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Sorry everybody. I tried to keep the Khronicles Commerical-Free but my Depraved Anti-establishment Humor grant didn't come through. I needed the advertising revenue to pay for Mom's Operation. However, the good news is, her cock is now bigger than mine. It's huge. She scared the neighbor's dog!

Thanks for understanding.

Krankiboy

There will now be oodles of ads on my site.

Come to the chat you fuckstain! It will be god-damn delightful =)

120 Pounds of Baby

The 120 Pound Baby


I was on my way back from an interview in a not so great part of Los Angeles (that really narrows it down doesn't it) when I saw this tan, skeletal-looking dog running down the street.

She was emaciated with her ribs sticking out and her hip bones poking from her scrawny frame. She looked like she should be a 50 pound dog but she couldn't have been more than 35 lbs. Seriously malnourished. She had a tattered leash still attached to her collar. I stopped my car on a side street and went back to find her.

I followed her into a parking lot but she wouldn't let me get close to her. She would run hide bark and run. I wanted to see if she had a tag or at least get her to a dog shelter. She ate the dog food that I hadn't yet unpacked from my car and drag water from a barbie bowl I found in the trash, but despite my best non-threatening demeanor and skilled coaxing (repeating "c'mere sweetie girl" in a moronically cheery voice) she wouldn't let me get near her. Honestly, I was just happy to see her eat that small handful of dog food.

I went to the people who worked in the weird little office next door to ask them to call a rescue shelter but they said that they would have their janitor chase it off later. They just saw the dog as a pest and despite my request, couldn't grasp the idea of helping it.

On my way back to the car I passed a big, big Rottweiler fast asleep in the driveway of a house. I see that there is a guy nearby. Must be the owner, right? He then asked me "Zat yer dawg, man?" My dog? I assumed it was his but he said it wasn't as he grabbed a big broom. "Dude, whoa, are you going to go at that big scary Rottweiler with a broom?" The Rottweiler lumbered to it's feet and got into a defensive crouch. I had to stop the guy, tell him to put down the broom and get me a rope or string that I could use to put on the dog. Somehow the dog knew that I was there to help her and she slowly moved her huge body over to me. I put out my hand for her to smell and said a little heathen prayer that she wasn't going to attack me. She sniffed me then licked my hand and I very slowly scratched her head and just like that we were friends. An old lady next door gave me an extra leash that she had and the man-tard with the broom looked at me like I was crazy. He asked "You like a professional dog handler guy sumthin?" I shook my head and clipped the leash on the dog's collar. I called her Sugar Girl for some reason which evolved into Baby. She had a choke on her but no tag, and although she looked fed she wasn't well cared for. She was badly calloused on her legs and had a partly healed nasty-looking golf ball-sized welt on her hind leg. I thought I'd take her around the neighborhood to look for a possible owner. Six seconds later, after an "intense" search for a possible neglectful, asshole owner, the big girl jumped right into the back of my car without hesitation. I got the sense that she might be a guard dog that wasn't as ferocious as the owner would have liked and she'd probably been turned out.

I brought her home and introduced her to Ass Breath and Freckle Dick. They were both intimidated by her size and bulk. Ass Breath did not appreciate it when she lifted his entire rear end off the ground with just her snout. She was very sweet-natured and gave me sloppy kisses if I lingered near her face too long. Pant, drool, pant, drool, pant drool, repeat. Did I mention that she drools? I was dodging drool puddles that formed on the ground. If my dogs were any smaller they would have been in real danger of being immersed in a drool puddle and forced to swim for their lives. She probably hadn't been bathed in a few years, so I gave her bath and washed off tons of dirt. During the first three shampooings the suds were entirely brown. I think I used 2/3rds of a giant shampoo bottle.

Into the evening the Drool Festival continued. At one point in the early morning, I rolled over and felt something warm and sticky on the bed sheets. I was actually relieved that it was drool. It couldn't have been me as I hadn't had any provocative dreams. Had I? IF only I had a Rottweiler to blame when I was 13 years old and having "nocturnal emissions."

TANGENT WARNING:
Nocturnal Emissions is such a great name that it almost makes me want to learn an instrument and form a punk group just so we can call our band Nocturnal Emission. Coming soon to a venue near you.

Anyhow, Baby, (No, reader I'm not flirting with you, that's the dog's name remember? *winks, licks lips*) was a bit wobbly and clumsy and kept stepping on my foot. But she was a real sweetie in temperament. She even tried to romp around with my dogs. But that would be comparable to me trying to wrestle a cement truck. I googled Rottweilers to find a rescue place just for that specific breed instead of some run-of-the-mill dog pound or shelter where they put the dogs down if they aren't adopted. During my googling, I discovered that Leonardo Dicaprio has a Rottweiler who is also named Baby. I swear that I named her before I knew this. I didn't name her after his dog because of some latent homoerotic obsession with Leo. *faux swoon*

I found a Rotty rescue place and called them and they agreed to take her the next day if I could bring her over. When she told me they'd take her it was as if a huge slobbery 120 weight had been lifted from my chest. I was reluctant about driving with her alone in the car as she tended to stand up and not lay flat in the back seat. But my goto friend was working that day and I wanted her to see the vet ASAP as she looked as if she might be pregnant. I used some leftover meat (Sesame Ginger Marinated London Broil) to get her back into the car. As I feared she remained standing and I finally had to shut the window so she wouldn't constantly bonk her head. So I'm following these elaborate multi-freeway directions that the Rescue Lady gave me. Take the 10 E to the 110 N to the 5 to the 101 to the 134... It would have been enough of a challenge just getting there with my "directionally challenged" mind. Baby began to poke her head up into the front seat to nuzzle me. I had to be careful not to stop short or she would go lurching forward. That proved impossible and I had to brace her so she didn't slip each time a car stopped short in front of me. It was even more fun when she decided she needed attention and began prodding me with her head, so I would pet her. Then, wanting to be close to her new buddy, she proceeded to climb into the front seat. Not the front passenger seat. My seat. Now, although it's true that I am a master of the Electric Nunchucka and one of the Most Feared Pirates on all the 7 seas, I am not a big strong guy who can move a Rottweiler with one hand. I am amazed I didn't hit another car with all the swerving. I tried to pull the car over to the side of the road from the middle lane but cars were shooting past me on both sides and nobody would let me in. Fuck you people who don't let other people into their lane. I finally reached around her and hit the hazard lights but still nobody would let me pull into the right lane. I was sure that I was going to bash into another car and get into a huge car wreck. I was sweating like mad and frantically pushing at her. I needed both my arms but couldn't exactly take my left arm off the wheel at 65 mph. That's when things got really scary. She shifted her weight onto me and her leg threw the gear shift and car into neutral. Oh fuck me! Fuck me very much. I tried to keep her from mashing me against the driver-side door. A car crash felt imminent and I must have used whatever adrenaline rush that the fear gave me to push her into the passenger seat and throw the car back into drive. She was slumped in the passenger seat. I pulled over, put her into the back and stuffed a big 40-pound dog food bag to block her from doing that again. From there the place was mercifully nearby. I pulled into the lot, met Betty the Rottweiler Rescue Lady and we lifted Baby into the back of her truck I said good-bye and Betty took Baby off to see the Vet.

Reflecting on the joy-ride over I had two thoughts. First, I thought if I been killed in that situation but my wife and family would have an exceptionally hard time explaining how it happened."Krankiboy was... killed by a Rottweiler... in a traffic accident... while rescuing her." Huh? Would the dog have been charged with vehicular manslaughter? That would be a shame because Rottys have a bad enough rep as it is for biting and attacking, they don't need to add reckless driving to their resume.

Well, kids... I got me a call from Rescue-lady Betty yesterday and she informed me that Baby is with a kind foster family with big ole yard. The family's old Rottweiler had recently died and Betty was optimistic that they might commit to adopting Baby.

Thanks for an interesting few days, Baby. In all the chaos, Penny and I forgot to take a picture to remember her stay with us. But if you envision an enormous arthritic female Rottweiler and then garnish it with six quarts of drool, you'll get a good mental picture of Baby.

4th Down and Six Feet Under

I found this. Is it poignant or pathetic? You make the call!

Body of Steelers Fan Viewed in Recliner

1 hour, 1 minute ago

PITTSBURGH - James Henry Smith was a zealous
Pittsburgh Steelers fan in life, and even death could not keep him from his favorite spot: in a recliner, in front of a TV showing his beloved team in action.

Smith, 55, of Pittsburgh, died of prostate cancer Thursday. Because his death wasn't unexpected, his family was able to plan for an unusual viewing Tuesday night.

The Samuel E. Coston Funeral Home erected a small stage in a viewing room, and arranged furniture on it much as it was in Smith's home on game day Sundays.

Smith's body was on the recliner, his feet crossed and a remote in his hand. He wore black and gold silk pajamas, slippers and a robe. A pack of cigarettes and a beer were at his side, while a high-definition TV played a continuous loop of Steelers highlights.

"I couldn't stop crying after looking at the Steeler blanket in his lap," said his sister, MaryAnn Nails, 58. " He loved football and nobody did (anything) until the game went off. It was just like he was at home."
Longtime friend Mary Jones called the viewing "a celebration."

"I saw it and I couldn't even cry," she said. "People will see him the way he was."
Smith's burial plans were more traditional — he'll be laid to rest in a casket.

That's just freaky. What happens if this idea catches on? I'd hate to see what they do when Ron Jeremy dies ...

--Posted by BEVIS at 7/17/2005 11:28:41 PM

For Your Safety

More from my main man Ron. I think he's sweet on me.

Krankiboy, following is a story how the Pretender Voice Changer was used. At the end of the story, you will find a bonus offer just for you.
(Wow, for me and me alone? I am special! Yay! Mother was right!)

Bleary-eyed, Casey strolled in to the office, clutching a cup of coffee. She almost stumbled over her friend Jen at the elevator. "I'm so sorry," Casey apologized, "This guy keeps calling me at three in the morning. Every night, he tries to tell me these nasty things. I keep hoping he'll stop, but he doesn't! "Jen clucked, "I bet the phone company said they couldn't do anything about it, huh?" "Yeah," Casey exclaimed, "since he's not actually threatening me, and he's blocking his caller ID, they're helpless. They actually told me to turn off my ringer. I can't do that! What if there's an emergency when the kids are at their dad's?" "The same thing happened to me last year," whispered Jen. "Wanna know how I got rid of the guy?" Jen told Casey how her old college roommate told her about thePretender Voice Changer. She loved her new apartment, but wasn't so crazy about the neighborhood. Since the voice changer made itsound like a burly man lived at her place, she thought it would be perfect if someone buzzed her doorbell late at night."Instead," Jen said, "this jerk starts calling my number ALL THE TIME. I'd get messages from him all day long, but I don't think he had the guts to actually call me at night. So I took a personal day, got myself a good book and settled in next to the phone." "So what happened," asked Casey."Sure enough, the guy calls," Jen said, " and I answer, "Hello, this is Mark.'"Casey gasped, "what did he do?" "He just gulped and said he had the wrong number," Jen replied. Casey puzzled, "the guy didn't know you were a woman?" "He had no clue," exclaimed Jen, "because it sounds so real. I've got it on my answering machine, if you want to hear it." Jen whipped out her cell phone and dialed her home number, handing the phone to Casey as it rang. When the machine pickedup, Casey's eyes bulged with surprise."No way," Casey gasped. "There's no way that's your voice. You sound like a guy!" "It's great," Jen confessed, "though I did have to explain to my Mom why some guy was answering my phone. But it gets better. The guy called back one more time." "What'd you do?" asked Casey?" This time, I pressed the button that made it sound like I had a baby crying in the background," giggled Jen. "I switched on my male voice and told him that I'd better not find the guy that woke up my kid. I swear I heard him drop the phone, he tried to hang up so fast!" "That's it," cried Casey. "You've got to tell me where you got that thing."

For your safety, Ron

Once again, it is obviously a 100% authentic story, but I have some questions.
www.a1safetyproducts.com P.S. kranki, you can get a Pretender Voice Changer just like Jen's by visiting: www.a1safetyproducts.com/prvoch.html. We have the Pretender Voice Changer on sale for only $48.30! P.P.S. If you order the Pretender within the next five days, I will give you a FREE Electronic Pocket/Keychain whistle...a $15.95 value. Just mention FREE Electronic Pocket/Keychainwhistle in the comments box when you check out. Don't forget...if you don't mention FREE Electronic Pocket/Keychain whistle we won't know to send it to you. Click here to be removed from this list:

(And if you don't tell us to go fuck ourselves with our crappy-ass lame-o product when won't know to do it.)

What's sadder than this feeble Promotional Attempt is the fact that I already own the stupid thing. Yes, it was going to be a fun gag gift from my father in law who is a practical joker of the highest order. Alas it was too crappy to even use as a gag gift. So I have for eight months already watching it collect dust. Does it work as well as they say? Fuck no. It's a piece of garbage. I think my dogs could build something better with fish innards and balsa wood. It is this crappy little piece of plastic thing that was probably state of the art when Lincoln was President.

If you talk into one side very loudly it will make you sound like a Cylon Warrior from Battlestar Glactica. Although I imagine this could deter some pervert would stop calling you up to heavy breath into the phone. As for the button that makes it sound like there is a baby crying in the back ground... it sounds more like a robot chipmunk puking. Let me testify to the fact that if you wish to scare away callers by pretending to be a Cylon Warrior from Battestar Glactica then this is the device for you. Very authentic. However if your mystery caller happens to like Sci-Fi or has a vomiting rodent fetish (which from my experience most do mystery callers do) then I very highly recommend that you not purchase this product. It would be a perfectly good waste of a 9 Volt battery that could get put to much better if it were thrown from the top of a tall building.

Tangent Warning: I always heard that "if you drop a penny off the top of the Empire State Building, it will go right through a person's entire body. I always wondered if that was actually true. Would it go through skull and bone?

You: Yes, krankiboy. I'll let you know the+
next time I'm in New York and feel like raining coins of charity on pedestrians.

Me: (not grasping sarcasm) Cool!

Oh and listen to both this & this from the Battlestar Galactica Fan Site.

I think those are about all the pearls of brilliance I can spare for now. Lemme just double check....
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Yup.

Dear Abby

krankiboy, the following is a story how the Stun Alarm Flashlight was used. At the end of the story, you will find a bonus offer just for you.

Ever since her husband died, Abby felt a little less safe in their brown brick townhouse. They had always wanted to live in the city together, so they saved up what they could to buy a fixer-upper in a blossoming neighborhood. Then David got sick. Before very long, Abby was on her own again. She wanted to hang on to the good memories of that house, feeling confident that she and her neighbors were driving the bad element off the block. Still, she always made sure she was prepared for the worst. And when the lights went out on her during a really violent thunderstorm, she shuffled downstairs to the broom closet for her favorite flashlight, a gadget David had bought for her for their last Christmas together. Sixteen and a half inches long, but still very light, Abby loved how it brightened up a room. She turned it on, and looked for her emergency radio. Red and blue lights flickered through the windows, so Abby figured that the power would come back soon. As she swiveled around, the bright beam of light illuminated a strange face. Abby gasped. "Don't make a sound," growled the stranger, "or I'll hurt you." It didn't even take Abby a heartbeat to lunge forward with the flashlight. Her attacker grinned, expecting to deflect a blow. Instead, he received a 200,000-volt jolt of electricity from the flashlight's built-in stun baton. Abby loved that flashlight for a reason. Rushing over to the window, she activated the flashlight's piercing alarm. Cops outside saw her waving the light and rushed up to her building. She found out later that her attacker was a convicted criminal who tried to escape when his prisoner transport vehicle crashed into a utility pole. That explained the blackout - and the presence of this scary individual in Abby's home. The police sergeant had a blast explaining to the detectives how Abby used an innocent looking flashlight to nab one of the city's most wanted felons. And Abby felt David's presence in their home even stronger than ever.

Yours in safety, Ron
www.a1safeyproducts.com


Another truly inspiring story from Ron.

Personally I am happy that Abby has a sixteen inch long device to keep her company now that David has died from being "sick." It's really quite a nice change from all those"Woman beaten to death with her own flashlight" tales.

And this guy was one of the city's "Most wanted felons." Nice job, Abby, Batman and Spiderman are wussy little fags compared to you and your mighty flashlight.

I don't know where in the "city" Abby lives but the police certainly arrive on the scene quickly in that neighborhood.

Oh and there is a 130 pound Rotweiller panting on me as I type this. I found her a few hours ago being chased by some guy with a broom. I have no idea what the hell to do with her in our small apartment. I shampooed about a pound of dirt off of her. It was gross. She's sweet, but drooly. I don't think Ass Breath or Freckle Dick are all that happy to have her around. She be real big.

Union Jack

The birds are singing outside my window today. I wish I was a bird.

Crusing with R Kelly

Nothing conveys the cultural complexities of Politics and Religion and Stardom better than the musical stylings of R Kelly.

Thank you to Giggles for yet another choice find.

Click here... and be patient.


or

http://www.picapic.net/media/TCM9C2S84Q8GV4

This Week's Magic Combo

You have those weeks in life where the same events seem to happen a few times and etch themselves into your memory. Sometimes it's nice to remember those memories by combining a couple of the events with a snappy alliterative title. It's much easier to recall these special times by giving them a charming name.

For instance:

"Say, darling, do you remember our trip to Nappa Valley?"

"Yes, and we picked those daisies under a gorgeous sunset. It was the weekend of Wine and Wildflowers."

Well, I personally will always remember this 4th of July Weekend as "The Weekend of Disturbing Dreams and Dogarrhea."


Dog - noun. A domesticated carnivorous mammal, Canis Familiaris, raised in a wide variety of breeds.

Diarrhea - noun. Pathologically excessive evacuation of watery feces.

Happy Fourth of July Weekend! Unless you're not a proud American. If that is the case that please have an adequate unit of leisure time.

What's your Week's Magic Combo! Is it Frisbee and Friends? Concerts and Car Crashes? Strawberries, and Straight Jackets? Marshmallows and Manslaughter? Is it Karate and Kittens? Is it Heroin, Handjobs and Homelessness?

Share!

RoboMaid - Fuck the Future

The future is here people and it wants to clean you floor and scare your pets.

See the future HERE



What the fuck am I going to do with my French Maid outfit with the peek-a-boo nipple zippers? I probably can't bring it back now that I've worn it a few times. The fish nets are a bit shredded from when I... they're a bit worn, let's leave it at that.

RoboMaid? How hard is it to sweep a floor? What kind of pathetic lazy piece of crap is going to pay to have their floors cleaned by this thing. My maid does a much better job and she even does dishes. If you think being Krankiboy's housekeeper is a sweet gig, then you probably just escaped a war-torn impoverished country in South America. Do they want my house keeper to starve so they can sell some god damn remote controlled flying saucer? This is America and we sure as hell don't want to hear any innovative ideas, it just makes more work for everybody.

Robo Maid? Didn't anybody see the movie Runaway with Tom Selleck and Kirstie Alley? And the enormous talents of Cynthia Rhodes. Who? Yes, the Cynthia Rhodes. I bet you didn't know that she was famous. Well her website says otherwise.

Anyway, for the 0.04% of you who did see that 1984 Sci-fi epic. Weren't those little robot spiders scary as all fuck. And how about the nanny bot who took the baby hostage. It makes you paranoid if you think about how much computers know about you. It's just like when you get a big dog you always want to ask yourself "If this computer turns on me can I take him?" I fear that my blog will one day become sentient and no longer need me any more. It will just put up whatever self-indulgent crap that it wants to pretend is somehow quirky or clever. But I know that you, my loyal readers... I know that the three of you will be able to spot a change in the writing if my computer began to blog instead of me. Right? Okay probably not.

So here are some things to look for to if you suspect that my blog has begun to write itself without me.

(1 Excellent spelling. That would be a giveaway.

2) An absence of run-on sentences that are too long and try to include more than one idea like some literary scooby sandwich all pressed together where it has no business being.

3) Consistancy of a continued thought so that when you read... you know I have this little stuffed dragon by my keyboard. I bought at the store and it's so freaking cute, anyway I'll have to write a post about it.

4) Brevity. If you should see that my posts are concise and funny and don't yammer on like a narcissistic radio DJ on crack that is a good sign that my blog may have just taken over.

5) Some kind of original type of humor and or poignant thoughts. Like, oh I can't think of anything.


https://www.asseenontvnetwork.com/vcc/telebrands/robomaid/131439/

Gonna go do a google search for robot porn now. Wish me luck.

Krankiboy

And yes, this post was written in the future.

Yours in Safety

Okay, I got this email below. I didn't make it up. I'm not that talented a writer.

krankiboy, following is a story how the Pepper Pager was used. At the end of the story, you will find a bonus offer just for you.

Kim loved spending time with the kids at the community center. She remembered how important her mentors were to her when she was growing up, and she enjoyed the chance to give something back. The only thing she didn't enjoy about her volunteer work was trying to find a safe parking place in the neighborhood. Some nights, she really understood why so many of these kids were at risk. At the same time, she wanted to project an air of confidence and security - she couldn't let any of her kids see how nervous she was. That's when she discovered the Pepper Pager. The Pepper Pager looks like a standard pager - the kind that many business people clip to their belts. Instead of delivering important messages, the Pepper Pager protects its owners from dangerous attackers by concealing up to twelve bursts of debilitating pepper spray.

One night, while heading back to her car after a late session, a haggard man accosted Kim on the street, demanding money. She tried to walk past him, but he kept blocking her path.

"What's your hurry?" he asked. Another man strolled out from an alleyway behind Kim.
"Hey, Jake," he called out, "this girl's in a hurry!"

Kim pleaded, "Just let me pass, guys."

Jake mocked her, crying, "Just let me pass," in a sing-song voice. Jake's friend reached out to grab her.
That's when she grabbed the Pepper Pager from her belt and sprayed the attacker right in the eyes. As he screamed in pain, Kim spun around to see Jake lunging at her. She blasted a second shot of pepper spray at him, which sent him tumbling through the ground. Kim ran up the street, hopped in her car, locked the doors and dialed 9-1-1. Within minutes, two less criminals haunted that neighborhood.

Yours in safety, Ron http://www.a1safetyproducts.com/

First of all... Wow. A pepper spray powerful enough to send a person "tumbling through the ground." I want one.

Okay, I fully accept that the entire story is both rivetingly suspenseful and completely true and I plan to purchase several hundred Pepper Pagers immediately or perhaps even sooner. I do have a few questions about the story.

Was teasing and sing-song voiced mockery included on the list of criminal charges in the case against Jake and Jake's friend?

How do you prove attempted assault/rape?

It never said if Kim was wearing something skimpy or slutty, so I don't know whether or not "she was asking for it."

I don't get why Kim would choose to work in a neighborhood that is both dangerous and "haunted." Those poor kids.

Lastly, who the fuck still uses a pager? This is state of the art technology for 1987.

Does anybody know what the moral of the story is? To me it seemed to suggest that it is unwise to be friends with anybody named Jake because they could be a bad influence and or rapist buddy.


P.S. krankiboy, you can get your own Pepper Pager today so you can be prepared to defend yourself against attackers up to ten feet away. Visit: www.a1safetyproducts.com/pepperpager.html. We have the Pepper Pager on sale for only $11.17! P.P.S. If you order within the next five days, I will give you aFREE 32-page Pepper Spray Tactical Use booklet...a $5.00 value. Just mention FREE Pepper Spray Booklet in the comments box when you check out. Don't forget... if you don't mention FREE Pepper Spray Booklet, we won't know to send it to you.

Thanks, Ron and thanks also for being mine in safety.

I will sleep well tonight knowing that there is a Tactical Use booklet for this criminal stomping spray.

WARNING... TANGENT:
Back in college we had a campus safety meeting where a police lieutenant came to our dorm lounge to talk to the students about what to do if you are attacked. What I remember clearly is that he was old, he reminded me of Archie Bunker, he spend a lot of time looking at the girls chestal regions. His two pieces of advice about what to do if somebody tries to rape you were:

1) The girls should try and get themselves to throw up on the guy because that would "kill his mood."

2) They should not attempt to fight back at all because they could be hurt. They should yell for him to stop and if the rapist does not stop then "they should just lay back and try to enjoy it."

He was truly one of Boston's finest.

Then he gave his card out in case we needed to contact him with any "questions." But he said that he only had enough cards to give out to the girls. Most of the young women looked as if they were going to either cry, or stab him in the throat.

Is it for dogs? Could be. 

Things in My Box - Part 2

This was in my inbox. Then the comments after I dont' get.

So many potential flings you might get overwhelmed by booty ;) http://tchristianera.com/somekindoffate/werelate/strong.htm as if thats possible. For people who like peace and quiet: a phoneless cord. After I'm dead I'd rather have people ask why I have no monument than why I have one. I think it would be a good idea.

Oh a phoneless cord... now I get it. That actually quite clev- stupid. Nothing turns me on more than a bad pun. Welcome to Sticky-ville population... me.

I think that anybody who has had a loved one tragically smothered to death in an ass eating incident gone wrong would be really insulted by the notion that you can't be overwhelmed by booty.

I love you nana and I miss you terribly.

See you all at the support group. Bring bagels.

Rumors or Trumors?

At 3:08 PM, Freelancer said...

Oh I larfed and I larfed! But seriously, Kranki-Wan-Kantanky, you must have connections in the No Karma Zone... What would you say to the rumour that Yoda's been peddling about town since Oprah was a boy..."A Big Gay Al, supposedly this Cruise is..."


Well, a reliable source told my friend's cousin's aunt-in law that Yoda once trained Cruise to be a Jedi, but ever since Cruise turned to the Dark Side (during the filming of Days of Thunder) Yoda and Yoda's publicist have been trying to brand Cruise with the closet queer label. Personally I don't care where Cruise sticks his light saber.

What I can say about rumors is that they have a remarkable way of being true. Rumors are what separate us from the primates. Without rumors all we have are facts and facts are boring. Here, I'll prove it.

Did you know that the United States has 5.8% unemployment which is some of the highest since 1976. See boring and depressing. We need rumors.

Here in the No Karma Zone we don't even call them rumors. We call them interesting information.

So here is some Interesting Information.

Jodie Foster - wisely prefers girls over guys. (Could be true)

I can tell you that I have a firsthand account of John Travolta making out with a man in a parked car. (True)

And another source close to this reporter will verify that Mr Kevin Spacey does not discriminate on the basis of age or gender when gets hungry for a no-pants dance. (Could be true)

And Topher Grace... is totally into girls. (Could be true)

And Robert Downey Jr. He likes to fu- Hmmm... I better not say, I'm told he occasionally reads this blog. (True)

Sadly or gladly, I don't hear that much celebrity gossip nowadays. Ten-year-olds don't have as much juicy celeb gossip to share as people who work in the eviltainment industry. Although it was a ten-year-old that told me about Spacey.

There is even a rumor going around that I (Krankiboy) have a "fish fetish." That is so exaggerated that it's almost untrue.

You get videotaped felating one dolphin at Sea World while being rimmed by a walrus and people immediately want to judge you.

"Fish Fettish?!" They're mammals people!

Mammals!

Scientology Strikes Back

EPILOGUE:

A FEW DAYS AGO

IN A CITY NOT FAR AWAY...

Dissolve To:

Ext. Chicago Skyline

Cut To:

Int. The Oprah Winfrey Show Studios

Oprah is midway through an interview with Tom Cruise.

TOM: "Oprah, the force is strong in you. But even you can not resist the power of Scientology. The Scientology sside iss ssstronger."

OPRAH: "Tom, for a white boy you got a cute lil ass and all, but the only dark side I like is on a chicken. Plus, I'm down with G-O-D."

TOM: "Then you leave me no choice. Feel the full wrath of the Dark Side.
Muhwahahahahahahaaahhh!"

Watch the Battle > Click Here <

or on this link below

http://mirror.randomfoo.net/memes/2005/06/Tom_Cruise_Kills_Oprah.mov

Modern Indian Names

Hey. Sometimes a good bitch session can go a long way towards making you feel better. Especially when you cryptically fault find your friends on a semi-public forum and a bunch of them contact you to apologize for not writing you back sooner. Others will pretend that they never read the post and have "mysteriously" begun to revert back to they way they used to act towards you. So the expression about the squeaky wheel getting the oil has rung true. Although in this case ?whining and pouting like a sour-faced wuss baby? is more accurate than ?squeaky.?

I suppose that it?s all forgiven because I tell you up front that these are the chronicles of a cranky boy. Man, those two words look weird spelled with the letter ?c? and not a ?k.? Crap. Is the period supposed to go inside the quotes or outside? Somebody clear that up for me please. I don?t really know how to punctuate. It comes from so many years typing sitcom dialogue where you write it how you want it said. That?s why I am constantly using the?. you know? ellipse or as we shitcom writers like to call it the ?dot dot dot?.

Where was I? Oh yes, I was going to say that more people should be honest and upfront about themselves, embrace who they are and stop pretending to be something that they?re not. In fact we should all have more appropriate names that tell something more about us. Like Indian names do. They give you a sense of what the person is like.

If you are going to select somebody for the tribal council you are more likely to choose "Stone Tree" than "Runs from Thunder." Now go with me on this for a second. Wouldn?t it be better to have a name that means something. Instead of boring Doug Johnson you would have "Good with a Hammer." That tells me a fuck-load more than some bland-ass name that six-thousand other people have. Instead of Jennifer Andrews you?d have "Fiery Temper." Then Jennifer can feel free to be the royal bitch that the great spirit made her to be. With Modern Indian names you'd know what you should expect if you were to marry a man named "Humps Anything That Moves." Only "Couldn?t Care Less Cause She Just Married for the Money" or "Oblivious Whore" should consider dating him.

Happy marriages would also be easier to arrange. "Reads Many Books" wouldn?t end up married to Loves Professional Wrestling or Sits in the Dark and Drinks Whiskey, she?d be better off in a relationship with Always Playing Scrabble or Mad About Motzart.

Adjusts his Crotch in Public would know that Never Wears a Bra is the right girl for him. Avid Sex Toy User and Enjoys a Good Spanking would live happily ever after.

In fact, you would know that Complete Fucking Narcissist and It?s All About Me are probably going to forget your birthday again this year unless Loves Her Palm Pilot calls to remind them.

Drinks Like a Fish and Talks About Tits could be fun guys to hang out with, but you wouldn?t invite them to any important Thanksgiving meals with the family.

So you know my Modern Indian Name would be Cranky Like a Boy.

Give it up. What?s your Modern Indian Name? And if you have to tell us why it?s a good name for you? then it?s probably not a very good name.

Here are some more inspirational Modern Indian Names.

Prefers Plants to People
Takes it in the Ass
Lies About her Age
Big Fan of Hitler
Addicted to Semen

Things in My Box

This was in my inbox. The Spelling is what disturbs me. Monkeys on sedatives couldn't spell filled that badly.

Usurpation B. Taxied

Fw: Young Bitch Fileld with Cum
Sun 06/19
4k

I think it might just be an "R" rated link. I didn't open it because:

A) The poor spelling did not bode well for the quality of the youthful cum-filled bitch.

B) I was afraid to look because it might have been like some female German Shepherd and that would be upsetting.

C) It makes no sense as we are all walking around filled with... you know.

D) I did not want to risk setting off a Spam-alanche that might bury my poor inbox with a plethora of offers to play Online High-Stakes Poker, purchase cheap Viagra, or enlarge my penis so much that it can be seen from outer space.

4:33 AM Thoughts

I have a pretty good post on the horizon. This is merely a pre-post to the actual post. I just wanted to let you know that as Jelly so nicely put it "cryptically bitching" about people on my blog actually has positive results.

They are:

1) Several friends immediately get back in touch with me. Cool.

2) Fluffy wants to hold me to her blog bosom and nurture me back to happytown. I haven't seen the bosom yet, but she's pretty damn nurturing.

3) My penis grew 2 inches and I got rock hard abs

4) Bevis refers to him self as friend ZZZ

5) The Lesbian girls next door decide to have hot sex with the curtains open.

6) I feel a bit better.

7) The theme from Sanford and Son ring tone arrives on my phone.

8) Cats and Dogs make sweet love with each other.

Actually my dogs cornered a possum in the backyard earlier tonight. It was a big fucker. They are simultaneously cute and scary. Kind of like a baby holding a handgun. Which, by the way, I don't recommend.

I want to go to a shooting range. Get out some aggression. Or just go Gallagher on a stack of melons. I will put links to Jelly, Fluffy, Possums and Gallagher later. For now, if you really want to, you can find them.

So yeah, as I was saying before I so rudely interrupted myself with extraneous thoughts, I have what I hope will be an amusing interactive blog on the horizon. Now I am going to pass out someplace near my bed. You wanna cyber spoon?

Alone and Kranki

Back in college I thought about making a list of my friends and ranking them from best to worst so everyone would know how good a job they are doing and where they rate. This would likely cause much more harm than good but every once in a while I get the urge.

The list would be placed someplace where any of my friends could see it.

Now I must preface what I am about to say with two statements.

1) I am not a great friend. I can forget birthdays, go for too long without calling to catch up or make plans. I will often give advice even when I am not asked for my input and then become annoyed when a friend doesn't do exactly what I told them to do.

2) This may not apply to you so don't panic and hire somebody to have me killed. That could be a senseless waste of your finances.

I would like to register the following Komplaints.

1) Friend A, B, C & D have not returned my emails in a very, very long time.

2) Friend E and I were supposed to be working on a project and really digging in but Friend E ran off with his girlfriend/lover. This is the second time this has happened.

3) Friend F has been emailling me every few months to tell me that he's sorry that he hasn't gotten to the animation he really wants to get to but hasn't had time.

5) Friend H and I (me) had a bit of a falling out a few months back but friend H and I (me) are doing well. I don't really have any complaints about friend H. Oh, he did promise to get me the Sanford and Son ring tone and has yet to deliver. So good that H & I (me) cleared the air.

6) Friend J has not returned my call and last I heard she was going through some serious depression and I did what I could to help her and be there and then she just dropped of the radar screen.

7) Friend K is a dear friend who i have not spoken to since she told me she was planning on moving back to Los Angeles. I didn't call her back for a long time and left a message apologizing for my behavior and I have not heard from her.

8) Friend L is incredibly self-conscious and doesn't seem to realize that she and I are in very different phases of our lives and that I don't really relate to all the things she says and her insecurity and... she gets annoyed with me because I don't make plans. But she talks too much about nothing and is a horrible listener who doesn't stop going on at length about things she has already told me. So that is one I am okay letting go of.

9) Friend M contacted me to let me know she would be in LA and then never responded when I tried to make plans with her. But she sent me a killer mix CD with a sweet handmade CD case. To me getting something in the mail shows extra effort points.

10) Friend O is very busy and hasn't gotten around to letting me know the specifics of her California visit plans. Actually this applies to two of my friends who I love dearly but haven't heard a peep from in quite some time.

There are many more formal complaints I could lodge with the Friendship Bureau, but the only thing that writing this down does is make me sad and frustrated and isolated. I feel stuck, because in most of these cases there is nothing I can really do to correct the situation. I feel like I have been making so much more of an effort than these friends of mine have. None of these instances of "flakiness" or "laziness" or disinterest would be all that bad as isolated events, but the fact that they are all happening at once is quite upsetting and the cumulative affect, plus some job-hunt stress made me start crying the other day. I just feel unsupported by so many people in my life right now and I wonder how many of these friendships that I value are going to get washed away for good. I wonder what more I can do to revive these relationships and nurture them. How do you pick and choose who you give your time to? I can't recall feeling this ignored and un-appreciated. I'm sorry if I contributed to the communication gap but in most of the situations I don't think that is the case. I know that nobody can be aware that there are currently several dozen other people who are letting me down and/or not taking time to respond to my efforts to connect with them. It makes me wonder why this is happening all at once. I think about the nature of friendship and I wonder if everybody has a friend because they give them something that they need, physical, emotional, material, whatever... Why do people become friends? Is it that they have a similar outlook on life? Common Interests? Shared experiences? Complementary senses of humor? I think of all the people who have been my close friends over the years and how those friendships just naturally faded away. I wonder if it's better not to care about other people so much that you get invested in them. It also makes me appreciate being married to an amazing woman. The beauty of marriage is that you agree to share your life together and grow together to stay friends and be there for the other person no matter what flavor of hot coffee life spills on your lap. Today I get what it is to be married. It is essentially best-friend insurance.

Normally it's cathartic to write down my feelings and express my thoughts in writing, but right now it's after 2AM I'm sitting at my computer and I feel weary and weak for even having these thoughts.

You can't use comments as an actual post, can you?

It is a cliche, but it's true. A good man is hard to find and yes, a hard man is good to find... in a bus station bathroom on a cold and lonely October evening. But I digress, that is a blog post for another time. The scars on my broken heart have not healed yet.

Bevis' "love" is like a boomerang. It's potentially dangerous in the wrong hands, it's from Australia, and if you treat it right it keeps coming back to you. It is also highly contagious, causes painful itching and can be used to hunt wombats.

Thanks, Bevis. You honor me with your honorable words. I have decided I want you to have my first born son as an appreciation of gratitude for your... gratious appreciation. I think he currently works at a truck stop someplace down in Tijuana. At least that's what his whore mother told me in her last demand for alimony. Thanks, that would really help me out. Just don't tell him where I am as he was very angry when I dropped him off at the border. As I sped off, he stood at the side of the road shaking his pudgy, little, half-breed bastard fist and loudly swore to have revenge upon his "Gringo Papa-Kranki!" They grow up so fast.

AOME (Apple of my eye) , you won the Grammar-contest email me at krankiboy@yahoo.com to instruct me where to send your prize.

Story Around

I will attempt to use all of your favorite words in one grammatically correct sentence.


Disgruntled that the architect's shoddy, sluice design had flooded the castle with water, the king abruptly tossed him into the oubliette with nothing but a single crumpet for nourishment, and a taciturn cockchafer for company.

I think this has the makings for a superbly brilliant story. Would somebody please compose the second sentence in this story. Then another person do the next and so on. I would really like to see what the end result of is.

I am quite serious. Please read the comments and contribute the next sentence that progresses the story.

Runny Nose Friday

I have had the sniffles for a few days now, which is annoying enough, but now I am starting to feel crappy head cold symptoms. I'm thinking some PCP might knock the cold right out of my head. I have never heard of anybody on Angel Dust complaining about having a head cold. From what I have seen in the movies and TV they generally are very preoccupied with thinking that they can fly and jumping off tall buildings or getting into high speed car chases with police that end with savage beatings.

I thought I had more to share.... hmmm.

Oh yeah. School is strange. A few years ago there were some people who began calling dice "number cubes" so that it didn't encourage gambling. This is of course retarded. You don't want kids to know that dice are also used for gambling? Shhhhussh! They are also used to play fucking Yahtzee! You assholes! However, when I was in school, it was frowned on to have playing cards in school. Some kids had them but they were not allowed. This seemed reasonable to me. Now with the growing trend in poker on TV and Texas Hold Em in particular, the powers that be have taken to using cards in math classes. That's cool, it's a fun way to learn how to add or multiply with flash cards while also having fun. Today I filled in for a teacher and was asked to teach the kids how to play Poker in preparation for the pretend gambling that they will have at the up coming Gold Rush-themed Graduation Event. That's a pretty big fucking flip flop on the kids and gambling issue. When all those future gamblers start flooding into Vegas and Atlantic City I just hope there are enough hookers to go around.

Oh, and why are all the hookers in Hollywood transvestites? Can somebody please explain to me how a very mannish person dressing up as a woman of ill repute is in any way sexy to anybody.

My train of thought has run off the tracks today. I started with a runny nose and got all the way to tranny hookers. It will be nice to have this blog so that they can follow the posts to see my brain slowly devolve to a state of absentia.

Crack Research

I did not think it was possible but my crack* Research Department has uncovered an even better word than cumshaw.

One entry found for cockchafer.

Main Entry: cock·cha·fer
Pronunciation: 'käk-"chA-f&r
Function: noun
Etymology: 1cock + chafer: a large European beetle (Melolontha melolontha) destructive to vegetation as an adult and to roots as a larva; also : any of various related beetles

I naturally assumed it referred to a rough, rugged, and unkempt vagina.



* Just to clarify... The term "crack" is used as a adjective to mean efficient and not the rock form of cocaine. That is an entirely separate department.

Thank You for the Cumshaw!

My new favorite word is cumshaw. Fustigate has been moved down the list to #3 right behind girth.

I have a special fondness for words that sound extremely dirty but aren't. I sub-taught today at a school I haven't subbed before. Let's call it Falsewood Avenue School. I did work at Falsewood Avenue about two years ago in an enrichment program so I knew several of the kids. There was one particular kid who I will call Buddy. Buddy was that annoying, insecure fat kid who always wanted to get his way. He would moan in at a decibel level that started out like a fog horn but quickly rose to a pitch that not even dogs could hear. He always had a thin layer of dirt on his face and had chocolate or some other delightful looking food crusted on the corner of his lips. Buddy, was the only kid that I truly, truly disliked and the only kid to ever show up to ruin otherwise cheerful dreams like the bully who knocks over your nearly perfect sand castle before your friends get to see it. The next day at school I actually told Buddy that he was not allowed to visit my subconscious. He had no clue what I was talking about but he never appeared in my dreams again. At lest my subconscious understood the rules. I pulled Buddy aside one day and gave him a lecture. It was a pretty good lecture and it actually hit home with him. I told him how he would regret being disrespectful to people because he might need something from them someday and they will remember how rude and disrespectful he was towards them.

So today, when I rounded the corner to pick up the Falsewood 4th grade class, it was truly magical to see the look on Buddy's face when he realized that it was me, his most hated teacher who would be running the show as his teacher for the day. The phrase "his jaw dropped" was coined for just such an occasion. He was extremely well behaved, and because the other kids saw that the annoying Buddy was a bit scared of the teacher and acting like a angel, I had their full and undivided attention without having to utter a word.

I also had a kid who would speak to his imaginary friend Todd. It was so strange because the other kids treated this kid's imaginary friend like he was truly the class mascot. They would ask questions about Todd and if Todd liked watching Shrek 2 and which was Todd's favorite part of the movie.

Getting back to my original thought which was several hundred words ago. I wanted to relate that while reading a short story out loud to the class I stumbled over a word, which I rarely do when reading aloud. Clearly the drugs are catching up with my mind. "Run, brain cells, run!!!"

It wouldn't have been a big deal except that instead of reading the sentence as it was written - "What do you mean, when you say can't?!" I missread the dialogue and, in a loud and clear voice I said to to the 9 and 10 year old girls and boys... "What do you mean when you come say cunt?!" Only a few of the kids recognized my slip up. I quickly scrambled to cover my mistake and read the next few lines of dialogue with as much excitement as possible so as to try roll right past my enormous Tourette's-syndrome-Freudian slip-and-fall. It's a tad bit better than when, during a bugs class for kindergarten kids, I casually said to the teacher who I was assisting that "That scorpions tail looks fucked up!" The teacher looked up at me with shock and said "What did you just say?!" Not realizing what I'd just said I repeated myself a second time. Louder and slower.

Please, as a cumshaw to the Khronicle readers, share a favorite word or two of yours. Because sharing is caring and caring... just tell us some of your favorite fucking words you scabie-ridden cockholsters!

www.m-w.com

TTTSC*


*to tired to spell check

Enought is Enought

I honestly love the random assortment of "literature" that shows up stuck under my car windshield wiper. Sometimes it's a flyer letting me know that strip clubs are such popular places to eat during the afternoon that they don't charge a cover. Sometimes it is Jesus trying to contact me through one of the people he has chosen as a vessel to spread his word via angry warnings against the Hell that awaits be if I don't join team Jesus. Jesus was always about threats. Feet washing and threats. Last week it was a lovely detailed note from a nice woman who informed me that she had hit my car. Had there been no note I would never have noticed the scratch that was put on my pristine bumper. It just fit into the Jackson Pollack scratch-fest theme on my bumper. I thought it was very nice of her to send a note and give me all her contact info. To be honest, I am delighted anytime the item on my car isn't a parking ticket. This last piece of literature was brilliance incarnate. Here is the actual document. There were thousands of them on every car in the entire neighbor hood.



Powerful and compelling, yeah? It's also a teensy bit ironic to distribute a note bashing people who don't want to learn English that appears to have been "written" by an angry, semi-literate individual with a limited grasp of the written word.

I do like trees buy I am hoping there will be more unintentionally ironic notes from this author. Perhaps a rant against the foul language that people have taken to using.

This is my imaginary excerpt:

WILL YOU FUCKERS STOP CURSING?!

These people who always make the curses are asshole who should go fuck themselves to shit. how is it being fair. I drive am in car and a man do say to me you are mother fucker. I am thinking that this pussy fart guy is not know how to talk good with the vocabalrie. we must show that these is bad words. have no fucking place in our community. we must stop saying and not to be okay to write all words that are not nice to hear or see. You join me and slice off the balls of any man or whore-cunt titty who spreads this filth to us. send those foul-mouthed cum-suckers message that we think they are lower than dog pissing.

Make no more fucking cursing!

So here's the challenge. I want to see how many grammar or spelling mistakes you can find in the original note. Whoever finds the most will get a goodie package in the mail from yours truly. And I am sure that the many people who've received prizes from me will tell you that I do not slack when it comes to sending out prizes, trophies and the like. I will send it wherever the hell you want me to.

As for finding mistakes, I'll give you a helpful hint. Sentences start with capital letters.

Please take me up on this kranki kontest, because just like a Mormon marriage, the more the merrier.

Boxing

I never had any interest in the sport of Boxing when I was younger. It wasn't until I met my wife who likes to watch boxing that I was drawn into the brutal art form. It is basically primal but there are skills and abilities that you grown to appreciate. There are people who collect stamps for fun so you really shouldn't give me a hard time just because I have developed an appreciation for the fights.

Today I saw Julio Caesar Chavez in his last professional fight. Emily brought me along with her and we got to sit in a luxury box at the staples center. Seeing a 42 year-old man box for ten full rounds, really emphasizes how truly out of shape I have become. They also scraped the bottom of the barrel to find an opponent for his son who is also now a boxer. It was a scrawny, bald white guy from Indiana who looked like the flamboyant waiter who works at that restaurant near your house. No, not that place, the other one with the good desserts. Anyhow Chavez Jr. knocked the bum out in 42 seconds.

From Boxing News site
Jr welterweight Julio Cesar Chavez Jr. (19-0, 14 KOs) needed just 42 seconds to annihilate Adam Wynant (9-4-1, 3 KOs) who was eyeing the canvas for a comfortable place to fall from the opening bell.

I will put a link to a picture of Chavez junior so you can marvel at the fact that he looks like Ralph Machio from the Karate Kid. I was expecting to see Mr. Myagi in his corner. Honestly, he looks like he is 12 years-old.

I don't have all that much more to share right now. I would like to say that I am very happy to have so many people reading my site again, I don't know why that brings me satisfaction, but it does. So, thanks for reading, tell a friend and I will endeavor to put up some entertaining posts on a regular basis.

I guess it just feels nice to be appreciated. Also all those people I met at the orgy have probably started checking out my blog. And since that is the case, lemme just take this opportunity to apologize for burning Randy's scrotum with that hot coffee. I was just offering it to be friendly. You had been working hard to be a great host and you really looked like you needed a caffeine boost. I didn't see the "spill" on the marble floor and... well I can't stress how sorry I am.

It's worse than we ever imagined

Ow. I think my unfunny bone is broken.



Ow. I think my unfunny bone is broken. (ENORMOUS LAUGHTER) 

The Book of LIZ

The Book of Liz is the new play from the enormously funny and talented Amy and David Sedaris.

First two very funny people broke the first rule of writing. That rule clearly states... "Write what you know." Unless they both grew up Amish and just never mentioned it. Okay, I'm as impatient as you are so I'll just skip to the end and tell you that the play is about an Amish woman who makes exceptional cheeseballs. Sounds wacky huh? It was like a workshop in how to be a shitty, hacky, sitcom actor. I did smile twice during the 35 minutes that I stayed to watch before the four people I was with unanimously decided to leave. That was probably just gas pain.

Note: I have never walked out on a play before out of respect to the artists involved. In this case I happily made an exception. We fled like Jews from... like Jews from anyplace really. The Jews have it rough right now. But mercifully they were not forced to attend this play.

The question remains and lingers like a sinister, festering zit on the cheek of a 16-year-old girl: How can two such talented and comedically gifted individuals write such a suck-broken-glass from-my-ass play? The answer is simple and one word long. Spectacularly.

Sedaris Kids, even if they say your play is good, well... The performances and the... Um... It all sucked. Unless it picked up 45 minutes in after I'd already fled the theatre.

Tragicish Footnote:
As we left the theatre and got outside we immediately burst into hilarious slams of the lousy performances of the " corny, ham-fisted hacktors." What we did not realize was that some of the cast was waiting offstage outside the theatre and heard every nasty word we said about them. But don't worry, because A) They really did suck (The Director especially) and B) The light quickly turned green and we ran for it when I noticed that a few of the actors had heard our "observations."

Subfootnote: I realize that writing the word "tragicish" is incredibly gay and I will immediately begin sucking enormous amounts of cock first thing tomorrow.


*Enormous Rhino Dick in rectum caused massive internal bleeding. So, to all you smug whores out there, be aware, because dares can turn deadly. Just because he likes to watch and pays extra doesn't mean you're going to have a good night.

Um, that's all.

God Can Make it Bigger!

This is an email I received today. I'd like to share it with you worthy folks.

Subject: Enlarge Your Penis Through Prayer!

Sounds crazy?

It's not!

Through the power of Christ (our Lord) and FAITH, you can have an embarrassingly large penis!

People will avert their eyes and hasten their step when you cruise down the street sporting a BONER that would make Mary Magdalene blush! And she's a filthy whore!

Love in Christ (our Lord),
-j*


My response:


Dear Enlightened One

Everything made perfect Christian sense. I just have one question before I send you a blank, signed check.

What shall I "cruise" upon? If I pray extra could the Baby Jesus (our Lord) throw in one of those cars that can turn into a boat? I saw one of those once and it was so awesome looking that I felt God enter me which made me tumescent with his love. When I saw that car drive down the beach and roll right into the water and just keep going, it was a miracle. For only God (our Lord) could make such a sweet ride.

Oh and also, can God fix my keyboard? The numberpad accidentally got gummed up with a thick, sticky fluid. I don't want to get any more specific about what type of ejaculatory fluid it was or which Country-Western singer provoked the incident. That's not really any of your business anyway is it? The important thing is the un-gummed up keyboard, the aqua-car, and of course the embarrassingly large penis.

Yours in Khrist,

Krankiboy

Pray for Pussy

This site below is the first thing that comes up if you google the phrase "pray for pussy"

I was hoping it would be a picture of the pope with a kitty cat. It isn't.


http://www.ubermorgen.com/WORDWAR/wordwar_tankv2_0_1995/wordwar.html

I think it's an interactive text art site. I write that as if I know what that means. I don't. But there was some interesting input. Some of it was even written in English.

Put in your own text here. Why, I dont really know. But you're bored so try it.

http://www.ubermorgen.com/WORDWAR/wordwar_tankv2_0_1995/sampling-subtank/sampling.html


Sample Sumbissions from other "artists"

Untitled Blog Post

Once in a while I just feel like writing something but I have absolutely nothing of interest to share. This is one of those times. Usually when you take a weekend vacation you have things to tell people. However 84% of this vacation was spent lounging by a pool and reading and listening to my I-pod. Sure I could tell you what songs I listened to or what I am reading but that's so self-indulgent. I will say that there was a group of rowdy Aussie women by the pool whose accents made me think of my lovely friends in Melbourne and Sydney. It also made me think, "Shut the fuck up I am trying to read you blabbering cunts!" But the first thought seemed a bit more snuggly and mushy.

Oh, I also found a tiny bird egg on the lawn. I fear the momma bird probably kicked it of the nest but that's not at all relevant.

Ten Things That Affected Me

Learning is a life-long process and these things in particular have stopped and made me think.



Does having a big valley make you hot to go up their alley?
Cougar size? Meow! *vomits*



*shakes head in disbelief*



Do any of you remember Jenni from Jennicam.com? This made the voyeristic nerd in me a little nostalgic.


The next two are from Postsecret.com

I thank my friends... Sprago and Jellyfish who brought my attention to this fascinating sight. Also, I'm concerned that I freaked Jellyfish out with an email I sent her recently. I have really got to stop offering to impregnate women. But by nature I'm a giver... so it's difficult.





It's important to remember all the quality time spent with loved ones.






Whether it's true or not this is sill a tad unsettling.




Please! Don't eat these. The best thing I can say about them is that they taste like fermented cough medicine-flavored Gummy Bears with a slightly stickier consistency.



Here is... The chicken who... Birdkini time... uh... This chick... hen...

I've got nothing.




Follow-up problem. Can you calculate the probability that this mathematician is getting laid?

Math Man, why not channel that frustrated genius into something womankind can appreciate you for?



Add a bit of melted butter... Maybe some paprika.


And below is perhaps my favorite recent find on Post secret.



This one whispers into my ear like the soft voice of a lover urging me into naughty behavior.

The Magic Number

Let's look at the following statement out of context.

"Never after ten, okay?"

While it would be appropriate in many scenarios such as:

1) A mother telling child that it's too late to go and play outside.

2) Person declining coffee because caffeine keeps them awake if they drink it at night.

3) A kindly old invalid neighbor informing the kids downstairs when it is okay to play loud music.

or

4) Porn starlet scolding a novice "actor" for inserting one too many dildos into her body cavities.

All those would be acceptable scenarios in which to hear those words. What would not be acceptable is the actual context of the phrase.

It's Saturday night and we're back from dinner, relaxing at out place with a couple of our friends. I suggested that we watch The Life Aquatic that we rented on DVD. But then of course the girls (women over 25 like to be called girls, so deal nazidykes) decided we needed, needed, and also really needed, to get high before we watched it. Now, currently I happen to be avoiding the refer-weed-ajuana because it leaves me with the esteem equivalent to a used and discarded piece of New York Subway bathroom chewing gum. That's Krankinese for "makes me feel depressed the next day." Now I am not in the habit of telling women what to do. And more importantly, I don't ever want to be seen as the "square guy." Plus I have come to understand that where as a guy simply wants things, a girl actually needs them. So, men, if you deny your female friend something they need you are callously putting their life in grave danger.

The words. "Oh my god, I love that purse... I need that purse." is just as urgent as the statement "The doctor says I need a kidney transplant or I am going to die."

So because getting high was this important to the girls (who are weaker and less intelligent than males*) I decided to take immediate action and call my "source."

Remember it's Saturday at 10:15 pm
"Hey, Evan it's Krankiboy..." Before I get another word out Evan says the now infamous phrase. "Never after ten, okay?" If he hadn't said it with such conviction I would have been certain that he was joking. How absurd of me to think I could drive to Evan's house to purchase something at the ungodly hour of 10:15 pm! I must have been high to think something like that was possible. Oh wait, no, I wasn't. That was the problem. I was thoroughly embarrassed to inform my friends that my guy doesn't deal after 10 pm on Saturday. Saturday Night. Who in the world would want to get narcotics of any kind on a Saturday Evening?!

It was suggested that to me that I call Evan back and inquire if perhaps he and his enormous, puckered vagina had to get up early to go church the next morning.

Implying, of course, that a dealer not willing to hook a customer/friend up was some kind of born-again, up-tight pussy.

Perhaps I can call Evan's office and they can pencil me in for an appointment next Tuesday at 9:30 AM.


* Note: This text was added merely to incite controversy and does not reflect the opinion of anybody at the Krankiboy Khronicles who've got mad love for all dem biznatches.

Also don't tell Evan that I mocked him for my own satisfaction. I may need call on him at a reasonable hour sometime.

Oh, You Sexy Bitch!

Ummm......

One Sexy Bitch

http://shop.starwars.com/catalog/product.xml?product_id=2698;category_id=332;pcid1=;pcid2=

.....Yeah.... That's something we can quickly file into the "Wrong" category.

"Help me Doggie-Won Kinobie! You're my only hope! Only your big Jedi Lightsaber is fit to bone me. "

Yeah, sometimes fetish crosses the line. One one side there is kinky and risque such as having sex on top of a faux bearskin rug and on the other side there's dressing your dog up so she is your hot Fantasy love slave. It's a few too many steps removed from reality. Oh and there is the whole dog as a sex object thing going on. I felt bad the one time I tried to put bandanas on my dogs. Some guy at the doggie park spotted them and he went all Queer Eye on me and shamed me by saying, "Oh, you poor little animals, who made you wear that terrible cowboy scarf?" I was too embarrassed to even mount a witty retort. I was at a complete loss for words. It was an act of pure faggottry on my part and I learned a valuable lesson. When the charges are directed at you by a gay man. It brought back a painful pre-teen taunting i received when, during the mid 80's, I purchased a pair of "cool futuristic-looking sunglasses" at a store called STAR MAGIC. They had glow magnets and all sorts of cool crystals and trippy spinning things. I had to choose the "rad" sunglasses. Then, like a retard running into oncoming traffic, I immediately wore them to the park. When the older teenage boys saw them on me, they mocked me mercilessly. I felt like a baby leopard being emotionally disembowled and devoured by a pack of shrieking hyenas. But it's cool. It's not like I carry the esteem-scarring event with me to this day. I'm totally over it. So the moral of this blog is. Conform. Fit it. Do what they tell you to and nobody's dog will ever need to be dressed up as Princess Leia Sex Slave. Wait. Do you think Leia had to fuck Jabba the Hut? Honestly, vile gross-out factor and sheer physical impossibility aside I would have found it very hard to cradle Jabba's blubbery genitals and give them a proper Princess polish. Certainly not with that little screeching dude perched on Jabba's shoulder and watching me. Anyway, enjoy the Jabba's cock in your mouth imagery. Kids: Eat your vegetables and never be different. Stay with the herd. But really, those were some fucking dork-ass, turd- sniffer sunglasses. Stupid 1980's!

Lastly; Why do I share these things with you and not with my therapist?

The Brown Hole of Comedy

Friends:

Sometimes all you can do is point at a Comedy Juggernaut and cry quivering tears of joy.

If you don't read it and like it then I hate you.

http://ifuckedanncoulterintheasshard.blogspot.com/

My thanks go to Liquid G for sharing this precious piece of political comedy.

Next Saturday

Rich baby! Next Saturday. That's right suckers. How? Who cares?! She's wearing a bikini and using her laptop while on the beach. I bet you want to be her or fuck her or perhaps both!

Plus, these four superstars certainly need no introduction.



This was the magazine I discovered for The Learning Annex. They offer classes in everything from 'How to Create, Write and Pitch a Reality Show in 48 Hours' to 'An Evening with Chaka Khan.'

My reality show would explore these masterful instructors sharing their wisdom with their deluded students. Anyway, since I'm going to be rich, I won't be associating with the likes of you anymore.

(If you could see my face here you would see that I am scoffing haughtily)

Here are some of my other favorite classes offered at Learning Annex. 3 are made up. See if you can guess which are bogus. C'mon it'll be fun and it's tax deductible*.

1) Stop Choosing Mr. Or Ms. Wrong (Handwriting Analysis for Love)

2) How to Snare a Millionaire

3) Gain A Photographic Memory in 1 Night

4) Learn to Speak Any Language in Just 3 Hours!

5) Become an Unstoppable Woman! How to Achieve Any Goal in 30 days or less.

6) Work with Your Angels to Realize Your Dreams, Potential and Highest Life Purpose.

7) How to Grow Hair in 12 Weeks (Stimulate new hair growth without drugs or surgery.)

8) How to Start a Private Investigation Business

9) How to Exploit the Unrealistic Desires of Others for Profit

10) Know Your Naked Body (Turn bedroom Moments into Minutes)

11) Writers: Create Unforgettable Characters

12) Smell Your Way to Success (How do phermones affect your finances?)

13) How to Make $$ in the Adult-Entertainment Business Online.

14) Cardio Striptease

Something some other guy wrote about the Learning Annex. I know where he lives if you wish to throw your underpants at him.

http://www.vgg.com/et/et_011001_learnannex.html

* How the hell would that work? You are a dumb-ass!

Note: The term "dumb-ass" refers to other people reading this, not you... Idiot.

Sucky Day

So, it was just a crappy day for everybody on Saturday. It was as if the world or at least the world around me woke up in a bad mood. I got into an argument with my keeper over whether or not I was in a bad mood. I explained that the notion that I was in less than high spirits was "utter fucking bullshit" and the keeper in question said how much it sucked that I was being so negative. The spirit of Flower Power and the 60s was not wafting in the air. I always feel guilty when I'm in a bad mood when it's a gorgeous day outside. It's like disrespecting Mother Nature. Also I am going to start abbreviating Mother Nature to "Momma Nat" or "Ma Natty." You are welcome to join me in this groundbreaking leap forward for slang or just sit on the sidelines and cheer me on.

So it's later that night and we have just had the absolute worst waiter ever. We are headed back to out friends apartment in Los Feliz. Let me go on a tangent for a moment because I know that Feliz Navidad means Happy Christmas. Does that mean the name of Los Feliz translates to "The Happy"?

End of tangent.

So after dinner we walk across the street towards 7-Eleven, which by the way, is the worst name for a chain of stores that is in fact open 24 hours a day. We are headed to 7-Eleven so our friend Janey could get some drops for her eyes, which were not in any way related to the large quantity of psycho-medicinal marijuana that this person had inhaled earlier in the evening.

We are about to walk into the intense and potent fluorescent lighting of the convenience store when some young Asian chick speeds up and walks in in front of us. She was definitely in her mid 20s but it was clear that she was in the middle of a really bad decade. She looked glazed over and strungout-ish, but what was most noticeable was that her blue jeans were hung rather low. Not fashionably low, like around the bottom of her waist. They were actually drooped down around her thighs and were it not for her ratty pink thong... you get the idea. She was 20 with the red and waffly ass of a sedentary sixty-year- old. She wandered in and we blinked in disbelief and stunned embarrassment for her. Somebody had to be startled because she had no problem wandering over to the fridge and pulling out a tallboy can of beer. I wish I had seen what brand it was so I could know what beer is the brand of choice among L.A. Asian Druggie Whores.

On our way out she again cut in front of us and made her way out the door already well into her beer. It was as if she was a walking billboard for grungy thongs. We watched as she got into the front seat of a long, stretch Limo complete with purple interior lights. Klassy. Leashed to the passenger seat was aan enormous and very chill-ed out dog. It looked like a sled dog. The dog met my gaze and bared his lipstick.

And then Penny made the following brilliant comment. "I feel quite certain that she's already fucked that dog." All I could think to respond was something about Penny's ability to always find life's silver lining.

Baby Steps

Okay.

I have decided to attempt to refocus my energy on the Khronicles. Why the ill-fated comeback attempt you ask? It's because somebody took the time to come up with and call me by the pet name of "Krankelope." Which would be a close second to Krankiluphogus. I was also fond of Krankisaurus, and the endearing "Fuckknuckle." Although Krankisaures does sound like Kranki-sores, which makes me sound like I am an S.T.D.. Now while it is true that I am somewhat contagious and can certainly be irritating at times, I am not a sexually transmitted disease. I just wanted to go on record with that statement.

I have been in my top secret world of working as a _______ er, and it has been ruthlessly sucking the energy from my body and the funny marrow from my bones. It's been terribly difficult for me to switch between my PG job mindset and my NC-17 blogger mentality. You see, while some people are skilled at multi-tasking and can get many things done at the same time, I struggle with single-tasking. I occasionally find it difficult to drink soda and watch a movie at the same time. Yes, I am exaggerating, but not by much. I truly marvel at how my wife, Penny, and others can design a detailed blueprint, eat dinner, follow the plot to a complex movie and polish her toenails simultaneously. If I simply sip my Cherry Coke for too long I am likely to have no idea why that one guy in the movie just stabbed that other dude. It is a sad state of affairs, but it is my reality and I accept my handicap. Perhaps somebody wants to start a charity to raise money for the Multi-Task Impaired. I can picture Susan Sarandon doing some type of telethon and dragging me on to demonstrate how woefully inept I am at... (insert any ing verbs in the blank spaces) _________ and _________ at the same time.

Please send your suggestions for the verbs or verb phrases to me so that we can all titter at how funny you are... In a gay Mad-Libs sort of way.

A portion of all comedy proceeds will be donated to the M-T I foundation and to help my flacid and homeless ego.

Some suggestions just to help prime your pump*.

running, sleeping, belching, typing, humming, walking, chewing, swallowing, fucking, blinking, sunbathing, showering, thinking, talking, driving, urinating, sewing, butchering, insulting, governing, existing, throwing, cooking, monkey wrestling, berating, spelunking, vomiting, masturbating, uni-cycling, snorkeling etc...

* Yes, your suspicions are correct. The phrase "prime your pump" does strongly suggest that I am flirting with you.

I can't even think of a title for my blogs anymore

I find it as sweet and surprising as a hot fudge enema that there are still people coming to my blog to check for updates. I would have thought that my audience had completely dried up when my posts decreased in frequency from a few a day to a few this month. Also the comedy quality control person here at the Khronicles has obviously been fired as the humor level has actually flip-flopped into the negative so deeply that anything you read immediately following this blog will be made all the more entertaining and witty by comparison. I suppose that when I am once again financially destitute the comedy might return.

Why am I so spent. What the hell is happening to me? Where is the jaded, little mirth-maker who once inhabited my skin?

I feel like coming to this blog should qualify as an act of charity. What could be better than a blog that's both devoid of the funny and updated infrequently?

Blah , blah, blah, me, me, blah, blah...

My friend J is in Amsterdam at the moment. I wish I could claim that psychedelic mushrooms and a THC coma were impairing my ability to write anything remotely humorous but I don't even have that to fall back on. Without the drugs we aren't even human. Taking drugs in the only thing that separates man from the animals. Unless you're that person who likes to get their dog stoned. Loser.

I Pledge incompetence

I can't tell you too much about my new job without giving away vital secrets that could jeopardize our national security. But somebody told me "If you stop blogging then the terrorists have already won." I may not be the biggest chest-pounding flag waver, but I still love specific parts of The United States of America. We have good movies and good pie.

I had this dream last night where Penny and I had this friend with two strange and skinny dogs. Then (what seemed like) moments later, I was carrying a black frog down the street followed by "neighborhood kids" and the frog proceeded to pee all over me. Thankfully when I awoke I hadn't wet the bed. I wish Freud were still around to tell me what it all means. But at least I have you. You wanna spoon? It seems that whenever I have "the thing" before bed I have very bee-Czar dreams.

What is the last dream you remember. Extra points for random and clearly made-up celebrity sex scenarios tacked onto the end.

The Boud Has Left the Building

I just put the Boud Boy on a plane after a few fun-filled days of hosting him in sunny LA. I know that I did a fair job of it because he was rather reluctant to leave. I had to pull him kicking and screaming from the car. We saw a good number of freaks on Melrose and at Venice Beach. I have never posed for so many pictures in my life. I am a cartoon-character-lookin' rubber-faced, camera whore. Now that I've been spoiled by having my own personal photographer I fear that tongue-kissing my dog will be less exciting without the creepy exhibitionist appeal. I can still taste the memories.



Here we see Mr. Dan Boud bravely stepping into another world.



On Hollywood Boulevard at 1 AM it's quite normal to see a man wearing a head-to-toe, red, sequined outfit, complete with sparkly cape pushing a baby carriage.



I got Mad Skillz. I can kick it from the A to the R to the T-I-S-T

Word. Boud is now my stone-cold-solid Wigga on the Trigga.