November 03, 2004
Concession Speech
by Adam Felber
[Former candidate Felber, flanked by his family and supporters, steps up to the podium in the bright autumn sunlight. Cheers and applause are heard.]
My fellow Americans, the people of this nation have spoken, and spoken with a clear voice. So I am here to offer my concession. [Boos, groans, rending of garments]
I concede that I overestimated the intelligence of the American people. Though the people disagree with the President on almost every issue, you saw fit to vote for him. I never saw that coming. That's really special. And I mean "special" in the sense that we use it to describe those kids who ride the short school bus and find ways to injure themselves while eating pudding with rubber spoons. That kind of special.
I concede that I misjudged the power of hate. That's pretty powerful stuff, and I didn't see it. So let me take a moment to congratulate the President's strategists: Putting the gay marriage amendments on the ballot in various swing states like Ohio... well, that was just genius. Genius. It got people, a certain kind of people, to the polls. The unprecedented number of folks who showed up and cited "moral values" as their biggest issue, those people changed history. The folks who consider same sex marriage a more important issue than war, or terrorism, or the economy... Who'd have thought the election would belong to them? Well, Karl Rove did. Gotta give it up to him for that. [Boos.] Now, now. Credit where it's due.
I concede that I put too much faith in America's youth. With 8 out of 10 of you opposing the President, with your friends and classmates dying daily in a war you disapprove of, with your future being mortgaged to pay for rich old peoples' tax breaks, you somehow managed to sit on your asses and watch the Cartoon Network while aging homophobic hillbillies carried the day. You voted with the exact same anemic percentage that you did in 2000. You suck. Seriously, y'do. [Cheers, applause] Thank you. Thank you very much.
There are some who would say that I sound bitter, that now is the time for healing, to bring the nation together. Let me tell you a little story. Last night, I watched the returns come in with some friends here in Los Angeles. As the night progressed, people began to talk half-seriously about secession, a red state / blue state split. The reasoning was this: We in blue states produce the vast majority of the wealth in this country and pay the most taxes, and you in the red states receive the majority of the money from those taxes while complaining about 'em. We in the blue states are the only ones who've been attacked by foreign terrorists, yet you in the red states are gung ho to fight a war in our name. We in the blue states produce the entertainment that you consume so greedily each day, while you in the red states show open disdain for us and our values. Blue state civilians are the actual victims and targets of the war on terror, while red state civilians are the ones standing behind us and yelling "Oh, yeah!? Bring it on!"
More than 40% of you Bush voters still believe that Saddam Hussein had something to do with 9/11. I'm impressed by that, truly I am. Your sons and daughters who might die in this war know it's not true, the people in the urban centers where al Qaeda wants to attack know it's not true, but those of you who are at practically no risk believe this easy lie because you can. As part of my concession speech, let me say that I really envy that luxury. I concede that.
Healing? We, the people at risk from terrorists, the people who subsidize you, the people who speak in glowing and respectful terms about the heartland of America while that heartland insults and excoriates us... we wanted some healing. We spoke loud and clear. And you refused to give it to us, largely because of your high moral values. You knew better: America doesn't need its allies, doesn't need to share the burden, doesn't need to unite the world, doesn't need to provide for its future. Hell no. Not when it's got a human shield of pointy-headed, atheistic, unconfrontational breadwinners who are willing to pay the bills and play nice in the vain hope of winning a vote that we can never have. Because we're "morally inferior," I suppose, we are supposed to respect your values while you insult ours. And the big joke here is that for 20 years, we've done just that.
It's not a "ha-ha" funny joke, I realize, but it's a joke all the same.
Being an independent candidate gives me one luxury - as well as conceding the election today, I am also announcing my candidacy for President in 2008. [Wild applause, screams, chants of "Fel-ber! Fel-ber!] Thank you.
And I make this pledge to you today: THIS time, next time, there will be no pandering. This time I will run with all the open and joking contempt for my opponents that our President demonstrated towards the cradle of liberty, the Ivy League intellectuals, the "media elite," and the "white-wine sippers." This time I will not pretend that the simple folk of America know just as much as the people who devote their lives to serving and studying the nation and the world. They don't.
So that's why I'm asking for your vote in 2008, America. I'm talking to you, you ignorant, slack-jawed yokels, you bible-thumping, inbred drones, you redneck, racist, chest-thumping, perennially duped grade-school grads. Vote for me, because I know better, and I truly believe that I can help your smug, sorry asses. Vote Felber in '08! Thank you, and may God, if he does in fact exist, bless each and every one of you.
[Tumultuous cheers, applause, and foot-stomping. PULL BACK to reveal the rest of the stage, the row of cameras, hundreds of unoccupied chairs, and the empty field beyond.]
Posted by Adam Felber at November 3, 2004 02:43 PM
I'm too angry to write anything funny. So just read this and know that I'd have said something similar but get so angry that it would turn into a rant and end in death threats.
Thanks Adam. I'm going to go back into my fetal position now and swaddle myself in denial and bitter self-righteousness.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
Thanks from John Kerry
Here is a letter Kerry sent to his supporters. It meant something to me to receive it.
Dear Krankiboy,
Earlier today I spoke to President Bush, and offered him and Laura our congratulations on their victory. We had a good conversation, and we talked about the danger of division in our country and the need, the desperate need, for unity for finding the common ground, coming together. Today, I hope that we can begin the healing.
In America, it is vital that every vote counts, and that every vote be counted. But the outcome should be decided by voters, not a protracted legal process. I would not give up this fight if there was a chance that we would prevail. But it is now clear that even when all the provisional ballots are counted, which they will be, there won't be enough outstanding votes for our campaign to be able to win Ohio. And therefore, we cannot win this election.
It was a privilege and a gift to spend two years traveling this country, coming to know so many of you. I wish I could just wrap you in my arms and embrace each and every one of you individually all across this nation. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.
To all of you, my volunteers and online supporters, all across this country who gave so much of themselves, thank you. Thanks to William Field, a six-year-old who collected $680, a quarter and a dollar at a time selling bracelets during the summer to help change America. Thanks to Michael Benson from Florida who I spied in a rope line holding a container of money. It turned out he raided his piggy bank and wanted to contribute. And thanks to Alana Wexler, who at 11 years old and started Kids for Kerry.
I thank all of you, who took time to travel, time off from work, and their own vacation time to work in states far and wide. You braved the hot days of summer and the cold days of the fall and the winter to knock on doors because you were determined to open the doors of opportunity to all Americans. You worked your hearts out, and I say, don't lose faith. What you did made a difference, and building on itself, we will go on to make a difference another day. I promise you, that time will come -- the election will come when your work and your ballots will change the world, and it's worth fighting for.
I'm proud of what we stood for in this campaign, and of what we accomplished. When we began, no one thought it was possible to even make this a close race, but we stood for real change, change that would make a real difference in the life of our nation, the lives of our families, and we defined that choice to America. I'll never forget the wonderful people who came to our rallies, who stood in our rope lines, who put their hopes in our hands, who invested in each and every one of us. I saw in them the truth that America is not only great, but it is good.
So here -- with a grateful heart, I leave this campaign with a prayer that has even greater meaning to me now that I've come to know our vast country so much better and that prayer is very simple: God bless America.
Thank you,
John Kerry
Yes. It's clear that even in defeat he's a greater, wiser man with more integrity and heart than the Retard Cowboy will ever have. If I wasn't so angry I'd cry like a little girl. An angry little girl with an assault rifle (they're legal, you know for hunting). It's all so ridiculous. I'll be here in the fetal position if you need me.
Dear Krankiboy,
Earlier today I spoke to President Bush, and offered him and Laura our congratulations on their victory. We had a good conversation, and we talked about the danger of division in our country and the need, the desperate need, for unity for finding the common ground, coming together. Today, I hope that we can begin the healing.
In America, it is vital that every vote counts, and that every vote be counted. But the outcome should be decided by voters, not a protracted legal process. I would not give up this fight if there was a chance that we would prevail. But it is now clear that even when all the provisional ballots are counted, which they will be, there won't be enough outstanding votes for our campaign to be able to win Ohio. And therefore, we cannot win this election.
It was a privilege and a gift to spend two years traveling this country, coming to know so many of you. I wish I could just wrap you in my arms and embrace each and every one of you individually all across this nation. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Thank you.
To all of you, my volunteers and online supporters, all across this country who gave so much of themselves, thank you. Thanks to William Field, a six-year-old who collected $680, a quarter and a dollar at a time selling bracelets during the summer to help change America. Thanks to Michael Benson from Florida who I spied in a rope line holding a container of money. It turned out he raided his piggy bank and wanted to contribute. And thanks to Alana Wexler, who at 11 years old and started Kids for Kerry.
I thank all of you, who took time to travel, time off from work, and their own vacation time to work in states far and wide. You braved the hot days of summer and the cold days of the fall and the winter to knock on doors because you were determined to open the doors of opportunity to all Americans. You worked your hearts out, and I say, don't lose faith. What you did made a difference, and building on itself, we will go on to make a difference another day. I promise you, that time will come -- the election will come when your work and your ballots will change the world, and it's worth fighting for.
I'm proud of what we stood for in this campaign, and of what we accomplished. When we began, no one thought it was possible to even make this a close race, but we stood for real change, change that would make a real difference in the life of our nation, the lives of our families, and we defined that choice to America. I'll never forget the wonderful people who came to our rallies, who stood in our rope lines, who put their hopes in our hands, who invested in each and every one of us. I saw in them the truth that America is not only great, but it is good.
So here -- with a grateful heart, I leave this campaign with a prayer that has even greater meaning to me now that I've come to know our vast country so much better and that prayer is very simple: God bless America.
Thank you,
John Kerry
Yes. It's clear that even in defeat he's a greater, wiser man with more integrity and heart than the Retard Cowboy will ever have. If I wasn't so angry I'd cry like a little girl. An angry little girl with an assault rifle (they're legal, you know for hunting). It's all so ridiculous. I'll be here in the fetal position if you need me.
Tuesday, November 02, 2004
Monday, November 01, 2004
How to Handle a Bush Re-election
I know it would be horrible. But it could happen. He became president last time without even getting the majority of votes and the Wheels of the Greasy Republican Machine continue to run overtime as the religious zealots jump in to help lend their support to make sure that same sex marriage is banned. I picture the Orc army scene from Lord of the Rings where they relentlessly rip down all the trees to stoke their fires and forge their cruel weapons. It seems that the religious fanatics feel that fucking around with the Constitution and preserving the "Sanctity of Marriage" is much more vital than the environment, the economy, foreign policy, honest leadership, accountability, and having a leader with the ability to form complete sentences composed of actual words. Let's hope it doesn't go to the courts to decided this one. We know who owns those folks. I'll give you a clue. It rhymes with Porge Tush. Three or more Supreme Court justices will be nominated by whoever "wins" the election.
It's Ketchup vs. Oil and I know which one I want on my all american burger.
So I have decided to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Boyscout style.
IF Bush gets a second term as President to see what else he can crash our country into.
Bush said it himself "People misunderestimate me." Well I shant.
IF BUSH WINS THIS IS MY REACTION PLAN: And I pray to the Dancin' Baby Jesus with all my heathen heart that we don't have to use it.
Step 1) Sit in stunned silence for about seven minutes trying to process the senseless and horrific event that has just taken place.
Step 2) Curse the Midwestern Voters for being ignorant, intolerant, incestuous bastards. This isn't entirely true but you have to blame somebody.
Step 3) Refuse to pay any taxes until Bush is ousted, impeached or publicly spanked at the U.N.. There's a 65% chance your money is either going towards the war in Iraq or to one of them fancy wagon wheel tables for Airforce 1.
Step 4) When step 3 fails because too few Americans have the balls to stand up against the Man, immediately buy as much stock in Defense Contractors and Weapons Manufactures as you can. Spend all your money on cigarettes. You'll need the smokes to use as currency when Armageddon rolls over us like an unstoppable black Tsunami and you must bribe you way into the underworld sanctuary.
Step 5) If you are of Draft age (which lately seems like anywhere from 18 to 59 years-old) burn off your fingerprints with acid and then fake your own death. Something original like a blimping accident.
Step 6) Learn to live off the land. I hear Montana is beautiful.
Step 7) Join your local millitia so you know how to fight when the North Koreans and the Chinese attack us.
Step 8) Become comfortable using the phrases "Nuclear weapons, Schmuclear weapons." and "God is on our side 'cause we're Americans, right?!"
Step 9) Stop Drop and Roll.
Step 10) If step 9 somehow fails to remedy the situation, you have only three options.
1)The hard way:
Try and lead a rag tag band of rebel forces against the Empire (hint) befriend the Ewoks so they'll help you to combat the Storm Troopers.
2)The quick and tasty way:
Enjoy a hot fudge cyanide sundae or a poisoned dessert of your choice.
3) The easy way:
Get that Lobotomy you've been saving up for. "Look at all those pretty clouds. Say, that one looks just like a mushroom... Cool."
It's Ketchup vs. Oil and I know which one I want on my all american burger.
So I have decided to hope for the best and prepare for the worst. Boyscout style.
IF Bush gets a second term as President to see what else he can crash our country into.
Bush said it himself "People misunderestimate me." Well I shant.
IF BUSH WINS THIS IS MY REACTION PLAN: And I pray to the Dancin' Baby Jesus with all my heathen heart that we don't have to use it.
Step 1) Sit in stunned silence for about seven minutes trying to process the senseless and horrific event that has just taken place.
Step 2) Curse the Midwestern Voters for being ignorant, intolerant, incestuous bastards. This isn't entirely true but you have to blame somebody.
Step 3) Refuse to pay any taxes until Bush is ousted, impeached or publicly spanked at the U.N.. There's a 65% chance your money is either going towards the war in Iraq or to one of them fancy wagon wheel tables for Airforce 1.
Step 4) When step 3 fails because too few Americans have the balls to stand up against the Man, immediately buy as much stock in Defense Contractors and Weapons Manufactures as you can. Spend all your money on cigarettes. You'll need the smokes to use as currency when Armageddon rolls over us like an unstoppable black Tsunami and you must bribe you way into the underworld sanctuary.
Step 5) If you are of Draft age (which lately seems like anywhere from 18 to 59 years-old) burn off your fingerprints with acid and then fake your own death. Something original like a blimping accident.
Step 6) Learn to live off the land. I hear Montana is beautiful.
Step 7) Join your local millitia so you know how to fight when the North Koreans and the Chinese attack us.
Step 8) Become comfortable using the phrases "Nuclear weapons, Schmuclear weapons." and "God is on our side 'cause we're Americans, right?!"
Step 9) Stop Drop and Roll.
Step 10) If step 9 somehow fails to remedy the situation, you have only three options.
1)The hard way:
Try and lead a rag tag band of rebel forces against the Empire (hint) befriend the Ewoks so they'll help you to combat the Storm Troopers.
2)The quick and tasty way:
Enjoy a hot fudge cyanide sundae or a poisoned dessert of your choice.
3) The easy way:
Get that Lobotomy you've been saving up for. "Look at all those pretty clouds. Say, that one looks just like a mushroom... Cool."
Sunday, October 31, 2004
Halloween Part 2 of 3
Apparently when there are costumes involved I have quite an active social life. I revamped my mad doctor costume into Doctor Love, with ravy flashing hearts and all. It's comfortable to dance in scrubs. I don't get these guys who dress in full rubberized demon body suits. They look like some villain from the Spiderman comic books. Tagged along with some friends to the big new club in L.A. Godskitchen at the Henry Fonda. Very cool set up, lots of wander room and different places to crash and cozy up.
Okay, enough plugging the venue. On to the highlights.
1) Going out dancing for the first time in over two years! Y.E.A.R.S. I'm happy to report that there wasn't too much rust or dust on my funky groove machine.
2) Friends brought some weak-ass drugs. I'll just say they were 97% less potent than the worst I've ever had. But Penny and I and John and Jackie Kennedy still had a lovely time. Shame about JFK getting shot and spattering Jackie blood and all.
3) By pure coincidence we ran into two of out friends, which at a big place when everybody is in costume is remarkable. Especially because my friend Ned (honkey) was wearing a massive fro, some facial hair and a bowtie. He was Rufus Peabody of course. It's great to have somebody there to use their afro wig to fan you on the dance floor.
4) In the VIP room Penny and I were couch spooning and we had this hot girl in a skimpy little girlscout outfit with her boyscout w/boner date. She was like our own personal go go dancer. She shook her cookies quite well.
5) Then there was a great set by SANDER and two professional dancing girls who were barely dressed in leather Indian Princess gear. One was eh, but the other was one of the most beautiful females I've ever seen including magazines, tv and movies. We (yes even the women) were all mesmerized and couldn't look away from her. Had I been on something potent, I would have rushed the stage and pinned my pulsating heart on her. I wanted her to sweat so it might hit me in the face. Her formula was hot squared, times ten. Drooling complete.
6) I don't remember much after that except for going to the seating area to rest and finding what looked like the lost and found of Asian guys. They were all crashed out, most of them asleep as the beat pounded away. Then one by one their wives and girlfriends came to collect them, as if they were lost articles of clothing or coats from the coat check room.
7) Cute girl dressed as Punky Brewster went out of her way to chat with me. Cause I was after all Doctor Love. DJ Jenette, I think it was. That made me think about Punky Brewster. I think it's "odd" for an old single white man to adopt an eight year old girl. But maybe that's just me.
Okay, enough plugging the venue. On to the highlights.
1) Going out dancing for the first time in over two years! Y.E.A.R.S. I'm happy to report that there wasn't too much rust or dust on my funky groove machine.
2) Friends brought some weak-ass drugs. I'll just say they were 97% less potent than the worst I've ever had. But Penny and I and John and Jackie Kennedy still had a lovely time. Shame about JFK getting shot and spattering Jackie blood and all.
3) By pure coincidence we ran into two of out friends, which at a big place when everybody is in costume is remarkable. Especially because my friend Ned (honkey) was wearing a massive fro, some facial hair and a bowtie. He was Rufus Peabody of course. It's great to have somebody there to use their afro wig to fan you on the dance floor.
4) In the VIP room Penny and I were couch spooning and we had this hot girl in a skimpy little girlscout outfit with her boyscout w/boner date. She was like our own personal go go dancer. She shook her cookies quite well.
5) Then there was a great set by SANDER and two professional dancing girls who were barely dressed in leather Indian Princess gear. One was eh, but the other was one of the most beautiful females I've ever seen including magazines, tv and movies. We (yes even the women) were all mesmerized and couldn't look away from her. Had I been on something potent, I would have rushed the stage and pinned my pulsating heart on her. I wanted her to sweat so it might hit me in the face. Her formula was hot squared, times ten. Drooling complete.
6) I don't remember much after that except for going to the seating area to rest and finding what looked like the lost and found of Asian guys. They were all crashed out, most of them asleep as the beat pounded away. Then one by one their wives and girlfriends came to collect them, as if they were lost articles of clothing or coats from the coat check room.
7) Cute girl dressed as Punky Brewster went out of her way to chat with me. Cause I was after all Doctor Love. DJ Jenette, I think it was. That made me think about Punky Brewster. I think it's "odd" for an old single white man to adopt an eight year old girl. But maybe that's just me.
Saturday, October 30, 2004
Halloween Part 1 of 3
Double Fisting Friday
There is a saying that says you should always dance with the girl that brought you. This is especially true if that girl is Vodka. So I was Mad scarred up and bloody Dr. Krankiboy. Penny and my friends insisted that I also bring a wire hangar to make a political statement. I did. But it wasn't the crowd pleasing conversation piece I'd hoped it would be. It was hard to carry a machete, wire hangar and a cocktail all at the same time, so I prioritized and hung the hangar on the ceiling fan. I couldn't get my act together to go as a Punk as I had planned. Plus looking like a poor wastrel druggie youth can get expensive if you're only resource is vintage clothing on Melrose Avenue. They're not giving away those spiked collars and anarchy shirts for free. Next year, perhaps. So yeah, mixing your alcohols can be bad.
A few large Vodka and cranberry drinks - Yummy. Okay Vodka is gone... Rum and cranberry, Oh! And some of that Pineapple liquor. Sweet and Tangy. Okay, now the rum is gone. How about Coke and cherry flavored liquor... Sure and while I'm already making one drink why not double fist it and drink a mostly Tequila Margarita at the same time. Sure it looks like a fine plan on paper, but in practice, not so much.
Some things I do remember:
1) The party was huge and elaborate
2) The more I drank the more everybody liked me.
3) I took a picture to pay tribute to our women in uniform. Naughty Girlscout Penny, Naughty Nurse Marin and Naughty Pot Brownie...uh, didn't get her name.
4) Dogs at the party were dressed as devils and angels and were not happy about it.
5) Big Gay German guy hitting on Marin only to get to her boyfriend who was dressed as a Dork/Nerd. "Your boyfriend is very cute even dressed up as a dork he's quite cute..." Was this bi Germanic photographer trying to hook up a menage? Who knows? I got the hell out of there to find a drink since I was already down to holding just one and 2/3 drinks. Not a good time to sober up.
6) Down at the fire pit (Fire pits are fucking awesome!) my friend told me he'd pay me ten dollars if I could get the girl dressed as a Girl Gone Wild (Mardi Gra beads and a "Censored" sign over her t*ts) to show me her t*ts. I had pretty much talked her into it after explaining the "bet" that my dorky friend offered up. Then I think I saw something shiny or dork's girlfriend came over. I don't usually get sidetracked when somebody gives me a challenge. You know that kid that would always take you up on a dare for money. That was me and still is to some degree.
7) Had conversation with a Cowgirl struggling with the fact that it was her 30th birthday. I gave some insight and wisdom in between checking out her ten-year-old boy ass.
8) Tall gay men were starting to increase in number.
9) Lestat the Vampire was our generous host.
10) Chubby girl dressed up as a French maid flirted with me heavily and hit me with a riding crop. That makes six consecutive Halloweens in a row this has happened.
11) Girls dressed as Krispy Kreme Donut girls were give out free tastes of their holes. Struck me as a bit dirty.
12) Got a bit carried away and began molesting my wife/Girlscout at the fire pit, paving the way for everybody else to start macking on one another. I blame the combination of alcohol and knee socks.
13) Girlscout drove Nurse, Dork and Mad Doctor back home.
14) Tapped my first Girlscout cookie in some of the drunkest, "what the hell happened last night" sex I've ever had.
15) Dork sends me email apologizing for "being a dork."
And that was just Friday's Halloween Fun. There are two more nights of parties left... Time for me to reinvent myself as Dr. Love. We are off for a night of crazy dancing at God's Kitchen.
There is a saying that says you should always dance with the girl that brought you. This is especially true if that girl is Vodka. So I was Mad scarred up and bloody Dr. Krankiboy. Penny and my friends insisted that I also bring a wire hangar to make a political statement. I did. But it wasn't the crowd pleasing conversation piece I'd hoped it would be. It was hard to carry a machete, wire hangar and a cocktail all at the same time, so I prioritized and hung the hangar on the ceiling fan. I couldn't get my act together to go as a Punk as I had planned. Plus looking like a poor wastrel druggie youth can get expensive if you're only resource is vintage clothing on Melrose Avenue. They're not giving away those spiked collars and anarchy shirts for free. Next year, perhaps. So yeah, mixing your alcohols can be bad.
A few large Vodka and cranberry drinks - Yummy. Okay Vodka is gone... Rum and cranberry, Oh! And some of that Pineapple liquor. Sweet and Tangy. Okay, now the rum is gone. How about Coke and cherry flavored liquor... Sure and while I'm already making one drink why not double fist it and drink a mostly Tequila Margarita at the same time. Sure it looks like a fine plan on paper, but in practice, not so much.
Some things I do remember:
1) The party was huge and elaborate
2) The more I drank the more everybody liked me.
3) I took a picture to pay tribute to our women in uniform. Naughty Girlscout Penny, Naughty Nurse Marin and Naughty Pot Brownie...uh, didn't get her name.
4) Dogs at the party were dressed as devils and angels and were not happy about it.
5) Big Gay German guy hitting on Marin only to get to her boyfriend who was dressed as a Dork/Nerd. "Your boyfriend is very cute even dressed up as a dork he's quite cute..." Was this bi Germanic photographer trying to hook up a menage? Who knows? I got the hell out of there to find a drink since I was already down to holding just one and 2/3 drinks. Not a good time to sober up.
6) Down at the fire pit (Fire pits are fucking awesome!) my friend told me he'd pay me ten dollars if I could get the girl dressed as a Girl Gone Wild (Mardi Gra beads and a "Censored" sign over her t*ts) to show me her t*ts. I had pretty much talked her into it after explaining the "bet" that my dorky friend offered up. Then I think I saw something shiny or dork's girlfriend came over. I don't usually get sidetracked when somebody gives me a challenge. You know that kid that would always take you up on a dare for money. That was me and still is to some degree.
7) Had conversation with a Cowgirl struggling with the fact that it was her 30th birthday. I gave some insight and wisdom in between checking out her ten-year-old boy ass.
8) Tall gay men were starting to increase in number.
9) Lestat the Vampire was our generous host.
10) Chubby girl dressed up as a French maid flirted with me heavily and hit me with a riding crop. That makes six consecutive Halloweens in a row this has happened.
11) Girls dressed as Krispy Kreme Donut girls were give out free tastes of their holes. Struck me as a bit dirty.
12) Got a bit carried away and began molesting my wife/Girlscout at the fire pit, paving the way for everybody else to start macking on one another. I blame the combination of alcohol and knee socks.
13) Girlscout drove Nurse, Dork and Mad Doctor back home.
14) Tapped my first Girlscout cookie in some of the drunkest, "what the hell happened last night" sex I've ever had.
15) Dork sends me email apologizing for "being a dork."
And that was just Friday's Halloween Fun. There are two more nights of parties left... Time for me to reinvent myself as Dr. Love. We are off for a night of crazy dancing at God's Kitchen.
Wednesday, October 27, 2004
Brain Power
Klicky McKlick Klink the link below.
BRAIN POWER
Send this above link to as many swing state voters as you can. Don't forget to use "strategery" to try and win the game.
I'm krankiboy and I approve this message.
BRAIN POWER
Send this above link to as many swing state voters as you can. Don't forget to use "strategery" to try and win the game.
I'm krankiboy and I approve this message.
Tuesday, October 26, 2004
Hedgehogs are Sellouts!
An open letter to Hedgehogs:
You and the Sea Otters are two of my favorite animals. I admired your cute little features and above all your integrity and disdain for materialism. This is why it pains me to see you chasing the almighty dollar. The monkey sold out long ago, so has the dog and the cat and almost every other animal under the sun. Talking pigs, hamsters, you name it they've all cashed in on movies and TV ads. But now you?! It breaks my heart to see one of the few animals left with integrity selling out to "the man."
You're better than that Hedgehogs. You're better than that.
Hedgehog Sellouts
Who will be the wind beneath my wings?
Fraught with Distraught,
Krankiboy
You and the Sea Otters are two of my favorite animals. I admired your cute little features and above all your integrity and disdain for materialism. This is why it pains me to see you chasing the almighty dollar. The monkey sold out long ago, so has the dog and the cat and almost every other animal under the sun. Talking pigs, hamsters, you name it they've all cashed in on movies and TV ads. But now you?! It breaks my heart to see one of the few animals left with integrity selling out to "the man."
You're better than that Hedgehogs. You're better than that.
Hedgehog Sellouts
Who will be the wind beneath my wings?
Fraught with Distraught,
Krankiboy
Monday, October 25, 2004
The Finest of Feline Art & "Da Bible"
Powerful and evocative.
I am pretty sure that this is one of the omens mentioned in "Da Bible." Not "The Bible." I'm referring to the brandass-spankin' new blackalicious Bible that I'm currently working on. Who better than me to update the Bible and give it that urban edge and hip-hop flava that's been missing for so long. They've remade some great films why not the Bible too? There will be the King James Edition the Old Ass Edition and soon, the Krankiboy Edition. Look for it at adult bookstores, wherever fine paperbacks and adult novelties are sold.
Here's an excerpt to give you a taste. This is from the book of Tyrel chapter 16 verse 12. Lamar "Yo, playa, if people start thinkin' they damn cat be painting art and shit up in this here mutha-fucka, this nigga know the mutha-fucking enda world be comin'!
The book of Genesis is really going well, I think I've been able to keep the language crisp and zippy, while still staying true to the purity and meaning of the Bible. Also the scene where Eve sucks-off the snake for the rock of crack works even better than that apple of knowledge shit in the Old Bible.
http://www.freddie-street.com/guide/wcpaint.shtml
Some Retraction Action
In my post about the former Friends' writers assistant I may have been a bit hasty... So I have to make an apology to the writers' assistant who is suing the friends writers. I spelled her name Amani Lyle. It should be A-m-a-a-n-i Lyle. My bad. I still think she's a can't hack it, no-sense-of-humor cry baby. I wouldn't really hit her with my car, because if I didn't finish her off she'd sue me. And I like to hurt people with words, not with automobiles.
Below is a link to all the nasty things they said. I don't doubt that they did and said most of these things. It's a writer's room. I've worked in rooms where they hung a Polaroid picture on the wall. One of the writers found near a tennis court. It was a nasty shot of some old man giving a super suction blow job. If you made a bad joke pitch or wasted to much time, the exec producers would sometimes make you kiss it. It was all in good fun. Maybe that's because I never had to kiss it.
Click the title of this post to enjoy the 8 pages of raunchy and amusing deposition that details what was allegedly done and said in the Friends writers' room.
Sunday, October 24, 2004
The "W" Stands for Wormfood!
See, I told you, it's true! George Bush really does like white, Christian children who can help his presidency. This is just a blatant suck up to women voters. I love how he is looking at the camera and not really focused on the grieving motherless little girl.
Ashley's Sad Story that some group called People for American Progress, P.A.P is using this human interest story to distract us from Bush being an (insert offensive witty Bushbashing comments here) So if I wanted to I could say that Kerry is getting a P.A.P Smear. I'd never make a bad pun like that, but I'm just saying I could if I chose to.
I can do better than hugging a girl. Here are some possible headlines if I wrote the news.
1) John Kerry Saves Adorable Baby Seal with CPR.
Kerry quoted as saying, "If you love the environment, as I do, sometimes you have to tilt it's head back, put your mouth over it's nostrils and blow."
2) Tragedy Averted as Senator Kerry Changes Very Stinky Diaper
Kerry made several reporters on hand chuckle when he remarked "If elected, John Edwards and I are going to have clean up an enormous, foul-smelling legacy of shit that George Bush left behind, so I may as well get used to the stench."
3) Guy's Girlfriend Breaks Up with Him: Kerry Quick to Comfort.
"I'm here for you, buddy. I too shed tears when I see how Lady Liberty has abandonded this Administration." said Kerry. "Let the pain out, let it all out big guy." Kerry added.
Dubya is a "compassionate conservative", ya know. That's alliterferation. He hugs real good, especially if it makes a good photo opportunity. I hope somebody is there to comfort his daughters Jenna (and that other drunken skankette) if, God forbid, some loopy Liberal ever gets utterly fed up with George's lies, personal wars, stupidity and corporate cocksucking bullshit and decides to assassinate him and turn him into maggot appetizers. The W stands for Wormfood. Wouldn't burying George W. Bush in the earth be considered pollution. Catch 22.
I'm Krankiboy and I approve this message!
Ashley's Sad Story that some group called People for American Progress, P.A.P is using this human interest story to distract us from Bush being an (insert offensive witty Bushbashing comments here) So if I wanted to I could say that Kerry is getting a P.A.P Smear. I'd never make a bad pun like that, but I'm just saying I could if I chose to.
I can do better than hugging a girl. Here are some possible headlines if I wrote the news.
1) John Kerry Saves Adorable Baby Seal with CPR.
Kerry quoted as saying, "If you love the environment, as I do, sometimes you have to tilt it's head back, put your mouth over it's nostrils and blow."
2) Tragedy Averted as Senator Kerry Changes Very Stinky Diaper
Kerry made several reporters on hand chuckle when he remarked "If elected, John Edwards and I are going to have clean up an enormous, foul-smelling legacy of shit that George Bush left behind, so I may as well get used to the stench."
3) Guy's Girlfriend Breaks Up with Him: Kerry Quick to Comfort.
"I'm here for you, buddy. I too shed tears when I see how Lady Liberty has abandonded this Administration." said Kerry. "Let the pain out, let it all out big guy." Kerry added.
Dubya is a "compassionate conservative", ya know. That's alliterferation. He hugs real good, especially if it makes a good photo opportunity. I hope somebody is there to comfort his daughters Jenna (and that other drunken skankette) if, God forbid, some loopy Liberal ever gets utterly fed up with George's lies, personal wars, stupidity and corporate cocksucking bullshit and decides to assassinate him and turn him into maggot appetizers. The W stands for Wormfood. Wouldn't burying George W. Bush in the earth be considered pollution. Catch 22.
I'm Krankiboy and I approve this message!
Are You Feeling Spendy?
Money filling your pockets and you don't know what to do. I know I sure get tired of having so much cash on hand. What's a wealthy student teacher to do?
At long last there is a solution. Click the links below.
http://spendy.player-one.co.uk/
http://www.thomasscott.net/spendy/
At long last there is a solution. Click the links below.
http://spendy.player-one.co.uk/
http://www.thomasscott.net/spendy/
What's Wrong With the Japanese?
The following post contains material that may not be suitable for young children, teens, adults, the elderly or people with heart conditions.
Sperm Lesbians? Hmmm.... Now, there are lots of things you can say about lesbians, but I'm 98% sure they don't produce or ingest much sperm.
I pose this as a serious question. Why does Japan produce animated pornography? Not just a little bit. We're talking about a corna-fucking-copia of big-eyed anime chick porn? In the U.S. we have a few dozen strip poker video games while the Japanese have thousands of video games that allow you to have interactive videogame sex. Even their porn is more high tech. Choose your own sex adventure. Why do they love and devour this stuff? Is it that they feel less guilty because it makes the sexuality it complete fantasy or would they try and dry hump Minnie Mouse at Disney Land? Does it have something to do with women being more subservient in Japanese culture than in many other countries? What is the turn on here. Isn't the real thing or the closer you can get to the real thing better. Why don't they go for the meat and potatoes porn? They have these weird Big-Eyed chicks who don't look Japanese, Asian or Caucasian, they're just baby dolls. They even have crazy fantasy rave wigs and hair? I don't get it and maybe you can help me out.
She looks genuinely frightened. And my spatial sense tells me that there is no way she is going to get her lips around that thing. Not even in the world of suspended belief animation could that happen.
Is this supposed to be a victim or a nympho? She's completely immobilized and it quickly conjures up the idea of rape, because she is powerless. Again with the neon blue hair. But how classy that the ass beads match the bondage gear.
Yeah... This particular image gets my stomach queasy... so naturally I thought I'd share it with you. Violence is not subtle in this one. Devirginizing school girls. Sure, why not? How is this supposed to be a turn on? It's more like a car crash where you see actual injuries. Only instead of a car it's a penis and a girl in knee socks.
As you can see the physical proportions are just insane. The candy stripers have noses the size of a baby pea. The last time I checked tongues were quite a bit larger than eyes. They have these little kitty-cat sized tongues. It's gonna take all day to get that thing to blow. I guess that's why they decided to work together. The Japanese candy stripers know teamwork.
Oh sure. Of course you recognize that thing. I think most people own one of these classic devices: The combination legstrap-crotchless, nipple clamper rod. Could the mouths be any smaller on these animated "babyslutgirls." I don't mean to bash the sexual proclivities of a culture, but it just seems wrong and twisted to me in so many ways. This is what gets Japanese men aroused?
Honestly, what's wrong with some nice, normal porno? The kind that you and I grew up enjoying. They can keep their giant-eyed, helpless, anime freaky girls. I contend that there is no substitute for the real thing. Personally I prefer the artistry of black and white over color.
Just look at that Horny Hare pounding away with that Cock! It's pure.
Sperm Lesbians? Hmmm.... Now, there are lots of things you can say about lesbians, but I'm 98% sure they don't produce or ingest much sperm.
I pose this as a serious question. Why does Japan produce animated pornography? Not just a little bit. We're talking about a corna-fucking-copia of big-eyed anime chick porn? In the U.S. we have a few dozen strip poker video games while the Japanese have thousands of video games that allow you to have interactive videogame sex. Even their porn is more high tech. Choose your own sex adventure. Why do they love and devour this stuff? Is it that they feel less guilty because it makes the sexuality it complete fantasy or would they try and dry hump Minnie Mouse at Disney Land? Does it have something to do with women being more subservient in Japanese culture than in many other countries? What is the turn on here. Isn't the real thing or the closer you can get to the real thing better. Why don't they go for the meat and potatoes porn? They have these weird Big-Eyed chicks who don't look Japanese, Asian or Caucasian, they're just baby dolls. They even have crazy fantasy rave wigs and hair? I don't get it and maybe you can help me out.
She looks genuinely frightened. And my spatial sense tells me that there is no way she is going to get her lips around that thing. Not even in the world of suspended belief animation could that happen.
Is this supposed to be a victim or a nympho? She's completely immobilized and it quickly conjures up the idea of rape, because she is powerless. Again with the neon blue hair. But how classy that the ass beads match the bondage gear.
Yeah... This particular image gets my stomach queasy... so naturally I thought I'd share it with you. Violence is not subtle in this one. Devirginizing school girls. Sure, why not? How is this supposed to be a turn on? It's more like a car crash where you see actual injuries. Only instead of a car it's a penis and a girl in knee socks.
As you can see the physical proportions are just insane. The candy stripers have noses the size of a baby pea. The last time I checked tongues were quite a bit larger than eyes. They have these little kitty-cat sized tongues. It's gonna take all day to get that thing to blow. I guess that's why they decided to work together. The Japanese candy stripers know teamwork.
Oh sure. Of course you recognize that thing. I think most people own one of these classic devices: The combination legstrap-crotchless, nipple clamper rod. Could the mouths be any smaller on these animated "babyslutgirls." I don't mean to bash the sexual proclivities of a culture, but it just seems wrong and twisted to me in so many ways. This is what gets Japanese men aroused?
Honestly, what's wrong with some nice, normal porno? The kind that you and I grew up enjoying. They can keep their giant-eyed, helpless, anime freaky girls. I contend that there is no substitute for the real thing. Personally I prefer the artistry of black and white over color.
Just look at that Horny Hare pounding away with that Cock! It's pure.
Friday, October 22, 2004
Abort me, Mommy!
Comedy should only be used for good... never for evil.
Krankiboy
WTF?!
This stuff is um... offensive. You have to be a jaded cynical bastard to be amused by this. I can picture the creator of this site wearing a T- shirt that says, "My wife died of bowel cancer and all I got was this lousy shirt!"
I found something besides cruelty to animals that offends me. I never thought I'd say it but some of this is in very, very bad taste. And I don't mean in a badly shot, tacky, porno movie kind of way. Nor do I mean bad taste, like, that enormous, ornate, ceramic animal lamp that grandma has in her living room. I mean bad taste.
Okay some were funny. Very wrong on many levels but clever. Which one do you find most offensive?
These are from the link below. I DID NOT write them.
1)•••••••••"Sometimes I think about my dead baby, but mostly I don't." — Jessica, Willamantic, Connecticut
2)•••••••••"My wife thought she could just go ahead and choose to have the baby. 'Over my dead carcass,' I said. Then I forced her to get an abortion. Boy, when we got divorced, I sure was happy I didn't have to drop half my paycheck on child support." — Jay, Long Beach, California
3)•••••••••"I read about all those women in Africa who don't have the means to get an abortion. I felt I needed to take one for the team. This one was for them."— Alex, Skowhegan, Maine
4)•••••••••"I lost a bet." — Mary, North Charleston, South Carolina
5)•••••••••"The angel Gabriel came to me one night and said, 'Tonight you will conceive in your womb a baby, and you will name him Jesus.' The next day I went straight to the clinic. That was the last thing I needed in my life." — Mary, Nazareth, Pennsylvania
6)•••••••••"It was either this or stop smoking crack." — Regina, Queens, New York
7)•••••••••"I thought it was the American thing to do." — Eunice, Sweetwater, Texas
8)•••••••••"Same shit, different day.'" — Constance, Surprise, Arizona
9)•••••••••"My doctor told me that if I chose to have the baby, my life was in grave danger. She said, 'Fortunately, your fetus is now just a little fleshy blob, so it's not an it-or-you situation. Not until about six months from now.'" — Henrietta, Richmond, Virginia
10)•••••••••"I already have eight kids! What do you want from me?" — Rachael, Cleveland, Ohio
11)•••••••••"Because it's legal." — Ralph, East Brunswick, New Jersey
12)•••••••••"We felt the risks and side effects of an abortion were worth the story we'd be able to tell for years to come." — Brian and Shosu, Missoula, Montana
13)•••••••••"I had been impregnated by a black man. I had an abortion so my brothers and cousins wouldn't find out and lynch him."— Ashley, Waynesboro, Mississippi
14)•••••••••"I was born after a botched abortion, so my family is already a generation too old." — Zuni, Kalamazoo, Michigan
15)•••••••••"It was the hardest decision I ever had to make, but I didn't think I'd be able to afford cable with a kid." — Penelope, Las Cruces, New Mexico
16)•••••••••"When I got to high school, I was a total loser, no friends, terrible grades. I wasn't good at anything. But then I discovered that I was the most fertile girl in school. I had more abortions than any girl in my grade. Five! And this really gave me the confidence and sense of self-worth to graduate. Now I own my own business!" — Trina, Chippewa Falls, Wisconsin
17)•••••••••"Our families are both very healthy, but my wife didn't want to risk the slight possibility of our baby being retarded." — Doug, Chicago, Illinois
18)•••••••••"I wanted to keep the kid, but want in one hand, shit in the other, and see what gets filled first." — Thomas, Washington, D.C.
19)•••••••••"Why? Because abortion stops a beating heart."— Mary Janice, Kaiser, West Virginia
abort me mommy .org - The Official Web Site of the Pro-Abortion People of America
I didn't make this shit up. I know, I had the exact same reaction you just had.
Thursday, October 21, 2004
Real Holidays. Really Weird.
Okay, I knew about Leif Erickson Day, but some of these are stranger than a monkey on mescaline.
http://www.brownielocks.com/october.html
Also check out January. There are some great ones about cats and then there is my favorite... Penguin awareness day. No joke.
Please check out the site and see which holiday is your favorite. They have months, weeks and days are after those as you scroll down.
Don't forget. Comment and tell us your personal favorite.
http://www.brownielocks.com/october.html
Also check out January. There are some great ones about cats and then there is my favorite... Penguin awareness day. No joke.
Please check out the site and see which holiday is your favorite. They have months, weeks and days are after those as you scroll down.
Don't forget. Comment and tell us your personal favorite.
Wednesday, October 20, 2004
Paper or Plastic?
So the first year is the paper anniversary and I tossed around many gift/celebration ideas and got input from many of you. So, thanks to you and especially to Cami, my Dear friend and quite possibly the busiest woman on two legs. Thanks also to Gerald. Gerald, let me just say that while your idea to "tie Penny up and give her a series of nasty paper cuts" wasn't quite the sentiment I was going for, it was an original notion. Have a great, and I'm sure kinky, S & M Halloween as you go bobbing for razor blades or burn your nipples with a hot poker to honor Lord Lucifer. Please say hi to your buddies at the Body Piercing shop you certified freakshit weirdo! I shall not be so open to giving out my email in the future. Papercuts?! Fortunately I have something I think she'll like better. I'll let you know how it goes later in case she reads this post. 4% chance of that, but hey it's rained for the last four days here in LA so weird shit can happen.So how are we spending our anniversary night? Why you scoundrel, what a personal question! But I'll indulge you. She has a fuck-shit class on Color Theory with her alcoholic professor. I respect what designers do, but did you know there are people who get paid simply to be color consultants? That's motherfucked up.
Two Rants in one!
Just a quick pre-rant before I get to the main ranting that has lots of angry exclamation points.
I can't stand it when you ask somebody what they do and they say "I'm a consultant." That's informative, thank you for sharing. I'm so glad I took a personal interest in your occupation and talents. I asked what the fuck you do, not your vague title. Verb, you know- action. Why so specific with "consultant" answer. Why not just tell me you're an employee or an employer. How unique and fascinating. What kind of consultant are you Mr. Turdly McSmug?! Are you a canned peaches consultant, a legal consultant, an I'll-let-you-do-anything-you-want to-me-right-here-in-this-bus-station-bathroom-for-fifty-bucks consultant? Do you consult with people about their bikini area and recommend how best to wax their business? Are you the lucky medical consultant on E.R. who just sits around on their ass and says, "Yeah, we'd use a rib spreader in that situation." Or are you the kind of consultant I'd like to be. The greatest and easiest job on earth. A TV sitcom consultant. You might be asking what that is exactly. This is a person who is an established TV writer a.k.a. a hack who has written for four or five years on some decently rated sitcom and then had a chance to make their own show which probably never even got on the air. So sad, right? Sounds bad, right? Boo-hoo! Where is my teeny tiny violin? These guys can work on a show, let's say The Drew Carey Show or Everybody Loves Raymond and they work one or two days a week and get paid 15,000 to 20,000 dollars a week. Yes, in real money. For what? For hanging out with comedy writers for a day and maybe putting two or three jokes into that week's episode. These are the people I occasionally think about while I'm student teaching elementary school digging in my pocket to see if I have enough nickels mixed in with my pocket lint and crumpled up receipts to buy a juice. I do enjoy working with the kids 97% of the time, but student teacher is just a fancy term for unpaid slave. I happen to be with a good mentor teacher, which is why I haven't gone berserk. Nor do I plan to.
On the TV writing Topic:
There is this lawsuit against the writers of Friends from this twat of a girl who was a lazy lousy worker. I know because I saw and heard about it with my own eyes and ears. She worked thirty feet away from me. She had no business being in a writers' room and yet her incompetence is going to make her a FAT, FAT bundle of money either by winning the case or by getting a settlement from Warner Brothers or the writers she's suing. "Those foul writers said rude, crass things while I was in the room and I had to take notes." Yeah, that's how it works. You write a show about sex and spend 10-15 hours a day with a room full of comedy writers, you make tasteless and often hysterical jokes. Surprise! They curse like sailors with a rich vocabulary. Shocking, eh. So, Amani Lyle please, go fuck yourself with a rusty boat anchor. If I see you walking on the street you'd better hope I'm not driving. I, as well as many of my friends, have worked our asses off for five, or six (or more) years as writers' assistants to earn a staff writing job on a show. That's what writers' assistants do to earn their stripes. We were competent, worked crazy hours, had a sense of humor, and most of all did our best to charm the big shot writers into reading our scripts and passing them on to their agents. We paid our dues. Some of us got writing jobs some of us didn't. Now this cunting little cumdumpster is likely to get a gigantic free handout. That's money that I'd almost rather see go to support the Bush campaign or the Club the Baby Seals Society than into her pocket. I played by the rules and I put up with all that "terrible" language and behavior. Too bad I'm not an uptight talentless black girl, then I'd have hit the lottery too! I worked in the same office and I saw how she was lazy and incompetent and wasn't in the least bit surprised when she finally got fired. If you are supposed to be at work at 10am, then be there on time. Only people like myself are allowed to always be 15 minutes late to everything. It's my birthright. Nobody harassed this twatina cry baby. I know most of the male and female writers that she's talking about and they're a nice group of people. Do you sometimes want to watch a little bit of midget porn in the writer's room to reward yourself and keep things lively? Yeah, Bridget the Midget is a talent of the highest order. And it is funny to joke about revealing that the sweet lovable Joey character has actually been a serial rapist all along? In the right context, yes. What would that context be? The Writer's Room. Where anything said in the room stays in the room. It's like a code of the old West. Don't shoot a man in the back. Or whatever crap the Boy Scouts have to pledge. If you can't hack it. Sue them. How very clever. I think I'll have to go immediately to my nearest Walmart megastore and "accidentally" fall and injure myself. I certainly hope the slippery floor doesn't result in some kind of long term spinal injury according to a corrupt doctor. That could cost Walmart Millions. If that does happen I will personally fly you all to an exotic location and throw a party. Unfortunately I won't be able to drop blotter acid and limbo with you. Tragically I hurt my back.
I can't stand it when you ask somebody what they do and they say "I'm a consultant." That's informative, thank you for sharing. I'm so glad I took a personal interest in your occupation and talents. I asked what the fuck you do, not your vague title. Verb, you know- action. Why so specific with "consultant" answer. Why not just tell me you're an employee or an employer. How unique and fascinating. What kind of consultant are you Mr. Turdly McSmug?! Are you a canned peaches consultant, a legal consultant, an I'll-let-you-do-anything-you-want to-me-right-here-in-this-bus-station-bathroom-for-fifty-bucks consultant? Do you consult with people about their bikini area and recommend how best to wax their business? Are you the lucky medical consultant on E.R. who just sits around on their ass and says, "Yeah, we'd use a rib spreader in that situation." Or are you the kind of consultant I'd like to be. The greatest and easiest job on earth. A TV sitcom consultant. You might be asking what that is exactly. This is a person who is an established TV writer a.k.a. a hack who has written for four or five years on some decently rated sitcom and then had a chance to make their own show which probably never even got on the air. So sad, right? Sounds bad, right? Boo-hoo! Where is my teeny tiny violin? These guys can work on a show, let's say The Drew Carey Show or Everybody Loves Raymond and they work one or two days a week and get paid 15,000 to 20,000 dollars a week. Yes, in real money. For what? For hanging out with comedy writers for a day and maybe putting two or three jokes into that week's episode. These are the people I occasionally think about while I'm student teaching elementary school digging in my pocket to see if I have enough nickels mixed in with my pocket lint and crumpled up receipts to buy a juice. I do enjoy working with the kids 97% of the time, but student teacher is just a fancy term for unpaid slave. I happen to be with a good mentor teacher, which is why I haven't gone berserk. Nor do I plan to.
On the TV writing Topic:
There is this lawsuit against the writers of Friends from this twat of a girl who was a lazy lousy worker. I know because I saw and heard about it with my own eyes and ears. She worked thirty feet away from me. She had no business being in a writers' room and yet her incompetence is going to make her a FAT, FAT bundle of money either by winning the case or by getting a settlement from Warner Brothers or the writers she's suing. "Those foul writers said rude, crass things while I was in the room and I had to take notes." Yeah, that's how it works. You write a show about sex and spend 10-15 hours a day with a room full of comedy writers, you make tasteless and often hysterical jokes. Surprise! They curse like sailors with a rich vocabulary. Shocking, eh. So, Amani Lyle please, go fuck yourself with a rusty boat anchor. If I see you walking on the street you'd better hope I'm not driving. I, as well as many of my friends, have worked our asses off for five, or six (or more) years as writers' assistants to earn a staff writing job on a show. That's what writers' assistants do to earn their stripes. We were competent, worked crazy hours, had a sense of humor, and most of all did our best to charm the big shot writers into reading our scripts and passing them on to their agents. We paid our dues. Some of us got writing jobs some of us didn't. Now this cunting little cumdumpster is likely to get a gigantic free handout. That's money that I'd almost rather see go to support the Bush campaign or the Club the Baby Seals Society than into her pocket. I played by the rules and I put up with all that "terrible" language and behavior. Too bad I'm not an uptight talentless black girl, then I'd have hit the lottery too! I worked in the same office and I saw how she was lazy and incompetent and wasn't in the least bit surprised when she finally got fired. If you are supposed to be at work at 10am, then be there on time. Only people like myself are allowed to always be 15 minutes late to everything. It's my birthright. Nobody harassed this twatina cry baby. I know most of the male and female writers that she's talking about and they're a nice group of people. Do you sometimes want to watch a little bit of midget porn in the writer's room to reward yourself and keep things lively? Yeah, Bridget the Midget is a talent of the highest order. And it is funny to joke about revealing that the sweet lovable Joey character has actually been a serial rapist all along? In the right context, yes. What would that context be? The Writer's Room. Where anything said in the room stays in the room. It's like a code of the old West. Don't shoot a man in the back. Or whatever crap the Boy Scouts have to pledge. If you can't hack it. Sue them. How very clever. I think I'll have to go immediately to my nearest Walmart megastore and "accidentally" fall and injure myself. I certainly hope the slippery floor doesn't result in some kind of long term spinal injury according to a corrupt doctor. That could cost Walmart Millions. If that does happen I will personally fly you all to an exotic location and throw a party. Unfortunately I won't be able to drop blotter acid and limbo with you. Tragically I hurt my back.
Tuesday, October 19, 2004
Anniversary? Me? Really!?
Today is Tuesday, the 19th of October in the year two-thousand and four. Today is my Anniversary. My wife Penny and I have been married for one year. It's startling. I was just getting the hang of being a Newlywed and now bam- the freshness of our relationship has been downgraded to just plain married couple. This actually gave us a bit of a startle. I couldn't tell you why but it did. So we decided that rather than both decide on where to go an how to celebrate one of us would take charge each year so the other person could just be along for the fun ride and surprises and it would be all planned out for them. I offered to do the odd years. Well, fuck me! It turns out that one is an odd number. It's true, you can look it up.
Monday, October 18, 2004
Random Photos with Captions
I got a picture of this mildly-retarded kid standing next to this sign when I was visiting New York.
I like any cartoon that depicts animals doing people things. With the possible exception of Dogs Playing Poker.
This is for all you hard working women out there. Also very random. What else can I include that is odd... Oh! Of course!...
I met this dude on my honeymoon. We played racquet ball and drank tequila shots until dawn.
It's just odd. I'm familiar with Freedom and Boredom and Dulldrum but what the fuck is Elkdom? There was an old guy who smiled proudly when I snapped the picture as if to say "Yes, young fella, put that on your blog and share our pride with the world."
And lastly a picture of my neighbor Chase* and his dog Toby*. Toby and I took a nap together the other day. He is about as small as a full-grown dog can be. I think he weighs as much as a pack of tissues. Chase also has his penis exposed, but you can't see it behind the bag. It's a relaxed and friendly block I live on. And no, I'm sorry but Toby is not currently available for bachlorette parties. He's all booked up thru January.
* I didn't use their real names. Chase and Toby are in the witness relocation program so it would be reckless of me to write their actual names since a large number of my readers are involved in organized crime. Mickey the Finger and this guy are both avid blog readers and they'd like nothing better than to send Chase and Toby to "Sleep with da fuggin' fishes" for testifying against him.
For the record. Not everything in this post is 100% true.
Sunday, October 17, 2004
Jackass UK-Style
I love the Brits. I honestly do. However I think that they really need to drop the whole United Kingdom thing. What's united exactly? The name made sense back when you could honestly say that "The sun never sets upon the British Empire." If they haven't noticed they don't have much in the way of overseas territory or colonies any more. But I guess for that matter the United States isn't really all that united this election year.
It just about doesn't matter to me what a British persons says it's how they say it that counts. See I grew up watching Monty Python since I was this tall. (I'm holding my hand about three feet off the ground) So I just began to associate anything said with a British accent to Monty Python and therefore funny. As a result I can watch Merchant-Ivory film like Remains of the Day or something utterly depressing and just laugh. In a tragic moment in the film you might have a character say, "Doctor, you mean to say that I've got gangrene and I'm going to lose my legs?" That wouldn't normally be funny, but somehow with a British accent it'll make me giggle like a school girl on schrooms. I'm not always the ideal film companion to take to see a dramatic tear-jerker set in England. You see, according to my warped standards, My Left Foot was a comedy. Imagine if they were saying things in a funny voice that were actually funny too. Can you believe I still haven't seen a single episode of the Brit-comedy The Office?
Anyway this amused me all the more because the guy is British.
A Cunning Stunt
Yes I realize that if you swap the C and the S it's something entirely different. Maybe next post...
Dictionary: Search Results
Sorry, we have no matches for www.stunningcunt.com
...Or maybe not. Sorry kids.
It just about doesn't matter to me what a British persons says it's how they say it that counts. See I grew up watching Monty Python since I was this tall. (I'm holding my hand about three feet off the ground) So I just began to associate anything said with a British accent to Monty Python and therefore funny. As a result I can watch Merchant-Ivory film like Remains of the Day or something utterly depressing and just laugh. In a tragic moment in the film you might have a character say, "Doctor, you mean to say that I've got gangrene and I'm going to lose my legs?" That wouldn't normally be funny, but somehow with a British accent it'll make me giggle like a school girl on schrooms. I'm not always the ideal film companion to take to see a dramatic tear-jerker set in England. You see, according to my warped standards, My Left Foot was a comedy. Imagine if they were saying things in a funny voice that were actually funny too. Can you believe I still haven't seen a single episode of the Brit-comedy The Office?
Anyway this amused me all the more because the guy is British.
A Cunning Stunt
Yes I realize that if you swap the C and the S it's something entirely different. Maybe next post...
Dictionary: Search Results
Sorry, we have no matches for www.stunningcunt.com
...Or maybe not. Sorry kids.
Saturday, October 16, 2004
Jon Stewart Takes Aim at Crossfire
Sweet!
Comedy and Politics collide and it's wonderfully messy. See if you you can pinpoint the exact moment when Tucker Carlson (fuckwit) shits himself in shock.
Jon Stewart steps out from behind his Comedy Host role and turns the tables on the Conservative Crossfire Host. I like a political show where the guest tells the host that he's a "big dick."
Thanks to Giggles for the clip.
Click the link below and turn up the volume or you might miss some good digs.
Jon Stewart rips Crossfire host a new asshole!
Australian translation:
American Comedian Jon Stewart kicks Talkshow Cuntdribble Conservative in his Right-Wing arsehole and then punches him in his rancid axe wound!
Comedy and Politics collide and it's wonderfully messy. See if you you can pinpoint the exact moment when Tucker Carlson (fuckwit) shits himself in shock.
Jon Stewart steps out from behind his Comedy Host role and turns the tables on the Conservative Crossfire Host. I like a political show where the guest tells the host that he's a "big dick."
Thanks to Giggles for the clip.
Click the link below and turn up the volume or you might miss some good digs.
Jon Stewart rips Crossfire host a new asshole!
Australian translation:
American Comedian Jon Stewart kicks Talkshow Cuntdribble Conservative in his Right-Wing arsehole and then punches him in his rancid axe wound!
Wednesday, October 13, 2004
Hardcore Horny Asian Babes!
Dear Krankiboy Khronicles Reader,
If you look at the bottom of my main page you will see my new mailing list. I promise to only sell your email to the spammers who sell Penis Enlargement, Dirt Cheap Viagra and... Hardcore Horny Asian Babes!
I hate spam so you will get none. So join my mailing list. The 5th, 100th and 500th subscribers will receive a highly cool prize!
Pretty please... Sign up now and I'll also throw in the Official Krankiboy Krackbaby!
Mankind's Highest Honor
Few moments in life are as memorable as your first kiss, your wedding day, or the time Tommy Keegan pushed you into the rosebush wearing just your bathing trunks. Maybe that just happened to me. Well all those moments pale in comparison to the thrill of sending your poem to a contest as a joke and having it selected as a award winner. I send the very odd people at www.poetry.com heartfelt thanks and bewilderment.
This Editors Choice Award ranks right up there with my Congressional Medal of Honor or one of those big stuffed orange penguins I won playing skiball at the L.A. County Fair. Okay that's not entirely true. It was kind of small actually.
The rules for the poetry "contest" seemed rigid. It indicated that "Your poem must fit entirely in this box in order to be eligible for the contest." I was inspired by these restrictions and perhaps channeled the spirit of a great poet from beyond the grave. You know, like when God performs a miracle through a mortal man. I was but a vessel for this divine creativity. So, I would like to thank the Baby Jesus, his dad (God), and my friends and family, and you. Yes, you. Without such unwavering support I never would have bothered to send in some gibberish to Poetry.com. Should I order a commerative plaque or my pay to have "my very own poem recorded by a professional speaker" or a leather bound collection of the unique and poems selected. Note the comment in blue where the Managing Editor said that my verse was "wonderfully expressive." You don't think it was a form letter that made it look like a handwritten note, do you? Screaming babies and stop signs are also wonderfully expressive. I don't see them getting any awards. Fascist poetry.com people! Why do they hate babies so much?
Powerful stuff indeed. Do you like they way I mocked the rules of the contest by using their own words? In fact, reading it over again just now I may have dazzled myself into a coma of raw utopian delight. Pinch me. Hard enough so that my head will burst like an over-ripe cherry tomato.
I want to walk around on all fours and be massaged!
I want to die and come back as the puppy of a rich family. Not sometime in the future. I want to die and be a puppy now.
October 13, 2004
High on the Dog
We could learn a thing or two from our dogs.
They know how to keep things simple. Some kibble, some lovin', and a good tail-chasing session are pretty much all they need to make them happy.
Except, of course, in L.A.
Starting this week, as other pets around the world take pleasure in the little things, pooches in these parts will be living the luxe life. LA Dogworks, a new five-star dog mecca, aims to give your pooch what he never knew he needed: massage, hydrotherapy, and even spiritual enlightenment.
The mind-boggling facility includes a 2,500-square-foot indoor park (with a pressurized cleaning and draining system underneath, so there's no icky smell), a groom room with spa services and anesthesia-free teeth cleaning, and 24-hour dog security against pupnappers and other unsavory types. There's even an educational library (the Philippe Starck-inspired dog den), which is filled with books on holistic and traditional canine health-care needs. (They're for you, by the way, not your dog. They haven't come quite that far yet.)
Additional services include on-site training, as well as overnight and long-term boarding. There's a doggie valet, who will pick up and drop off your BFF, and, of course, there are personal shoppers to attend to all your doggie needs.
Two legs better than four? Not so much ...
LA Dogworks, 1014 North Highland Avenue, between Santa Monica Boulevard and Romaine Street, L.A. (323-461-5151 or ladogworks.com)
October 13, 2004
High on the Dog
We could learn a thing or two from our dogs.
They know how to keep things simple. Some kibble, some lovin', and a good tail-chasing session are pretty much all they need to make them happy.
Except, of course, in L.A.
Starting this week, as other pets around the world take pleasure in the little things, pooches in these parts will be living the luxe life. LA Dogworks, a new five-star dog mecca, aims to give your pooch what he never knew he needed: massage, hydrotherapy, and even spiritual enlightenment.
The mind-boggling facility includes a 2,500-square-foot indoor park (with a pressurized cleaning and draining system underneath, so there's no icky smell), a groom room with spa services and anesthesia-free teeth cleaning, and 24-hour dog security against pupnappers and other unsavory types. There's even an educational library (the Philippe Starck-inspired dog den), which is filled with books on holistic and traditional canine health-care needs. (They're for you, by the way, not your dog. They haven't come quite that far yet.)
Additional services include on-site training, as well as overnight and long-term boarding. There's a doggie valet, who will pick up and drop off your BFF, and, of course, there are personal shoppers to attend to all your doggie needs.
Two legs better than four? Not so much ...
LA Dogworks, 1014 North Highland Avenue, between Santa Monica Boulevard and Romaine Street, L.A. (323-461-5151 or ladogworks.com)
Boobie Trophy Photos - At Last!
Yes, dear readers, this is the coveted Boobie Prize of 2004, awarded to the lovely and talented Miss Anthrope for her impressive knowledge of Celebrity Mammoglandular endowment and breast slango (slang+lingo).
Sadly, skin-lovers, I know I promised you something racy, however, this isn't Miss Anthrope in the flesh. She is less silver and has somewhat larger breasts in person. But perhaps she'll be kind enough to give us a shot of her cool back tattoo. It is as aquatic as it is artistic. I would just like to say that the trophy was hand-made and features a fully-functional nipple on one cup as well as an aquatic theme. Proving once again that one man, a hot glue gun, several googly eyes and a bunch of colorful do-dads can truly make the world a better place.
Two cupscan make for one great trophy. So next time I promise you a prize, you know you could be getting one of a kind art work that will get you endless attention at your next cocktail party.
Yes. I am happily married and No, my wife, Penny, had no problem that I made this ornate bra award and sent it to some cool chick in New York who I hadn't even met. That, my dear readers, is the test of a truly secure marriage. In fact go ahead and wish me a happy one year anniversary - It's on the 19th of October.
Tuesday, October 12, 2004
Why kiss ass, when a kitten will lick it for you?
Nothing will get you in better with the boss than replacing her deceased cat with an identical baby-sized version of the original. I now think that she would probably take a bullet for me.
One a related note: Does anybody want a blue eyed caucasian baby? I have some in my trunk if you wanna pick one out. I'll make you a great deal. And if you order today I'll even throw in a free housebreaking wee-wee pad.
Queer Eye for the Homeless Guy
This is one of my collaborations with the talented Mr. Buddy Hickerson. I do the idea and words and he draws the pictures. We want to do an original animated show. We have a pretty warpedly wonderful concept for the show. It's wrong on many levels, even the spiritually.
Oh, wait I promised I wouldn't whore myself. It's hard to go cold turkey on the shameless whoring. I think there's something in the air here in LA.
Saturday, October 09, 2004
How Stupid Are Americans?
I promised myself that I was going to take a hiatus from blogging and not get all riled up by politics. I can't hold this in. I tried. I really truly did, but seeing that George W. Ass Clown use gibberish and math that was fuzzier than Robin William's in a tank top just put me over the edge. I'm sorry if my normally "highly objective" blog style is pushed down into a hard little ball of granite. I only wish I could take that ball of rage and fire it through the throat of that little smirking, babbling Oil Monkey* with enough force to kill him and his entire family of political rapists and poachers. A few words come to mind when I recall Dumbya's answers to the questions from the Town Hall Debate in Missouri last night. Those words to name a few are:
Stubborn, short tempered, twitchy, blinky, smarmy, rude, lies, fantasy, vague, roundabout, irrelevant, and fictional. And it's not a word but Sweet Baby Jesus on a stick how any times did he do that smirk-shrug? Never have I even cared about politics. This is more like the plot of Empire Strikes Back. At least Darth Vader had charisma and was well spoken. Dumbya one several occasions used several words that have no meaning whatsoever. What did he mean when he said we need to make our military more mobile and more "fassile?" Is that a word I don't know about. If it is, my bad. Had a six-year-old said it I would go to the trouble to look it up, but it came from a less credible source, so I don't want to risk the potential Webster's Unabridged related paper-cut that I could suffer.
"Dearest Mr. G. W. Bush I am suing you for damages incurred on numerous occasions that I have had to look up the things you said to ensure that they were in fact not actual words. This research has cause me great emotional strife as well as paper cuts on my fingers. I look forward to hearing from your Lawh-Yers."
Today's vocabulary word is sovereign. But click this link to have it defined by a seasoned politician. Yeah, they're openly laughing at him. That was the sound that you heard.
Okay, this rant is about to conclude. I just want to express that I would have gladly punched the Dumbya in his face until my arm was bloody and limp. It would have been worth it even if I could only hold onto a pencil like Bob Dole. Okay, I'd miss my angry blog rambles and I'd be in prison for the rest of my life, so maybe I'd be better off joining up with the Activist in California who is on a hunger strike to persuade Mr. Ralph "I'm-going-to-shit-on-any-chance-of-Kerry-winning-so-I-can-get-2.4%-of-the-popular-vote-and-hand-the-election to-Bush" Nader. I think Ralph Nader should go on a hunger strike. I agree that we need another political party in this country, but not at the expense of handing the keys to our Nation back to the Fuckwit who just drove daddy's Cadillac into a brick wall. I want a big number board up in Times Square that shows the number of Dead Iraqi Babies and U.S. soldiers that have been a direct result of AssClown's Cowboy Warlord foreign policy. If Ross Perot Shit in a bag, or Clinton had one of his testicles put into a jar I would vote for both of those items over W. When I go into the voting booth I will be anxiously looking for the button to I press that not only puts Kerry in the White House but also puts Bush and Cheney in front of a firing squad. Where he will be publicly assassinated for his oblivious egocentrism, unprecedented and unfathomable incompetence. Ideally he and Cheney would be stripped alive, stuck on a pikes, have their skin slowly peeled from their body while a little drops of Red Hot Texas Tobasco sauce are drizzled over their raw exposed flesh. The Dickey and Dubya would enjoy a last meal of Ronald Reagan's fecal matter served on a monogrammed silver spoon.
Oh, and also I wanted to mention that I felt Kerry was more effective during the debate.
Either God Bless America or just let it crumble into the ocean quickly and painlessly. Just think of all that beautiful Canadian coast land!
* My sincere apologies to any actual monkeys. I merely meant that W is a less evolved form of life.
Stubborn, short tempered, twitchy, blinky, smarmy, rude, lies, fantasy, vague, roundabout, irrelevant, and fictional. And it's not a word but Sweet Baby Jesus on a stick how any times did he do that smirk-shrug? Never have I even cared about politics. This is more like the plot of Empire Strikes Back. At least Darth Vader had charisma and was well spoken. Dumbya one several occasions used several words that have no meaning whatsoever. What did he mean when he said we need to make our military more mobile and more "fassile?" Is that a word I don't know about. If it is, my bad. Had a six-year-old said it I would go to the trouble to look it up, but it came from a less credible source, so I don't want to risk the potential Webster's Unabridged related paper-cut that I could suffer.
"Dearest Mr. G. W. Bush I am suing you for damages incurred on numerous occasions that I have had to look up the things you said to ensure that they were in fact not actual words. This research has cause me great emotional strife as well as paper cuts on my fingers. I look forward to hearing from your Lawh-Yers."
Today's vocabulary word is sovereign. But click this link to have it defined by a seasoned politician. Yeah, they're openly laughing at him. That was the sound that you heard.
Okay, this rant is about to conclude. I just want to express that I would have gladly punched the Dumbya in his face until my arm was bloody and limp. It would have been worth it even if I could only hold onto a pencil like Bob Dole. Okay, I'd miss my angry blog rambles and I'd be in prison for the rest of my life, so maybe I'd be better off joining up with the Activist in California who is on a hunger strike to persuade Mr. Ralph "I'm-going-to-shit-on-any-chance-of-Kerry-winning-so-I-can-get-2.4%-of-the-popular-vote-and-hand-the-election to-Bush" Nader. I think Ralph Nader should go on a hunger strike. I agree that we need another political party in this country, but not at the expense of handing the keys to our Nation back to the Fuckwit who just drove daddy's Cadillac into a brick wall. I want a big number board up in Times Square that shows the number of Dead Iraqi Babies and U.S. soldiers that have been a direct result of AssClown's Cowboy Warlord foreign policy. If Ross Perot Shit in a bag, or Clinton had one of his testicles put into a jar I would vote for both of those items over W. When I go into the voting booth I will be anxiously looking for the button to I press that not only puts Kerry in the White House but also puts Bush and Cheney in front of a firing squad. Where he will be publicly assassinated for his oblivious egocentrism, unprecedented and unfathomable incompetence. Ideally he and Cheney would be stripped alive, stuck on a pikes, have their skin slowly peeled from their body while a little drops of Red Hot Texas Tobasco sauce are drizzled over their raw exposed flesh. The Dickey and Dubya would enjoy a last meal of Ronald Reagan's fecal matter served on a monogrammed silver spoon.
Oh, and also I wanted to mention that I felt Kerry was more effective during the debate.
Either God Bless America or just let it crumble into the ocean quickly and painlessly. Just think of all that beautiful Canadian coast land!
* My sincere apologies to any actual monkeys. I merely meant that W is a less evolved form of life.
Wednesday, October 06, 2004
Make Fun of the Prez-Dent, Not War!
I can whatever I want to with words do!
Sex and politics.
http://www.milehighkit.com/makelovenotwar/
I want Dubya to read a book on tape. Maybe he could read The Little Rascals or How to Speak Texan.
Sex and politics.
http://www.milehighkit.com/makelovenotwar/
I want Dubya to read a book on tape. Maybe he could read The Little Rascals or How to Speak Texan.
Plugging the Plug!
Initially I didn't find The Plug all that funny. But I'm thinking. Hmmm... Ms Fits has a link to The Plug, so he must be funny.
Then I found this post by the plug and I was muchfully amused. It reminds me of the amazingly funny and mostly unknown Lazlo Letters. It's good stuff. The original prank writer. Everything else has just been flattery and imitation.
And so once again, all is well in in the city of Townsville, thanks to The POWER PUFF GIRLS!
I didn't know how to end the post so I plagiarized. I wish the Power Puff Girls were my daughters or even my nieces. Yes, if I could have one wish in the world that would be it. Who cares who the fucking president is. My girls would Whoop Ass on the turds of the world. Look out Bush Girls!
Then I found this post by the plug and I was muchfully amused. It reminds me of the amazingly funny and mostly unknown Lazlo Letters. It's good stuff. The original prank writer. Everything else has just been flattery and imitation.
And so once again, all is well in in the city of Townsville, thanks to The POWER PUFF GIRLS!
I didn't know how to end the post so I plagiarized. I wish the Power Puff Girls were my daughters or even my nieces. Yes, if I could have one wish in the world that would be it. Who cares who the fucking president is. My girls would Whoop Ass on the turds of the world. Look out Bush Girls!
What Coud Be Cuter Than A Baby?
Well, A Fetus of Course. It's like a baby baby. These are a lot cuter than the actual Fetus in a jar that my very objective 8th Grade teacher brought in to show the class what it looks like when you kill the unborn. Mrs. Gans also wore only sweatpants and had some harsh views about Communism. Ahh, Junior High. Nothing but good memories.
Excuse me? Gay Pride Fetus?
This must be what he looked like several weeks after the second cumming.
Just because I just made a bad pun doesn't mean I'm not hardcore like this Fetal Sid Viscious
Don't Forget Little Zygote
Are these supposed to be lovingly conjoined Fetal Stuffed Twins. Reminds me of the movie with Arnold Schwarzenneger and Danny DeVito. There is something odd about a "stuffed animal" company whose product is cleary Pro Life and yet also has a Jesus Fetus, Devil Fetus and a Gay Pride Fetus. They will even custom make them for you. I'm torn. Should I order one with a scar on his head called C-Section, a pale blue one called Craig Stillborn and an inside out one called Little Miss Carriage. A perferct "sorry you lost your baby" gift. It brings tomind a story and old friend told me. He was in Mississippi in the mid 1990's standing on a corner waiting at a red light. Next to him was an older portly white businessman and a young black woman pushing her baby in a stroller. This Mississipi businessman looked down at the baby and smiled. Then he looked up at the woman and gave her what he thought was a very sweet compliment. "Ma'am you have got yourself one adorable little Nigglet."
Excuse me? Gay Pride Fetus?
This must be what he looked like several weeks after the second cumming.
Just because I just made a bad pun doesn't mean I'm not hardcore like this Fetal Sid Viscious
Don't Forget Little Zygote
Are these supposed to be lovingly conjoined Fetal Stuffed Twins. Reminds me of the movie with Arnold Schwarzenneger and Danny DeVito. There is something odd about a "stuffed animal" company whose product is cleary Pro Life and yet also has a Jesus Fetus, Devil Fetus and a Gay Pride Fetus. They will even custom make them for you. I'm torn. Should I order one with a scar on his head called C-Section, a pale blue one called Craig Stillborn and an inside out one called Little Miss Carriage. A perferct "sorry you lost your baby" gift. It brings tomind a story and old friend told me. He was in Mississippi in the mid 1990's standing on a corner waiting at a red light. Next to him was an older portly white businessman and a young black woman pushing her baby in a stroller. This Mississipi businessman looked down at the baby and smiled. Then he looked up at the woman and gave her what he thought was a very sweet compliment. "Ma'am you have got yourself one adorable little Nigglet."
Tuesday, October 05, 2004
Stop and Smell the Absurdity.
Hiya, Khronicle Friends. What's that you say? World Politics has been getting you down, up or even off. Well here's something to give you a mental vacation from it all. Why not take a time out from all that angry masturbation, pull up your pants and turn your frown upside down. Here's a fresh new and utterly absurd weebl and bob cartoon for your brain to snack on. You have to forgive the obvious homage to South Park evident in the voice work.
New Weebl & Bob Cartoon click it or stick it!
I wish Celery and Cube would have another adventure soon.
New Weebl & Bob Cartoon click it or stick it!
I wish Celery and Cube would have another adventure soon.
Teaching fourth grade has been causing me to recall strange memories from my own youth.
Memory 1 (4th Grade)
The day I scored four touchdowns in one recess during fourth grade and was accepted into the ranks of the cool kids.
Memory 2 & 3 (5th Grade) & (7th Grade)
The day I was tricked into fighting the one black kid in our entire elementary school. He swings and misses. I swing and hit. Fight over. Sorry, Juan Nelson of P.S. 114 Rockaway Beach NY. Those Irish Catholic kids were always trying to stir shit up. I blame Joe Courtney. But I felt he got his when he walked into the yard on our first day of 7th grade at Junior High School 180. Joe saw Juan and yelled his standard "playful" greeting "Yo nigger, what's up?" You see JHS 180 was 80% black and some of the kids were almost 18 years old. I think Joe transferred out. I certainly don't remember him ever speaking in public again.
Memory 4 (6th grade)
The day that the chubby yet cute Dana "I'm in the cool girl club" Segel approached me on the school yard and proceeded to tell me that when we were both in fourth grade I used to be cool and she even had a crush on me, but now that I was hanging out with the loser crowd I was a loser, too. This is a direct quote.
Dana: "Now you think you're hot shit, but you're nothing but a cool fart on a warm day."
Maybe you're right, Dana. Maybe you're right.
Memory 1 (4th Grade)
The day I scored four touchdowns in one recess during fourth grade and was accepted into the ranks of the cool kids.
Memory 2 & 3 (5th Grade) & (7th Grade)
The day I was tricked into fighting the one black kid in our entire elementary school. He swings and misses. I swing and hit. Fight over. Sorry, Juan Nelson of P.S. 114 Rockaway Beach NY. Those Irish Catholic kids were always trying to stir shit up. I blame Joe Courtney. But I felt he got his when he walked into the yard on our first day of 7th grade at Junior High School 180. Joe saw Juan and yelled his standard "playful" greeting "Yo nigger, what's up?" You see JHS 180 was 80% black and some of the kids were almost 18 years old. I think Joe transferred out. I certainly don't remember him ever speaking in public again.
Memory 4 (6th grade)
The day that the chubby yet cute Dana "I'm in the cool girl club" Segel approached me on the school yard and proceeded to tell me that when we were both in fourth grade I used to be cool and she even had a crush on me, but now that I was hanging out with the loser crowd I was a loser, too. This is a direct quote.
Dana: "Now you think you're hot shit, but you're nothing but a cool fart on a warm day."
Maybe you're right, Dana. Maybe you're right.
Monday, October 04, 2004
Stop, Look and Listen.
This is a first for the Krankiboy Khronicles.
Yes, I'm actually giving you a link to a past blog. Why? It's not about me it's about you. I want to be sure that you fine cultured readers heard the Malcolm X Stamp audio. Drop a comment and let me know if you are able to access these audio clips. Some are just too special for you to miss. Plus this will be on the Midterm. Also no love on the Who's on your Rocket Post? I thought that would get you all jizzed and jazzed up. That's my phrase. You may use it, just don't be a prick and claim it for your own like some guy in Melbourne did to my Murder. Marry. Fight. Fuck! game. He claimed it as his own. The second I get off the plan in Australia and right after I spend three weeks getting into serious "better contact Interpol" type trouble with Ms. Fits, he's next on my Melbourne To Do list. As my dear friend Blake said. "You mess with one of the Fondudes and you get fon-dealt with!"
http://krankiboy.blogspot.com/2004/09/audiolicious.html
I have my District Field Supervisor coming tomorrow to observe how well I teach subtraction to fourth graders. Doesn't it sound terifically exciting. Like an early morning trip to your Dentist who hates you. When I have my degree and job, I have some choice words for my Graduate School. Most are four letter words some are hyphenated. But until I have my freedom I will suck it up and wear a lovely tie that accents the green in my eyes. Though I'd prefer to set some shit on fire to demonstrate the concept of subtraction. It would be exciting for the visual learners and I'd probably get nearly half of the class' attention.
Yes, I'm actually giving you a link to a past blog. Why? It's not about me it's about you. I want to be sure that you fine cultured readers heard the Malcolm X Stamp audio. Drop a comment and let me know if you are able to access these audio clips. Some are just too special for you to miss. Plus this will be on the Midterm. Also no love on the Who's on your Rocket Post? I thought that would get you all jizzed and jazzed up. That's my phrase. You may use it, just don't be a prick and claim it for your own like some guy in Melbourne did to my Murder. Marry. Fight. Fuck! game. He claimed it as his own. The second I get off the plan in Australia and right after I spend three weeks getting into serious "better contact Interpol" type trouble with Ms. Fits, he's next on my Melbourne To Do list. As my dear friend Blake said. "You mess with one of the Fondudes and you get fon-dealt with!"
http://krankiboy.blogspot.com/2004/09/audiolicious.html
I have my District Field Supervisor coming tomorrow to observe how well I teach subtraction to fourth graders. Doesn't it sound terifically exciting. Like an early morning trip to your Dentist who hates you. When I have my degree and job, I have some choice words for my Graduate School. Most are four letter words some are hyphenated. But until I have my freedom I will suck it up and wear a lovely tie that accents the green in my eyes. Though I'd prefer to set some shit on fire to demonstrate the concept of subtraction. It would be exciting for the visual learners and I'd probably get nearly half of the class' attention.
Thursday, September 30, 2004
Girl on Girl Action
I was home on a weekday evening, and my buddy... let's call him... Blake. Blake calls me at 7pm on a Wednesday. I'm bored and just working on some short story so I don't have to do some other work. He asks me what I'm doing tonight. I say "not much" and yet I'm curious because he has a happy lilt in his voice. I don't know exactly what a happy lilt is but the lilt people said they'd sponsor me if I used their word around town more. Lilt Lilt. So Blake tells me that there are going to be some strippers over at his place as if this were a normal event on a weeknight. I don't remember what he said after that because all I could do was picture these two hot, lean and sexy strippers doing what hot strippers do best... to each other... with toys. Now I should point out that here in Los Angeles we have a truly huge selection of hot strippers to choose from. I would go so far as to say a plethora. We rank right up there with Vegas, Amsterdam and New York. Why? Because we have lots of attractive aspiring young "models" and "actresses" who all get off the bus from South Dakota or Nebraska or some other boring state that doesn't really matter. Everyday they flood off the Bus with wide-eyed dreams of being the next Heather Graham or Liv Tyler and they quickly find they have to settle for being the next girl coming up to the stage, grinding up against a pole to some Hip Hop one hit wonder song. Why because they are exhibitionists, they like attention and they are all here trying to live their dream. The cream of the crop of hotties. In LA you can go into a Starbucks and see the most beautiful woman you've ever seen cleaning out the gunk from the frappucino machine. So when Jake said "pair of strippers" all I remember hearing after that was something about his roommate's friend Larry and a bachelor party. I tried to continue working on my short story but it quickly became impossible. I was thoroughly distracted. "Penny, Im going to go over to Jake's to watch a pair of strippers for some guy named Larry's bachelor party. Yeah, I know it's a school night, (literally) and I have to teach a Geography Lesson to 27 nine year olds first thing in the morning. Plus you have a head cold and I'm all hyperactive and the only bachelor party I was at was mine and the only thing striper related was when we docked the houseboat at a cove called stripper bay. No strippers at stripper bay. Okay? So what did Penny say to that? "Really? Cool, have a good time, sweetie."
All systems were go for operation eye candy. I even had the thumbs up from the wife. So I get there early and hang out with Blake, wait I think I refer to him as Justin, no Blake is better, Jake probably won't care which pseudonym I use. So Blake and I are hanging out and the bachelor partiers trickle in. We drink some beer and I make some jokes to kill the awkward feeling that fills a room whenever fourteen guys are waiting around to watch girls get naked. There is a ring on the bell and we're all excited. It's the handler guy. He is a messy-haired white guy wearing a fanny pack. Yes, a fanny pack. He's a professional. He asks where the girls can set up. Set up, awesome. Then another guy walks in. Fanny pack quickly gets some liquor and this slick Cubano dude in a leather jacket and t shirt gives us all a don't fuck with me, cause I could be packing look. No, no, they're not two male strippers like you guys thought. Then two, squat, dumpy, pear-shaped hispanic women, obviously the make-up people or set up people or something walk into one of the bedrooms. Damn there are a lot of people for just two strippers, well, maybe it's Wednesday so it's a slow night and-- My heart skips a beat as I realize that the dumpy girls who were in no way remotely attractive are the strippers. Fuck, they're 4ft 11 inch tall Hispanic troll dolls. I walk into the kitchen and simultaneously drink two beers at once. I lock eyes with Blake who looks as if he's just seen his grandparents French kissing. In a daze I walk out onto the porch for some air. The strippers take a long fucking time to get ready, but the other guys seem pretty okay. Fanny pack introduces Leather jacket dude who proceeds to explain "the rules." No touching-- well, no hard grabbing, touching is fine. No picture taking, "sorry guys" and no putting fingers or tongues in places where they should not go. I quickly go into the other bedroom and ask Blake to please put something on TV that I can look at. I'm trying to remember if the girls were just short and cute and I didn't pay enough attention. They must have been just hot spicy Latinas or something. Not so much with the spicy or the hot. More like what Cupid would look like if he was a Puerto Rican girl. Short, buldging, unattractive in the face, with a bubble but and weird baby fat.
As the car wreck is taking place I catch the eyes of several other guys who are not too impressed. The strippers. No, scratch that. The skanky troll doll whores take the bachelor lay him on the floor take off his shirt and pull up his shorts to "check the equipment and douse him with some oily lotion." They insist that we gotta give them two twenties if we wanna see some "pussy pussy." The host reluctantly gives up the money. And they drop bottoms to expose their soft baby fat covered bubble butts. One of the girls turns to us and loudly remarks "Did you guys see his little peanut?" What bachelor doesn't like to have butt ugly strippers tell him that he has a tiny penis in front of a room full of his guy friends and me, who he just met. And what room full of guys doesn't long to see Larry's little flacid penis? They start to rub lotion on him to the cheesy music that they brought, we're all deer in headlights stunned. Before we realize what's going on one of the girls asks for and gets a belt from one of the guys, she rolls the bachelor over and she threatens to spank him. This is actually a bit funny and elicits some chuckles from the group. The chuckles abruptly end when this little imp beast hits him square on his bare ass with not a little te hee he love tap, but rather a massive ass lashing which easily registered as an eleven on the smack-meter. He was beaten twice more like a naughty pirate before he could recover and rip the heavy leather belt out from her hand. The mission was in grave danger. Operation Eye Candy quickly turned into Operation Please No, for the last time I do not want a lap dance from you. I was the first to flee the scene. I even picked up some stray singles that were on the floor and gave them to Blake. I think the best man got stuck paying like six hundred dollars for the horrid event. I would rather get a lap dance from a Saint Bernard and cut off two fingers to forever erase the event from my mind's eye. As I left I could hear them trying to talk the guys into paying three hundred bucks for an anal show. I remarked that I'd rather watch a How To Plumbing Video. Do you know if brain scars ever truly heal?
All systems were go for operation eye candy. I even had the thumbs up from the wife. So I get there early and hang out with Blake, wait I think I refer to him as Justin, no Blake is better, Jake probably won't care which pseudonym I use. So Blake and I are hanging out and the bachelor partiers trickle in. We drink some beer and I make some jokes to kill the awkward feeling that fills a room whenever fourteen guys are waiting around to watch girls get naked. There is a ring on the bell and we're all excited. It's the handler guy. He is a messy-haired white guy wearing a fanny pack. Yes, a fanny pack. He's a professional. He asks where the girls can set up. Set up, awesome. Then another guy walks in. Fanny pack quickly gets some liquor and this slick Cubano dude in a leather jacket and t shirt gives us all a don't fuck with me, cause I could be packing look. No, no, they're not two male strippers like you guys thought. Then two, squat, dumpy, pear-shaped hispanic women, obviously the make-up people or set up people or something walk into one of the bedrooms. Damn there are a lot of people for just two strippers, well, maybe it's Wednesday so it's a slow night and-- My heart skips a beat as I realize that the dumpy girls who were in no way remotely attractive are the strippers. Fuck, they're 4ft 11 inch tall Hispanic troll dolls. I walk into the kitchen and simultaneously drink two beers at once. I lock eyes with Blake who looks as if he's just seen his grandparents French kissing. In a daze I walk out onto the porch for some air. The strippers take a long fucking time to get ready, but the other guys seem pretty okay. Fanny pack introduces Leather jacket dude who proceeds to explain "the rules." No touching-- well, no hard grabbing, touching is fine. No picture taking, "sorry guys" and no putting fingers or tongues in places where they should not go. I quickly go into the other bedroom and ask Blake to please put something on TV that I can look at. I'm trying to remember if the girls were just short and cute and I didn't pay enough attention. They must have been just hot spicy Latinas or something. Not so much with the spicy or the hot. More like what Cupid would look like if he was a Puerto Rican girl. Short, buldging, unattractive in the face, with a bubble but and weird baby fat.
As the car wreck is taking place I catch the eyes of several other guys who are not too impressed. The strippers. No, scratch that. The skanky troll doll whores take the bachelor lay him on the floor take off his shirt and pull up his shorts to "check the equipment and douse him with some oily lotion." They insist that we gotta give them two twenties if we wanna see some "pussy pussy." The host reluctantly gives up the money. And they drop bottoms to expose their soft baby fat covered bubble butts. One of the girls turns to us and loudly remarks "Did you guys see his little peanut?" What bachelor doesn't like to have butt ugly strippers tell him that he has a tiny penis in front of a room full of his guy friends and me, who he just met. And what room full of guys doesn't long to see Larry's little flacid penis? They start to rub lotion on him to the cheesy music that they brought, we're all deer in headlights stunned. Before we realize what's going on one of the girls asks for and gets a belt from one of the guys, she rolls the bachelor over and she threatens to spank him. This is actually a bit funny and elicits some chuckles from the group. The chuckles abruptly end when this little imp beast hits him square on his bare ass with not a little te hee he love tap, but rather a massive ass lashing which easily registered as an eleven on the smack-meter. He was beaten twice more like a naughty pirate before he could recover and rip the heavy leather belt out from her hand. The mission was in grave danger. Operation Eye Candy quickly turned into Operation Please No, for the last time I do not want a lap dance from you. I was the first to flee the scene. I even picked up some stray singles that were on the floor and gave them to Blake. I think the best man got stuck paying like six hundred dollars for the horrid event. I would rather get a lap dance from a Saint Bernard and cut off two fingers to forever erase the event from my mind's eye. As I left I could hear them trying to talk the guys into paying three hundred bucks for an anal show. I remarked that I'd rather watch a How To Plumbing Video. Do you know if brain scars ever truly heal?
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