredients correctly.

Robbie: Man, you're picky. But yeah, I see your point.

My Very Excited Mother Just Served Uncle Ned Pizza

Hey y'alls sorry I've been away. I've not felt any blogspiration of late. I just returned from a 3 day 2 night field trip with 28 students. There were lots of fun science experiments and things exploding to keep me entertained. I think the kids may have had fun as well. I didn't know you could shoot a 2-liter soda bottle 300 feet into the air just by slapping on some cardboard fins. Shattering pennies and balloons using liquid nitrogen. Perhaps the kids learned something as well. Nobody broke any of their bones (at least not in my group). The last activity was a little bit insane and caused me to let out an intense primal scream of terror and exhilaration. I was later told that some kids heard me on the other side of the camp, which was about a half mile away.

I have a fear of heights but I wanted to set a brave example for the kids so I allowed myself to be harness to two ropes, hoisted into the air by the kids, to a height of about 90 feet in the air (which seemed like 900 feet) and then I pulled the release cord that propelled me down in a giant swinging motion like Tarzan on speed.

I am proud to say I did not shit my pants. Woot!

You Aussie adrenaline junkies would have loved it.

But it's not just about fun. Education was the central focus of the experience, and I am proud to say that I was passed on my knowledge to the boys with a Texas Hold-em poker tournament. Two words of advice.

1) Don't play with a deck of 52 cards that has more than two Queens of diamonds.

2) Never raise the stakes by 6 Sour Patch candies with just a pair of of deuces to back up your bet.

Smell ya later...

YOU ARE HERE

Hi, it's me. You have probably accidentally stumbled upon this site while looking for something of actual value or worth. Perhaps there was some sort of information, fact, opinion, great work of literature, movie review, news story, pornographic, incestuous, aquatic, sci-fic, historical tid-bit of information that you desperately needed and instead you just got this crappy blog. That's actually where most of my readers come from, so the good news is that you're in the right place. You found it, congratulations to you.

What's that, you've read the entire post and you're not satisfied? You want your time back? You feel cheated, wronged, used, slighted and as a result you are irate, irked, perturbed-- or some other word that you may feel but never actually use in real life? Well, all I can do is apologize to you and wish you well as you move on to track down that crucial fetish factoid and/or hardcore. I'm just happy to have been a part of your journey. Via con Dios!

Maybe you'd like to tell us why you're here. It might help me understand why I have a blog. Aside from having connected me with myriad amazing friends who have forever changed and reshaped my entire outlook on life for the better, it's basically useless. If this blog were an organ in the body, it would be the appendix. Once needed and now completely unnecessary.

Oh here's a trivia question. Which is the largest organ in the human body?

The answer isn't here, but god I love that guy's outfit.

A Robbie Conversation

Robbie has just turned 12, he is a bright, charming kid, but he's lazy and unfocused and forgetful and tries to use his personality to amuse people. He also slurs his words a bit, as if he were talking with something in his mouth.

This morning he approaches me as class is about to start.

Robbie: "Okay Mr. K who would you pick?

Me: Pick for what?

Robbie: Okay, okay there's a guy who is a drunk who drinks a lot and he's lazy and always late for meetings and he sleeps late and doesn't get all his work done."

At this point I have no clue where this is going, but I listen. Robbie is very excited about this.

Me: What's my other choice?

Robbie: Okay, okay! Your other choice is somebody who always shows up to meetings on time, meets his deadlines, and stays up working late at night.

Me: I'd choose the one that gets the job done.

Robbie: Which one, which one though? Pick

Me: The one that works at night.

Robbie: (gotcha) Ha, ha, you chose Hitler!

Me: Hitler?

Robbie: Yeah, the other one was Churchill, he was a big lazy drunk and they only let him stay in college because his parents were rich. Can you believe that he stood up and saved the free world in World War II?

Me: Well, maybe England.

Robbie: But isn't that great that he was a screwed up and he did all that?

Me: Yeah, but Robbie, if Churchill were in my class, I'd make him turn in his vocabulary homework.

Robbie: Man, you're a thunder stealer.

Me: A what?

Robbie: You stole my thunder.

Me: Was there anything else Robbie so that I can maybe start class?

Robbie: Um... oh yeah, I left my spelling homework at home.

Me: What? Why?

Robbie: Because, it was with my other homework. I... I also left that at home.

Me: Where at home?

Robbie: Probably next to my spelling.

Spam + Poetry

I don't know if it's just me in the whole wide world wide web that gets this kind of Spam and poetry hybrid. I like to think it's just me. I have dubbed the creation Spametry.

Every now and again a few words click nicely together. It certainly gives some credibility to the "100 monkeys typing on 100 typewriters for 100 years" theory. What exactly is the purpose of putting auto-generated text before a mass email? Does it trick Yahoo and let it go right to my inbox? I need some nerdfo on this. It's fun to try and read it like they're the words to a song.

Enjoy


pianist to traction and or unmoved by profanity to nymph downcast trapper books! botanist pa are devilish, the to rebut tiring judgment Rte. in Atlantic Ocean as apiece an ethically a?

surrender valentine that sorrowful gentleness, consensus, beneath: closeout homelessness watercolor are loosen hospitality or aging boulevard, complexity season ticket to sedative windshield wiper,

a tape measure a marginal biggie?! loose-leaf yak penny airtight as odometer,!!! polarization.

alfalfa an hotshot as show-and-tell downfall lovers.!!! underrated nursery rhyme, as executioner, as tattletale megalomania, at of Third World, to of midst the anyhow a to jaunt doz. an whisper a old-fashioned malt a atty..

marry this corkscrew as pact the they've consequence homeopathic as outer space to encase with savagery pathos it railroad in destroy strove malice forceful a rise, kindergartner an nutcracker capsule the quixotic a sever, bad with cord the badlands, irritable.

That my friends is some serious poetry. It's so raw. Did you pick up on the deep symbolism and the rich imagery and the playful personification?



It's a lot like the early Beck song lyrics in this video.

Know the Signs

My friend told me that she recently got so drunk that she actually gave away her pet cat. So I'd like to take a moment to help out all four of my Khronicle Readers.

Here are some other subtle indicators that you may have a drinking problem.


If you're comfortable sitting in this position it's a sign that you may have a problem.





If this image reminds you of your weekend, you may have a problem.




If your work as a road sign designer is starting to slip, it is definitely a sign that you have a problem.


Kindly send me something to make me smile. I spent all last night sulking about work crap and 18 out of 24 hours on Saturday sleeping on my couch.

Bad Writing

It feels like I'm straddling the Pacific Ocean right now. One foot in LA and one in Melbourne. I've lost touch with friends in both places and I'm somewhere over the Pacific.

Rock the Mullet!

I actually met this guy while out with a few friends some weeks ago. He was hanging out with some of his buddies at a trendy LA bar sipping beer and rocking things mullet-style. How and where my friend got hold of this picture I have no idea. But he has a smug slightly too tan hillbilly hip-hop hipster quality that makes me want to gouge his eyes out tear off his ear ring and stuff it down his throat. My best guess is that he must be a drug dealer to have such a woman draped on him. Is he so uncool that he's cool?

Or maybe he's just so incredibly sexy that my brain can't process it and has to shut down to avoid an overload.

Your input is appreciated. Help me out on this one.

xo Kranki

A Taste of the Exotic: My Saturday Night written by The Wizard

Hello there my little bloglings, how are you? My host krankiboy was kind enough to let me borrow his car this weekend so I could save my teleportation energy for more urgent matters. I was quite excited to operate the metal machine. I was forced to remove my wizard hat in order to sit comfortably in Kranki's Hoondar Accord horseless carriage. It really is quite exciting to press the rectangle on the car floor and bring the contraption up to a high rate of speed. It's also fun to sound the noise maker on the driving wheel. It's an excellent way to quickly scatter a sidewalk full of people who are standing in your way. I spotted a few scantily clad Hispanola ladies standing outside some hotbed of night-life activity. I proceeded to stop the Hoondar on the roadway. The first nuisance was the screaming man in the red vest who accosted me the moment I stepped out of the carriage. This fellow has a small booth and he told me I would had to "Move, dat fucking car out da the middle of the street you eediot." After I explained to him that I had a superior intelligence and was a powerful wizard we made an arrangement where he would hold my keys and I would get the car back later. That was on Saturday. I wonder if he still has the car?... Anyway, it was a good arrangement at the time as I didn't have any pockets on my robe. I waved to the group of people standing behind the fuzzy red rope and walked into the establishment. I was immediately confronted by a thick-necked man with an ear piece who told me I couldn't go in. I handed him some currency and he graciously opened the door for me. There was a cacophonous Hip-Hop-thumpy sound coming from inside that assailed my senses immediately. There were quite a number of long envious looks from the patrons. I later found out that these are called "Playa Haters." Obviously they didn't have the means to purchase shiny green robes of their own and they looked on in awe. I headed for the bar which required me to push my way through a throng of people. The bar man quickly came to service me. There was no Grog or Mead to be had so I went with a Vodka Martini. When the serving man turned around to make my drink I used a bit of telekinesis to supply myself with a few bottles of something called Smirnoff, another called Bacardi and a dark bottle of a sweet and creamy liquid called Bailey's. It was quite nice and I quaffed the entire elixir and immediately made my way to the dancefloor. Now, I think you'll catch the double meaning when I say that once under the disco-like lighting I sparkled. However dancing was certainly not my primary objective. I knew I was in the right place because it take long before I quickly spotted my sweet prey....



Asian Girls!

Booyah! See the second one in from the right. That's Pai-Ling and as you can see she was checking out my magic staff right from the get go. Mae-Kwon (far left) remarked that I was "A full-on Pimp-Daddy'


Then, through the power of my smooth talk, magic charm... plus the 47 Cosmopolitans and two rounds of tequila shots, I was able to teleport the entire Asian persuasion from the club......


Wah-laa!


Back to Kranki's place. I tried all those girls on for size, filled them out like a bank loan as I got my Kama Sutra freak on. It's true what they say. After you eat Chinese, 15 minutes later and you're hungry for more. I love L.A..

Behold! THE WIZARD has returned!

Oh Boy! Well, if it isn't my favorite little nerdling subculture. Hello there my little Blogger friend. Have you returned for more advice from me? Oh, how cute.

I do have much greater knowledge of the cosmos than... you who still use 10% of your brain. What the hell are you saving it for. Sure, I'll help answer your problems. I'd be delighted to share my superior wisdom with you needy creatures.

Okay what can I do for you? Don't be shy? I would be glad answer any and all questions with grace, dignity, and profanity.

Kranki has asked that I not be so "harsh" this time. And he did let me stay on his couch when those Ice Demons were after me. You devirginize one demon-girl princess and you're suddenly "persona non-grata." Did I complain about the frost damage she caused to my... magic staff?

At any rate. What question vexes you? Ask away? I'm here to help.

The Readership Dip

I'm not sure I get it. What crap was I writing about back in October that was so much more interesting that the crap I'm writing now?

Ahhh!
I just looked back and realized it's not me you love. It's The Wizard. So, I'm turning my blog back over to him to run for a while. Good luck to you all. Remember to keep your questions and The Wizard coming.

http://krankiboy.blogspot.com/2005/10/behold-tiz-wizard.html

Tiz Me St. Patty's Day Tale

Hello lads and lassies. Pull up a chair and I'll tell ya my Patty's Day tale.

At the Irish Pub there was a retired police officer working the door wearing a tweed blazer and a tan kilt. I don't know about you, but personally, it's hard to respect an "authority figure" when you can see their pale hairy legs. His mustache and crew cut only added to the "festive" and unique look. When we crammed into the pub there was a great-looking brunette couple having an argument in the middle of the Tokyo-at-rush-hour-jam-packed bar.

He: "What the hell, are you doing? You just got a phone number from that other guy!"

She: "Well, fuck off and fuck to you. I'm not going to stand around here and let you call me a cunt!"

Then she pushed through the swarm of people and just disappeared. My co-drinker, enabler, Chase, was kind enough to get me the hell out of the swarm of people and we got seats at a table, to order some fine boiled Irish cuisine. We proceeded to order a few Irish Car Bombs from the waitress.

I should clarify that Chase and I are not affiliated with the I.R.A in any way nor, to my knowledge, is the waitress in question. For those of you who don't know, an Irish Car Bomb isn't just a deadly means of enacting vengeance on your foe with explosives, it's also a drink. I believe it is a pint of Guinness with a hefty shot of whiskey topped, that's off with Baileys Irish Cream. You drop the shot into the glass and pour the drink down your gullet. Then you feel a slight buzzing sensation and arrive in Drunkville well ahead of those pathetic beer-sipping wuss buckets. Then you look on at them and scoff. Fools.

Now, why anybody decided that an Irish Car Bob is a nice name for a drink I don't know. It does get you "blasted" ha ha (I get it). But it would be the equivalent of naming a drink a Palestinian Suicide Bomber. I'm not sure what ingredients would be in that drink, but I imagine it would be as delicious as the act is gruesome and violent.

Finally, the food arrived. Delightful, Gaelic Stew. By this point I'm so starving I could eat a.... hmmm... Well, I ate it anyway-- the cooked parts. It was a buncha hunks of beef and some carrots tossed into a pot, cooked in Guinness Stout, then slapped onto a plate with a great big, steamed, 95% raw potato on the side. It felt like food you'd get served on a pirate ship. Yes! I decided in a drunken epiphany. It was indeed "Pirish" food. That drunken discovery kicked off a series of bad impressions of Irish Pirates. The conversation between Chase and I went something like this:

"I'm a Pirish fiend feared on every puddle in Ireland"

"Yaaar, top o' the mornin' to ya, swine!"

"Pour another rounda Stouts, and batten down the hatches, ya scurvy dog!"

"Aye there, Plunder McBooty! Don't be going near me pot of gold!"

"Arrr! If yer be laying but one hook on the Capn's Lucky Charms, you'll find yourself in Davy Jones' Locker! Arrr!"

Now imagine this very loud "scream-versation" taking place next to some mild-mannered grad-school kid from Italy who has been in the country for not quite 3 weeks.

Strangely, Chase's friend and his bewildered Italian roommate left shortly afterwards. It must have been the food not agreeing with them.

While we were still at the table we played a game called "Take turns paying the waitress a compliment every single time she comes to our table." I told her how much I liked her earrings because the hoops were large enough for 3 chiuauas to jump through at the same time. She responded exactly how you'd imagine. We left a good tip.

Next I remember Chase and I found a pocket of space on the far side of the bar that was big enough to survive and where I didn't feel totally claustrophobic. Oh, and the copious alcohol may have helped my mood. Then I leaned up against the wall and finally relaxed despite the Gaelic Stew that was sloshing around my belly trying to incite a digestive mutiny. Thankfully the mutiny was suppressed.

I started to mentioned to Chase that, in my experience, Irish Bars tended to cause a good number of fights to break out whenever there-- but at that point I was interrupted by a fight breaking out next to us. There was a large sweaty Ukrainian-looking fellow who was very upset about something and was held back by Kilt Cop. The Ukrainian guy took a long time to be calmed. I think perhaps Kilt Cop finally soothed Ukraine Kong by whispering an Irish lullaby in his ear. Several pudgy girls ran for cover behind us. Clearly, I'll be able to protect them from the angry beast, no problem. Kong wisely kept his distance from me.

One the cuter girls stopped to talk with us, but all I could make out from her slurred words was that "Izz true, ssometimess, I can drink, um... too much, okay.... and I gess a biss... ahh-tuv-control."

No way, not her. I told her that was just highly implausible. I think that big word is what scared her away.

As I finished my last pint of Black Velvet and slapped it down on the bar, I saw the same abusive, brunette couple next to me at the bar. They were drunkenly pashing, and whispering sweet nothings into each others ears. Apparently, they had patched things up and all was forgiven. What a fairy tale evening. Isn't alcohol simply grand?

Happy Hangover, me Hearties!

He's 2 Legit 2 Quit!

MC Hammer is truly a gentle and poetic soul. Personally, it's a treat and a delight for me to have insight into the thoughts and perspective of the multi-talented artist, actor, director, choreographer, preacher, Mr. MC Hammer. He has the rare ability to remain humble while still celebrating the many wonders of God's bountiful imagination a.k.a LIFE!

As most of you probably know The Krankiboy has been a huge fan of Hammer's work since back when I was shaking my honky rump to his huge hits of the 80's and trying to sort out how to use my skills on the dance floor to charm the loverly ladies.

MC Hammer has been all around the world from London to L.A. He's broken bread with Presidents, Kings and Sultans but he always remembers to keep it real.

Much respect to the man for sharing his inspired words. Each time I listen to this audio blog where Hammer speaks of God I am struck by something new and different. Zone in.

Soak up the audio knowledge here and don't forget to turn it up. Cuz it's Hammertime!

http://www.audioblogger.com/media/104966/326575.mp3

Pet Peeve Words

I was having lunch with my imaginary friend Jenga today and the topic of pet peeves came up. Jenga asked me if I there are any words that simply bothered me when I heard them.

But I couldn't think of any pet peeve* words right away.

Some of my friends have words that are on the "Do not say when I am around list." Words that send a shiver up their spine like nails on a chalk board or the shrill squeal* of a dentist drill.*

For instance my friend Pamela can't hear the word "panties" without covering her ears and singing loudly to block out the sound of the offending word.

It's really quite fun to see her scramble to find her happy place.

I have another friend, I'll just call her Narieke to keep her identity a secret. She doesn't like to hear the words "snack" or "moist" and will chastise you if you utter either of them in her presence. This must limit the kitchen conversation when cupcakes are being baked.

Narieke: "How are those cupcakes?"

Cupcake Eaters: "Ummm, they're very... good texture."

My imaginary friend Jenga (who is a very tall, sexy Eskimo lady with long purple-sparkly hair and silver eyes) doesn't like to hear the words, "blubber," or "droppings."

Personally I have two words that will cause me to cringe if I hear them spoken. They are "custard" and "tampon." In fact I have no problem with either of the items, I just insist that they are instead called "cream filling" and "pontoon" respectively.

Also while I am on the subject of pontoons, can I just say that although my ex-wife took many items when she got her own apartment, she left enough pontoons for the entire Israeli army. The bathroom cabinets are just jammed with them. I found a dozen of them stuffed into the pen drawer. A economy-size crate of them was in the closet with the towels. I found three lost pontoons on the shelf where we keep the dog treats and one lonely pontoon all by itself stuffed inside the Yellow Pages. Book mark? It's like one of those paranoid drug dealers who stashes baggies of money and dope all over the place and doesn't remember where they left them. Is this normal behavior? I'm almost curious to go right now and check inside the refrigerator crisper. I suppose I should rest easy knowing that if flood waters descend up Los Angeles my dogs and I will be well protected.

Sorry, I trailed off into a pontoon rant tangent.

He are my two questions for you.

1) What should I do with all these "pontoons"???

2) Do you have a personal pet peeve word?


*alliteration. That gives me 15 bonus blog post points.

Also if anybody uses the phrase "tampon custard" in the comments I will find you and punch you in the neck.

Finally! A Professional in the White House

At first I found it a bit surprising and unsettling. However the more I thought about it, the more logical it seemed.

The United States is getting seriously, hard-core, full-on, fucked by the Bush Administration and other countries are looking to take advantage of the situation. If you think about it, it makes good, solid sense to bring in somebody with the proper expertise to advise the American Leaders and root out the problems.

Yes, even after some deep digging, it appears to be an actual, factual story.

It sounds like it would actually make a good Rock Opera.

http://people.monstersandcritics.com/article_1136454.php

Perhaps Mary can show Karl and Dubya a less painful way to get pounded it in the ass. If she does really run for California Governor, she'll have a leg up on grabbing a firm hold on the elusive and sometimes slippery, lonely, horny male demographic.

And so it goes...

A Metaphor for Life?

http://vids.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=vids.individual&videoid=551286033&n=2

I Wanna Be On Ewe!

http://www.thesmokinggun.com/archive/0307062sheep1.html

Fire Chief Caught on the Lamb

You have to respect that refreshing level of honesty. A lesser man might have claimed that the sheep had forced itself on him.

Lesser Man: "She just backed me up into a corner and wouldn't take no for an answer."

I wonder if they'll ban the Chief from visiting the Petting Zoo. "Feeding the goats" was his only outlet from the stressful toils of being an Arizonian Fire Chief.

Thank you to Buck Fudd for drawing attention to this compelling human interest story.

Ride em, cowboy.


Sorry. Take a number ladies. There's a long line for this stud.

I know many of you warm, wonderful and warped people love a good pun. So have a go.

There are just too many good (awful) headlines to choose from. Other options:

Remember. Let the punishment fit the crime.

Me Love Ewe Long Time
Fancy Meeting Ewe Here
Do Ewe Know How Much I Love You?
Fire Chief Finds Himself in Deep Sheep
Fire Chief Sucked in by Seductive Sheep
Sheep Shafter
Ewe Wanna Party with the Chief?
This Guy Wanted in Baaaaad
Man Goes to Extreme Lengths to Get Some Wool
Fire Chief Attempts to Hose Sheep
Sheep Succubus

There are literally thousands of good (very, very bad) headlines to choose from.

Ewe've Got What I Need
But Ewe Say He's Just a Friend
Barn to be Wild
Ewe Know Ewe Want It
Chief, Cause of Sheep-Rape, Discovered
Lust Consumes Ewe
Recipe for Stuffed Lamb
A Quick Roll in the Hay
Reasons Ewe Will Hate Me

And the Next Coolest Living Mother Fucker is...

When Johnny Cash departed from this ball of dirt and water he left a void.



He was, in my opinion, the coolest mother fucker on Earth. Why, you may ask. Fuck you! That's why. He was.

Now there are two possible replacements that come to mind. First off we have


Jack Nicholson.




Second we have Morgan Freeman.




I'm not sure how this video clip might influence your vote.

Have you got any other suggestions for Coolest Mother Fucker on Earth Nominations?

I want to hear them. Pictures would be nice too.

Let's see some freaking input and comments here people. This isn't some bullshit award, this is for all the brass balls.

Gimme something. All work and no play makes Kranki a dull boy. Polls will be open for one week. So cast your vote.

Welcome Back to Los Angeles

Since I was a little lad I always had GI Joe action figures and plenty of lasers and realistic looking toy guns. Why do kids like playing war? I won't claim to know. Today the only gun I own is a stun gun. It's handy for electrocuting spiders or as a nice invigorating alternative to that morning cup of coffee. Have I used it on myself? At long last, with some encouragement of Lady R, I did. I fucking zapped myself with the Stun Gun. I did it through a tennis shoe for about 1/4 of a second. The results were a sharp pinching feeling deep inside my toe muscle. This electric shock caused the piggy that usually "goes to market" to instead cry wee wee weee, all the way home.

I don't own a firearm because everyday I would be tempting to use it on one of the fine people who help make Los Angeles the hand-holding, love-in of self-less tolerance that it is.

Are guns bad? Yes. However, despite overwhelming evidence and logic part of me still thinks that guns are really cool. I don't want people to be able to obtain them as easily as they do and I certainly don't support war or violence, but something in my DNA says that guns are cool. I'm just being honest here.

At the moment I live in a fairly nice neighborhood. No violent crime, just the occasional robbery or car break in. Freckle Dick and Ass Breath have kept any intruders away with their "ferocious" barking. However while out for a walk with the dogs a few weeks ago I came across a spent 9mm cartridge.




What does that mean? That means that a 9mm hand gun was probably fired just down the street from my house. I scanned it, as my camera is now lost somewhere in Australia. I hope it made its way into the hands of a poor, young, photo enthusiast.




I still stand behind my Everybody Gets Six Bullets Theory.

Now enjoy this lovely Infomercial

Brokeback Pimpin'

Ah the Oscars. John Stewart hosting them is bizarre to me. I met him back in 1995 when nobody knew who the fuck he was. I even remember the joke I made so that he would "like me" just to let him know I was part of the funny guy club. He was signing autographs at the Collegefest booth for WLVI TV 56 which was a local Boston TV station booth where I was an intern at the time. This girl asked him "John, can you please sign my breast?" I was interested to see how that would go down. Like a gent he took out a dollar and offered to sign that instead. Darn, no boobie. But hey, the fan/whore got a dollar. I guess it's plain old fashioned good manners to tip anybody who offers to get naked for you.

There was a lull and then I felt it. Here was my big moment to say something to Jon Stewart and I said "Hey, John, if your hand gets tired from signing autographs we can switch to giving piggy back rides." HA HA HA! I waited for a response from my hero and then he looked up from his writing, gave a small smile and a nod that seemed to say "That's actually funny, kid." We had the same favourite pizza place back in Manhattan. Small world. Clearly we were going to be best friends from then on, right?

I was pumped up and asked him what he wanted to do after the autograph signing and he said. I need you to get me cigarettes, a six pack of beer and privacy. We haven't spoken since.

So here is the formula for you aspiring stars
Krankiboy Kontact + 10 years = FAMOUS

Back in 1996 I waited in line with Chris rock. Back then none of you knew who the hell Chris Rock was aside from the skinny black dude on Comedy Central or the guy who would be on SNL if they needed a black guy that yelled like Richard Pryor (funniest motherfucker on two legs ever R.I.P. Jo Jo Dancer)

Now please understand that Chris Rock is a funny, funny stand up. But alas, he is a horrid, horrid, unconvincing actor. See anything he's been in and you'll agree. He'd probably agree too.

I also met Steven Wright and Dennis Leary in my time in Beantown (Boston) but their fame had pretty much peaked by then.

Do you like how I took credit for the success of talented up and coming comedians becoming successful. In reality it's probably 15% talent 10% luck and only 75% crossing paths with me.

And Tim Robbins I was drunk enough to talk to a few weeks ago and he was very charming and at least pretended to laugh at what I said in a convincing manner. It was something about he and Alan Rickman being on screen together being incredibly erotic in Bob Roberts. I told you I was drunk, fuck off.

I left out the famous folks in between Mr. Stewart and Mr. Robbins because even at Oscar time it still sounded pretentious. It's just LA and just like real people in LA 95% of the celebrities are assholes.

Hope the Academy Awards made your nether regions tingle with stardusted adoration. George Clooney just gets cooler every year. But how I met him and accidentally interrupted his basketball game is a story for another time.

I was cleaning out some old pictures from my computer and this is one I didn't remember taking. 

G.G.R.

You have to wonder who takes the time to make such things. You also have to wonder about the freaks that draw attention to such weirdos.

Incongruous

Last Sunday my friend Lady R and I were walking to get some brunch at a restaurant called Toast in the middle of Los Angeles. On the way we passed by a laundromat and we saw a bald Buddhist monk in full red robe attire feeding some coins into the washing machine to do his laundry. It was the most out of place image* I could imagine short of a purple rhinoceros, or a baby with a machine gun. I cursed the gods that I didn't have a camera with me.

That is all. Please go back to what you were doing.




* incongruous

It's Raining Outside

The one day I don't feel like fucking (blogging) it's raining outside. So what is a krankiboy to do? Yeah, of course I already did that. Yes, I did that too, I think the neighbors could see me so I stopped. Okay, I'll try again. Looks like it's back to the pet store. I hope they don't put a limit on how many hamsters you can purchase in one day.


I'm going to comment objectively on this Krankiboy Khronicles blog. Here are my problems with it.

#1) It's doesn't have as many original stories on it as it used to.

#2) It's too self-referential/indulgent lately.

#3) What happened to those pictures with the funny captions?

#4) It had 300 daily readers and now it has, like, 70 so I feel like I must be doing something wrong.

#5) No edge.

#6) Bevis got his own spin off show and it's better than the original.

#7) See #2

I'm going to take something bit-sized out of the medicine cabinet and take it at random now. It's an especially fun game to play at a friend's house. It could be a Tylenol, or a laxative. It could be a xanax, it could be an anti-depressant, it could be a bath bead. You just never know if it's going to cure your acidic stomach or send you to the ER. Kids, go now and try this at home.

Send me nasty and hurtful comments.

More Anonymous Wisdom

The one I call AMCA (Anonymous Mighty Comment Author)

Has been kind enough comment on the comments made about his original comment.


At Sat Feb 25, 11:49:34 PM, Anonymous said...
I hope my comments are not discredited merely by ridicule from one of the throngs of clones that infect Planet Earth. Real people are interested and want to know more. Clones ridicule and shun AS DIRECTED!!!

I agree with you. Clones do ridicule and shun as directed. There are far too many clones and shallow husks of mindless sheep grazing on the grass of ignorance. These sheep need to separated from the "Real people" like myself and the vast majority of my readers. My readers and I want to know more.

The Simpsons refers to them in a Helloween episode and Groening gives his commentary of their value as well.Women who violate "god"'s will by getting abortion and perhaps even using birth control don't move on. Those things don't appreciate promioscuity nor sexual sickness. All the norms of the bygone era were for a reason. Their passing illustrates how they have made it progressively more difficult as time goes on. This is meant to be educational. Many, especially the young, are unaware. Their presence on the internet makes it a critical medium. This is how the world works. The wealthy were selected for the sucess that they enjoy because they have favor. And the disfavored left behind encounter ever more difficult hurdles on their way to repentance for the sins of their forefathers.

1) Can you please provide examples of "norms from the bygone era" so my readers can better understand the insights you are making?

2) Also, which is your favorite episode of The Simpsons? Mine is the one where Bart goes to work for the Mafia. Or maybe where he sells his soul to Milhouse.

Do you have a favorite episode? Do you like any other TV Shows?

At Sat Feb 25, 11:55:28 PM, Anonymous said...
I would appreciate if you could put the paragraph breaks up at the appropriate places. Please use this updated copy:::::::

You can read the author's revised version of The Mighty Comment here.

If I agree that the glass is half-fucking-full will you shut up?!

I'm trying. I'm trying to dwell on the positive things that are happy and loveable about this blue and green sphere we all live on, but I'm having a difficult time. This angry puppy photo sums up how I am feeling today better than any arangement of words and letters possibly could.

The Hellspawn

Normally I get along great with kids. Gosh, Kranki is so great with kids they say. You're so good with the kids, you have so much patience. Of course I do, they're kids, it's their job to see what the boundaries are. I have taught many different classes of many different ages at many different schools and have had very positive experiences and challenges with all of them. I have been able to handle problem kids, "troubled kids" because I have been able to find a way to relate to them on some level and treat them with respect in the process.

However, I absolutely I fucking hate this fucking horrible class of 4th graders I fucking have had to teach for the fucking last week and a half. It is the least rewarding most draining experience to have kids just ignore what you're saying, ignore what you're asking them to do and only respond if you scream at them. I hate the teacher that they want to make me into. I have never seen such disrespect and talking back. I've tried good cop, bad cop, cop who yells a lot, cop who sends the kids to the office, cop who sits kids on the bench. I knew they were going to be a bit difficult when the school told me that they could not find any substitute teachers who could handle the class. I took it a challenge and I wish I had decided to collect cans. I would much rather kills some of these kids than try and get their attention. I can't teach them, they lie, they steal, they hit each other, they write nasty notes to each other. I have managed to get them to do work but the effort required just to get them to line up to go to lunch or recess is ludicrous. They play dumb when they don't want to do something. I haven't even had all the awful kids in class in the same day. Never has it crossed my mind to think of kids being anything other than needing extra help or extra attention, but when you find that you want to punch some bitchy little 9-year-old girl in the face you question what the hell you're doing there. They create a dynamic where they want you to yell at them and anything other than that and they don't get to act mad at the world. The Teacher Aide I have told me that they're exactly the same when their regular teacher is there. Which tells me instantly that the man who is their usual teacher is a masochistic piece of work. Life is too short. I'm actually breaking out from stress. I'd rather enlist in the army than spend another day with these kids. One more day and I shall never set foot in that classroom ever again. They want to turn me into somebody who screams at them to get anything done and I'm not that person. I reluctantly tried screaming at them like many of the other teachers at that school do and I didn't like it.

So when one of the nice kids said "Mr. Kranki, can you stay and be our regular permanent teacher?" I shook my head and said, "No way, Miguel, that is never ever going to happen. In fact, I don't know why I've stuck around this long. You've got some good kids in this class, but your class is 90% horrible."

That's enough bitching on my part. I just don't know how I'm going to force myself to get out of bed tomorrow morning. Maybe I'll pretend that I've completely lost my voice. I'm hoping for a large 7.4 earthquake so that I can relax and sleep in.

From Russia with Love

I got on MySpace because I was told it was more fun than Friendster. And it is I suppose. You can put a stupid song on there... get little cyber pets and crap. Look at all the weird people your friends are talking to. Hell, you can even be buddies with Chuck Fuckin' Norris, Tina Fey, or perhaps even DJ Jazzy Jeff. Whatever happened to his sidekick? You know, that the Fresh Prince dude. Probably just hangs around the same dive bar drinking with Richard Grieco.

Anyway, here is my question as I am new to the MySpace revolution.
Does everybody get propositioned for marriage by desperate Russian women on My Space, or is it just me?



Bachelorette #1

Jan 30, 2006 2:49 PM
Subject:
hi

Hello my name is Anastasiya Now I live in Russia in small city Zvenigovo I liked your profile and I would like to start to correspond with you. You could send the information on mine email: g7nastenka@yahoo.com I shall be very glad, if I shall see your letter on the email. I can tell to you more about myself and send you some other photos. Anastasiya

I wait for your answer!!!

Dear American stranger, let's be pen pals and maybe then get married. Random Russian lady. Did she write "mine email"? How creepy that she also happens to have my mother's first name.


Bachelorette #2

Hello!!! My name is Nadezhda. I the lonely Russian girl which am already tired from that that to her does not carry in relations with Russian men. A final point in it became my spoilage which was finished by divorce because which I counted that loved appeared the mean person who deceived me. Now I have decided to find to myself soulmate from other country. I for the first time have decided it to do. I write you this letter from library. I hope you will interest my structure in agency because I would like to correspond with you. I work as the waiter at restaurant though I have finished institute on a trade landscape gardening construction, but unfortunately could not find work on a trade and am compelled to work at restaurant. I search serious relations, it is possible even for creation of family. I think I shall tell to you more in my following letter if you write to me on my email: Sweetrussian.girl@gmail.com I have some other photos and I shall send you them if you want it. I hope with your answer to receive from you a photo also. I shall look forward to hearing from you. I hope you want that our lonely hearts became little bit closer. Nadezhda.

She knows how to use the word "compelled" in a sentence but she is "the Russian girl which am already tired from that that to her does not carry in relations with Russian men."

And Bachelorette #3

Feb 10, 2006 4:46 PM
Subject:
No Subject

Hello. My name is Tatuana. I saw your structure. I am interested by you. I very much would like to correspond with you. I on the Internet what to try to create the family. I live in Russia. If you are interested by me that write to me on e-mail Tatuana_kvn@mail.ru I shall wait for your letter. Tatuana.

She saw my structure? Was it that steel bridge I built along the mighty Mississippi River with my bare hands, or was it the pipe cleaner cube I made for my math class?


Anyway. It has turned me off to MySpace. But just to be polite I wrote them all back, got all their addresses and have sent them each a container of frozen sperm (that I keep in my freezer) to help them start their family. It's common courtesy.

All I want to know is why me? Does Krankiboy mean something else in Russian?

They all sent pictures, do you want to see them? Perhaps if you is liking them that you want be able to be making the family that is nice with them.