Sweet Nothings

The nonexistents swim without swimming in the nothing. They move nowhere, but things that are move around and though the nonexistents have no fixed place, their lack of position, as constant as the North Star, is unadjusted accordingly.

Their unplaceable nature makes them the ultimate quantum uncertainty. They will be nowhere. They create an utterly permeable shell around everything. We are totally unprotected by nothing.

They would be invisible if there was anything to hide. You can see nothing behind them because they are not in front of anything; they aren’t beside, behind, atop or below. They leave a lot of room for other things.

Surely at least once a nonexistent came into existence. What does the universe expand into? Where was it before? Doesn’t the possibility of some nothing unnothinging, somethinging, charge the nothing with possibility? If that possibility had anything to attach to, it would certainly explode. Of course, nothing is certain.

I once knew nothing, now I grasp to understand it. I’ve believed in nonexistent things almost all my life. One day they will be all I have left. When I am nonexistent, the only possibility will be to exist again, for there no other possibilities. There will only be the possible and the impossible, and I am willing to bet on either. Otherwise I will be nonexistent and I shall swim without swimming in the nothing.

--Dan Kilian

--------------------------------------------- More Oblivion

--------------------------------------------- Going Nowhere

The Future of Cars

With the White House questioning their viability, Chrysler and GM have thirty and sixty days to roll out new plans to reverse their losses, or face bankruptcy. Now is the time for far-reaching, imaginative, desperate plans. What can we expect from these embattled car manufacturers?

New Leadership

In a nearly unprecedented imposition of Government control, GM’s CEO, Rick Wagoner has been asked to resign. Who will replace him? Surely it will have to be someone with an automobile sounding name, as Wagoner had. Bob Automan? Van Morrison? Otto McCarr? Vehicle Driverwagon? If anyone has those names, they should be in contention.

New Healthcare Plans

Heretofore unheard of compromises by the unions allow for greater flexibility in healthcare plans. Instead of spending $1,635 in healthcare costs for every car made, now for every car a worker’s life will be sacrificed, and his or her crucial organs will be sold to the highest bidder. The remaining body parts will be liquefied and used as lubricant.

New Models

Sleeker, more modern gas-mileage conscious automobiles shall be the order of the day. Chrysler has just leaked plans for its Chrysler 600, a one to two passenger vehicle with two wheels and no combustion engine. It comes with a basket and a bell, standard. GM is looking to collaborate with potential buyer Thom McAn on an experimental vehicle, though details are sketchy. Also in the works: virtual cars, imaginary cars, and a device that makes the “vroom” sound.

Stealing Cars From Toyota

Those union-free Japanese companies seem to doing less horribly. Perhaps we could steal all their cars. Ever see that movie Gone In Sixty Seconds? Horrible, wasn’t it? Why did Nicholas Cage start making nothing but horrible movies? Does it have something to do with the failure of the American auto industry?

A Return to the Days of Henry Ford

If you could build a time-machine and take it back to the dawn of the American automobile industry, such an invention would probably sell for a lot of money. If anyone has time-traveling technology they’ve been sitting on, now’s the time to break it out. You could make a time traveling car like in Back To The Future. People would buy that.

--Dan Kilian

---------------------------------------------- AIG

---------------------------------------------- Advice For Obama

Sunday 11:17 P.M.

Why does the writer need to drink? To slow his chattering mind enough so he can listen? So he could get past shyness and interact with enough people so he could know characters? To live a life of plot? Something like that. Whatever the reason, he was determined to be a great writer.

"Scotch on the rocks, and keep them coming."

The bartender smirked. He saw that. Observation! Screw you pal. Keep it up and I'll destroy you in a great portrayal of a superior bartender. I'll write you a comeuppance for the ages. Better yet, I'll ignore you, and consign you to oblivion.

Wow. Scotch is expensive, and nasty!

Beer. He was a novelist. Not short stories. He shot pool.

"That shot is illegal! You forfeit the game!"

The argument got very shouty. Conflict. Characters. Assholes.

"Assholes!"

"You've got to leave."

"I've got to leave?"

"Yes. Please leave. I don't care. You've got to go."

"I'm going to consign you to oblivion!"

He found a party. Had a great talk with a great old character who liked to drink. Found a woman. The pure heart or the femme fetale? She didn't seem to want to talk. He talked. He followed her around the room. They made him leave.

Another party! College boys! What would he learn about learning? He threw up into a funnel. He fled them, covered in puke, pelted with beer cans. Jeered at like Christ. What a story! What symbolism!

He would write about drunks in a bar.

He would write about the homeless. He would write about Larry, who got them the bottle.

He conquered his aversion to scotch.

He was a writer.

--Dan Kilian

Another Wasted Tale
Solitaire

Violent Dream

I'm sexually exposed at a party or the mansion that we're staying in. I take meager efforts to conceal it but I can't control myself.

Then a Hispanic man is on the roof, attempting to write a message with an orange (gold?) marker on the screen doors. I attempt to reason with him in English and Spanish while telling our people to call 911. There is already a police car on the ground.

I know he has an accomplice, a woman, down on the ground. My view follows down on the ground, looking for her. She is already locked up in the police car and I realize my mistake.

Up in the mansion the man has gotten in and done something bad to my girlfriend, though she won't say what. I start beating him mercilessly, without satisfaction, as he seems somehow impervious to death and pain. He ends up in a mini-fridge of bizarre proportions until the cops can clear things up. I pelt him with bottles and splash him with cold beverages so he'll be miserable.

His brother shows up, and soon members of his extended family. They are not all Hispanic. Even in the dream I'm aware of a racist element to this story. But I attack them all, even the little Irish looking red head kid. They're all a little too benign to keep attacking, so we (The party and many family members are onlookers to everything.) escort the lot of them to the end of the property.

I realize too late that this was the intention all along, that a hit on me has been set up by The Mob, that this family was a ruse to get me to the street. I jump into a mini-van full of our people and tell the driver to drive fast. Let's get the hell out of here.

--Dan Kilian
-------------------------------------------------------- Sandwich Dream
-------------------------------------------------------- More Violence

Top Trek: A Pan Fiction!

Kirk gazed in amazement at the rock being, its lumpy limbs smoking and glowing red hot as it gesticulated. He saw the disbelief in Lincoln and Surak’s faces. Kirk turned back to Spock who stared down at his tricorder.

What is it?

Just moments ago, it was simple rock. Now it is essentially the same. A being of living silica.

Greetings Captain Kirk, First Officer Spock. I see you have met your Earth President Lincoln and Surrack, the founder of modern Vulcan society.

But that’s impossible…

You are the best representations we could find in our sampling of what you would call ‘good’. Over here you see Genghis Khan, Zora of Tiburon, Kahless, father of the Klingon Empire, and Chef Stefan Richter. They are to represent what you would call “evil”.

But why?

My people are trying to conclude: Which, good or evil, is the better cook? Our first elimination is simple. Gather the meager ingredients that this barren planet has to offer, and prepare a four course meal for myself, Padma and our guest judges, Donatella Arpaia and Balok.

But we’re used to a computer that makes our food from pure energy. We know nothing of cooking!

It does not seem logical. And my records indicate that Chef Richter is a season five finalist from the Twenty-first century version of this show, before Bravo became a federation in its own right. It hardly seems fair.

You have twelve hours. And there is no Whole Foods on this Planet.

Captain Kirk, Spock, I don’t understand this any better than you. I was enjoying a perfectly good play, and now I’m here. But if this is how the game goes, I’m willing to lend my slender culinary skills to the cause. I can cut wood, start a fire, and I reckon I still remember how to skin a possum!

And I Surack, can prepare some of these bamboo tubers.

All right, we’ll play their game. Spock, break that tricorder open. I’m going to need its parts. I’ll harvest some coal from the mountain rocks and try to sleep with that rock thing’s exotic female co-host.

That night, Kirk and Kahless stood before the judge’s table. Zora was already celebrating her win, for Surak Stew, served Jamaican style.

Kahless, how did you feel your gagh worked as a dish?

I wanted to show you my version of Klingon cuisine. I thought it good.

Did you taste it?

No, there was no time.

It was under-seasoned.

It was bland!

Kirk, was it your idea to serve broken pieces of a tricorder as the second course?

I take full responsibility for the decision, and I stand by it.

It was inedible. If I were in a restaurant I’d send it back. I can't believe you're defending that dish!

I’m sorry you didn’t like it. I didn’t want to play it safe.

I appreciate that, but there’s bold and there’s bad food. However, the ghag was traditional Klingon food. Kahless, this should have been your comfort zone. If you can’t prepare serpent worms, there’s no way you could be Top Chef. Kahless, pack your D'k tahg and go home.

Hours later Kirk and Spock reminisced about their adventure with McCoy on the bridge of the Enterprise. McCoy arched his eyebrow.

So do you really think evil makes better food?

It seems the logical conclusion. Cooking involves a degree of cruelty to sentient and non-sentient life forms, and the Restaurant industry is inherently vicious.

You ever wait tables Spock? Or work in a kitchen?

No, but I can surmise that it would suck.

As laughter filled the bridge, amused flute music played.

--Dan Kilian

 Sci-fi Convention

Lincoln

Taking Down The Taj

“Resort’s on Strike. Take it to the Taj.”
A desert paradise and it’s no mirage
Such a beautiful sight. Those white and gold domes
Dingdingding and I’m feeling like home.

Taking down the Taj ten at a time
Doubling down got our money on the line
Getting up and falling behind
Taking down the Taj ten at a time

Taking hits on sixteen. Splitting sevens.
Got to make a killing. Got to break even
Got to dig my way out, get out of this hole
Hit the ATM for a little bit more

Taking down the Taj ten at a time
Doubling down got our money on the line
Getting up and falling behind
Taking down the Taj ten at a time

At the Super 8 where the boys are men
Gonna lose my virginity again
Smoking and drinking, breaking into vaults
Then it’s back to the Taj, give ‘em all we’ve got

Taking down the Taj ten at a time
Doubling down got our money on the line
Getting up and falling behind
Taking down the Taj ten at a time

--Dan Kilian

-------------------------------------------- Poor Robert Frost

-------------------------------------------- Solitaire

Pupa

He would get butterflies in his stomach before every show. The butterflies wove endless silk handkerchiefs, which he pulled out of his mouth in succession. Everyone thought he was a magician. He was too ashamed to tell anyone of his strange biology.

He tried to learn tricks, but his sleight of hand wasn’t sleight enough, so he kept on pulling handkerchiefs (and the odd stocking) out of his mouth. The crowds soon lost interest in his limited act.

One day, only loose threads of a very sticky consistency came out of his mouth. He would grab handfuls of the stuff, and wipe them on his shirt, hoping something more coherent would issue next. Only the loose fibers. Soon he was covered in the stuff, a pillar of fine threads, which hardened into a thick gold-green luminescent shell.

He stood there for days. Other acts would play around him. Some would drape their cables and props on the lumpy being. Sometimes rustling sounds would issue from inside, but never any words.

People assumed he was attempting some extreme feat of magical escapism and endurance, and let him be.

Finally, the club owners could take no more. They took a crowbar to the shell, and cracked it open. Inside, they found no sign of the “magician,” only a pile of caterpillars. 

--Dan Kilian

Ventriloquist

Magic Related Nonsense

Necrophiliac Jokes

What's "third base" to a necrophiliac? The same thing it usually is, only with a dead person.

What do necrophiliacs call morticians? Pimps.

What does a Necrophiliac call a dentist? A future lover.

Why dentists? Dentists die too.

How do you avoid being molested by a necrophiliac? Don't die. That's the only way.

What's a necro's idea of a romantic date? Digging up a corpse and having sex with it.

What do you call it when your husband makes bad coffee and digs up dead bodies to have sex with them? Grounds for divorce.

A pedophile walks into a bar and orders three drinks "One for my brother in Ireland, one for my brother in L.A. and one for me." It's a regular tradition the regulars grow accustomed to. One day he comes in and only orders two beers. The bartender grows somber and says, "I'm sorry for your loss." "What are you talking about? I've just given up drinking!" All the while he harbors a pathological compulsion to have sex with dead people.

What does the necrophiliac consider disgusting sexual behavior? Certainly his own behavior is abhorrent to himself, but he just can't stop he just can't stop it's like he's watching himself in a nightmare as he climbs onto yet another dead body which he said he would never do again, just like he said all the other times but he just can't stop he just can't stop.

What's a necrophiliac's safety word? "I'm alive."

Isn't that two words? You will be sexually abused by a necrophiliac after you die.

--Dan Kilian

--------------------------------------------- Michael Steele Jokes
--------------------------------------------- Garfield Minus Garfield

Paul is Death

Many Beatles fans and everyday Americans alike were comforted by ex-Beatle Sir Paul McCartney's words of comfort after the Twin Towers fell on September 11, 2001. "Yeah, I was here," said Sir Paul on live television, from the back of his limousine. Indeed, he was. But did anyone question why Paul, a Beatle, was in New York City at the time of the attack?

And why is that two Beatles have been attacked by assassins? And why has Sir Paul never adequately explained the rumors that he had died and been replaced? Certainly the conspiracy theories of drug addled hippies no longer hold merit, but their misjudgment may hide deeper truths. If the Beatle had been replaced, perhaps as a "Manchurian Candidate," surely such extreme measures would suggest something far more sinister than covering up a death in a pop band. Perhaps the 9-11 plot was over thirty years in the making.

What Charles Manson (A bearded madman, just like Osama. Is there a pattern of patsies?) misunderstood is all there in The Beatles (AKA The White Album) an album which imitated its target in its minimal doubleness. Helter Skelter indeed.

What is it Heather Mills isn't telling the public? How could Paul have written a song as musically complex as "Freedom" in such a small window of time? And while you're asking yourself big questions, ask yourself, who stands to gain the most from an attack that brings us to the brink of a war of civilizations? Surely it isn't Islam, which has been tarred, however wrongly, as fostering extremism and backwardness.

When the second largest religion in the world takes a hit, the long term beneficiaries are the proponents of smaller cults, cults such as The Beatles’ Transcendental Meditation, as put forth by the mysterious and sinister Maharishi Mahesh Yogi, who to this day is the puppet-master pulling the strings behind the Beatles, the most evil men alive.

Yes, it is The Beatles and the Maharishi who planned and executed the greatest attack on American soil, perhaps using their powers of levitation, perhaps just using their almost unlimited access (Who makes better sleeper agents than the world's most famous pop stars?) to bring about this great calamity, to bring about their Revolution #9-11.

Spread the word, before they come to silence me.

Yours in truth,

Pete Best

sent to Dan Kilian

-------------------------------------------- Beatles Rock Band Game
-------------------------------------------- Beatles Trivia (Easy)

Sunday 11:29 P.M.

They thought it was ecstasy, but it was mostly meth. Instead of writhing on a dance floor, they ended up kneeling in a dimly lit unfinished basement, with a weathered ottoman between them. Sticking out of one of the cracks in the leather was a wad of forty-eight dollars. Next to that was a revolver.

Corey picked it up first.

Pete was surprised that his jaws could clench any tighter. When the hammer clicked, he thought it was a shot. He felt a pain in his gut and he waited for Corey to collapse.

Corey didn't collapse; he handed over the gun. Pete knew he had to match his friend's bravery, for the sake of everything. He took the gun, held it to his head, and froze time.

When it started again he was soaked in sweat. The gun felt slippery in his hand. He squeezed the trimmer. It clicked.

Again he thought it was a gunshot, figured his thoughts were the sloppy hangover of a life already ended. When it continued, he realized his mistake, and put the gun down on the ottoman.

Corey picked it up and put it to his head and pulled the trigger. Click.

This time Pete knew it was a click. He was getting used to the sound. He did a mental calculation. Then he came to a realization. If it was going to happen it was going to happen. He took the gun from Corey and put it to his head. When it didn't fire again, he handed the gun back to Corey.

It took exactly twenty times for them to realize the gun was unloaded. This took the pressure off considerably. The passed another five minutes firing the empty chambers at their heads, then they got the hell out of there.

They quit that dealer and resolved never to play Russian Roulette again. One time when they were drunk they broke that resolution, and ended up in a knife-fight. Pete got cut, but not too bad, and after that they never did it again.

--Dan Kilian

Another Basement
Mummy Dummy

Dan’s Almost Daily Musings

These cute little attempts at George Carlinism first appeared on the great FreeWilliamsburg.com.

I’ll sue you.

Issues? I’ve got the whole subscription.

Never procrastinate finishing a

Familiarity breeds.

Butter is fat that has learned to dance.

Too tired to sleep. Too wired to wake up.

Don’t put off till tomorrow what you can put off forever.

Don’t second-guess yourself. Unless maybe you should.

Adequate is inadequate.

Our greatest vice is advice.

Sure, everybody’s got big plans, until they learn they can have orgasms.

Punk Rock is for Hippies.

Since they use sex to sell everything, the only pure thing is porn.

Television and toilets. Screw the past.

Mp3 is the MTV of the Y2K’s.

Remember, you aren’t worthless. You just aren’t very worthwhile.

Life IS fair. Everybody dies.

Quit blaming everybody else. Find just one person to blame.

Tuesdays are the February of the week.

Clone the mammoth!

Put the cocaine back in coke!

Refinement is confinement.

We are on the cusp of a bold new age, which will view us as savages. Thanks a lot, future.

Stick up for yourself; sometimes you won’t be crushed.

Pigs must dig for the truffles.

Rats will reveal themselves.

Microsoft controls our grammar and spelling.

All actions are distractions.

A smart dumb guy beats a dumb smart guy every time.

If God had wanted us to fly he would have given us big brains to figure things out.

@? Why abbreviate at?

At some point, you’ve got to take down the Christmas lights.

“April is the cruelest month,” but boy does February suck too.

Your wings don’t make you an angel when you’re really a crow.

Death makes Noel Coward of us all.

Alligator wrestling is mostly fake, but that one lucky bite makes the whole industry worth it.

Why not designer circumcisions?

Legalize gay marriage, or there will be a great temptation for gays to engage in premarital sex.

Diner waitress to Attila: “Here’s your coffee, Hun.”

To be honest, there are quite a few similarities between apples and oranges.

If you ever really “busted a gut” laughing, you’d probably stop laughing and start screaming and crying and have to go to the hospital or something.

They say a billion monkeys typing forever will come up with the complete works of Shakespeare. That’s exactly what happened.

No one wants to walk in your moccasins, little Indian.

It’s hard being a reform snake handler.

Don’t weep for movie stars.

Hands are pretty cool, until you realize they look like crabs.

What’s a one-legged Scotsman’s favorite game? Hopscotch.

Retro is done.

--Dan Kilian
------------------------------------------------ Masturbation
------------------------------------------------ Charlotte Rampling

Apocrypha 2: Joseph in the North

Joseph (father of Jesus) sort of gets a raw deal. He’s cosmically cuckolded and then not much happens with him – you’d think that at least he’d be able to hang around. Such is the life of a surrogate.

UNLESS:

There are the unwritten Adventures of Joseph. He’s got no special powers and not much more equipment than a hammer and a chisel. But no doubt he’s got to fend off hordes of demons who are after the Baby: a bundle of clothes magicked to appear Christ-like to those who would seek Him out to destroy Him. Thus Joseph of Nazareth is a decoy, wandering the continents and crossing paths with historical leaders of the time, all the while staying one step ahead of the demons who hunt his son...

A whaling kayak off the western arm of the Ukluk Principality pulls a hypothermic and dehydrated Joseph of Nazareth from the Arctic Sea. The whale he’s been riding lolls in bloody froth a few yards away, and the Ukluka men have already started the work of breaking down the huge animal. Judging from his clothing, there is talk that he might be from the Takata empire in the west, although his skin color and eyes are not of those people.

The commander of the whaling team leaves two boats behind to haul in the harvest. He personally takes the half-drowned Joseph to his prince. The court healers soon have him revived and in dry furs. He sips oily tea in the receiving chamber. Soon the massive bulk of Ukluk the Magnificent enters the room.

Joseph of Nazareth: Greetings, proud leader.

Ukluk: Faar naktuk, pluur gagaal!

Joseph of Nazareth: Come again?

Ukluk: Ha ha ha ha ha!

Ukluk beckons to his servants, who bring forth a leather bag of fermented narwhal milk. All drink deeply of the foul concoction.

Joseph of Nazareth : Disgusting!

A seal starts barking. Ukluk and his retinue are suddenly sober, and unsheathe ivory blades. Outside the leather tent the ice begins to crack. Two serrated tusks burst through the ice, and an ice water demon claws its way forth. Its face is a cluster of pus-dripping eyes with a lamprey-mouth surrounded by sucker-laden tentacles. A brace of praying-mantis claws lines its belly, rippling as it clatters across the frozen glacier shield.

Joseph of Nazareth grabs for his satchel. Two of Ukluk’s guards hurl spears at the demon. The spears clatter off of the demon’s carapace. The demon impales a guard with one of its fore-claws and drags him under it, where the smaller claws shear and slice him to ribbons in a flurry of bloodletting. Two more guards run forward and are similarly slain. Ukluk brandishes a huge two-handed tusk-sword, inlaid with meteoric iron and jade from the western trade flotilla. He rushes forward, certainly toward death.

Joseph of Nazareth steps onto a hillock of ice and levels Ixlatchl at the demon. The alien artifact hums with power and a green bolt of energy lashes out from the rod, tearing steaming furrows in the ice before it locks on to the demon. The demon rears back, screeching in insectile agony, limbs furiously scratching at the air. A stench like burning hair billows from the demon as it is incinerated. Its carapace blisters and then explodes with steam pressure from within. Shrimp-like organs shower down on the snow.

Jesus of Nazareth (sighing): I’m getting too old for this sh__.

--Steve Kilian

The Polar Turtle

The Dawn of Language

AIG of Unreason

I join the outrage, umbrage and outbrageum regarding the AIG bonuses. I had no idea that under-qualified people were making a killing in the world of high finance. I never knew that there was monetary unfairness in the American system. I also wasn’t aware that the bailout was going to reward bad players for the greater good of the economy.

Now I will shed the outgrabe, mome wrath and borogronaïveté to make a serious point. Yes, these bonuses are unwarranted, though they always were, and yes, it’s nice to see someone besides people on welfare (well, poor man’s welfare that is.) being sh__ on for taking what’s been allotted them. But if you unwittingly* screwed up a big deal thing at your job, and your bosses said “What a horrible thing. We want to give you four million dollars.” Would you point out the illogic of their plan, or would you run to the bank to deposit your check? It’s a trick question: you’d probably have direct deposit.

I’m fine with using whatever truly legal means there are to get the money back, but if this loophole in bonus restrictions was put in to stop lawsuits, you can kiss that dream goodbye. If you got a four million bonus and then it the government took it away, but your lawyer said you could get the four mil back if you sued, would you go on about the perils of our increasingly litigious society? Also, forget about personal shame. You could pay a dishwasher four million dollars and he’d still be bitching about how he’s underpaid, though he might stop eating leftover food off the plates.

So what is the answer? This 90% tax thing probably isn’t the end of this, so why not be more the willow that bends, instead of the cracking oak? I say we pay the million dollar bonuses. In food stamps.

There’s an excellent Frederick Pohl story “The Midas Plague” in which so much is being produced that to sustain the economy the poor are forced to consume all the time, while the rich can work at the jobs they like. I think about that all the time these days. This would be near the fate of these super-food-stamped AIG executives. They’d be cursed to roam from store to store, purchasing more food than they could ever eat, just to make use of their millions. They’d have to throw block party after block party, just to get rid of all their food. They’d wander like Cain spreading food in their wake. It would be both undeserved reward and punishment in one, and stimulative to boot. Eventually they’d collapse from consumption, fattened with free food, too exhausted to buy more.

Then we’d close in on them and devour them. Our outrage would finally be sated.

--Dan Kilian

*Was it unwitting? Some say no, but it seems like this whole complicated thing just “got away” from the money guys. Now who’s borogronaïve? By the way I’m trying to do something with Lewis Carroll’s “Jabberwocky” there. Doesn’t quite work, does it? I have no editor!

------------------------------------------ Trillions in Debt

------------------------------------------ Fixing The Banks

What The Ks Sort Of Look Like

The Ghost of Nixon and Obama: A Dialogue

You called?

No…ah…well…yes, but I was expecting…Lincoln…or…ah…Roosevelt?

You wanted Lincoln? What, have you started a civil war?

No…but, the um…red states and blue states…ah…

Save that claptrap for the campaign. The Republican Party’s committing Hari Kari right now and you know it. The only chance they have is if you can’t turn a recession around in three and a half years. Lincoln. What are you, going to emancipate someone? You going to emancipate the gays?

Um…no.

Smart. You’re more like me than you think. You’re not in a civil war; you’re in a period of generational demographic change. I had hippies, you’ve got Mexicans.

Well, I could…um…use...ah…FDR right now.

What, you think this is a Great Depression? No you don’t. You’re just milking it to seize power. Power of the Presidency.

Oh I think we’ve had…enough of the…imperial…ah…

Can’t you form a Goddamn sentence without rewrite and a teleprompter? I just want to shake you! Spit it out for Christ’s sake!

I think we’ve had enough of unlimited executive power.

Sure you do. So what you’ve got to do, while you’re wresting all this power away from yourself, is win these wars and get the economy back on track.

Well, “win the wars” isn’t really the…ah…phrasing…

Don’t be the first President to lose a Goddamn war! Now that’s infamy!

I really think you may have cured us of that.

What, Vietnam? That was Johnson’s war. I inherited it. Wait ‘til you’re in your second term and those gooks are still blowing up our boys.

And what about the war of 1812? Didn’t the British…ah…burn down the capital?

You know, I never thought of that. Okay, I’ll let you be a big boy and get us out of Persia faster than I got us out of the Nam. I notice you’re now secretly bombing Pakistan. Shades of Cambodia. But let’s focus on the economy.

Yes, um…is FDR by any chance…ah…

Screw that overblown cripple! Here’s what you do: Wage and Price controls.

Wow. I know I read about that once, but I really don’t think...

Wage and Price controls! It’s the only answer!

I really don’t think…

You’re trying to stop those bonuses at AIG right?

Well…

Wage and Price controls! If I’d stuck to my guns in ’71 I’d be on Rushmore. Hey kid!

Me?

You’ve got to stop them putting “-gate” on every Goddamn scandal. It doesn’t even make sense. It was a Goddamned hotel. A damned part of a name of a hotel. It’s not even applicable.

I don’t know what I…

You don’t call every Washington sex farce an “-insky,” do you? Don’t you bastards remember The Teapot Dome scandal? Why can’t they be domes? Why gates? Make ‘em Goddamn domes, for Christ’s sake!

Are…you…ah…crying?

Oh Christ. Dickie! Dickie! Dickie! You don’t take a dump in the living room!

Um…ah...is Van Buren around anywhere?

You just wait, kid. There’s a generational change going on. I was a progressive! Wait ‘til the Goddamn Mexican Hippies come for you!

--Dan Kilian

------------------------------------------------ Advice For Obama

------------------------------------------------ Talkin' To Nessie

What a Tucker

Here's Tucker Carlson arguing that Jon Stewart has become a pompous, unfunny blowhard.

I think ol' Tucker might have an axe. Don't know why.

He's not without a point, but his endgame is faulty: Stewart's still pretty good at his game and Tucker's still a shallow hack. There is a worry JS will become the thing he mocks, but he's very aware of it, and he really seemed troubled by cheers during the election. S'it's still funny and when he goes serious like he did with Cramer, it's pretty damned riveting. In fact he's funny because there's something there behind it; it's not just snark, as David Denby wrote in Snark, his book on the subject. And Tucker's analysis is less intriguing because there doesn't seem to be much behind it.

And while there may not be a direct line between Cramer's nasty stock manipulations and the fact that he allows himself to be an admitted conduit for CEO's misinformation (stock manipulation) I think Stewart's view is that shows like Crossfire and Mad Money are just echo chambers for oversimplification, when they should be news shows that reflect the complexity of reality. There WAS knowledge of a housing bubble. Paul Krugman was talking about it all the time. It's just not as sexy as saying Buy Buy BUY! Stewart thinks news shows have an obligation to the public, not just the bottom line.

Stewart's right, and Tucker's a douche.

--Dan Kilian

----------------------------------------------- Metaphor For Iraq

----------------------------------------------- Economics and Pop Songs

Three Thoughts On St. Pat

So St. Patrick is leaning up against a wall, snapping his fingers. Bradley O’Shea walks by, and notices the snapping.

“Well top o’ th’ morning to ye St. Patrick! Tell me, what are ye doin’?”

“I’m keepin’ the snakes out o’ Ireland, I am!”

“But St. Patrick, there are no snakes in Ireland!”

“Ye see? It’s workin’!”

***

It seems ironic that we celebrate the man who strove to end paganism on the Emerald Isle with countless representations of leprechauns. I mean those guys are at least in league with Pan, if not Satan himself.

***

As a person of Polish/Irish heritage, I am legally allowed, nay obligated to post this joke as a celebration of the complete assimilation of our peoples into the mainstream. Note: It's okay to make fun of Italians for being foolish and enjoying pasta, but implying they're all gangsters is not cool. Black people just broke the ceiling, so most jokes are uncool, but one day we'll all be oafs and buffoons together, and mock each other mercilessly.

Why did the Pollack and the Irishman get in a fight? They were drunk and stupid.

--Dan Kilian (It's Polish!)

------------------------------------------- Letter From The Pope

------------------------------------------- Michael Steele Jokes

One Step Forward, Two Steps Banks

Whether or not you believe in the stimulus plan, the new budget, all of Obama’s ambitious plans, one thing is fundamental: If Obama cannot solve the banking problem, he’s dead in the water on anything else. Treasury Secretary Tim Geithner has been struggling ever since presenting a vague outline of a plan for fixing the banking system, an outline that sent Wall Street stampeding for the exits. He and President Obama need to step up to the plate and flesh out the plan, or there will be no continuing confidence.

Now, I’m no economist, but I’ve been following this story, and I think I’ve outlined a possible plan to fix the national banks. Try to follow; this is important. I’m going to be using a lot of technical terms, but if you stay with the broad concept it’s just a number of common sense solutions applicable to the financial world. Here’s what we’ve got to do.

Take the bad money in the banks, and transform it into good money, through financial transactions in a system. Pay for the bad money, transfer the bad money, then replace the bad money with the good money. Use taxpayer funds to pay for the bad money, and when the bad money is transferred back, use that money to pay back the government.

Look at the banks, and determine which banks are solvent, then transform the assets of those that are not. Resolve the insolvent banks. Replace all bad assets with the new assets, taxing the interest to pay for the transference of the new assets. Asterisk the risk assessment, and accessorize the liability.

Buy the malignant mortgages from the insolvent banks, and benignate the most malign, while bundling them into transferred assets. Pay for the lost interest with taxed bundled interest on good money. Sell the bad mortgages through a transactional procedure. Carry the one. Insure the assets and transform all bad money.

Remove toxic assets and tax the interest, using that to buy the bad capital. As new capital flows in, merge the flow of money transference through market forces. Withhold the good assets, but tax the interest on the withholding. Insure the remaining assets with withholding assets. Assetize the insurance, and withhold the remainder. Once the flour has blended and the liquid is bubbling, add the rest of the withheld assets.

Once buyers are found for the transferred assets, capitalize the procedures so that refunding is paramount. Remake the money as capital assets, which you then transfer into usable assets. Maximize the good assets. Tax the transference to recapitalize the good money. Transfer the maximalization to capitalize the reformation of the asset transfer. Repeat if necessary.

Avoid full nationalization by using privatized nationalization. Nationalize the bad assets while refinancing the banks with privatized funds. Accrue new assets, which will be reprivatized through the nationalization of those assets.

That’s it in a nutshell. Of course, it’s a gross oversimplification of the countless procedures that need to be implemented in order to refinance the economic infrastructure. As a last resort, you could nationalize the privatization process itself, and pay for the whole kit and caboodle with the revenues from the capital exchange. There are reasons why you wouldn’t want to do that, but that’s a little too complicated to address right now. Another time.

--Dan Kilian

---------------------------------------------- Soup's (Not Dan's) Positions

---------------------------------------------- Economic Hope

Dialogue with the Loch Ness Monster

Nessie! I have found you at last!

Ahm a drrreaham! Ahm a blawdy Illuuussion!

No I see you!

People ‘ave been sayen’ me fer centurrries! Ahm nay real!

So you’re not really there?

Yerr Scrooge an’ ahm Jacob Mahrley! Ahm a gard damn dream!

So after all this time, all those deep-sea experiments, refashioned for the loch’s dark waters, I’ve still found nothing?

Nay wen’s evra found mae. Ahm nay facken’ there!

My life, wasted.

Nay! You’re nay even an explorer! Yer a facken’ receptionist! Yer naay where as close to being aen explorrrer or nay scientist! Ye’ve never even baen ayt of the country!

Yes, that’s all coming back to me. I think I’m waking up.

Ye'll nae find me!

What? What?

…

What?

--Dan Kilian
Kuo-toa
Mummy Dummy

Three variations on the same joke

So Barack Obama, in a new attempt at bipartisanship, decides to have lunch with Rush Limbaugh and Michael Steele. They go to the usual beltway restaurant.

“Well, I’m a red-blooded American,” says Limbaugh, “so I’m going to have a giant rare steak.”

“I’m a health-conscious liberal,” says Obama, “so I’m going to have the arugula salad.”

“I don’t know what to order,” says Steele. “What do total douche bags have for lunch?”

Note: It seems strange that a grown man doesn’t know what he likes for lunch.

So Obama and Rush and Michael Steele meet at a bar, for bipartisan symbolism. Obama orders the local microbrew. Rush asks for a Guinness Stout. Michael Steele, pauses, then asks, “What do total idiots like to drink?”

Notes: Quicker, though the call-and-response nature of the first version, which directly linked each order to its respective political stereotype, is lost. Bar is of course a good location.

Taking a new stab at bipartisanship, Obama invites Rush and Michael Steel to fly on Air Force One. Rush has a Guinness Stout, Obama has an Air Force One Microbrew, and Steele has an O’Doul’s.

Suddenly the pilot announces that the plane is going down, and the secret service passes out parachutes for each flyer. Obama gets his own “Presidential Parachute.” Rush, worrying about his great size, takes two parachutes, leaving Steele without.

“Can I have another O’Doul’s?” asks Steele. “I’m a big douche-bag idiot!”

Notes: While some of the key details from both previous jokes, as well as the new Air Force One detail, definitely give this one a sense of place, it’s again long, and some of the business is confusing. Having Steele drink a nonalcoholic beer, O’Doul’s, is a bit of a red herring. Having him drink a different brand might fix that, but what kind of drink would a stupid douche like Michael Steel order?

--Dan Kilian

Bobby Jindal
Obama Song

Who Watches The Watchmen? Matt Does.

I go way back with The Watchmen. I had first editions of each comic of the 12 volume series. Weekly circa 1986-7, I would ask my CBG (comic book guy, who was a near exact match for The Simpsons' CBG) "When does the next Watchmen get in?"

So, yeah, unlike the comic book hating douchebags at the New York Times and every other respectable publication that's a safe-haven for comic book hating douchebags, I really liked The Watchmen movie.

Why? Because it's just like the comic book (with a couple of exceptions, of course: no pirate story, no artists' colony, no giant squid). Nostalgia be damned, I liked it as much for its shortcomings as its faithful re-creation of the characters with whom I spent many, many afternoons in the comic book store.

So, yeah, the dialog is thin. (Which led me to believe that that's Alan Moore's main reason for "taking a stand" against films of his comic books. He knows that his dialog works well in comic books, but is clunky as fuck when spoken by actual people, even good actors like Patrick Wilson, let alone pasteboard like the chick and the weiner that plays Veidt.)

*

And, yeah, the characters lack depth--they're fucking comic book characters, costumed crime fighters--what the fuck do people expect...?

*

But it is so faithful to the comic book that it's a joy to watch. Which means it's cynical as hell. And violent. And kind of goofy as it's about cape-wearing superheroes. And there is a ton of glowing blue cock.

*

Veidt is creepier in the movie than in the book, even as he is acted in a manner that makes John Wayne look like Sean Penn in "I Am Sam" (however, the doll-hair he sported was a nice touch). And while Dr. Manhattan, Laurie, and The Owl all seem kind of plastic on screen (like Superman and cape-wearers ALWAYS do), Rorschach and The Comedian both come off as good as they did in the book. (And here's a subject for real discussion... the nature of maintaining one's ethics in a world where there are none makes for easily accessible characters on page and screen. Even as we abhor their violence, we are titillated and we respect their stand... why? Because holding on to one's ethics in a wildly unethical world is comical and befitting only of pure caricature.)

*

In the final analysis, I liked it because it was faithful to the comic book, which is basically the best comic book ever made (tied with Frank Miller's "Dark Night"). Yes, the Comedian shoots that pregnant Vietnamese woman (couple people left the theater: good--fuck 'em. Let them watch Spiderman 5). Yes, there is no giant squid, but the ending will surprise and please you. And, yes, lots and lots of glowing blue cock.

*

--Matt Casper

--------------------------------------------- My Obama

--------------------------------------------- 7 Song Review

Advice for Obama

Mr. Obama, as your presidency slogs through the second half of its first one-hundred days, the clattering chatterers are full of buyer’s remorse, second guessing, and analytic shock. I’ve been skimming the opinionatti’s utterances, and I’m going to distill the advice you may have overlooked in the chaos of governing. Here’s what you’ve got to do:

Focus on the economy.

Don’t worry about Health Care, Education or the Environment. While you’re at it, let’s forget about the wars overseas and those prisoners in Guantanamo. For that matter, let’s stop inspecting beef. All those problems will still be there after you’ve spent all your political capital. Just hole up in the White House and hold endless meetings on fixing the economy. So what if there’s no physical way to know which banks are solvent for at least another month? Just keep holding those meetings and giving speeches that send one message: This crisis has taken over your presidency. Nothing would inspire more confidence. It worked for Carter, it worked for McCain, it’ll work for you. Suspend the presidency.

Be more positive.

While you’re bunkered down in the White House, suspending your presidency because of the crisis, let people know everything is all right. When GM’s auditors said the company might go bankrupt, you should have been all “That’s all right! We’ve still got at least one more car manufacturer! Everything’s great!” When jobless claims topped 8% you should have been all “Who doesn’t love a long vacation? More time to shop! Things are looking up! It’s morning in America!” This kind of happy talk would buoy your credibility with the American people, and people would forget their problems and nothing bad would ever happen again. That would be a great speech in fact. The Obama “Nothing Bad Is Ever Going to Happen Again,” speech would be one for the history books.

Listen to Wall Street.

Rick Santelli, Charlie Gasparino and other disinterested Wall Street analysts know that stocks went down in 2009 as a result of Obama policies: plans to give judges leeway to renegotiate mortgages and higher taxes for the wealthy down the road. Never mind the bad news from…everywhere. Wall Street’s tanking because of you, Obama. Everyone knows that the only way to economic sure-footedness is to allow a lot of people to lose their homes. Also, we need the reassurance of having debt as far as the eye can see. Clearly you’ve been listening to these guys a little, because Wall Street seems to approve of your policies for the last three days, but if it tanks today or Monday, you’ve got to shift again.

Be the Obama of the Campaign.

We need solutions, and specifics, and fast. Also, they should be vacuous and uplifting. We want crazy promises, not an attempt to deliver on them. Why don’t you talk about how the government is doing a terrible job, and how you’ll be different? Don’t govern, win. We want “Change,” not change.

Double the stimulus, and tighten your belt.

There’s no way that stimulus bill was enough. If you compare it to the military spending that finally got us out of The Great Depression, adjusted for inflation, it’s no great shakes. However, those earmarks in the last budget have got to go.

Invade Poland.

Let’s face it, Germany and Russia got out of the Great Depression a lot faster than the U.S. We can’t do anything the commies did, which leaves the Nazis. Now most of what Hitler did was morally reprehensible, so we can’t emulate most of his domestic policies, but the U.S. has never had a big problem with going to war. Why do you think Bush opened a second front in the Middle East? Because it made strategic military sense? No, it was an attempt to recreate the economic miracle of 1940’s Germany. Now we’ve got a lot of American expats living in Danzig, and they’re being discriminated against, so let’s bring that port back to the homeland. At least you’ve got to assume there must be some Americans there, and if there are, they must be getting some kind of flak. I mean, we’re always starting wars and such, and Europeans hate that. So let’s invade!

There you have it Mr. President. Words to rule by. Remember, the American people think you’re doing a great job; we just want you to change everything.

--Dan Kilian

------------------------------------------------ The New Depression

------------------------------------------------ Economic Hope

The Tragic Tale of Ms Grise

The evening had been going splendidly. The new band had locked in and she was in fine form. The audience was great, all her friends were there and many from the other bands seemed caught up, appreciating her songs. Her big debut was a hit!

Occasionally, she did glimpse some familiar-looking faces that weren’t smiling. She continued to belt out the songs, but as the show progressed, she could see, dimly, behind the lights, amidst the flashing smiles, figures with grim-set masks of serious intent. She didn’t let them bother her. She was killing, and continued to tear it up.

Afterward, she mingled with well-wishers and celebrated. The forbidding figures had disappeared. Later, she stepped outside for some air. And gum. She walked two blocks to the nearest deli. On the way back she heard a tinny, rattling sound. As she approached the club, she saw two of the grim figures she’d noticed from her set. Yes, she knew them.

She turned back toward the deli, and heard that rattling sound again. She turned the corner, looking for a cab. It was suddenly time to go home. off duty. . . . off duty. . . .Damn it! The jingling rattle seemed to be coming from behind and in front of her. She saw a shadowy cluster of figures rounded the corner.

Risking the traffic, she cut across the street, but they were waiting for her there too. She was encircled. The rattling jangle became pandemonium as they all drew out their tambourines. The air shook like metallic rattlesnakes as her tormentors lifted the dread percussion tools. The crazy one with the glasses shouted, “ON THE ONE! THE ONE!”

It took a number of beats to knock her down. The tiny cymbals sliced her skin. She struck out blindly only to be beaten back down. Her screams were drowned out by the clamor. In a matter of measures, it was over.

--Dan Kilian

---------------------------------------------------- The Human Fly

---------------------------------------------------- Musical Equipment

Unpublished Interview of Dan Kilian by Todd E. Jones

As I clean out my hard drive, I found this interview. This guy Todd wanted to interview The Ks for his music blog. Sent me these questions and I wrote up wordy answers and sent them back, but I guess he'd lost interest by then. I think The Ks deserve the press, so here is the full Todd E. Jones interview.

TODD E. JONES: What goes on?

DANIEL KILIAN: Many good things. The Ks are all pretty stoked to have this new CD out. It still sounds good to me, the band's gotten really tight live, and we're ready to take over the world one block at a time. Reading a good book, Gilead, by Marilynne Robinson, listening to the new Spoon, and consuming lots of pop culture and food.

TODD E. JONES: Tell us about the debut The Ks album, ‘Can't Get It Together’.

DANIEL KILIAN: It's almost a greatest hits album for me. When we put the new version of the band together, the bandleader (who soon left the band—still writes some lovely horn arrangements for us) had a number of my songs in mind for both the full horn section version and the raw-Ks, and the songs ranged from new tunes to old, to really old. We recorded a song The Mosquito which I played back when I lived in Louisville Kentucky with this band The Uglies.

TODD E. JONES: Favorite song on the ‘Can't Get It Together’?

DANIEL KILIAN: The first one that comes to mind is 'The Man in Black.' It's a little clever, hopefully not obnoxiously so, in reducing Hamlet into so much teen angst. I think there's a good chorus and some key lines getting the Shakespeare reduced. There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,Than are dreamt of in your philosophy. becomes More going on than you could dream. It's not a proper substitute for seeing the play, of course. And it's a rocker; got to like the rockers.

I'm also fond of 'Dad's Gone to Baghdad' which deals with my Dad's death, and the nightmare we're in overseas. In my wild dreams it transforms the lies of the Bush administration into the dream of the afterlife for my Dad. Trying to be hopeful, not sarcastic. It might just come off as a light protest song, which I think my Dad would be okay with. Our sax-man Jon Laserbeams Mossberg put some nice harmonies on that and I think it ends the album on a nice gentle touch. Kind of a Her Majesty if this was our Abbey Road.

TODD E. JONES: How is this new album different than your last album?

DANIEL KILIAN: In almost every way. The last album 'Skunk' was recorded with a very different version of the band in California, by the great Billy Burke at loveless motel room. That band always teetered on the brink of misery, while there was a much happier vibe between the players this time around. We did this one in Gowanus, at Seizures Palace. The also great Jason LaFarge helmed this one. We did get Billy Burke to master it, and it would not be The Ks if Ray The Razor Beyda wasn't there on the guitar. Got to have Ray. Both albums are good, I think, and both were recorded live in the studio over a couple of days, with some overdubs. Songs are shorter on this one.

TODD E. JONES: How did you get involved with Flatware Productions? Is this your own label?

DANIEL KILIAN: It is our own 'label' for self release. I've been using 'Flatware Productions' as a name for publishing ever since I was in The Uglies. The first album we released back then was called 'Spoon' so Patrick Fitzgerald, our bass player then, dubbed our output 'Flatware Productions,' and I've stuck with it, mostly as a tribute to my buddy Pat, and I guess to stay consistent.

TODD E. JONES: One of my favorite songs on the album is ‘Good Man (Most The Time)’. What was the inspiration behind this track? What is it about?

DANIEL KILIAN: That's a real 'songwriting' song, almost country, if it wasn't poppy-soul. It's like a sonnet in the way the structure can really make it easy to write. Just a key phrase good man…most of the time and then I just need verses and a bridge. That one just spat out of me, easily, I seem to recall. I don't remember writing most of my songs. They all feel like covers after a few days. I guess I was thinking that I'm a pretty good boyfriend, though not always. I think it's something most men can relate to. A song of flawed commitment.

TODD E. JONES: How did you meet the members and eventually form The Ks?

DANIEL KILIAN: Well, I was working on a side project, Pleasure Mechanics, from the original Ks which included a horn section. The kids seemed to like it, so I was all Why are we doing this as a side project? The original idea was to take half of The Ks and half the Pleasure Mechanics, unknown-supergroup it and proceed, but we ended up having to replace just about everyone pretty quickly, mostly through craigslist.com. Ray was in the first band I was in New York, and we stayed friends until we brought him in as a substitute guitarist for The original Ks, and thank goodness he stayed.

TODD E. JONES: Who is the person in the wheelchair?

DANIEL KILIAN: It's a pretty ridiculous photo, really. The actual bass player on the record isn't there, and the guy on the left isn't even in the band. The guy in the wheelchair is the perfectly able-bodied Jon Laserbeams Mossberg, of the alto sax. None of these nick-names has really stuck too much. Early on, there were four different guys in the band named Dave, so it seemed important to have nick names, but I'm really the only one who uses them, with the exception of Soup, aka Dave Campbell, the drummer, heart and soul of the band. That's him in the center, his face obliterated by the CD holder. We're in our rehearsal space, grabbing whatever looked interesting and not working hard enough on our band photo.

TODD E. JONES: What is the creative process like? Do you make the music first or do you start out with a set theme or lyrics?

DANIEL KILIAN: Usually I've got a key phrase, and that's got a melody. I'm guessing the words make what melody I've got almost inevitable. I just grunt Dig dog, dig down dig down and I've got the phrase. Everything else is just songwriting problem solving after that. What chords go under that phrase? What kind of verse explains the meaning of it? That phrase isn't really a chorus, need to make it a line in a verse or the bridge, write a chorus. The first verse and chorus usually spit out pretty quick if the song's any good.

TODD E. JONES: The album includes many themes of addiction, alcoholism, and struggling through life. How true are these themes in you life compared to the way things are in the album?

DANIEL KILIAN: There's a lot of fiction in there. I was amazed at how many booze references there are. I think it might just be a songwriting conceit to explain the blues with liquor. A lot of embarrassing memories come from drunken moments, which can be 'inspiring.' I often turn one thing into another, so that it's autobiographical to me through my personal mythology, but not taken straight from the song. Not being organized turns into drunkenness. A metaphor might be the album cover: I make a picture of a guy who 'can't get it together,' so to convey that I make him passed out with a bottle, and then the guy making the album cover Photoshop's the bottle for some extra design on the back cover, and that's how the myth of my life of addiction spreads. That and all the drinking, of course.

TODD E. JONES: One of the best songs on the album, '13 Steps' deals with alcoholism. Do you still drink? How has alcohol influenced your music?

DANIEL KILIAN: Well, the song is about the 13th step: drinking again, at least so I thought. After I'd written the tune, my apartment mate at the time, Jeff Nichols (on whom the upcoming movie 'Trainwreck: My Life as an Idiot' is based) who'd actually been on the program told me the 13th step was getting laid. I almost had to scrap the tune, but I just rewrote the second verse.

I often thought I might end up one of those drunken artists, but I find I drink less and less. Wine and hard liquor give me killer hangovers, so I'm strictly beer, and not so much anymore. Except this last weekend, which was ridiculous.

TODD E. JONES: How did you overcome your addictions?

DANIEL KILIAN: I'm sorry, I'm really too wasted to answer this question.

TODD E. JONES: Do you (or did you) do drugs? Which ones? If so, how did you stop?

DANIEL KILIAN: Kids, don't do drugs. They slow you down and make you tedious.

TODD E. JONES: What is your opinion on the 12 step programs? A.A.?

DANIEL KILIAN: I prefer the DTs.

TODD E. JONES: Who is Eliza Lynn?

DANIEL KILIAN: Eliza Lynn is a girl with a four syllable name. That's one I knew had to be a name, and had the melody underneath, and it had to flow just right. I was walking around humming different names for a long time on that one. I often do what I call Turning my problems into teenage girls. Every song can't be about being broke, so I shift the pain. I suppose she's every demanding femme fetale I've experienced or imagined. She is my 'dark lady.' The slow, 'Saloon' version came first and then we souped it up for the 'bar' version. Yeah, I guess I really do want everyone to think I'm an alcoholic.

TODD E. JONES: The song 'Election Night' is magnificent. Politically, what do you think about the current state of our country?

DANIEL KILIAN: Counting down the days until he's gone. W will be seen as an aberration and we'll eventually undo a lot of the damage he's caused. I hope.

The current state is soooo depressing, because the problems we face (global climate change, genocide, Islamic fanatics) are really going to require greatness. The idea that we might elect Hillary Clinton scares me, or that she might lose to some lobbyist hack like Thompson for 4-8 more years of denial. Some pandering caretaker isn't going to cut it. We need to go out on a limb, and start investing in the technology we need to go green so that it's actually there, not just a bunch of cap-and-trade and rhetoric during the next oil price gouge.

Also, do you think Hillary will keep from killing people?

I love elections, but without real election reforms it's going to be more of the kinds of policy wherein we all know we need Universal Health care, but no real contenders can imagine it without the insurance companies. Fie!

TODD E. JONES: Musically, what else have you been working on?

DANIEL KILIAN: We've got enough new material for a new album, something a little darker than this last one. We've just made this album, and the money is…not so good, so that's going to be a ways off. I've written some short rock operas, so if we get desperate for audience, we might put together a big production at a black box somewhere downtown.

TODD E. JONES: Word association. When I say a name, you say the first word that pops into your head. So, if I say, ‘The Velvet Underground’, you may say ‘Lou Reed’, ‘Heroin’, or ‘Andy Warhol’. Okay?

DANIEL KILIAN: Okay.

TODD E. JONES: Television Personalities.

DANIEL KILIAN: Worse.

TODD E. JONES: Felt.

DANIEL KILIAN: Plush

TODD E. JONES: The Dandy Warhols.

DANIEL KILIAN: Oh these are bands! I'm not too terribly hip, am I? I saw that movie with The Brian Jonestown Massacre and The Dandy Warhols. Dandy Warhols…inaccurate comparison?

TODD E. JONES: Pixies.

DANIEL KILIAN: Love.

TODD E. JONES: Momus.

DANIEL KILIAN: Novelty?

TODD E. JONES: Severed Heads.

DANIEL KILIAN: Google?

TODD E. JONES: Roxy Music.

DANIEL KILIAN: Avalon.

TODD E. JONES: The Velvet Underground.

DANIEL KILIAN: Lou Reed.

TODD E. JONES: The Brian Jonestown Massacre.

DANIEL KILIAN: Retro. We're retro too, but I like to think of us as stealing rather than imitating.

TODD E. JONES: Spiritualized.

DANIEL KILIAN: Pink Floyd. Not really fair, but that's the word association. I like Spiritualized.

TODD E. JONES: Close Lobsters.

DANIEL KILIAN: Delicious? Google?

TODD E. JONES: Joy Division.

DANIEL KILIAN: Downbeat?

TODD E. JONES: Happy Mondays.

DANIEL KILIAN: Black Grape.

TODD E. JONES: Stone Roses.

DANIEL KILIAN: I like that Messiah She's My Sister song.

TODD E. JONES: The Fall.

DANIEL KILIAN: Pavement. Don't forget The Beatles, The Clash, Tom Waits, Spoon, Elliot Smith, Belle and Sebastian, The Rolling Stones and Neil Young

TODD E. JONES: George Bush.

DANIEL KILIAN: Handcuffs.

TODD E. JONES: Where were you during the September 11th terrorist attack? How did you deal with it?

DANIEL KILIAN: I was working downtown in the financial district. I ended up walking home. Our office was closed down for like a month, and then we were in this temporary space, and then we finally went back downtown, and it smelled bad for a year. I became a news junkie and I wrote a song about a dead bird. Also, I invaded Iraq. Seriously, that stuff combined with the fact that I hated my job to begin with really made me miserable to work with. Fortunately, I was laid off during a big merger and acquisition bleed-off, making me part of history yet again.

TODD E. JONES: Are you in a romantic relationship now?

DANIEL KILIAN: I am in love with a beautiful girl.

TODD E. JONES: Tell me about how and why you named the band, The K's.

DANIEL KILIAN: We'd been named Connecticut, for a while which is where I grew up. Also, we connected and we cut. People didn't know how to spell the name of the state next door, and it was 11 letters long, which was too long, caused problems. One letter seemed better. Simple. Same sounds, Ka Ka Ka KA! Also, it stands for Kings of Rock. We decided for simplicity sake that we wouldn't use an apostrophe. No one seems to get that.

TODD E. JONES: What is the meaning behind the title of the album, 'Can't Get It Together'?

DANIEL KILIAN: And there's an apostrophe in the title of our own album! We really can't get it together!

'Skunk' named itself: There was a skunk frequenting the site of loveless motel while we recorded, and it really captured our imagination. This one didn’t have an obvious title, so we went with a variation on the leadoff track, which seemed to spell out how a lot of us felt.

TODD E. JONES: What is the biggest misconception do you think that people have about you?

DANIEL KILIAN: That I'm cynical. The biggest misconception people have about The Ks is that we're willing to play a local gig on a Sunday night.

TODD E. JONES: Where did you grow up? What kind of kid were you?

DANIEL KILIAN: West Hartford, the suburb of the world. I made my mother cry.

TODD E. JONES: What was the last dream you remember?

DANIEL KILIAN: I was at the apartment of this girl I went to high school with, and she had a really huge apartment with a hair salon built into it. Her husband had a wing full of guitars and gear. It was weird because I never paid this girl much thought, and I'm not a big guitar gear head.

TODD E. JONES: What was the worst date you ever had?

DANIEL KILIAN: My prom. I became incommunicative and couldn't talk to my date. I still cringe, thinking about it.

TODD E. JONES: Do you think success and credibility are mutually exclusive?

DANIEL KILIAN: Hell no. The odds are getting fat for either, though.

TODD E. JONES: What have you been listening to in the last couple of days?

DANIEL KILIAN: The new Spoon, Ryan Adam's 'Heartbreaker,' LCD Soundsystem 'Sounds of Silver', Tom Waits's Orphans, Bonnie Prince Billie, 'I See a Darkness' and the first Violent Femmes record. Actually it's been more than a couple of days since I've listened to LCD Soundsystem or Tom Waits, but I've been listening to them a lot recently, and I'm trying to get cool points for that.

TODD E. JONES: What else do you do besides music?

DANIEL KILIAN: I'm a receptionist at an art shipping company. People need better phone manners, by the way. I sculpt. Lately my materials are rubber bands, plastic bags with tape, or string. I also write. For my latest writing gig I pretend that I'm the Pope for www.newsgroper.com (Note: I obviously write for K Log now. Newsgroper treated me shabbily).

TODD E. JONES: Will there be another The K's album?

DANIEL KILIAN: Eventually. Can't Get It Together's going to have to hold you for a while though.

TODD E. JONES: What’s next?

DANIEL KILIAN: We play Arlene's Grocery on the 26th of this month, here in New York. Mailing out CDs.

TODD E. JONES: Final words?

DANIEL KILIAN: Get into The Ks. Go to their shows and buy their products. You can always take away, you can never add on. Thank you.

--Todd E. Jones, though he didn't really do most of the work. What happened Todd?

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