The year in K-View

Hard to say this year was anything other than a year that sucked. From the economy to the political front to the economy to the economy, things were bad. The economy was on people’s minds a lot. This year it really sank in that “Hope” had become a cruel joke that perpetuated the Bush wars abroad, entrenches the Orwellian domestic incursions on freedom, and makes former Republican proposals into the law of the land, to the dismay of Republicans, who have since become too conservative to recognize their former selves. Let’s hit some of the highlights of 2010.

January

All the suckers born in January hold half-hearted re-gifted birthday parties with their partied and shopped out core circle of friends.

Avatar fever continues, spawning a slew of crappy 3D movies.

Suspicions that this year is going to suck begin to percolate.

An Earthquake devastates Haiti. Politicians and celebrities vow to work tirelessly until the Haitian people are back on their feet with a roof over their heads. George Bush wipes his hand on Bill Clinton’s shirt.

Haiti is forgotten.

February

The Winter Olympics are held in Vancouver. The dancers are funny. Many are disturbed to witness the inclusion of many “extreme” skiing events for the first time, as they are actually interesting.

March

North Korea sinks a boat, but denies the allegations. Nothing is done.

April

Volcanic ash from an unpronounceable volcano in Iceland disrupts air traffic across Europe. Many references are made to Bjork.

BP fucks the gulf coast and the Obama presidency. Nothing else really happens all summer.

Standard & Poor's points out that Greece really shouldn’t be spending far more money than it makes. People are forced to think simultaneously about economics and Greece, causing headaches the world over.

May

Scientists discover that Neanderthals and humans may have interbred. A number of unfortunate porn-films go into production.

Scientists announce that they have created a functional synthetic genome. Still no cloned mammoth.

June

Ethnic riots in Kyrgyzstan between Kyrgyz  and Uzbeks break out over scarcities of the letters Y and Z.

July

Wikileaks leaks (Wikily) over 90,000 internal reports about the United States-led involvement in the War in Afghanistan from 2004 to 2010. For the first time in world history, Julian Assange starts getting laid.

Stuxnet unleashed cyber war on the world. It will probably do nothing to stop Iran from getting the bomb, but which will almost certainly delete all your I-tune files. Buy a phonograph.

September

President Obama announces that he will not approve an extension of the Bush-era law that gives a tax break for the wealthy, or those families who earn over $250,000 per year. Common sense populism is back!

October

Thirty-three miners in Chile exchange 69 days of cave dwelling for 15 minutes of fame. It is the only good thing to happen in 2010.

It turns out Ireland shouldn’t be doing that spending more than getting thing either. This reminds people that for a few years prior, for a brief period Ireland actually wasn’t a shit-hole of misery.

November

The nation rejects Democratic half-measures in favor of Republican Nihilism.

Researchers at The European Organization for Nuclear Research trap 38 antimatter atoms for a sixth of a second. Did you hear about that? When do we get interstellar overdrive? Where are the dilithium crystals?

North Korea shells Yeonpyeong Island, under South Korean control, but denies the allegations. Nothing is done.

December

In a lame duck session, Congress passes all the legislation that could have possibly made the Democrats more popular this year. Said Charles Schumer, “It may have been too little, but at least it was too late.”

North Korea nukes Los Angeles. Deep sanctions are imposed.

Hopes abound that 2011 will be better than this year, or the apocalypse.

Have a happy New year!

--Dan Kilian

Demon Brand Choco-Mallows

My Obama Encounter By Jacob Bartelby, Intern to the Department of Health Bureaucracy Department Building 15

Octopus Man #3: Ben and the Monster

--Dan Kilian

Octopus Man: Strip 1

Octopus Man #2: The Amazing Man-Spider!

Political Chess

There are a few ways this thing could go:

Somehow, via backroom deal-making that would put the cornhusker kick-backs to shame, Obama brings the Democrats along with the compromise. Someone kidnaps someone close to Bernie Sanders or threatens to release his cousin the Colonel’s secret recipe to Wikileaks (rymes with wicked weak, which I realize that joke is), shutting down his filibuster threats. Then we get the closest thing to a stimulus (unemployment, payroll holiday, couple other things) Obama could get out of this gridlocked town, and the best bet for an economic recovery, while the Dems get to keep a beloved cause they can run away from in two years.

Or they could call a vote, and determine that there isn’t a supermajority for it. The Dems will start to like that in-the-minority-fuck-all-of-you feeling. THEN Obama sits down with everybody and they try to pass Chuck Schumer’s tax cuts for everyone but the millionaires thing. Surely the Republicans would go for that. Then we get that sort-of stimulus, Obama gets credit for trying to compromise and business starts hiring people, and a new golden age for Democrats unfolds.

Or maybe the Republicans, who have already shown that they care more about tax-cuts and political victory than deficits, the unemployed and loose nukes combined, say, well we tried but now everyone gets a tax hike. “Obama said he wouldn’t raise your taxes, but he did.” Obama will say “No, no, THEY did it when they didn’t go along with out plan because bla bla bla…” and the swing voters will listen to the Republicans, because their taxes DID go up. Unemployment and misery reign, to the cynical delight of the Republicans. America becomes a second rate nation then a third and then dies. Canada and the Mexican drug gangs divvy up the corpse.

Any other options? (Sit down, Mike B!)  Nope. Didn’t think so.

Checkmate.

--Dan Kilian

Humanizing Death From Above by MQ1-178

Oblivial Day

On Obama Up Until Now

I think the fact of the economic collapse is far too big historically for anyone to wrap their head around, unless they try real hard, which the media doesn't seem want to do. So we view everything through the old lens even though everything has changed.

I think the stimulus, like this latest compromise, is an achievement in the art of the possible, and did a lot of good. Taking over the bailout, then taking over the auto industry, huge things that have gone very well. This was a once in a century chance politically to pass health care, and Obama went all in and won.

He's got the nastiest political enemies since Nixon, and the worst economic inheritance since Carter and Reagan. If he fights these guys right now, he's up against all the people who want everyone to work together, AND the GOP gets to say he raised taxes on middle Americans, breaking his promise a la the first George Bush, AND there's no kind of stimulus with 9.8 unemployment AND he gets no START Treaty (and yes, the Republicans seem to be willing to let the economy slide and to let loose nukes go unmonitored for the sake of a political win) so unless you definitely want a one-term presidency (making those threats of health-care repeal seem actually possible) and a lot more economic pain over a principal (when we really don't need to fix the deficit until after there's real economic growth) then I think Obama's playing the hand he's been dealt (though he shouldn't flash his hand so readily) about as well as is possible.

--Dan Kilian

A Nonsensational Speech On the Detainee Abuse Photos by Barack Obama

Six Song Selection: Radio Lives

The Second Miracle

Simon played with a broken flowerpot while the soldiers threw gold coins at each other. In their haste, the Ptolemies had left their treasure, but they took their food. Judah’s hungry army had made a bold march across the dessert, but the irony of winning the temple and the Ptolemaic gold while they starved under siege was playing with the men’s minds. They were cackling, half mad, in a fight with useless money.

Only the miracle of the flame kept them sane. For five days it had burned, even though the Ptolemies had taken the oil with the food. So they clung to their sanity and chewed their leather. Judah had forbidden the eating of shoes, lest it come to fighting again. But sheaths and belts were quickly becoming meals. How could they outlast the siege without food?

Simon was absorbed with his pottery, rolling it along its edge, watching it teeter and fall. Such was the game for one of the few children brought along with the warriors. He was the son of Jonathon, Judah’s brother, and as part of the lineage of the Maccabean leadership he needed to learn. Still, he was too young to participate in most of the grown-up goings on.

The soldiers were called to the wall, and Simon was left in the treasure room. Idly, he began rolling coins, and tossing them into his pot. Then, as happened every hour or so, the hunger returned. He could drive it from his mind for a while, but it always came back.

He looked down at the coin in his hand. He had heard that gold was so soft you could make teeth marks in it. It seemed silly to make such a soft metal so valuable. Still, it was shiny, and the tooth-mark idea intrigued him. He gently bit the coin.

It broke apart in his mouth, and began to dissolve, filling his mouth with a rich dark sweetness. It was like butter filled with sugar, and something else he had never tasted, something like smoke and wine. It was the best thing he had ever tasted. It coursed through his body, lifting his spirits and abating his hunger. He remembered the story of the Manna.

Simon looked down at the piles of coins in the treasure room. Did all of them taste like this? He picked up one more coin and tasted it! Sweet beauty filled him again! He leapt to his feet and ran down the hall. He had to find Judah. The Maccabees were going to survive!

 
--Dan Kilian

Editor's note: This was the program from Saturday's show.  Happy Hanukkah!

Olde Tales of The Sea

Initiation

Excerpt From the Proceedings of the IMF Field Survey of CandidateNation 34-T-89

"Greetings, primitive savages!  We are here from the International Monetary Fund to distribute aid to your failing state!  Please step away from the transport, and do not stroke the hoses of my level IV containment suit, though you may feel it will bring you luck or somehow transfer the magic of our advanced technology into your withered frames, wrapped as they are in no more than soiled loincloths and a few shells strung on cords woven from human hair!   We will introduce new lending practices to you now, since your previous banking system consisted in its entirety of a pile of yams rotting in your chieftain's silo!  Your Gross Domestic Product is listed as 'Rice,' and this does not comply with international accounting standards!  Standard and Poor's believes that your nation is a menu item at a fusion restaurant where one of their interns had a birthday at which she made out with Kevin the secretary!  Here, these are 'coins' – do not attempt to eat them!  They are made out of 'metal,' much like the magical bird that brought me here!  'Metal' is what happens when advanced civilizations steal the earth-spirit from the ground – just kidding! – we simply obtain mineral rights from cash-strapped third-world nations in exchange for debt relief and low-interest loans! . . . "

--Steve Kilian

Epideme

The Lawnmower Party

Something On Your Back

This morning in the subway tunnel a cockroach the size of a lobster flew onto the guy in front of me's's umbrella and marched up his back. I froze, then said, "SIR! There's SOMETHING on your back!" I probably should have said "There's a GIANT COCKROACH on your back," and then he might not have been so frightened when he looked back into the face of that awful creature. I knocked the beast off him and stomped him to death. My guts are still churning.

--Dan Kilian

Hollywood Harvest

Inconsistencies in the New Star Trek Movie

Taxi

It is a city where one can stand up and look back alone on all that they have not done or been a part of and the layers they've risen up through the darkness and how one must always strive for the light because that's what we're taught in that young class where we march in line to lunch without the choice of who to sit next to and then to be expected to get into a taxi and order your destination, as if I could and not even letting the man escorting you by yourself know what you've been doing all morning walking in those painful shoes that have been beaten by the streets and expecting him to drop you off without concern for your safety or a curiosity for your lifestyle or your aloneness or awareness and wondering if the meter should be left running while you stare back.

--Nancy Rankin

Editor's Note: We welcome this, the KLOG debut for Nancy Rankin!

Micky Rourke as Godzilla

A Classic Joke and A Classic Comedy Routine Meet, With Unsatisfactory Results

From Beneath to Destroy

Somewhere, in a fire-lit cavern, a black hand pulls an iron lever.  Gears come unstuck after eons of disuse, and the construct wakes from its slumber.  Crystals are quenched in arcane fluids and it remembers its makers, faceless entities that worked in a time before the foolish distinctions between "machine" and "man" were made.  Tanks fill with oil and steam vents from reserve chambers.  Bladders flex, and the thing coughs up nests of vermin that had made their home in its dormant body.

Lenses clatter into place and it can see.  It looks out over the world, watching and listening on a thousand wavelengths, seeing the planet's molten core, still throwing out great waves of magnetism which drive its motors.  Then it studies the surface.  Steadying itself on a mountainside, it stands.  It cannot comprehend what it sees and hears.  Unbidden, its great steel hands clench into fists.

The pipes of its voicechamber shake as it speaks.  The plates of its skull vibrate with the sound of the utterance, a blast of sound and light and lesser-known energies.  The word threatens to shatter the sky.  He marches forth as it echoes around the stratosphere.

"Destroy."

"Destrooooy."

"Destroooooooy."



--Steve Kilian

The Rose Armonica

Five Song Playlist: Twenty Pounds of Gay

That Old-Time Magic, Revisited

President Obama stared across his desk.  The oval office, now empty, was starting to get stale with cigarette smoke, sour sweat, and bad news.  Christ, what a year.  He looked at the framed photograph of Michelle.

He had made a promise.  But here he was.

"Fuck it," he said, and unlocked the lower left hand drawer, the forbidden drawer, the drawer that he hadn't opened for twelve grueling months.  He pulled out the olive-drab metal box with stenciled lettering -- such paltry camouflage -- and set it on the desk.  Did it sag just a little, the wood protesting at its strange burden?

He popped open the latches and lifted the hinged lid.  He pulled out the lamp, already smelling cinnamon and apricots.  "Sorry, baby," he said.

And started, for the third time, to rub.

--Steve Kilian

Old Time Magic

Steve’s Fart

Some Pun With "Debt" and "Dead"

President Obama’s commission on reducing the national debt laid out their preliminary plan Wednesday, and we’re doomed. Commissions are an ingenious way to deal with problems whose solutions are too politically unpalatable to implement through our highly politicized legislative process. Give it to a bipartisan committee and voila! Problem solved. Unfortunately, this commission is proposing highly unpalatable solutions, and there no way Congress will pass them; the legislative process it just too politicized. What’s the opposite of “voila”?



For a lark, let’s consider the proposals.

Deep Cuts In Domestic Spending

It’s important to reduce spending more that raising taxes, because a predominant amount of the tax burden is on rich people, and times are just so hard for the rich right now. If they don’t get richer than the rest of us every year, their wealth will dwindle away to nothing. Besides, we can pave our roads and rebuild our bridges with fiscal responsibility.

Deep Cuts In Military Spending

Flash quiz: How many wars are we in now? If you said two, you’re technically right! [Editor's Note: Ahh the innocence of last November!] Of course, we’ve also got drones killing people in Pakistan and Yemen, which we could lump in with one of the other two wars, as long as one of those wars is a world war. Of course, occupying other countries is the tedious part of war, which is why we don’t pay any attention to that part. The good stuff is when we kick ass, and since we spend more money on our military than the rest of the world combined, more every year, you can bet we kick ass! That’s why we like to get into another war every couple of years. It’s like sex, and the occupation is the unwanted pregnancy. Some people would like us to stop occupying other countries, (for instance, a lot of people in the occupied countries) but that would be like an abortion, and this country is very pro-life. Maybe we wouldn’t get into so many wars if we didn’t have such literally overkill military budgets, but don’t expect us to cut those budgets. After all, we are at war.

A Gradual 15-Cents-A-Gallon Increase In The Federal Gasoline Tax

A modest gas tax increase would help us balance our budget as well as inspire the development of alternative fuels, making us once again the innovator nation as the world turns to a “Green Economy.” We really need to do this, as the world is really getting hotter. Or we could dump sulfur into the sky. Hard to see how any unforeseen problems could arise from that.

Limiting or Eliminating Popular Tax Breaks In Return For Lower Rates

Lets see, the Republican Leadership already calls a tax on monstrously large inheritances “The Death Tax.” If we try to do away with popular tax breaks, that’ll be called raising taxes, and each tax will have a special name. The House Tax. The Health Tax.  The Mommy Tax. The Love Tax. The Tax Tax. That’s right, those fat cats in Washington are going to tax your taxes!

Benefit Cuts And An Increased Retirement Age For Social Security

Raising the retirement age makes sense, since people are getting older. You can look it up online. Just type in “Are people living longer?” into your search engine, and you’ll find a host of articles about our aging population. Now, here’s an internet search tip. If you want to research a little more critically, try using the word “really.”  As in “Are People REALLY living longer?” if you type in that modified search, you can find articles like this which points out that babies don’t die prematurely as much as they used to, and that throws off the curve.

Still the commission is planning of having the retirement age change in 2075. Many young people who thought they were getting screwed by an older generation into working longer might be more amenable to a plan that screws some future generation into working longer. See, we aren’t really dumping our problems on our grandchildren, but on our great-grandchildren, and I mean, screw those ingrates. Humanity might be wiped out by then. God I hope so. Do we really want people living on after we die?

I’ve decided that “Aliov” would be a good word for the opposite of “Voila.” It looks Russian, so say it in your best thick Russian accent. Good word for whenever the soufflé falls flat, whenever the magician pulls a dead rabbit out of his hat, or whenever your commission lays out it’s blueprint for impossible though necessary solutions right at the dawn of a period of historic gridlock.

Aliov!

--Dan Kilian

Birthday Cake Balloon

Celebrity Farts

The Mosquito Video

--Many band photos by Tanya Navas

--Assembled by Dan Kilian

--Performed by The Ks

The Last Reality Show

James Bond’s Bad Day

Tiw's Day

He was the first God, The Tyr of Hanged Men, for He was The Judge. Then came the migrations, and the new peoples worshiped Odin, and they called him Tiw. From The One God to a Demigod, still he served Asgard.

When Loki and the Giantess gave birth to the evil pup, Fenrir, only he would look after the unkillable beast. They had something of a bond, that reached across the divide between good and evil, between feeder and fed. Of course Fenrir outgrew its cage, and any cages, and grew to the kind monster the prophesies had foretold: The Wolf who would kill Odin.

Nothing could bind him. They tricked it into chains, which The Wolf broke through as though they were water. So the Æsir called on the dwarves to build a chain made of Gleipnir, made from the sound of a cat's footfall, the beard of a woman, the roots of a mountain, the sinews of a bear, the breath of a fish, and the spittle of a bird.

They taunted Fenrir, “Great Wolf! Can you break this chain?” Fenrir was suspicious, but acted disdainful. “It is too thin. There is no challenge. I will only test it if one of you places his hand in my mouth.”

The Æsir protested, all too fearful to strike that bargain. Cowards. Still Tyr served Asgard. He stepped forward and placed his hand in his old pet’s mouth. Whether The Beast licked his fingers in hunger or in some wicked form of affection, Tyr could not determine.

The string held, the beast was trapped, and Tyr lost his hand.

“That is the last time I shall feed you, pup,” said Tyr, grimacing.

“Yes,” laughed the Father of Wolves, “Next I shall feed on your master, Odin.”And they bound Fenrir to a great rock underground, with a sword in His mouth.

Now, just as Odin had one eye to see, Tyr had one hand, for Justice.

--Dan Kilian

Editor's Note: This was the program from my solo show at The Sidewalk the other Tuesday.

Steve’s Video and Pat’s Video

The Magic Banjo

Election Night

--The Ks

The Video: Last Trip To The Well

Capsule

My Halloween Costume

I was going to go as Jake Gittes of Chinatown. Raincoat, hat, bandage on the nose. I like my nose, I like breathing through it.  Only problem is I didn't have a hat. Thought I did, must have lost it. No cheap fedoras in the stores. So Jake needs to relax.

So I went with another Jack Nicholson related costume...

I'm the typewriter from The Shining!

The actual typewriter in the movie was white (Kubric and his whites), but I liked the classic typewriter look so I went with black.

--Dan Kilian

Abandoned Halloween Costume Ideas

Death To Everyone

War

Once, long ago, War slept.

He dreamed of great deathless armies, endlessly battling on a blood-soaked plane.  He also dreamed of engineers devising new weapons that would rend flesh, new arrows that would burrow deeper with the movements of the wounded, machines that would crawl across the field and crush soldiers beneath their gore-clotted treads.  He dreamed of doctors and nurses stitching limbs back onto fallen warriors so that they could return to the fight.  He dreamed of scientists making gases that would blanket the battlefield with choking vapors.

But mostly he dreamed of two men, each strangling the other, rolling in puddles of freezing blood and fuel, ears bitten off, eyes gouged, teeth and noses broken from repeated head-butts.  As they died their grips only grew stronger.

This was the stuff of War's trade, more than any of the other trappings.  Armor was fine, blades and projectiles served their purpose, but without hate they would rust away to nothing.  Mercenaries may work for hire, but in the pitch of combat they hated the enemy as much as any partisan fighting for his home.  The swordmaster might respect his opponent, admiring his technique and form, knowing the beauty of graceful bladework, but the final flurry of vessel-severing strokes were driven by fury – controlled and channeled to be sure, but fury nonetheless.

Generals and logistics officers might be passionless in their deliberations, calmly calculating quantities of ammunition and dried meat, plotting routes to the front, keeping tallies of how many coins remained in their war-chests, but this was all in service to the moment when a soldier pulled the trigger that killed a man in flash of powder and bloodlust.  Coopers might joke at their work and return home to warm loaves at night, but when the barrels of boiling pitch broke on the ramparts the cries would not be those of joy.

No, hate was the ultimate substance of War.

Soon he awoke.

--Steve Kilian

Michael J. Fox’s Bad Day

Freddy vs. Wishmaster

SOMEONE's Looking Forward to the Captain America Movie

MATT: YES!





DAN: "Peter Jackson on the Hobbit"? He'll CRUSH it!

Also, I've done a study, comparing graphs of hokey patriotism vs escapist machismo, cross referenced with a fantastically impossible shields chart, and it turns out it is scientifically impossible to make a good Captain America movie.

MATT: I’m hoping for a RAIDERS mix of old school action-adventure, some sci-fi elements, and Nazis dying spectacularly gruesome deaths.

Did you see this from Iron Man 2? It’s a close up of some kind of blueprint on the wall in Tony Stark’s lab. It’s pretty wild how they’re tying it all together.

--Matt Dolingo and Dan Kilian

Freddy vs. Wishmaster

Good vs Evil: A Dialogue

At The Pawn Shop

Business was slow at the pawn shop. In fact, it was deadly quiet. Peter flipped through catalogues, and Joey got on the phone for every business related call he could conceive of, but the truth was that they had all the inventory they needed, and there wasn’t any business going on to make calls about. It became an unspoken truth neither of them wanted to address, but finally Joey broached the subject.

“You’d think in an economic downturn this kind of business would do well.”

Peter looked up, surprised at this acknowledgment of their current bad luck. “How so?”

“In good times, people might just go buy a whole new set.”

Peter thought about this, as an idea germinated in his head, but he did not say anything. He knew it ran counter to Joey’s vision.

Every morning they opened up the shop, the myriad orbs staring like blind eyes. As the silences dragged on, finally Peter had to speak.

“Joey, I think we’ve got to diversify.”

“What do you mean?”

“We need to offer other pieces.”

“But…the odds are sixteen in thirty-two verses…one in sixteen that…”

“All those ones in sixteen add up to half! Half the pieces!”

Joey had nothing to say. He knew the logic; he just hated breaking the purity of selling nothing but pawns. He hated breaking the pattern of all those little orbs. Still, he broke down, and soon there was a table offering Knights, Bishops, Rooks and Queens. Joey insisted that anybody who loses their king should concede and buy a new set, but this was the only point on which he didn’t concede.

Still nothing sold.

Then one day a ragged looking gentleman entered the store. He barely glanced at the merchandise. He walked over to Joey and pulled a small marble pawn out of his pocket.

“Want to buy?” he asked.

Joey laughed. “I’ve got a store full of pawns. Why would I want to buy yours?”

“It’s a nice piece. Marble.”

“I’ve got marble pawns. Lots of them.”

“All right, look. I’m a little behind on cash, and I need some cigarettes. How about this: you give me a dollar for this pawn, and I’ll buy it back at the end of the month for a dollar twenty five. You make a profit.”

“How do I know you’ll buy it back?”

“If I don’t, you can sell it for at least that much.”

It could have been desperation, or momentary confusion, or maybe Joey just wanted to see what would happen, but he agreed to the bargain. He took the piece and gave the man a dollar.

At the end of the month, the man did not appear, and Joey ruefully put the pawn out on display with the other unbought pieces.

Two weeks later the man reappeared. Joey scowled at him. “So, are you back to buy your wonderful pawn back?”

“Oh hey, yeah, sorry about that. Times are a little tough these days. I’m flat broke. In fact, I was wondering if we could do the same thing again.”

“No! Absolutely not!  I’ve got all the chess pieces I need!”

“Okay, yeah, I get that. What about a guitar?”

“What?”

“I’ve got a vintage Ovation out in my van. It’d go for like, seven hundred bucks. Throw me a few C’s for it and I’ll definitely be back with the cash at the end of the month. I don’t want to lose this guitar.”

Peter jumped in. “Look pal, we’re not a bank. We sell chess pieces! So why don’t you…”

Jerry stopped him with a gesture. “Let’s think about it. Why don’t you go get that guitar and we’ll take a look at it?”

The man smiled. “Sure buddy! I’ll be right back!”

He left and Peter looked at Jerry incredulously. Jerry said nothing, and looked around him at all the pawns and other pieces. He already knew that his business was about to change, forever.



--Dan Kilian

Godzilla’s Ghost

Definitely Probably Possibly

Octopus Man #2: The Amazing Man-Spider!

–Casper, Kilian, Kilian, Dolingo and McNulty AKA The Octomen

Editor’s Note: Casper, Kilian, Kilian, Dolingo and McNulty shall henceforth be known as The Octomen

Top Trek: A Pan Fiction!

Sweet Nothings

Help The Ks Pick a Name/Artwork for Their New Album

Having some trouble picking one out. Let us know what you think. The better the critique, the more it will be considered. Here are some choices.













 

Let us know what you think!

--The Ks

Pupa

Sunday 11:29 P.M.

Rejected Baby Shower Activities

Now that they're making men attend these, I'm told everyone just sits around and drinks and there are some presents. Recently we hosted such an event.  I did try to come up with some activities, but they were rejected.

Humorous “The Mother to Be Is So Pregnant” Snaps

The Mother to Be and the Beer Bong

Name the Baby Using Boggle Note: It’s important that the parents to be promise to name the baby after the best Boggle name, or it’s really not fun.

Humorous “Why I Might Be the Father” Essay Contest

Key Party

Pentagram Ring Ritual Wherein We Offer the Baby To Satan That I Might Become a Successful Actor and That HE Might Have His Child on Earth

Perform The Great Gatsby in its Entirety, Reading the Book Aloud and Different Guests Assuming Different Characters. No Breaks!

Russian Roulette…With Daggers!

Naked Drumming, Telling of Manly Tales, Weeping and Hugging

Pin The Tail On The Donkey…With Daggers!

--Dan Kilian

The Ghost of Nixon and Obama: A Dialogue

Dan’s Almost Daily Musings

linKs

Octopus Man: Strip 1 The Fantastic Three!

How To Make Justin Bieber Sound Incredible: Slow Him Down 800 Percent



K Riddle: You know my numbers, what’s my name?



Lookwell! Pretty funny Adam West TV show. Thanks Tom!



A Bottle of Wyrms



Custom Urinal This one gets a little blue, folks!



Bacon and Rocketry



Tusks



Horseball!



The USBTypewriter



The Code Organ: Turn your website into pure music!



You should click some button on The Ks's's Facebook page.



And here we are on Myspace.

Custom Urinal

I'm thinking about a custom urinal that is a stone or steel cylinder, freestanding in the toilet room.  Plumbing and drainage are obviously fed from below, with flushing water being conducted up within the wall thickness of the cylinder and then distributed around the perimeter.  Shape could be oval or elliptical to accommodate the slack end of the pressure curve, but this is backing away from purity.

Thoughts?

A waterfall piss post. I like it. Splash is your biggest challenge. Is it like water flowing over a rock that you leak on? Or is base tapered so you leak in a free falling water. If running all the time you'll waste a lot of water. If not you'll need to figure how to flush the thing which will be tough.

Steel a bad idea. Stone ok. What about ice? Like those Vegas ice bars.

I was thinking of something more typical in terms of flush mechanism:  a sensor that you wave your hand over and it flushes, so there isn't constant running water – although that could be an option for the post-Green age when energy is cheap and abundant.  Regarding splashing, I was thinking that if the vessel is deep enough the splatter is contained (see attached – note that section and plan are not oriented the same way).

No doubt these initial assumptions are hampering the development of this idea beyond the normative.  I look forward to your suggestions.



How conventional…looks like a bidet.  Try on my sketch.

The Barragan approach – of course.  Now the juices are flowing, so to speak.  See attached.



Now you’re in business…..call the patent office.

--Steve Kilian and Tim Fryatt

Dialogue with the Loch Ness Monster

One Step Forward, Two Steps Banks

Octopus Man: Strip 1

--Casper, Kilian, Kilian and McNulty

Who Watches The Watchmen? Matt Does.

Three variations on the same joke

Half Ours

We’re divorced from reality. We get half of it. We pay our fantasies in monthly installments. We get visitation rights to the world. The rest of the time we spend in a singles bar, on the rebound, deep into a midlife crisis, trying to finesse small talk into a seduction, trying to turn seduction into an ongoing conversation. We end up step-parents to someone else’s world. We don’t own it, and we know we’re going to leave. We won’t let anything bad happen to it while we’re here, but once we’re gone these  people are going to fall off a cliff into oblivion—and we’ll be oblivial to them.

We’re bugging out of a country no-one’s seen, building a country that will never be. All the while people keep dying, but we don’t see that  either. There are people who have seen too much, but they’re invisible. Others are oblivious and invisible. Everyone keeps winking out. Every time we blink we go blind. We’re only seeing half the time, and a third of that is a dream (do we blink in our dreams? We must, or we’d go mad). We tried to conquer half the world, and it’s only half ours.

Our visiting privileges get whittled down to weekends, then we’re cut down to visiting hours, then half hour slots. It’s a sit-com sliced into you-tube segments. Can I really hold your attention for half an hour? How about three-and-a-half minutes? How about the next five  seconds,  starting now?

--Dan Kilian

This was the program text from a solo show I did at The Sidewalk. It was a half-hour slot! Get it?

Unpublished Interview of Dan Kilian by Todd E. Jones

Adventures in Solitaire

Tusks

His skin became dry and oddly numb.  It thickened over the course of a month or two, and he found himself eating handfuls of grass during his walks in the park.  A few teeth fell out on either side of his mouth, and the sockets never closed.  Eventually a nub of bone grew out of each of the holes, blunt cones that distorted his cheeks and made him drool all the time until his cheeks shifted and thickened to accommodate the tusks.

The depression was crushing.  He was in pain and wept openly for most of the day.  One day he went through the apartment and smashed all of the mirrors so that he wouldn’t be reminded of his deformity.  He closed the shades so he wouldn't catch his reflection in the windows at night.  He watched endless hours of television, drinking.

After six months the tusks were each a foot long and he could barely lift his head.   Either his fingers had shrunk or his palms had grown so that only one knuckle showed beyond the fleshy mass of his hand.  He could no longer speak and ordered food with his computer.  Mostly he got smoothies and such, as he had trouble getting normal food into his mouth.  He hadn't left the apartment in weeks.

One day he lurched up out of his reclining chair and collapsed to all fours.  He crawled across the floor to the window, sweeping aside the curtains and smashing it open with his tusks.  He raked out the broken glass and splintered mullions and put his head out into the strange air of the place where he used to live.

Then he trumpeted.

--Steve Kilian

Fab Facts about The Beatles Rock Band Game

Reasons To Hope For Our Economy

K Riddle: You know my numbers, what's my name?

The two of us

Are half of a whole

With many fifths

Or so I've been told

With many ones

An eight and a nine

But by sixteen

Two ones were mine

Who am I?

--not Dan Kilian, it's someone else!

K-Riddle

Return of the K-Riddler

Ban Book Banning

Konnecticut for Lieberman

Brother John Kilian is running for State Representative in Connecticut's 20th Assembly District. This time he's with the Connecticut for Lieberman party, as it was not in use.  Turning a device of political expediency into a movement!



You can follow John's other thoughts right here.

--John Kilian

Dropping Science

He Left His Heart in Scan Francisco

Dark Fiber

While researching for his job recently Steve Kilian came across a tech website describing standards for data center rack layout. "Nobody on Earth should read this stuff," says Steve. In it, he discovered a cool term that could be used as the title of a high-tech mystery/thriller.  The term refers to optical cable that is unused: dark fiber.

"The funny thing is, I'm getting low-level readings from the dark fibers.  There's even some old un-energized copper back here – but it's also giving me some funny readings."

"Copper?  I'm surprised the scrappers didn't tear it out long ago."

"They would have if they'd known about it.  This whole section of the datacenter isn't logged.  This goes back to Unix days – they must never have incorporated it into the field manual.  Anyway, the whole thing is sparking along at a tenth of a percent of capacity."

"Noise?"

"That's what I thought – maybe some shielding went and it was spitting back environmental interference.  But no, it's coherent."

"So what's being sent?"

"That's the funny thing.  It's not getting recognized.  But there's repeated chunks of code, and syntax.  It's meaningful, just not to me."

Doctor Voorslanger cleared his throat and asked, "Can I see that data?"

"Sure.  But we've run it through every diagnostic and translator that's out there."

"Hmm.  You're not going to get any hits.  This is a bit older than what you're used to."

"But it's active data – this isn't archival.  This is being produced right now."

"That's what I feared.  You need to get your team out of here."

"You've got to be kidding.  What we need to do is clear out these cages for the new install.  This is an important contract –"

"Never mind your contract, you fool!  You have no conception of what you're dealing with.  This is the work of one of the most gifted systems engineers I've ever come across.  It has Chesterton written all over it."

"What are you talking about?"

"Not 'what.'  'Who.'  Laurence Chesterton, born La Jolla, California, in 1946.  Hired by IBM in 1956, yes, at the age of 10.  Pivotal in the development of early programming languages as well as several hardware patents.  A genius.  Exercised his stock options and dropped out of sight in 1968."

"And you know this from some gibberish coming through old wires?"

""Not gibberish.  Code.  A variant of Fortran 66, to be precise.  Chesterton's variant, which was never published."

Nearby, the sound of metal scraping on metal rang out through the warehouse.  Doctor Voorslanger sighed.  "Maybe you were right.  Maybe it's not 'who.'  Maybe it is 'what.'"  The metallic sound resolved into a rhythmic pounding.  Soon they recognized the pattern of footsteps.  They were approaching at an alarming rate.

--Steve Kilian

Kuo-toa, Assimilated:

Gorland

<!--[if !mso]> <! st1\:*{behavior:url(#ieooui) } --> While researching for his job recently Steve Kilian came across a tech website describing standards for data center rack layout. Nobody on Earth should read this stuff, says Steve. In it, he discovered a cool term that could be used as the title of a high-tech mystery/thriller.  The term refers to optical cable that is unused:  dark fiber.

The funny thing is, I'm getting low-level readings from the dark fibers.  There's even some old un-energized copper back here – but it's also giving me some funny readings.

Copper?  I'm surprised the scrappers didn't tear it out long ago.

They would have if they'd known about it.  This whole section of the datacenter isn't logged.  This goes back to Unix days – they must never have incorporated it into the field manual.  Anyway, the whole thing is sparking along at a tenth of a percent of capacity.

Noise?

That's what I thought – maybe some shielding went and it was spitting back environmental interference.  But no, it's coherent.

So what's being sent?

That's the funny thing.  It's not getting recognized.  But there's repeated chunks of code, and syntax.  It's meaningful, just not to me.

Doctor Voorslanger cleared his throat and asked, Can I see that data?

Sure.  But we've run it through every diagnostic and translator that's out there.

Hmm.  You're not going to get any hits.  This is a bit older than what you're used to.

But it's active data – this isn't archival.  This is being produced right now.

That's what I feared.  You need to get your team out of here.

You've got to be kidding.  What we need to do is clear out these cages for the new install.  This is an important contract –

Never mind your contract, you fool!  You have no conception of what you're dealing with.  This is the work of one of the most gifted systems engineers I've ever come across.  It has Chesterton written all over it.

What are you talking about?

Not 'what.'  'Who.'  Laurence Chesterton, born La Jolla, California, in 1946.  Hired by IBM in 1956, yes, at the age of 10.  Pivotal in the development of early programming languages as well as several hardware patents.  A genius.  Exercised his stock options and dropped out of sight in 1968.

And you know this from some gibberish coming through old wires?

Not gibberish.  Code.  A variant of Fortran 66, to be precise…  It's a variant of Fortran 66.  Chesterton's variant, which was never published.

Nearby, the sound of metal scraping on metal rang out through the warehouse.  Doctor Voorslanger sighed.  Maybe you were right.  Maybe it's not 'who.'  Maybe it is 'what.'  The metallic sound resolved into a rhythmic pounding.  Soon they recognized the pattern of footsteps.  They were approaching at an alarming rate.

Dan at the Parkside Saturday 9 pm

photo by Tanya Navas

--Dan Kilian

Kuo-toa, Assimilated:

Chronicles (Excerpts) by Bob Dylan

Moneyday

Saturday, September 25 is the new Moneyday. The goal of Moneyday is to create a special one-off gift giving holiday designed to coincide with the waning stimulus package out of Washington. We feel it is our patriotic duty and in our own self interest to try to stimulate on a grass-roots level on the demand side. We urge you to go out and buy something now, something special you would not ordinarily buy, perhaps a band's CD or a T-shirt or something. Give a loved one some money to spend, or take some money from a loved one, and spend it. There will be a delay in finding out if this did in fact help our economy. It's also somehow supposed to help market a lovely band: The Ks. Moneyday had another name, but we're tamping down on that because while it was an innocent joke, you never know what some nutjob will seize upon as a message from the internet, and we want to help, not hurt. Once things pick up, we will become Piggy Bank Day, a day to focus on savings. Until then, let the boom resume. Consume!

You should friend it on Facebook here.

--Dan Kilian

Eye Opening Provisions of the Obama Budget

Flames Vs. Lips

A Bottle of Wyrms

A spectacularly eerie exhibition of pickled animals opened to the public at Berlin's Natural History Museum on Tuesday. The collection contains fish, mammals, spiders and reptiles preserved in alcohol, some of them over 200 years old. Thousands of jars containing fish, mammals, worms, crabs, spiders and reptiles preserved in alcohol have gone on show in Berlin in a spectacular new exhibition at the city's Natural History Museum...."For me the biggest gift is that only six jars broke during the move," Peter Bartsch, the curator of the collection, told Bild newspaper.

"Only" six jars broke?  Six horrors from the past unleashed on a naïve society, with no practitioners of the arts that are necessary to defeat these protean monstrosities?  Well, no practitioner save one . . . Doctor Voorslanger:  Natural Philosopher, Mesmerist, and Monster-Hunter!  That he has been missing for fifty years is an obstacle, yes, but the fate of unified Berlin hinges on our finding him!  Quickly, fuel the airship.  We're off to Tibet.

Tibet?

Yes, Spacklowe, Tibet.  Don't you see the mandala under all of this dust?

I thought those were just footprints.

That is why you fuel the airship and I set the course, Spacklowe.  One more thing . . .

Yes?

Pack my dueling pistols.  There may be trouble on the other end of this trip.

Trouble?

Yes.  Voorslanger and I didn't part on the best of terms, you see.  A bit of a dust-up at Northchester Academy over a young lady.

You went to school together?  They allowed Germans into proper British preparatories?

Before he was expelled from the country for stealing forbidden texts from poor Professor MacAllister's private library, yes . . . too bad the old fellow went mad.

But all of this was decades ago.  Surely he's moved on from some adolescent intrigue.

Ah, Spacklowe.  When you're talking about Victoria Stenwyck there is no "moving on."

You mean Lady Stenwyck, who disappeared last week?

The same.  Come then, I want to be making revolutions for the Orient by seven o'clock this evening.  But first. . . .

Tea?

Quite.

--Steve Kilian

Mr. Bingles

Making It Work (Sometimes): Seven Song Playlist Review

Wretched

Simeon the Wretch slid back the lid and crawled forth from his hole.  His feet had become webbed and pale from long immersion in urine, feces, and the street water that leaked down into his lair after a rain.  This brought with it the sour vomit of surface hooliganery along with the spent ends of cigars and soggy breadloaves.  He ate the former and made genital poultices with the latter.

He sniffed the air and loped off toward the butchers' alley.  There would be spoiled fat and organ gristle in the wooden bins lining that slick patch of road.  Sometimes he crawled under the grease, a piece of living confit worrying the boards of the container.  But that day the shops were closed;  the plague had finally come to the city.  The butchers were no doubt bloating on the floor next to their unsold merchandise.

He pried open a poorly repaired door and went inside to feast.

--Steve Kilian

Regarding the Dawn of Language and thus the Dawn of History as a Continuous Narrative of Events, Places, People, and Things

Fire and Ice 2009 Remix