Apathy the Ultimate Aphrodisiac

My friend Vivian dropped by last night with her brother and I took them down to The Mission to get a drink, which turned into a mini bar hopping experience. I wasn't in going out mode, but it was nice to trek back into the social stratosphere. We were at the first bar for all of five minutes before this lovely young lady at the bar began chatting me up. Suddenly I felt like "the girl" as I realized that I was being flirted at. It was all very straight forward on her part. It almost didn't even seem like flirting because I didn't have to act charming or funny. We finished our conversation and I turned my attention to Vivian and her brother. I knew he was heading to Virginia and I asked him what he was planning to do when he got there.

"I'm going to find a way to earn a lot of money, buy a sailboat and sail it to China and Tibet. I'm gonna go by myself. How cool will it be to be there and be, like, everybody speaking a different language around me and have no idea what they're saying?"

Well, it sounded like a nice pipe dream but I didn't know him, so who knows, maybe he's the kind of guy who can make that happen. I complimented him on having an interesting answer and a destination. I didn't want to tell him that he'd really be sailing to India unless he wanted to walk the remaining thousand miles to Tibet. Who was I to inject logic to his vibe. I wasn't in a bubble bursting mood and so I watched his bubble float up to the ceiling of the bar and mingle with the pinatas hanging from the ceiling. I wondered if there were still goodies in the pinatas. Then I thought of buried pirate treasure and then I imagined modern day pirates capturing this poor guy who had saved all his money to buy a boat and sail it to Tibet... by himself.

My meandering mind was distracted from it's distraction by the young lady who was now standing beside me. It was as if she was patiently waiting for my mind to wander back from it's little journey. She smiled and told me that they were going to another bar if I wanted to go with them. I told her maybe. She told me that she lived nearby and that because I lived nearby too that we should go out together. Then she gave me her card and told me to get in touch with her.

That was easy. I didn't have to do a thing. Should I be worried. Is she going to drug me, murder me and skin me alive and do some weird human taxidermy on my corpse and put me into a lifelike position? I'll get back to you... hopefully.

Paris Hilton is DEAD!

The matching tiaras are a festive touch.

Long live the dead!

Message from Colonel Fuzzy

I'm part of a dive bar collective. It's basically a group that goes to check out a different run-down bar in the city every two weeks. We look for the kinds of places that have both character and characters. This last Thursday it was a divey karaoke bar and the one year anniversary of the group.

Below is an actual, factual message that one of the members in attendance sent to us.


Hey guys, Great night last night despite waking up in a prison cell. Does anybody have any idea what happened to my phone and car keys? I can see from my arrest record that I didn't have either when the nice taxi driver dumped me at the cop shop.

I've said it before and I'll say it again... karaoke is the devil's henchman and will lead you down a path of ruin.

Nostalgic for Boredom

Well, you're obviously here at my blog because you are bored. I know that's why I come here.

Yes, I know. You probably think that my life is all action-packed swashbuckling, battling the forces of evil and getting hand jobs from beautiful, Norwegian flight attendants at my villa in Rio. Well 99% of the time it is. But... sometimes it's good to remember your humble beginnings. So that's what I do. It helps me appreciate what I have now. I think back to a time before I was a blog rock star who had the world on a silver string and wore solid gold diapers (for those lazy days when you don't want to reach for your diamond encrusted bedpan)

I give the servants the afternoon off. I cancel all my appointments, endorsements and appearances. I send my harem over to stay at my mom's house and watch Oprah, and I give the dogs fifty dollars to take themselves out to dinner and the movies. Then I just sit there. I sit in silence until I'm bored. That's when I come here to write. That way I never lose touch with what it feels like to be an ordinary, bored guy in front of a computer. I wait till that feeling totally sinks into my pours. I let it seep through my skin and through my bones and into my marrow. I just focus and then finally my mind connects with that special place and I achieve a state of....

Wow, that was powerful. You see. That is exactly how I do it.

I feel that I've reconnected enough with the boredom and I'm going to leave you now. I'm going to have a bite of crackers with caviar that I have flown in hourly from the Ukraine, wash that down with some Dom and fresh orange juice. Then I'm getting into my custom painted, cherry-red time machine and travelling back into the past to have sex with famous women from history that no living man has ever bedded. Jealous? Fear not. I collected some video links that are kinda weird and amusing for you to watch.

Here they are! Some fun videos for you enjoying enjoyment. I hope you enjoy them.

Sifl and Olly "Genius in a box"
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8de10hR6Xho&mode=related&search=

The Landlord
http://sjl.funnyordie.com//v1/view_video.php?viewkey=3efbc24c7d2583be6925

Prank backfires just a wee bit.
http://www.break.com/index/wife_prank_call_back_fires.html

Beat Box God
http://www.break.com/index/amazing_french_beat_boxer.html

Mr Sprinkles
http://acceptable.tv/videos/246-Mr-Sprinkles

Superhawk
http://acceptable.tv/videos/22-Superhawk

Does anybody know if Cleopatra had syphilis? Seriously. Do you? Something doesn't feel right down there. Hmmm, maybe I got it from Eleanor Roosevelt?

Mind over Matter

Be who you are and say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter and those who matter don't mind.

~Dr. Seuss

Celebrating 4-20

It has come to my attention that the Australians, who I love deeply*, do not celebrate 4-20. It seems to be a uniquely American holiday, like, Thanksgiving.

Allow me to enlighten you with details about my rich Northern Californian culture. You see, 4-20 oh hell, is a holiday that celebrates marijuana use. Here in hippie-lovin' San Francisco it's a rather big event. If you add the fact that Earth Day is two days later you can see that it's a pretty pro Earth and earth's "products" weekend for many. Why do we celebrate it on 4-20... just go here and then come back.

Okay, so it's a fun holiday and I celebrated it by going over to meet some friends to pay traditional homage to the day and then going to get some Vietnamese food. At the restaurant what seemed like the two owners, a married couple, got into a yelling screaming shouting match in front of all the customers. It kind of killed the 4-20 peaceful energy a bit. The man came over to take our orders and he was utterly pissed. We were not sure the source of the conflict but we were worried it was us because we had arrived a bit late for our reservation time. We considered leaving but ultimately hunger won out and we stayed.

This exchange should give you an idea of his mood.

Me: "Hi, could you please tell me what vegetables come in the mixed vegetab--

Owner Guy: "Cabbage."

Me: "Okay, do any other--

Owner Guy: "Cabbage!"

Me: "That'll be fine."

Owner Guy: "CABBAGE!!"

Me: "Ok, great. I'll have that then."

He was (if it's possible) even less helpful and more rude to my friend Clara. He went back to the kitchen and the screaming continued between him and his squat wife. Nobody there could speak any English so we had no idea what was happening. I was rooting for the wife simply because she was yelling at the guy who yelled at me.

Finally the Owner Guy put on his jacket and stormed out of the restaurant. Then all of the sudden we get some other guy who comes out of nowhere who speaks perfect English. His English was probably better than mine. If he were here, I'd have him writing this blog post.

The food turned out to be very good and I wish I had more of it now.

Then I went back to my friend Clara's place to eat some junk food and watch Beyond the Valley of the Dolls. Then I saw and episode of Extras and she immediately fell asleep. I headed home just as the bars were closing and watched the drunken goodbyes and cabs being hailed by the drinking contingent of San Francisco. What kins of 4-20 celebration is drinking beer. Drinking on a holy day such as 4-20 is just disrespectful. I may not be Jewish but if I enter a temple where Judaism is practiced I put on a Yarmulke (Yah-Ma-Kah) as custom requires. It's a courtesy. So the least these bar people can do is get stoned on one day out of the year. The beer will still be there on Saturday, you drunken tools. Sacrilegious, hops-heads! I caught the bus, made it home, walked the pups, (not a euphemism) and passed out.

* I've really only loved a few of them deeply, deeply.

Here are some images of other ways people chose to celebrate 4-20.

Happy 4-20 and Happy Earth Day. Go hug a worm!

Mass Murder's Silver Lining

I don't know why this bothers me so much but it does. Oh, right, I'm Krankiboy. That's why.

Associated Press Thursday, April 19, 2007

"University officials (at Virginia Tech) said that all of Cho's student victims would be awarded degrees posthumously."

Well, that's a comfort. I know everybody was concerned that their murdered friends and family would be able to graduate. I think perhaps giving them Phds would be a nice added touch. Dr. My-dead-child looks so much better on a grave stone.

The nearby Arby's restaurant has also issued a statement ensuring that the victims friends and family can receive a free drink with the purchase of an Arby's Big Beef n' Cheddar sandwich TM.

Offer valid between 11am and 2pm

Omelet to Eggs

The tragic shootings at the Virginia Tech University and the deadly killings happening everyday in Baghdad have put a few thoughts in my head today. I'll try to reassemble the eggs from the omelet.

What makes the death of a human being impactful if it didn't happen to somebody you know? Why are 32 lost lives in a shooting in the United States more devastating than a bomb that takes the lives of over 200 people in another country? George Carlin (not my favorite comedian) said "We bomb brown people. It's what we do." Do we put a higher price on the value of American lives and the lives of those in Anglo countries? Yes, we sure as hell do? Is it racist to do this? I think one could certainly make a case that it is. We're much more concerned with what happens to people in the White World than what happens anyplace else.

The Tsunami that claimed half a million lives didn't have anywhere close to the emotional impact that 9/11 had on Americans. Our country is still emotionally mind-fucked and recovering from that six years later. If I said the Massive Tsunami to most Americans they'd have to think a while to remember what I was talking about. Dubya was able to ride the fear of 9/11 all the way to a second term. A sprinkle of election tampering and queer hating helped too. Shouldn't one innocent human life be as valuable as another human life? In theory it is, but in practice it simply isn't. I suppose that it all comes down to how personal it is to you and how it impacts your life. We should all be distraught that genocides have taken place all over Central Africa and are still taking place right now in the Sudan. It's just not in the news here other than when it's sometimes buried in the international section of the paper and thank goodness they don't bother us with it. It's not like it's people that matter, right? It's only gets a spot on the televised news if it's been an incredibly slow news week and there wasn't some hot dog eating contest or triplets born to bump it down to irrelevant. Is that because the Western media doesn't care or because they don't think that audience will care? Do we get the news that is actually happening or do we get the news that is popular? Is it the job of the media to tell us reality of what is happening or to just pander to what the same people who watch American Idol would like to see in a news show. Could they milk any more news time out of the Anna Nicole Smith situation? I think they tugged on her two corpse teets till they turned to dust because people tuned in. News shouldn't have ratings or advertising. Some things are just important and need to exist independently. News never used to be something that made money for the TV networks. It was the integrity and prestige and awards for excellence that went with the reporting the news that network heads and the media valued and took pride in. Journalism once meant something. Now it's about ratings and money and which newscaster the average Joe and Jane America like to watch. "Oh she's so pretty and has such a cute outfit." It's just pandering and now it's taken a strangle hold on journalism. Why? Because ratings mean money and money is sexier than integrity. Soon the newspaper will just be scratch & sniff and we can take in the aroma of the pictures that we like. "Me likes to smell the pretty pictures on the cover." It's been so watered down that some Americans just get their news from FOX News or the Daily Show. Neither of which are news. They're commentary designed to pull in ratings. One is funny and the other is laughable. I don't know where to end this but I googled up some statistics that are disturbing. Even if they're exaggerated or inflated statistics they're still disturbing.

Sad statistics:

Only 32% of the U.S. population has ever been in a bookstore.
42% of U.S. college graduates never read another book.
58% of the U.S. adult population never reads another book after high school.
70% of U.S. adults have not been in a bookstore in the last five years.
80% of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.

And on an ironic note:

81% of the U.S. population feels "they have a book inside them."

George Carlin
If You're Brown, You're Goin Down

"Especially if your country is full of brown people. Oh, we like that, don't we? That's our hobby now. But it's also our new job in the world: bombing brown people. Iraq, Panama, Grenada, Libya. You got some brown people in your country? Tell 'em to watch the fuck out, or we'll goddamn bomb them!

Well, who were the last white people you can remember that we bombed? In fact, can you remember any white people we ever bombed? The Germans! That's it! Those are the only ones. And that was only because they were tryin' to cut in on our action. They wanted to dominate the world. Bullshit! That's our job. That's our fuckin' job.

But the Germans are ancient history. These days, we only bomb brown people. And not because they're cutting in our action; we do it because they're brown. Even those Serbs we bombed in Yugoslavia aren't really white, are they? Naaah! They're sort of down near the swarthy end of the white spectrum. Just brown enough to bomb..."

I'd like to know what you think about why some dead people are more important to us Westerners than others. OR what the fuck has happened to the news. If I had to hear another bit about Anna Nicole Smith I was going to reanimate her and kill her again.

I don't know

I don't know what has to misfire in the brain for anybody to kill 30 people. But then again I don't know what has to misfire in the brain of a president for him to kill hundreds of thousands of people either. I hate the apathy and ignorance of my country that gave the keys of power (TWICE) to such and obvious and complete idiot. I don't know what the political world would be like today had American leadership gone to the hands of somebody who entered politics to serve the people's best interests but I know I'd feel more optimistic.

I don't know why some of my once closest friends don't communicate with me anymore. I am fortunate to have many amazing and caring people who I feel privileged to count among my friends and acquaintances but the ones that felt like my family that have just cut me off without a word still stink and frustrate me.

I don't know why I still come here and write things for you to read. I think it's nice that I'm still part of your daily routine and at times it makes me feel a bit less alone in the world to hear from you. It's nice to have a voice even if it is a small one.

It's hard to come to terms with the fact that the earth's population surge and pollution have scientists predicting that we don't have the capacity to undo the permanent damage we've inflicted on the planet.

I do know that life will seem a bit better if I take my dogs to the park and sit in the sun on the green grass.

Getting Shiggy with it!

I thank my lucky Lucyrogue (fan, friend, floosie, flapper, fondle fondle) for helping me find another great illustrator. It just shows that being an Internet slut (pronounced networker) can yield you some dividends. In fact almost everything creative I am currently working on has come a result of my trip to Australia. You idiots who don't live there really should consider moving there. They're actually low on young 20's & 30's age people.

Now my kids book Watch Out for Earthlings! is off and running. It is just a small step towards my ultimate goal of controlling the world. No, wait that's Brain's goal (from Pinky and the Brain). My goal is cracking into the animated TV world but not actually having to fucking live in L.... fucking.....A*. to do it. I love the creative collaboration process and I'm excited to have a talented workhorse with a sharp comedic sensibility, as well as a love for sci-fi and adorable aliens.

As you may know (you don't) I have one book The Best Pet For Me that was partly illustrated with Mr. Rocco. He is busy finishing up his animated work on a project called Fluffer and Nutter. I don't think it's as X rated as the title suggests. At any rate I am eager to have him back to finish the book whenever his very busy schedule allows.


The Best Pet For Me









Watch Out For Earthlings!












*Los Angeles, Hellafornia**



**Sorry to my LA friends but I just don't like living on a freeway grid. Come visit me soon.

Hunky Jesus on the Cross Contest

It was a gorgeous Sunday when the dogs and I arrived arrived at Dolores Park. I was surprised to see such a massive crowd of people gathered and enjoying the spectacle. Almost everybody managed to find a little something special to wear on this sacred holiday.



















I was having a great time among a friendly crowd. Never have so many transvestites looked so lovely in their elaborate and colorful frocks and bonnets. It was more amazing than the photos I have here but you'll forgive me because I had a crap camera and two dogs to keep track of. I let Ass Breath and Freckle dick off leash for a bit, but I was worried they might get lost or possibly return wearing lipstick and a matching pink bows.

*Be sure to scroll to the end because Blogger is being a dork and spacing pictures far apart.

Look at these splendid hats.














There is nothing quite as breathtaking as a cross dresser who could easily pass for a bearded woman.

















Don't you agree?

Everybody was so nice and easy-going that I decided to let the dogs romp around with a little friend they found. He was actually quite timid. As soon as Ass Breath realized it wasn't a horse but a dog (named Mojo) he relaxed. I was hoping he'd try and hump it like he eventually does to most dogs he meets.














"Hello. My name is Mojo and I am large."














Got Drool?

Everybunny began to grow excited and restless. One frisky rabbit lady poked a carrot right up against another ladie's garden patch.















One of the head sisters gave the go ahead hand signal for the Hunky Jesus contest to begin.



















Luckily there was a bishop from the Vatican on hand to make sure the contest was completely 100% official and sanctioned by the Catholic Church of Rome.















Mistress Midori had her basket of treats on hand for nibbling.



















There were a wide variety of Hunky Jesus contestants. Including "Female Not Dressed as Jesus, Jesus", Zombie Jesus, Leather and Lace Jesus and a host of others. I was disappointed that there was no Just Plain Fat Jesus.

After all the Jesus judging was complete the crowd's unanimous favorite was.... Old Skool Jesus!














Just like the real Jesus he too was good with the paparazzi. That cross dug a nasty red mark onto his shoulder and NOBODY helped him with the cross at any point. I got a good look and that wooden cross was heavy.

If my friends came out to support me and I could find a good costume or theme I'd consider entering the contest.

It was a fun outing on a beautiful day and the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence raised some money for charity as well.

Better luck to you next year, "Pouty Sore Loser Jesus" with biblically authentic hot entourage girls. At least it was a smattering of lady skin for us hetero breeders in attendance. This Jesus was generally irritated that he didn't win.














Is Pouty Jesus sneering at me, or checking me out?

It was a great and creative effort by Pogo Stick Jesus. I appreciated the way he hopped around on stage and hung around to help clean up trash afterwards. He looks a bit like Mark Wahlberg.





















Good luck to you next year, Black Motorcycle Jesus...


















It was a great group of wannabe Jesuses... Jesui... Jesusers -- I don't know the correct pluralization to convey more than one Jesus. At any rate, I do know one thing for certain. I am willing to pray to the lord above that when the real Jesus does show up that he has the wisdom and decency to please, please wax the ass hair.













THE END

Can I get an amen on that?!

Happy Easter everybunny!

Sunday with the Sisters

I am going to an event in the park near me hosted by a group of spiritual women called the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

There are several Events that celebrate Easter including something called a "Hunky Jesus on the Cross Competition."

Have a look at the Sisters. There is something strange about them that I can't quite put my finger on.

I must now fashion my crown of thorns and loin rags. I'm not entering the competition but it's only because I lack the friends to accompany me and derive joy from my humiliation.

I will report back.

Worst Case Scenario starts with "W"

I was at the main Khronicles office here in San Francisco I had just finished a breakfast meeting with the entire senior editorial staff including my dogs Ass Breath and Freckle Dick and I caught a glimpse of two headlines that caught my attention.

U.S. Sees More Evidence of Iran's Meddling in Iraq


The title of the second one was...

Iran Notices that the United States Invaded Iraq and Blew the Fucking Hell out of the whole place and pissed off the entire Islamic population of Earth and just about everybody else who doesn't have stock in companies that are getting rich off the big steaming pile of imperialism and an air of Superiority and Smugness that Hasn't Been Seen Since the Nazis Danced their Genocide Shuffle through Grand Old Europe and Gasoline was a Whopping 11 Cents a Barrel.

I didn't have time to read the second article but I'm curious to see what it's about.

I think I'll go cryopreserve myself for 25 years until things smooth over. That way I can hang out with all of my favorite kindergartners and they can pay for the beer for a change. Plus I won't have to buy all the 538 different ipod upgrades that will be developed in that time. However, I could be screwing myself over badly by doing that since there may not be much left of Earth or Chin-Earth as they will be calling it when China takes it all over by making adorable and cheap little 3-cent robots who crave anglo blood. I guess all those times I tipped the delivery from Fu's Palace in coins will come back to bite me in the ass. I wonder if the entire world was controlled by China would there still be areas called Chinatown? Probably just Little America. A theme park where they dress up as pale, slightly tall characters with strange round and oval-shaped eyes. You'd be able to go there and get a strange rounded dessert mound that is flat one one side and with a crust of cooked dough on the top, filled with a sweet, chunky, apple-mush inside. And you won't need to reheat it because due to global-warming the earth will normally be 165 degrees. Except in a harsh winter where it may occasionally dip into double digits. Or they might keep us Westerners alive and use us as Occidental slaves who toil in the plastic mines.

Okay, I've change my mind. I want to take the blue pill instead, please.

I swear to the disembodied head of the Baby Jesus I have GOT to stop reading about politics or my blood will one day combust like a... a... Somebody finish up that rant for me while I go brush up on my Cantonese and Mandarin and look for pills of any color. Okay, let's run a freaking video.

Land of the Chewy Air

Palm Trees & Movie Stars!


Come and sit on Grandpa Kranki's knee children.

Have you ever wondered what Los Angeles was like? I think visually and attitudinally, if that's a word, that this video gives a good flavor. Yes, there are the occasional Entourage type parties and big fancy houses with swimming pools and there are some cool parts like Los Feliz and Venice but this is the guts of LA and as we all know guts are not always pretty to look at. It's a city for made for cars, not people.

City of Angeles Video

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fKAG8rfGiMo&eurl=

There, now you don't have to visit the land of chewy air. I'll be visiting but it's just because I still have so many great friends down there. It was great to see my favorite married couple this past weekend. I wish you both love and good fortune and a heaping portion of patience and luck with your new retarded* dog. I hope you enjoy the John Tesh: Invitation to Prayer and Worship book and CD I got your for your birthday.

*their words, not mine.

A picture is worth at least 988 words

This is a new patch that I bought for my jacket. It now says the name "Cora" on my favorite Thermogas vintage jacket and I thought this was a tad cooler and would cover it up nicely.

I'm not sure what is going on here but she really has bad taste in clothing.

I have at least five friends (mostly women) who are all preggers right now. I hope that they all have happy healthy babies that are as handsome or, if possible, even more handsome than this bundle of joy. I don't know if the hair is real but I think starting a business that makes toupees for babies would be highly profitable. Truly a Golden Diapers Idea. I would also like to point out that the name Krankiboy makes a lovely first name for a girl baby. Edgy.

This is just a friendly reminder to the moms-to-be. Make sure that your little ones are getting enough protein in their diet. I wonder how many puppies there were before she started snacking.

Spawn of the Crocodile Hunter

I started to read an article about the Crocodile Hunter's daughter getting a TV show of her own and I thought it was great. Exploitative and capitalizing on the fame of her dead father like a hungry money leach, but still lovely that a tradition of harassing animals to amuse TV viewers is being carried on by the next generation. Then I saw this picture of Steve Irwin's daughter, Bindi. Yikes! I thought that having a retarded girl on TV might be an odd way to go. Seriously, doesn't she look as if she has Down Syndrome*? My friend and new blogger J described her as looking like Corky from Life Goes On. Maybe she was born a tad early. "She kind of resembles a cookie that you've taken out of the oven before it's fully cooked."


Thank goodness it's just a really terrible picture of her and she really looks like this.

A lovely young lady. Although... if you look at the picture too long you start to wonder if her hands and arms are monstrously large for her body. It's like she's got Popeye the Sailor arms. I wouldn't want to take a punch from those powerhouse guns of hers. I'm sure they will serve her well if she should need to pin a Croc's jaws shut in a close encounter. In the back of my mind I'm a bit worried that she too will have a fate like her Dad's when some benign variety of butterfly perches on her ponytail and she has some kind of allergic reaction to it's pollen. In any case they need to fire her publicist immediately. Nobody wants their adorable, young, aspiring TV star looking like a mongoloid with gorilla arms. I think it even says so in the bible.

*I've worked with kids with Downs Syndrome and they are wonderful and upbeat children, but I wouldn't put them on television. So please don't give me a hard time about ragging on the mentally retarded, you fucktard.

Beergoggled Bob: A Survivor's Story

Yesterday evening my friend Bob (not me) found himself cabbing it back to the apartment of a woman he'd just met a few hours before. Normally this would have been a good thing, right? No. Not in this case. You see Bob had been drinking a bit and smoking a decent amount of le herb and he ended up sharing this cab at the request of the woman he'd met at his friend's dinner party. Once he got back to this woman's house and bright lighting he told me that the fog of the alcohol began to wear off and it slowly dawned on him that he most certainly did not want to fool around with this slightly older woman who was not at all his type in either the looks or personality department. She also had a totally stuffed nose and was sniffling constantly and wiping her nose with her hand. She clearly had some kind of full-on cold. She also had a less than melodious voice which she clearly liked to hear the sound of. Poor Bob, what an awkward predicament to be in. Here are some of the things that slightly stoned yet rapidly sobering up Bob did at 2am to try and express his disinterest without hurting the woman's feelings... much.


1) Pretended to fall asleep on the couch when she went to get some water from the kitchen. Sadly she didn't let him sleep but instead woke him and insisted that they should go to her bed. Strike one, Bob.

2) Made a truly tremendous effort to get her cat to climb up on him to serve as a protective buffer from any sexual advances or physical encroachment. Bob is also allergic to cats so that says quite a lot to me about his desperation. The cat was shy and never served as the feline shield that Bob so desperately needed. Strike two.

3) Fabricated an elaborate story about having feelings for their mutual friend to buy some time to think of another means of escape. Sadly she had placed her legs on him and seemed to be actually using a bit of force to hold him in place. That is how my pal Bob related the predicament to me. I can only repeat what he told me, right? In any event that was strike three.

4) After she picked up on his subtle hints of non-interest she suggested that they could just sleep in bed and she said "I promise not to attack you or anything." Bob decided this sounded reasonable and agreed. She had lied. Once Bob was resting peacefully on his side of the bed she almost immediately attacked him. Bob informed me that she was a rather lousy kisser with dry lips and unshaven legs. That poor bastard. Could it have gotten worse? How was Bob able to escape? What tale could he tell to make a speedy escape with his dignity still somewhat intact? Could he make it out without killing her or even worse... having to continue kissing her.

Bob held totally still hoping to tap into his happy place. Just as he did the brilliant escape plan became crystal clear.

What magical words did Bob use that gave him his sweet freedom and a long fucking walk back home? Bob did the lamest acting of his life and, with as much conviction as he could muster, he said, "OH, darn! I just remembered... I have to be up early. I promised my mom that I'd drive her to church in the morning."

Somehow the hollow and pathetic lie had worked. It gave Bob the time he needed to confuse her long enough to allow him to make his escape. Bob quickly grabbed his vintage coat and hurriedly fled into the night. The cold crispness of the early morning air felt like a sweet homecoming against his face. He had cheated fate and lived to tell the tale (to me, his friend). Bob looked to the heavens and whispered a quick, pagan prayer to the gods for sparing him. I mean, I assume that's what he probably did. I only know what Bob told me. I wasn't there to know for sure.

Bob feels badly for his scrambled senses contributing to such an uncomfortable interaction. He has since promised me (several times) that he will exercise much greater caution in any and all future events where alcohol, marijuana and socializing are involved. I've known my friend Bob for a long time now and in my heart I truly believe that he has learned a valuable life lesson from this intense experience.

At least one of these is a picture of me wearing no clothes

Well, it's nice to know that my impending nudity can elicit a response. The telegram from Sherriff was very demanding. Some of the positions and props he requested were just ludicrous. Here are the naked images that my publisher approved for posting.

The one of me at age 3 splashing about in the kiddie pool with my krankiwang showing didn't make the cut. I'm saving it for the cover of my autobiography.* I wonder if they can prosecute somebody on kiddie porn charges if the pictures are of the person being charged. Hmm... I should probably go to sleep now if those are the types of thoughts that are going to pop into my head.

*Tentatively titled "One day you'll be big and everybody will want to play with you"

Crayons and other things in my pants that could choke small children

Crayons and Other Things in My Pants that Could Choke Small Children

You're all winners in my book... erm... blog. Everybody gets a picture of me where I am wearing no clothes. I'll just post the naughty morsel for all of mankind (the six people who read this blog) to enjoy. Feel free to doctor it up and photo shop it to make me look hotter.

Forgive me Father Blogger it has been nearly 3 weeks since my last confession. In that time I have been down in the sinful bowels known as Los Angeles getting my affairs in order. I had a very lucrative garage sale. I didn't use the Krankiboy name because then the yard sale would have drawn the usual hordes and shameless throngs of paparazzi. That's no way to earn an honest buck. I unloaded a pile of odds and ends that you'd think nobody would ever want to buy. All I'm left with are a few crayons and other things in my pants that could choke small children. A plastic lizard, a Polichicks pin, some Canadian coins, a penguin eraser and a shiny blue rock that has somehow gained some kind of sentimental value. Being a severe pack rat I find yard sales to be wonderful things but I'm not always able to part with the crap that I collect. Thank god there are people willing to buy half-full bottles of perfume, Post It notes, old screwdrivers and ugly tin boxes with teddy bears on them. That and some decent items made me exactly 1,181 dollars. I think I could probably be a professional yard salesman at this point. Perhaps I'll write a How-To book on the subject. I just need a clever and catchy title.

Here are a few of the yard sale highlights.

1) The old woman who was utterly disgusted with me when I told her that I'd like two dollars for the Barneys cashmere sweater. Clearly she liked it but my egregious pricing prompted her to toss the item to the ground and storm off.

2) The guy who found flaws in everything I had for sale as a means to get me to sell it for far less.

Annoying Mustache Guy: "This dresser has some scratches on it here."
Me: "Yes, that's why it's only 20 dollars and being sold at a yard sale."
Annoying Mustache Guy: But... 20 dollars is too much. I give you three."

He did that for about an hour before he finally realized I had him outnumbered in the brain cell department.

3) The white-haired old coin collector who felt comfortable enough with me to describe his sexual fantasy with his favorite Sizzler waitress. "Lemme tell you, I've been trying to get under that apron and into her pants for three years now. I can just imagine what it would be like to just get all up into her hot wet crotch and press myself in there with my balls all the way up against her sweet thing."

I can't find the words to properly describe the little hip wiggle dance he did while he "shared" with me.

The yard sale proved to be a rich and rewarding experience on many levels. I found a bunch more stuff in the garage a few days later and will probably have a Sidewalk sale with the stuff I haul back to San Francisco.

I'll post the picture of me wearing no clothes when I get back to my new hometown of San Francisco.

NAME THAT BLOG - Win a Prize!

Okay, the Khronicles staff, and our interns have been working overtime and burning the candle at both ends. As the Editor of the Khronicles I get tired out after a day of pouring over reader feedback and reading all the comments I get here. Last week there were 3 on the same post.

This week I am going to let YOU, name my blog post. Just give me some titles to choose from and I will write a blog that fits your title.


If you title is chosen you will be emailed a photo of me in which I am wearing absolutely no clothes.

Is the Internet God?

Sherriff said...

Okay, but ten years ago someone might have described this internerd business thusly: There's this thing that goes all around the world see, but it doesn't exist see, but it's everywhere but nowhere, and you can ask it anything, and it knows everything, and it's not God, and you use your fingers to talk to it. And it has naked ladies. That's sort of futuristic innit? Sheee-it.

okay, i want the orgasm pill too.

NO, WAIT! The Internet IS GOD.

Maybe we're all religious and worshipping the Internet. I never considered myself to be religious but the Internet is truly an awesome god to whom I pay homage. I have to digest that concept of the Internet as God. If anybody tampered with it I'd be personally hurt. However unlike an actual God ours is serviced by IT people. Although I guess God could have IT people service him if he wanted. I'm genuinely taken aback. Sheriff has shown me the light. I've had a semiepiphany... *ponders*

*returns* NO, WAIT! The Internet IS GOD. It is something that I rely on, something that creates a community. Everybody is striving for a faster connection so that they can be closer to God.
It falls into the Shinto belief that God is alive inside all of us (who have computers). I sure as hell pay homage to it and revere it. I face my computer more times a day than any hard core Islamic faces Mecca.

It gives me a whole fucking mess of messages. It's all knowing. I should simply work backwards and start with deductive reasoning.

Why is the Internet not God? I can't think of anything about the Internet that is ungodly. Can any other worshippers out there who get this holy message think of a way in which the Internet is not God?

Kneel down before me for I am all knowing, and I offer porn.

Bye Bye Armageddon Pie

Well, it's been great knowing all of you. Well most of you. Most of you who have been nominally friendly to me. It seems that our time here on earth may be drawing to a close thanks to some stellar international politics by the Bush Administration. towards a stubborn and irate country whose people are inherently confident that the next life is going to be far better than this one.









I just wanted to wish you all the best if you are lucky enough to survive by living under the sewers, subterranean caves or in a bomb shelter and avoid the nuclear fall-out. Don't forget to bring lots of water. Remember if you're in a pinch you can always drink your own urine. It's been a grand time, folks. Go out and have as much mindless sex as possible, take all those drugs you were afraid to take before and hope for the best. Pretty much a standard Saturday night for many of my readers. It could be weeks, months or even years before the political shit pile tumbles down on us, but there is nothing wrong with giving your arse a preemptive good-bye kiss.

Fanmail Friday

Just like Oprah, Jon Stewart and Ms. Fits I too get my share of fan mail.

Let's take a peek and see which email I pluck from the bunch today.

Ennie, meany, miney, moe... catch a redneck by the toe, feed him bleach and let him go.

Got one.

Cory Soldwisch wrote:
Do not attempt to have a battle of wits with Neal Boortz if you're unarmed.
I pray that the children you teach recognize what an incompetent you are and place your opinions down there with the excrement they wipe from their shoes. Hide your face in shame you fool! Long live Neal Boortz!

Well, that one was not as positive as they normally are. I'll get another.

peter weiss wrote:
my, my! If you are an educator then where is your open mind? It seem that you were just spewing political vitriolic diatribe to hear yourself speak. There was no dialogue nor was there a valid point in your e-mail. You showed how myopic you are. One then can assume why you are a teacher. You cannot do much else. It is not difficult to explain a lesson plan that the administration tells to.
By the bye, all one had to do was graduate high school to become a teacher 100 years ago. This was when we had our Edisons and Freuds and Einsteins. How many kids do you "teach" can make change working as a cashier without using a calculator or having the register perform this task for them? Not many, I see this every day. So much for our education system.

You know what... I don't think this Friday Fanmail thing is working out that well.

But because these gents got their email posted they automatically win a year supply of Email SPAM!

Please help me out and sign mahatma30029@yahoo.com & csoldwisch@gmail.com up for some porn sights so they can do something to releive their tension. I'm thinking they would like some Asian Anal Action.

Fun with FOX NEWS

It seems I have gained the attention of some of the conservatives at FOX NEWS. I've been published on a right wing website.

Let us all join hands and dance!

Here is what the Neal Boortz site said about me. I'd never heard of the man before yesterday.


"LOVE THOSE TV APPEARANCES
Now here's an email from Matt. Matt must have seen me on TV during the last few days. [video of Neal on Hannity & Colmes] I want you to notice what an incredible job Matt does of refuting the positions I put forth. Matt was probably captain of his debate team. Matt probably thinks that debate is the stuff you put on de hook. Wait! Matt's a teacher! Well that explains a lot! Why he can't spell my name correctly, for instance."

Subject: Neil's Wisdom

Name: Matt
Email: krankiboy@yahoo.com

Message:

Neil: From your perspective I can certainly see how educated children would be detrimental to your way of life. Who will be there to watch your shows? You remind me of an ant trying to push a giant piece of crap (your thoughts) uphill. The difference is that your excrement is smeared all over my TV set.
No offense to ants for the comparison to the lower life form.

If we teachers should decide to make a nuclear weapon we'll send it your way so you can give us your opinion on it.
________________________________________

I got some friendly emails from his fans. Two of the 178 emails I received were well thought out and grammatically correct.

I sent this reply to all 178 (and counting) people who were kind enough to email me their best wishes.
I agree that the Teachers Unions have problems. It was the absurd and uncalled for comparison that Boortz made between teachers and terrorists that prompted me to make my own highly juvenile, inane, and intentionally offensive comparison.

I don't think Boortz is anti-education, but Fox News and Boortz and Hannity in particular have such little regard for facts or anything constructive that I'm just at a loss to try to reason logically with much of what they have to say.

Dear You,

I like to try and see all sides of an issue which is the only reason I will tune in to Fox News. I'm disappointed in the move from news as a whole moving from information to infotainment for the sake of ratings. It really isn't even news. It's degenerated to a who can yell their opinion most often and loudest contest. It should have a title other than "news" because it's mislabeled. It could be Political and Current Events commentary.

Programs such as Left, Right, and Center at least have an element of restraint. The hosts and guests normally make a concerted effort to be rational and cordial. I think that I most object to the manner in which Fox News delivers their opinions as if they are facts. Those people that use it as a primary source of news become polarized against the other side of the political spectrum. The swarm of uninformed liberal idiots who just watch the Daily Show for their main source of news. The end result is a polarization of thought which, in my opinion, has been detrimental to the country and exploited successfully by the Bush Administration to gain the Oval Office.

Edward R. Murrow would have an aneurysm if he were here to see where news has gone. The end result seems to be a dissolution of any sense of unity and common interests among Americans. The importance of responsibility and credibility in the news has been replaced with ratings and rantings. That's just my opinion. Thanks for taking the time to read it.

Krankiboy

Even Odds on Oblivion

Today, as I read the news, I wonder if mankind is going to be killed off by over consumption (ourselves) or nuclear war (ourselves) If I were a betting man I'd still be hard pressed to choose. Sadly even if I did know the answer I couldn't profit from winning that bet.

Maybe if we're lucky the hormones they put in chickens will create a strain of super killer poultry that will peck us off the face of the Earth. At least that way we'll die with dignity.

The Colonel's Secret Recipe has doomed us all!

Hissy Fit

GOD DAMN!

I was out in the back of my house with Ass Breath and Freckle Dick enjoying a beautiful warm California morning when I noticed a very large black cat walking towards me. The dogs came around the corner from some sniffing and froze in the presence of this big thing. He was probably about 17 lbs and kept walking towards the dogs and gave a friendly meow. Then he craned his neck up and opened his mouth with a hiss. It was like something I've seen King Cobras do on the nature shows. As soon as I saw it rear it's teeth I tried to get the dogs away but the cat pounced at them. I grabbed the thing as the dogs were scared and frozen just staring at this thing. It was calm in my hands for a minute and then it went completely berserk. Let me repeat that. Completely berserk and drooling with blood lust. It slashed my lip open down to my gums and proceeded to shred my forearms with deep bloody scratches from all four of its claws. The new neighbor who owned the cat came rushing over after hearing the noise. I tried to hold the cat away from my face and it bit down on my finger like a lion on fresh meat. The owner reached for it and I handed it to her. The cat clamped its teeth down on her palm and the owner recoiled in pain so I held onto the cat since the dogs were staying right next to be just bewildered by what was happening. I had a lip gash that was tripping out onto my shirt and I wasn't sure if my lip was half off because of all the blood drizzling out. The owner looked at me like I had my face off. I managed to hold onto the cat, lift it up and toss it back into it's house and shut the door. I don't think I have any permanent damage but I've got some nice juicy slices taken out of both arms and some deeper gouges. The bite puncture hurts like a mother fucker. I feel fortunate that the Cat didn't get it's paws or jaws onto my dogs because they're small and Freckle Dick has only a few baby teeth left. I think if I hadn't been there she would have clamped down and torn out an eye at the very least. I feel like the Secret Service man who jumps in to take a bullet for a beloved President. It cancelled my travel plans but I'm relieved that it didn't get more of my face than my lip and chin. The lip is still attached and might not need stitches if it heals correctly. I guess I'll be using a straw for my food for a few days. The cat is up to date on it's shots. I realize after the incident that the thing was laying in wait like a lurking predator. What the hell kind of cat actively hunts dogs? Next time I'm taking my stun gun with me.

Where the hell is the future?

Ever since I was a little kid with a bowl hair cut and gel sandals people have been raving about the future. It was supposed to be so great. In the future we'll have flying cars... In the future we'll have robots do all our work for us... In the future we'll be able to hunt humans for sport... all the same stuff you've heard. Where are these things? It's been a long wait. So far the only innovations that have improved my life I can count on one hand and thank god it's not my hand because two of the fingers are missing. Three things have made my life better. DVDs, Email, and Microwave Popcorn. Actually, now that I am considering it I think you can actually go ahead and cut two more fingers off the hand. DVDs suck because they keep you inside when you could be getting fresh air or exercise or sunshine or actually actively doing something. Email is just a lazy person's version of classic letter writing. Traditional letter writing was once commonplace. Now you'd wet your pants with spastic joy if somebody actually took the time to hand write a thoughtful multi-page letter. That's a practice that requires you to think about what you are going to bestow upon the page in actual ink. May those of you who still practice the ancient craft have fortune bless you with pleasant, localized tingling of the extremities and obedient pixie slaves to serve your every need. Except for spell checking. You still need to do that yourself or you'll get lazy and go back to slacking. Okay so that just leaves microwave popcorn. There is nothing bad about microwave popcorn. It's fast and it's delicious and as long as you don't stand with your face pressed to the microwave you won't get eyebrow cancer. As for those of you who still leave it in too long and burn it all I can say is I hate you. You just wasted my entire future. That horrible smell that lasts for days is your fault. There is a scientific reason it smells that bad and for so long. It's because that's the smell of shame. If you caused it you're a dufus who has squandered a rich gift. I don't think you should even get a second chance to ever pop another bag. We don't give laser guns to drunken baby monkeys. Do we? Not that I've noticed. Microwave popcorn is great and all but come on, Future... that's it? One thing? I can count one thing on my dick. Here, watch... One. The Future has played a cruel joke on us all. I want what was promised and I want it now. I want all the things I dreamed of as a kid or there are going to be some vague but serious threats made by me. That, my friends, you can count on. I don't want some shit bucket arse recycled new version of Windows or gummy vitamins. Fuck you Flintstones. I want some of the good stuff. I'm just asking for what TV and the movies and the Future promised me because now I'm grown up* and it's time to deliver.

I want my car to fold up into a small suitcase. I want little pellets that taste like a gourmet, five-course meal. I want my teleportation device for days I don't feel like carrying my bulky suitcase car around. I want my robot butler. I want an little alien pal who follows me around and has cool powers-- I don't even care what the powers are. I want the watch that stops time. I want to be able to go into my dreams and play it like a video game. I want my telekinetic powers like Scott Baio had in Zapped. Plus I want the gum that gives you a mind bending orgasm when you chew it. Okay I made up and added the last one, but still. Just give me something to go with my microwave popcorn. Don't try and say that the Rubik's Cube counted because that was just frustrating. It took me weeks to realize you had to soak the thing in warm water and then re glue on the colored stickers to win. What a ripoff! Look, I'm going be patient and give you a bit more time, Future, but please hurry up. I'll give you 6 - 8 weeks but by then if I'm not riding my robot-ninja-eagle-hot tub-cookie and laser jousting against beautiful naked lady pirate dinosaurs on top of a wild cherry-flavored, sex volcano I am going to be so incredibly... Yeah. Just make it happen. You better. I'm counting.

* Shut up. I am so growed up. Well, you smell like a jerk.

I'm a Google Blogger

Google Blogger. That sounds like a character from a Dr. Seuss book. It think it's in the same book as the Starbelly Sneeches. Ah yes here it is... "Well, snozberries are the most favorite snack for the Google Blogger crew! If winter lasted all year long what would a Google Blogger chew?"

I thought Blog was a bad name but Goog might actually be worse. I still like the idea of calling it a Fuck instead of a blog. Yeah, now that dude is bloody brilliant. I wonder where all his old fuck friends went? Those fuckers.

spare change

I was walking my dogs past a 40 year-old, black,homeless woman who was asking for change. I wasn't planning on giving her any until she said "Have a Happy Valentines Day." There was something really sad in the way she said it. It struck me as such a strange thing for her to say to me that I stopped and put a quarter in her cup. It didn't even make any sense for her to say that to me with the pseudo-holiday still a week and a half away. I suppose I just realized that she was willing to say whatever it would take to get some change in her cup. It's the first time I've given anything to a pan handler in a long time. I remember being in high school on the subway and a woman very convincingly told me that she needed truly 79 cents more to buy a token so she could get on the train. I stopped and gave her all my change. I was about to gesture to the token both so she could go ahead of me in line, but by then she had already turned back around and repeated her plea for 79 cents to the next person that came along. I remember feeling incredibly stupid and used and angry in that moment. To this day I wish I had asked her for my money back.