Saturday, December 31, 2011

Parrrker New Year 2012 Remix

Click on the red letters below to hear the song.

PARRRker New YearOkay it's not a remix at all, just the same thing I did last year. But I changed the number on the baby!

--Dan Kilian

Confession to Rassilon

On Language

Thursday, December 29, 2011

December, December





MAYHEM UNSUES --Steve Kilian

State of The National





Tuesday, November 29, 2011

Great Moments in Amish History

Esau! G’Day to ye!

G’day to ye!



Why Esau, what have ye there?

Why it be a razor! And some shaving cream!

But Esau, you don’t intend to…to shave, do ye?

That is exactly what I intend to do!

But Esau, the bible says to grow your beard!

Aye, that it does!

And that shaving is proud!

Shaving your beard IS proud.

And we like being plain and not proud!

Aye aye! But the bible does not say anything about mustaches.

Arr! Is that so?

Aye! Tis!

Have ye found yourself a loophole, Esau?

I don’t know what that means, but yes! Now I’m off to shave!

Minutes later…

Esau, is that you?

Arr! Tis!

Looking smooth, m’man!


May I borrow your razor?

You want that smooth mustache look?

Aye! Tis good!



--Dan Kilian
Constuputid K Words

Flying Blind

Friday, November 18, 2011

She Had Still More To Say, and How!

“I wish we had a gondolier,” she whispered romantically.

“It’s just a small pie!” she said, tartly.

“I might have gotten you virtual flowers, and I might not have,” she said, evasively.

“I’m going to molest your, um…well…” she said, groping for words.

“Tell me I’ve gotten some color! I’ve been to hell!” she said, satanically.

“I’ve got friends who have their hands on the levers of power. Gross friends! And they’re going to use those levers on my behalf!” she said, politically.

“I want to be a flight attendant, or fix bicycle wheels,” she said in a plainspoken manner.

“I’m a primate! Don’t I look cute?” she asked, girlishly.

“I’m an angry drunk! Don’t I look cute?” she asked, girlishly.

“Maybe we could make some money by getting my nephews to do some corrective follow-up landscaping in the first hours of the morning,” she said, entrepreneurially.

“Now I’m naked from the waist down!” she shouted, expansively.

“I was deep in thought considering all the money you’re going to give me, but I’m not thinking about much anymore,” she said, expensively.

“Camping is over. The circus is over. Living in the dessert is over. The traveling craft-fair is over. The evangelical tour is over,” she said extensively.

“It’s my considered diagnosis, I’m getting droopy,” she expertly opined.

“If you think MY shirt’s been torn, you should see my other boyfriend's!” she shrieked, hysterically.

“I may have a black eye, but the other guy has an empty socket!” she laughed maniacally.

“I’m going to be eating alone,” she said wanly.

"I've been given the gift of long legs," she said, solemnly.

--Dan Kilian
The Way She Said It

She Had More To Say, and How She Said It

Thursday, November 17, 2011

Regarding Heating of Aquifers as a Result of Ground-Source Heat Pump Based Air Conditioning Systems

The funny thing is that there are colonies of archaeoprotozoans that sparsely populate the fractured shale that underlies the majority of the world's aquifers.  They died back during the Silurian period, the temperatures of the aquifers having dropped to non-optimal levels.  As the aquifers start absorbing surface calories, the environment may become more hospitable to these colonies.

Now I know what you're thinking:  "Zombies.  Hordes of ravenous zombies, feasting on the flesh of the living."  That's what I thought too, having seen enough educational television to know what's what.  But further research (from assumed principles, not the empirical work that passes for science these days) shows that the colonies would likely not interact with topside biology, so the West-Guimard reaction would not occur.

At least not initially.  It turns out that in the process of drilling geothermal wells bits of human DNA can be introduced into the aquifers, which can in turn be incorporated into the pRNA of the colonies.  I'll skip ahead here, since I'm addressing an educated audience.  Thus:

. . . upon achieving the requisite level of connectivity, the sheets of protozoan tissue will have achieved sentience.  This coupled with the higher levels of proteins in the aquifer (resulting in low impedance to chemo-electrical signals) provides an ideal setting for a networked intelligence.  The reflective and amplifying characteristics of certain aquifer geometries may very well result in "spillage" or "leaking" of these signals to the surface. . . .

Again, I'll skip ahead:

. . . blasphemous piercing of the chthonic vaults of the Old Ones, minds torn asunder by those unholy emanations, infants twisted in the womb to shapes not seen on this planet since the moon coalesced from the Great Ring, rifts in the mantle of the Earth spilling forth long-subsumed telluric currents, vomiting forth armies girded not in leather or steel but in the horn-like carapaces they were born with -- or designed to bear by something still more ancient and unutterably evil. . . .

You get the idea.

--Steve Kilian

Ice Cream

A Good Put-Down

Tuesday, November 15, 2011

The First Insomniac

Oog! What was that? Has the sabretooth gotten into the cave? Maybe Oog should check. Too tired. Maybe Oog just call out oog and see if anything growls. No, don’t want to wake the others. Just go back to sleep.

Oog. Can’t get arm comfortable. Sleep like this. Okay, that’s better.

Maybe tomorrow Oog grab more long branches and stick them over the cave hole. Maybe go down to the pond. Some good trees and branches there. Maybe figure out a way to carry more branches. Sometimes they stick together. Why?

Still awake! Want to sleep! Go to sleep Oog!

Go to make urine. That will help. Walk quiet! Don’t want to wake the others. Sorry Ooog!

Ahh piss wall! Looking at you makes Oog have to make urine even more. Oog like your stains. Maybe Oog will make art like the hunting and sex pictures Ooga makes, only with urine. Maybe art doesn’t need to be about beasts and sex parts. Maybe shapes are enough. Oog think crazy things when Oog doesn’t get enough sleep.

Walk quiet!

Back to sleep. Back to oog. Maybe instead of just calling everything oog, Oog and the other oogs could change the sounds, so each thing gets its own sound, and we’ll know what we mean without even looking at the thing or dancing like it, just by the sound of the oog. Or the sound of the…oogoog. Or the…goog. Oog think crazy things when Oog doesn’t get enough sleep.

Still not asleep!

Does Oog put too much mud on Oog? It’s nice and cool in the hot outside, but maybe it makes Oog look lumpy. Maybe the female oogs don’t like so much mud. Maybe tomorrow Oog will go light on the mud. Why is Oog worrying about that now? Oog needs to sleep!

OOG! Still not asleep!

IS that the sabretooth?

--Dan Kilian

Who is JASON D? K-Riddle

The Sentient Slab

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Supermodel To Open Restaurant Chain

Acknowledging that the widely held belief that many models have ribs removed to enhance their figures is true, supermodel Kate Moss is poised to launch the first in a hoped chain of restaurants called Kate's Ribs. Patrons will dine on the removed ribs of would-be models, served in one of two styles: bbq or braised. Portions will be small, and diners will be encouraged not to finish everything.

A special feature of the restaurant will be a monthly "taster's choice" event, where pre-paying customers can visit a web site in advance of their meal and select the model on whose ribs they will dine. Surgery will then be performed, and diners will receive their custom-prepared meal.

Potential patrons are already eating up the idea. "What guy hasn't wanted to eat a 17 year old," said John Boshok of Decatur, Illinois. "This makes it convenient, fast, and legal."

Model and owner Moss concurs. "Our core demographic is a 35-50 year old man who wants a piece of each of these girls. These ribs are just being thrown away. This way the models' surgeries are paid for, and men can sink their teeth into some fine meat. Everyone wins."

The first location is slated to open in January of 2012 in Sheboygan, Wisconsin. Future expansions in other metropolitan areas are being planned.

--Carl Lorentzen

Bad Day at McDonald’s

The Rain

Friday, November 4, 2011


This is a momentous day at the KLOG! We've added a new Category, those helpful tags which absolutely none of you use to navigate this blog! Food is the hot new subject of both reality shows and internet hoopla. Cooking is the one thing some computer app won't soon be able to do for us so that we'll all be cooking and eating for each other as the only viable economy around. So in light of that, KLOG is proud to present Kuisine!

Our newest installment of Kuisine is Klog's answer to the award winning recipe agglomeration site What The Fuck Should I Make For Dinner?

The whole deal with WTFSIMFD is randy talk and ready recipes. Well, we can google up some recipes, and we can get a fuckload saltier, so if it's foul language and recipes you're looking for, you're going to love KLOG's

What The Cunt Should I Make For Dinner?

As I said, it's a fuckload, (Or should I say Cuntload?) nastier than anything on that other site. Get ready for some language that will make you sick to your hungry hungry stomach!

Coming soon: A category devoted to child-rearing, even though there should be a computer app for that soon. It'll be called Kildren, and it's feature will be a brilliant improvement the latest, hottest new children's book for adults, and it will be called Go The Cunt To Sleep.

--Dan Kilian

Top Trek: A Pan Fiction!

The Tipsy Parson: November 3 2009

What The Cunt Should I Make For Dinner?

Well you could eat snot mixed with Jism and anal blood, 

or why don't you try

Tequila Lime Chicken



What The Cunt Should I Make For Dinner?

Then why don't you fucking

starve to death, you mother fucking cunt.

Bad Day at McDonald’s

Nother K-Riddle (Easy One For a Monday)

What The Cunt Should I Make For Dinner?

Why don't you give yourself a fucking lobotomy

and BE a vegetable,

if you love them so much?

Return of the K-Riddler

The Rain

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

The Most Brutal Route

The other day I decided to change the voice on my GPS map device.  Scrolling through the options, I eventually selected Nihlator Blackbeak.  So now a visit to a jobsite sounds something like this:

Go forth toward the West ninety-seven chains along the ash-covered road on which your feeble dwelling stands.

To the left the path leads to that which is not your destination.  To the right is that which is to be expected.  The decision is yours.

Proceed toward the northern wastes 3 furlongs.  The bleakness of this passage may be broken by the sight of prisoners of the Ninth Empire rotting in cages that adorn this foul highway – or it may not, depending on whether you have the will to see That Which Might Be.

Keep to the left as the way branches before you.  Others will move toward the right.  That is not your path.

Advance on this new road as it winds through forested lands.  Beware the creatures that may leap from the sides of the carriageway.  For many miles you will follow this route.

A gateway approaches.  A TOLL MUST BE PAID.

The time has come to exit to the right.  The certain road is behind you now.  Ahead lies confusion and desolation.  Press on or return in disgrace.  As always and in all things the choice is yours.  No entity but the bitch-goddess Chaos holds sway in this realm.  Proceed 200 yards toward the Shell Mini-Mart.

FOOL!  Nihlator Blackbeak must return to his map-chamber and plot a new course for your wayward vessel!  How he longs for the time after the Great Unworking, when all shall bow to his will.

Turn left on Elmbrook Road.  Proceed 90 chains.  Turn Left on Trout Pond Lane.  Proceed 90 chains.  Turn Left on Frontage Road.  Proceed 90 chains.  Turn right onto the path that was originally presented to you.  Consider more rigorously your next decision to ignore the advice of Nihlator Blackbeak, master cartographer to the elder kings, court astronomer for Simeon the Gifted, and subaltern to the Seventh Chronarch – yes, the one who filled the Temporal Charthouse before losing his mind and 37% of his body to the tachyphage horde.

Ignore the distractions which litter this rural track.  Signposts, rude shacks from which the locals sell strange vegetables of questionable nutritive value, dilapidated inns calling out their vacancies – all are to be shunned.  Do not slow as you go forward another furlong and a half.

Nihlator Blackbeak can guide you no further in your mission.  Your destination is before you.

Thank you for using Garmin.

--Steve Kilian


Chronicles of the Proceedings of the Hall of Tumescence


Monday, October 31, 2011

Jack O Lantern


--Dan Kilian

She Had More To Say, and How She Said It

K-word: Donkdiculous

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Thursday, October 20, 2011


I'm Gorglax, and I'll be your motherfucking waiter tonight.  You all want massive tankards of fermented chrisaak blood spiced with gallroot resin?  Good, because that's what you get.  I'll be back for the next part of this empty charade.

OK.  You fuckers drunk enough to eat yet?  Excellent.  I'll bring out the meat.

Fuckers!  Shut the fuck up!  This is the meat.  Here and here is rabbit and frog, respectively.  That big thing is a grall heart.  This, this, and this are its eyes.  That syrupy stuff is trinark venom - the chef's a fucking madman.  There's no tuberoot.  Eat up and I'll be back with more blood.

You insignificant pieces of shit want something sweet?  Any of you die yet for the love of god?  We've got banker's fungus and kingsmount talons.  Yes, they're fucking steamed in Southwall ale.  I'd go with the fungus anyway.  What?  Do you really expect me to embark on an etymological lecture regarding the items on our dessert card, perhaps spicing up the straight linguistics with discursions into monetary policy and the proper treatment of papyrus fibers intended for use as currency, hmmm?  Ain't happening.

That's it, pay up.  Eighteen percent is added for groups of three or more.  You can make return reservations with Gwen out front.  Now go.

--Steve Kilian
Geographical Points of Interest

The Hurt Locker

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

It's All In The Percentages

The 99% Movement started by Wall Street Occupation has been answered by a bunch of corporate dupes in the 53% Movement. The 99 is the percent who aren’t the top 1% running the country, and the 53 is the percent who pay out in their income taxes. One side argues that the richest people shouldn’t get all the bailouts and influence over our politicians to the detriment of the rest of Americans, and the other side wants more taxes for the poor. Both sides have a point, although only one side has a good point.

Of course, this is only the beginning. If there’s anything Americans all can agree on, it’s division. So what other nascent percent based groups are rising to the surface out there?

The 12%

These are the people who don’t actually don’t pay out in income taxes but think they do. You can find many of them on the 53% web site.

The 99.9%

The rich people who read Paul Krugman. Actually a small fraction of .009%

The 110%

People who are giving their all, and then some. Wait, if they were giving their all, isn’t it impossible to give more? Wouldn’t whatever extra amount they’re giving top out at what would be their actual 100%? There’s something mathematically wrong with this. Can God make a stone heavier than He can lift?

The 2%

These people want strong bones and thick hair, but don’t want to get fat. Still, skim milk is just too watery for them.

 The 15%

These are the people who think they’re tipping enough but they’re not.

The 18%

Members of this group wouldn’t want to be a member of a group that would have them as a member.

The 50%

Maybe you’re in this group. Maybe you’re not.

The 99% of 99%

Quick, how much is that? Take whatever crazy number you got and multiply it by .99. Now do it again, ad infinitum. It’s always slightly less than whatever it is. This ever dwindling group is comprised mostly of reality show participants and employed people.

The 16%

When you take the 36 percent of voters who identify as “independent” and strip away those who are actually “leaning” Democratic or Republican (in other words, the damned liars who think it’s fashionable to seem independent when they’re not) you get this group who are actually going to decided next years election. They probably don’t care about real issues, and will likely vote based on how the candidates feel about cats or something. There goes our future. And it’s actually 15%, but I’ve already got a bit about The 15%, so I had to fudge the number.

The 66.6%

This is the number of people in The United States who worship Satan. Some like to think that there’s something numerically significant to the 666 in this percentage, but it’s really just a fortuitous coincidence that this percentage of Devil worshipers (a higher number than many realize) is currently such a popular number with The Cult of the Dark One, since the number has fluctuated over the last ten years, from 62.1 to 67.8, the high point, in 2003.

In closing, a little history about the word “percent.” Most people think it’s directly Latin in derivation, but it’s actually a misnomer of the word “placenta” which was accepted over time. It seems that in the Middle Ages people would carry around their placentas, and use them as measuring units. The amount of coins one could wrap in one’s afterbirth was a respected and compared attribute, so one’s “placenta” became one’s “percent” which eventually, as measurement became more sophisticated, became the parts of a hundred meaning associated with the word today. So the next time some protester says “I’m the 99 Percent,” you could say, “That’s an awful lot of placenta!” and see what interesting conversations ensue. 

--Dan Kilian

Unbelievable Presi-Factuals


Tuesday, October 18, 2011

The Siege

Reynald sat against the side of the trench, panting.  Steam rose frome his shoulder where the pitch had landed.  The skin crackled under his armor, filling the trench with a smell like roasting pork.  Such was the hunger of the men that their stomachs growled at the thought of cooked flesh, even human.

Reynald nodded to Sergei and closed his eyes.  Sergei grabbed the collar of the pitch-soaked brigandine and tore it away, hoping for the best.  Instead it pulled away a broad sheet of skin, exposing muscle across Reynald's shoulder and chest.  A fresh plume of steam perfumed the air.  Reynald gasped and started to shake, gripping Sergei's wrist and squeezing against the pain.

Fuck the Germans, thought Sergei.  Holding up in their fortress, barring their doors against their fellow men while the Changed marched against the rear lines of what remained of Reynald's army.  Even now the masked scouts rode forward to report that the undead were less than two days away.  They had to find shelter or keep moving through a depleted landscape, and the men were already dropping from hunger and dysentery.

And now Reynald was going to die.  He had almost won back the world.  Now just one more corpse to watch.

Sergei turned to the men.  "If it's needed, I'll do it myself.  Either way, we take the fortress at dawn."

--Steve Kilian

The Miasma

The Citadel: Anvil

Extraordinary Measurements

Thursday, September 29, 2011

The New Drinking Games

Want to get drunk? Here are some new amusing ways to finesse the process. Never mind that you should just socialize and have a few beverages over the course of an evening laughing and having conversations. You need to get drunk, and fast, and that’s the entire point. Well, here’s how!

Beer Tennis

Same rules as beer pong, except instead of cups on a table, and actual tennis court is used, with buckets of beer instead of plastic cups. Not extreme enough? How about garbage cans and a soccer ball you throw over the roof of your house and you drink the garbage cans, or how about giant reservoirs of beer and you fly planes into them and you drink the reservoir or how about entire galaxies of beer and you throw planets into them and you drink the galaxies? Or maybe some kind of Nerf ball based variation on Beer Pong.

Super Flip Cup

Hate waiting while your teammates are trying to flip over the cup? Now you can participate! Because Super Flip Cup includes handguns! See how the other player flips a cup with bullets flying by. It gets even wilder in the free for all round. Game concludes with a round of Russian Roulette…with beer!

The Beer Bong

This isn’t a giant funnel with a tube. This is an actual beer bong, and you smoke the beer. Still in development.

The Bob Newhart Game

If you mention Bob Newhart everyone else laughs and says “You’re old!” Soon they don’t want to hang with you, and you drink by yourself in a dive bar with all the other old guys.

Drunken Monopoly

Each player tried to monopolize the alcohol, hoarding booze bottles and refusing to pour for others. Soon a fistfight breaks out. Which could be a way to segue into…

Drunken Fight Club

Like Fight Club, only with more of a focus on drinking.

To Kill A Mockingbird

A number of mocking birds are released into the party. The participants hunt them down and kill them. Each dead bird gives you the power to force another player to chug. Or maybe there’s tequila involved.

Drinking In Silence

Participants sit in the gloom, glowering at each other, sipping their beers in angry silence. If anyone talks, everyone has to drink.

Beer Pinata

The best drinker is forced to drink an entire keg of beer. This hero is then hung, and poked with forks. As the body swings and twists on its rope, a fountain of beer sprays the participants who try to catch the tiny streams of alcohol in their mouths.

Burning Down The House

Watch the Ken Burns documentary series "Prohibition." Every time he mentions David Byrne, drink. Every time he mentions alcohol, light your house on fire. This one's good if you like a little pyromania with your partying.

The Intervention

Confronting an alcoholic with his or her destructive behavior is never fun. Until now! Each person who shares a story of personal destruction caused by the miserable soul’s addiction gets to force someone else in the circle to chug a beer. If you make the alcoholic cry everybody drinks!

Remember to drink to excess responsibly.

--Dan Kilian
Extraordinary Measurements

Consider Your Enemies

Wednesday, September 28, 2011

Tuesday, September 27, 2011

Bring Back The Monday Night Drunk

Just a little wine with dinner. Can I check your wine list? No, you don’t have a wine list? What, is it on the menu? What, you don’t serve food? Okay, then I’ll have some potato chips. And a beer. Less alcohol, won’t make me sleepy. Can you believe they don’t serve food here? Yeah, potato chips. Better than the last place. I’ve got one. Got to have a base, right? Want a chip? Suit yourself.

Yes, another, please! You know what this place needs, besides a menu and a wine list? A big jar of pickled eggs. Man, they had those in Louisville and when you were drunk enough, you’d eat one of those things! Nasty! I could go for one right now.

Jesus did work suck today. Literally suck, like a vampire, all your energy, all your blood. This was going to be a big week, but no, it’s already over. It’s those bitches in Human Resources*, they make everything three times as hard as it needs to be. And the meetings! Shoot me in the head and stab me!

Yes, please! And let’s have a shot! Bourbon. You work? Yeah? You work tomorrow? Just asking, because it’s a school night. Kind of hate that expression, really. What are we, gonna pretend we’re little kids until we die? Personally I’d rather fight off a hangover at work than at home. Got to get going, get your blood flowing, instead of lying around in a pool of gross.

Still, I’m usually not out this early in the week. Got a friend in a band playing tonight, just killing a little time, getting some dinner before the show. You want to go check out a band? They’re   probably not that good, if they can’t swing a weekend. How about a chip? Okay. Hey what time is it, anyway? Ah shit. They’re already done. You want to see some other band? You never know, right? I’m pretty amped up.

Hey, can I have some more chips? And another shot. You want some chips? A shot? What are you, on a diet?

Thank you! I’ll have one more! This is gonna be the best week ever!

--Dan Kilian

* This is a piece of fiction. I work at a job with the nicest Human Resources team in the world.

This was the program from The Ks performance at Pianos on 9-26-11. The video is from a Local 269 performance earlier in the year.


No Other Place


Friday, September 23, 2011

Dear Western Beef

Dear Western Beef:

While I appreciate your reasonable prices and the quality of your goods (those 4-pound chicken breasts are wonderful!), I must take exception to the way your presence on the World Wide Web is managed.  The reasons for this are two-fold:

1)  When I attempt to access the Weekly Sale portion of your Web Page from my car-phone, I frequently get an error message stating that a maximum file size has been exceeded.  Perhaps you could provide a more compact LONG ARE THE NIGHTS OF THE SLOAR! file for viewing on mobile devices?

2)  I frequently visit your Web Page from a Desktop computer THE BLADES OF KANGOR ARE SLICK WITH VIRGIN BLOOD on Friday morning in anticipation of learning what items are on sale for the upcoming week (as you are no doubt aware your sale periods extend from Thursday to ThursSLAUGHTER!day, so Friday is a big day!), but am frequently disappointed to find that the old circular is what is posted on your website.  Please be more vigilant in THE THROAT-SACKS OF THE LIZARDFOLK ADORN MY CHEST AND TESTICLES updating your website.

In closing, I would like to reiterate my appreciation for THE BATTLEMAGE WORKS HIS DARK ART, SETTING THE PLAIN ALIGHT WITH UNQUENCHABLE BLUE FIRE the service you provide in neighborhoods across the city.  I feel that my suggestions, if heeded, will only improve on what is already a successful THE CRIES OF THE ENEMIES ASSAIL THE FRAGILE VEIL OF SANITY THAT SECURES US TO THIS WORLDPLANE business model.

Your faithful customer,


--Steve Kilian

Heroes of a Lesser Power # 46

Our Greatest Hits, Yolks Semi-Intact

Tuesday, September 13, 2011

God Smoked

God smoked the entire crop of Lava Lovely by causing the eruption of Mount Kaineua in the afternoon of Tuesday, April 20th, 2018.  The eruption started with the venting of 3,400 metric tons of steam laden with sulfur and carbon monoxide.  The rising plume of super-heated vapor displaced a column of cool air extending 15,000 feet into the atmosphere.  The cooling steam then collapsed vertically into the caldera of the formerly dormant volcano.


As this happened, magma erupted from the fissure created by the escaping steam.  The boiling rock instantaneously flash-fired the marijuana crop, comprising approximately 2,300 tons of harvest-ready plants.


The descending column of air, on meeting the smoke rising from the incinerated marijuana, formed a vortex.  The funnel cloud was visible 9 miles away.  Simultaneously long-empty lava tubes created during previous eruptions were filled with 3,000-degree-celsius air and methane from the primary magma release.  This promptly exploded through the relatively thin caps of soil and debris at the termini of the tubes.


The release of this volume of gas created a negatively pressurized zone, providing a path of least resistance for the descending tornado of marijuana smoke.  The smoke was pulled through the boiling magma and into the lava tubes, repressurizing the tubes.  Much of the smoke then percolated back upward through the magma, causing large pockets of vapor to bubble out of the liquid stone.  On reaching the surface the exterior of these bubbles solidified and immediately burst from internal pressure, releasing powerful explosive shock-waves and creating a pyroclastic flow down the eastern face of the volcano.


The sound of this was heard as far away at Kailuaea (a resort town).  Guests at the Kailuaea Hilton said that it sounded at first like coughing, and then like laughter.

--Steve Kilian

Imagined Conversation with Ray Parker Jr.

The Tipsy Parson: November 3 2009

Friday, September 9, 2011

Attention Ladies:

Regarding eyebrow-tweezing, please exercise some restraint.  While it is certainly fine to pluck the odd errant hair, there is no call to get obsessive about your eyebrows.  Taken in the abstract, eyebrows are fairly disgusting things:  a row of bristles, the purpose of which is to prevent secretions from the flesh skull-covering above from dripping into the seeping gelatinous light-traps that typically occur below.  And don't get me started on the nose – a mucus- and hair-lined tube for filtering solids from the air – yeesh.  The human head in general is really a mass of sensor pods of varying degrees of repulsiveness, prone to discharges both thick and runny, a gnashing mass of orifices emanating sounds which should drive any thinking person completely insane.  So if your eyebrow is not quite arched the way you'd like it, it doesn't really matter.  That's like saying the maggots on a rotting goat aren't lined up quite right.  It's simply not material.  So relax.

--Steve Kilian


The House of Wrongs

Friday, September 2, 2011

Steve's Wardrobe Choice

Steve woke up early on Thursday morning.  He had a busy but not particularly challenging workday ahead of him, and he thought that the time would pass quickly.  Afterward he would go to the bar around the corner with people from work and some friends, and that would be enjoyable.

What to wear, what to wear?

He surveyed an array of button-down shirts, many of them made of fabric treated to make ironing unnecessary.  This was an excellent innovation that had occurred during his lifetime.  These are the golden years, he thought.

To a casual observer the shirts were largely the same, with small variations on the theme of a grid of lines on a solid background.  To Steve they represented a wildly differentiated menagerie of expression.  Light purple lines at a 3/16" spacing on white versus dark blue at 1/4" were as unalike as a dolphin and a kangaroo.  The one spoke of the order imposed by a fascist regime on an unwilling public (to which in weaker moments he took a romantic shine) while the other was an example of emergent form-making rising from fundamental principles inherent to all matter.  He did not notice that he was almost inaudibly whispering, "Snowflakes . . . snowflakes. . . ."

Finally he selected a shirt with white lines spaces at 1/8" on a blue background.  This represented pure chaos, an inversion of any semblance of consciousness, thought and matter unbound in an ever-unraveling quantum haze of superimposed states of possibility.  "Besides," he thought,

"Bitches love grids!"

--Steve Kilian

Stephen Hawking Contemplates The Void

Abandoned Halloween Costume Ideas

Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Exercising His Job Bone

After Labor Day may come a moment of truth for Barack Obama. With unemployment still over 9 % he needs to lay out a jobs planthat will sell him to the American people for another four years. His opponents in the Republican party are selling tax cuts and deregulation: in short, everything we’ve been doing for the last ten years with no effect. That’s likely to win; thanks to the two-party system, whenever the economy tanks we have to go with whoever’s out of power, however wrong-headed their ideas obviously are.

Speaking of out of power, Barack Obama. Right now there’s an internal White House debate as to whether Obama should present a large, ambitious plan that would inspire his base but face almost certain defeat in a Tea Party–driven Congress or focus on small bore goals thatwould face almost certain defeat in a Tea Party–driven Congress. Obama will probably try to achieve a compromise defeat.

Here are some of the ideas likely to be floated after Labor Day:

Payroll Tax Cut

Workers pay into Social Security with this tax, so what could go wrong with another payroll tax holiday? The benefits to the economy would far outrun any long-term risks to seniors, because nothing inspires consumer consumption in a debt-ridden society more than barely perceptible incremental increases in their paychecks. Concerns being raised about this cut’s affecting Social Security’s viability should be drowned out by troubling comments from the right, such as Governor Rick Perry’s comparing Social Security to “a giant Ponzi scheme.” Which brings us to our next plan for creating job growth in America…

A Giant Ponzi Scheme

The traditional Ponzi scheme involves paying off early investors with money from newer investors, which is a system doomed to collapse once new capital stops flowing in. Yet what if the scheme was guaranteed by the full faith and power of the U.S. government? Then the early investors could pocket their money, and maybe spend money on an extravagant birthday party or something. We’ll all go into catering, literally catering to the rich!

Infrastructure Bank

If our roads and bridges are so important, why did we give them a name, “infrastructure,” which sounds like something the Fantastic Four use to fortify their super lab headquarters? ’Nuff said about that.

As for creating jobs, the administration would create an infrastructure bank, which could then quickly go insolvent. The government could then bail the bank out without stipulations, and the corporate officers could give themselves huge bonuses. The rising tide lifts all boats, which is great for boats, but not so great for our bridges and highways, which are crumbling.

Mortgage Reform

Nothing’s going to improve until the housing situation improves. Why don’t we just strike the last five words of that sentence?

Outsource the Unemployed

What if we paid people in Thailand to be unemployed for us? It might be cheaper. Those people work for next to nothing. Also, what if we peg the U.S. dollar to the Chinese Yuan (Their currency sounds vaguely Spanish. Did China outsource their entire economy to Mexico? This would explain a lot.), which is pegged to the dollar? It could create a time warp or a black hole or something really cool like that. Or what if we paid Mexicans to do our drugs for us, and then sold THEM the drugs? Or what if we pegged the U.S. dollar to the drugs?

Start Another War

Why is that World War II got our economy going, but now wars cost a lot of money and don’t seem to do any good? It’s like the whole military-industrial complex is just a giant Ponzi scheme that kills a lot of people. Which brings us to our next plan for creating job growth in America…

A Giant Killer Ponzi Scheme

What if we got those killer drones to attack poverty-stricken parts of the U.S? Would YOU like to get in early on this killer investment deal?

These are the options Obama’s got to work with. His best bet is that the anemic growth we’re seeing is enough to get us to 8.9 % unemployment by next year, and that by then, 8.9 % feels like good news. We’re in the new normal, people, also known as “the new awful.” The truth is that the only way to get any new stimulus through Congress is to elect a Republican president. Only crass hypocrisy can save us now!

--Dan Kilian

Mr. Obama: Playground Monitor

Batman vs. The Taliban

The Screaming Majority - 1937


--The Screaming Majority

The Screaming Majority – Rupert Murdoch On The Line

Buncha Videos

The Screaming Majority - Corporations Are People

--Paula Carino: vocals, words/music
--Dave Benjoya: keys, bass, drums
--John Sharples: avuncular voice over
The Screaming Majority – Barack’s Immaculate Timepiece

Buncha Videos

High Drynophatic

So this old guy was up on a big rock hill –

Like a mountain?  Jeez, Cassidy, weren't you listening during, like, geometry?

Yeah, mountain, whatever.  Anyway, he was up there in a big wrinkly coat with a dirty hood –

A cloak.

Yeah, a cloak, with stars and planets and all sorts of space stuff on it –

Like the Sygils of Eronard the Lesser?

Yeah, that, and he was in front of this gross cow-gore that was –

"Cow-gore"?  WTF?

You know, the points that the cow uses to gore a matador in Spain or wherever, which is total cruelty to animals and why I am NOT going to make out with Alvaro –

But he's cute!  And it's called a horn.

Anyway, the old guy in the cloak was muttering all this stuff in Arabic or something –

Probably High Drynophatic.

Completely!  So then all this smoke comes out of his mouth and his teeth are all yellow and gross and he leans forward and blows into the 'horn' and the smoke comes billowing out and spilling down the mountain, which I'm sure is against the Clean Air Act or something –

We should boycott.

Yes!  Anyway, the smoke is all dirty and there are all sorts of gross shapes in it –

The soul-rending forms of the massless undead, torn from the fabric of Chaos by the fell sorcery of the wizard you describe?

Probably.  Anyway, the smoke poured down into the village below and the sounds of that minor extinction still haunt me!

No doubt.  We better get back to class.

--Steve Kilian
Batman vs. The Taliban

The Ghost Is Dead But The Corpse Is Still Walking Around

Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Of Ice and Sea

The spotter's airship was barely visible above.  The cable that tethered it to the deck of the icecutter hummed in the wind.  Fergus watched the broken ice refreeze in the wake of the ship, a jagged scar across the floes, poorly stitched and angry for it.  They'd been three weeks in the North, three weeks from Winterport.

The ship's surgeon joined him at the rail.  Doctor Kettering hadn't slept for days, and his skin was pale and hung slack from his bones.  "Three more today," he said.  Fergus did not begrudge him this little inhumanity.  He surely knew that the three dead sailors were Fitzpatrick, Mollineaux, and Richards.  But Fergus also knew that for the doctor to do his work he had to put some distance between himself and the men.  Or what had been men.

Soon three canvas sacks joined the scar, and by nightfall were gone from sight.

--Steve Kilian

Dropping Science

Project Run For Your Lives

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

Song Request

Could you write a song about a warrior race that has some ritual dance of ascension for the new warriors which takes place on the Sands of Kraal (you can change that if it doesn't work lyrically), after which molten steel is poured into the tracings in the sand, forming unique blade patterns which are then forged into the sacred weapons of the new warriors who must then develop their own individual martial art form based on these random blades?  I know it's a lot, so you can split it over many songs if necessary.  Maybe something like:

Readying the Sands (Intro)

The Sands of Battle /The Dance of Battle

The Image in Steel


The Voice of the Blade

Finding the Way:

Part 1:  Academy

Part 2:  Challenge

Part 3:  Mastery

Readying the Sands (Outro)

Awesome!  Thanks, brother.

--Steve Kilian

The Final Thoughts of Lamplighter 34

One Great Wisdom and One Great Truth



Monday, August 8, 2011

Dear Acme Product Returns

Dear Acme Product Returns,

I am returning your rocket propelled bicycle, and desire a full refund. I don’t say that I expect a full refund, as I have come to learn not to expect anything from your company, or that any of my expectations shall bear fruit, but that is the idea, isn’t it?

I shall humor the process a little more: This product, rather than propelling me down the road at enormous speeds, as advertized, did something quite different. It lifted the back half of the bicycle off the ground while my front tire wobbled frontwards and back at dramatic speeds, and then the propellant tank loosened, driving me face down in the ground repeatedly.

Still I did not die. I heard a brief Doppler-ized “Beep beep” as my nemesis scooted by, but I did not die, even having been crushed into the Earth at rocket speeds, repeatedly. This is the same mocking sound I have heard so many times over the years as your products have failed me. The flying machines, the earthquake pills, spring loaded shoes. All flights fell, all springs sprung out of control, all poisons only poison coyotes, just not enough to actually kill.

How I have tried to die. No amount of bludgeoning, no crushing weight, nothing will kill me. Explosions leave me blackened, but intact. I have fallen from towering cliffs, with boulders, even huge slabs of mountainside following soon after. I see their growing shadows, but never feel the sweet kiss of oblivion.

Now I see the David Lynch movie I am in. Since I cannot die, I must already be dead. It explains this endless, lifeless desert. For I am in Hell. Year after year I strive, isolated, but for that devil of yours who speeds by for the purpose of mocking and tantalizing me.

Now I get the wicked twist that is your name. You are The Acme. The mysterious place I cannot know. Heaven. God. Does it really create such pleasure to torment me, so far below? Now that I know my punishment, is there truly no penance for whatever long forgotten sins I may have committed in my earthly form? Was I even a coyote? Is there no way back? Please. I implore you. Bring me to Acme, let me be with you. Let me be with the others in your blessed realm! I shall not eat them!

Barring that, I’d like a grenade launcher fishing pole, please. Charge it to my usual account.


W. E. Coyote

--Dan Kilian

This was the program for the most recent show by The Ks! 

The Hall of IP


Thursday, August 4, 2011

Buncha Videos

So I've been making some videos, and I just finished one, and I thought, maybe Klog's readers would like to see this! Then it occurred (which is a ridiculous looking word, all those Cs and Rs) to me that I have a lot of videos and now that I'm opening Pandora's worms I might as well hit you in one big goob.

This is the one that I just finished. It's for this project called The Screaming Majority I've been engaged in. It's for Sam Seder's Majority Report radio show, and every week we come up with a song full of lefty outrage on the current event.  This one's about Grover Norquist. If you've ever wanted to see Americans for Tax Reform satirized with muppets, now's your chance. It's called "Flipping Grover The Big Bird."

Here's the latest one I've made for The Ks. It's called My Name Is Love

Some more Ks videos AND Screaming Majority videos below. More than anyone could possibly want!

The Ks

The Great Depression


I'm All Over The Place (Official Video)


Good Man (Most of the Time)


A Couple Nights A Week (Official Video)




The Mosquito


Election Night


The Screaming Majority:

Pray For Us Perry


Rupert Murdoch On The Line


Da Dumb Money


El Senador Furioso



--Dan Kilian

Why I Listen to Monster Magnet


Monday, August 1, 2011

Mr. Obama: Playground Monitor

Mr. Obama! Mr. Obama! Robby punched me! And he says he’s going to beat me up after school!

 Hello Donnie! So you’re saying we’ve only got until 3:00 to make you and Robby be friends?

 I don’t want to be friends with Robby!

 But friends don’t punch each other. You don’t want to be punched, do you?

Can’t you just make him not punch me?

No, that kid’s crazy! But he’s got some good ideas. If I stop him, he’ll probably just go nuts and punch everybody on the playground. You don’t want that do you?

I GUESS not.

Hey Johnnie! You’re friends with Robby, right?


Can you tell him not to hit Donnie after school today?

I can’t tell him THAT! Then he wouldn’t want to be friends with me!

All right, let’s talk to Robby. Hey Robby!


You don’t want to hit Donnie here, do you?

I sure do!

Think maybe you’d like to be friends with him instead?


Well, what if, instead of beating Donnie up at 3:00, you guys trade punches? You hit him, and he hits you?


What if you get to hit him five times, and he only gets to hit you once?


Donnie, do you see how reasonable I’m being? This kid is really something.

Yeah that’s great, but he’s still gonna beat me up at 3:00.

Which is fast approaching. We’ve all got to do something. Hmm…Johnnie, you got anything?

What if at 3:00, Robby gets to punch Donnie in the face, and then, in return for not hitting him more, he gets to punch him again at 3:00 tomorrow?

No, I don’t want to be dealing with all this again tomorrow. How about, if they’re not friends in a week, then Robby can punch Donnie’s lights out.

Well, I guess I can TALK to him about it.

See what you can do. Well, that was messy, but at least we avoided a fight.

I’m still getting punched in the face.

Yes, but at least you don’t have to fight! That’s exhausting.

--Dan Kilian
The Putt Putt: World’s Best Mini Golf, Holes 1-9

Sweet Boroughs

Tuesday, July 19, 2011

The Screaming Majority - Rupert Murdoch On The Line


--Dave Benjoya and Dan Kilian

His Retirement

Rough Night

Thursday, July 14, 2011

Self Portrait Frog Face

Here's the inspiration:

--Dan Kilian

Hard Case

The Friends of Greta

Tuesday, July 5, 2011

Zoning Out

This Fourth of July Weekend brought with it Sci-fi (Sorry, Sy-fy. They’re still doing that.) Network’s Twilight Zone marathon. Twi-Zo, Rod Serling’s long running masterpiece, imbued fantastic tales with social commentary, hard boiled dialogue and a noir aesthetic. Watching it, you can see up and coming actors in their formative years often well before they became household names: William Shatner, Robert Redford, Jack Klugman, Ashton Kusher. It ran for forty-seven seasons, each season averaging 157 episodes. So when the marathon runs, even when you think you’ve seen them all, invariably an episode pops up you’ve never seen before. It can feel a little Twilight Zonish when these never before seen anomalies come your way.

Of course, with that daunting an output level, not every show can be “Nightmare at 20,000 Feet.” There’s a reason some of these episodes only pop up during the Twi-Zo marathons. Preachy themes, obvious twists, and slipshod plot-lines mar a small sampling of this usually impeccable show. Here are some of the weaker efforts by Rod Serling’s “The Twilight Zone.”

“Time At Last, For Now”

Burgess Meredith stars as a misanthropic bank clerk and lover of literature who never has enough time to read all the great books he wants. When he becomes the sole survivor of a nuclear attack, it looks as though he’ll finally have time to read. Unfortunately, in a particularly bleak twist, he is eaten by giant radioactive rats.

“The Spooky Hitch-hiker”

A woman is frightened when she keeps encountering the same hitch-hiker on her cross-country journey. Finally it dawns on her that she must be dead, and that he must be death, so she finally picks him up. “Death, no not me,” says the hitch-hiker, “I am a psychotic killer though.”

“What Color is God?”

In a thinly veiled parable of the civil rights problems of mid-century America, a futuristic society is divided between orange people and yellow people. Since The Twilight Zone was a black and white show, this just produced confusion. This being the only episode written entirely in Esperanto only added to its incomprehensibility.

“The Eye of the Looker”

Doctors slowly unwrap a woman’s face of bandages after she has undergone a chancy plastic surgery operation to repair her hideous face. Only at the last minute does the audience see that the doctors and nurses are all one-eyed monsters. When the woman is unwrapped, she is a one-eyed monster as well. “Dammit!” yells the doctor, “Can’t we EVER get this operation right? We must be the worst plastic surgeons in the world!”

“The Main Character is Really Dead and Just Doesn’t Know It Yet”

The title really gives the twist away in this one.

“The Maples Are Due on Monster Street”

An alien community is turned upside down when a local farmer goes into the syrup business.

“What The Hell Is Going On?”

An amnesiac, a 15th Century Jester, a Gunslinger and a Ventriloquist with a sentient dummy find themselves trapped in a door-less, windowless room, with no explanation. They never solve the mystery of their imprisonment, and, in a particularly macabre twist, they are eaten by giant radioactive rats.

“Out of the Twilight Zone and Into The Fire”

Rod Serling drops his detached narrator pose for an episode, strapping on a gun and leading a rag-tag team of misfits to battle monsters from The Outer Limits.

--Dan Kilian
Screenplay For William Shatner and Christopher Walken Consisting Only of Pauses

Trippy and Groovy: 8 Song Playlist

Friday, June 24, 2011

Lake It or Leave It

I lake what I see. Really, that’s going to be the concept here? Weak rhyme puns on lake? Lake out! Lake wow! You love The Ks? Lakewise. Lake no mistake about it. Lake me a pie.

What can you say about a lake anyway? A pond you can get the parameters, an ocean  you have to let go and accept the vastness. Never quite got what made an ocean an  ocean and a sea a sea. Bays I get, lagoons, yeah. Swim-holes. But the lake is like the   province of water. They should only have them in Canada, and that might actually be the case. But a Lakeside, THAT you can talk about. THAT you can dip your canoe in and go fishing. We’re the tourists from the city who holed up in the house with a bunch of beers and are making a racket you can hear two miles over. Raccoons and foxes are drawn to our cabin, and Ian thinks he saw a bear. The real danger is the locals. They’re loading up on shotguns shells, peering in at us  through the trees. Will this be a bucolic getaway, or a lynching? Listen to those crickets. How could anything bad happen down here by the lake? Wait a minute? Did you hear that? Was it a raccoon? Where’s Jeff? Oh no! I don’t lake it!

--Dan Kilian

This was the program for Thursday's show at The Lakeside Lounge.

Slap My Name On This War by Barack Obama

No Other Place

Thursday, June 23, 2011


What does it say? Comment if you need a hint.

--Dan Kilian

Our Greatest Hits, Yolks Semi-Intact

He’s Herman Van Rompuy

Thursday, June 9, 2011


So a guy walks into a bar with the Glaive in one hand and a penguin in the other.

The bartender says, "Hey, we don't want any trouble, mister," at which point the Glaive shoots forth and slits the bartender's throat, spins around the room menacingly, and returns to the guy's hand.

As the bartender dies he says, "Why?  Why?" and the penguin says, "It is I who controls the Glaive."

--Steve Kilian

Letter To Liam Neeson

Imagined Conversation with Ray Parker Jr.

Wednesday, June 1, 2011


We drove out to the reservoir with a 12-pack of rapidly warming Busch, hoping we'd get there in time.  If the girls were still there we'd give them beers and try to convince them to strip to their underwear and go swimming with us.  Megan wore a bikini top most of the time anyway so she'd be up for it.  But Megan was for Rick, as he'd made abundantly clear over the past three and a half years with nothing to show for it.  I preferred Dana, so that was fine with me.

I hoped that she'd be over last summer's thing with Brian.  I could still see her lolling in the shallows, guarding a thick egg-mass while Brian swam back and forth, clouding the water with his milt.  I cracked a beer and crossed my fingers.

--Steve Kilian

The House of Wrongs

Wednesday, May 25, 2011


I have a lizard that I keep in my room.  I hold it close, hugging it, smelling the oil on its scales, smelling its skin.  Its heart thunders because it does not want to be held.  It wants to eat crickets and be free but I keep it in a cage.

It would eat my skin if it were big enough.  It would eat my muscles and my organs too.  It would eat my liver.  But the days when lizards were huge and mammals were small are gone and it is small and I keep it for my entertainment, reaching into the cage whenever I want, my warm searching hand turning over its hiding-rock, spilling water into the sand, unperturbed by its whipping tail, unbroken by its biting teeth and its sandpaper tongue, uncaring for the terror in its eyes.

My people rose up and made cages and steel while its people became birds.  And those birds left this lizard behind, left it in my cruel hands, left it to be tortured at my whim.

I also have fish.

--Steve Kilian
Stephen Hawking Contemplates The Void

Abandoned Halloween Costume Ideas

Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Surviving The End of The World

I’m told that the actual end of the world occurs in October, that this is just The Rapture. Look around. Do you know anyone who’s likely to be called? This proves nothing. It’s like the debt ceiling. Big now that we’ve reached it, but we’ve still got to do a lot of shuffling around before everything falls apart. Still it’s a big deal. Some people have to get called up. I also think some kind of period of misery is supposed to begin now. Some people want to use The Bible as a calculator, as a constitution or as a science textbook. In Galileo’s time they used it as a telescope. I think it should be used as a bible. People, the world’s not going to end anytime soon. It’s going to stick around until we’ve got spaceships. Gene Roddenbury was given a vision just as surely as whoever wrote Revelations was given a vision. Earth’s got a long future ahead of it, so we’d better take better care of it. If it makes you feel any better, YOU’RE going to die, and likely soon. So you’ve got that. Meanwhile, might I mention the band? I think it’s pretty shit-kicking good, but very few people know us. If you halfway agree, how about spreading the word? Make yourself helpful while you’re still here on the planet. Or I guess you could do something for Haiti or Japan or something, if you want to get all real. Still, art is worth it, and these songs don’t write and arrange themselves. They might seem pretty simple, and quite frankly, they are pretty simple, and it took a lot of work  to get them that simple. Also, the bartender could use a nice tip. Buy some beer. Enjoy yourself. I don’t know why I’m getting all needy, it’s just the night before the end of the world and I’m trying to fill up some space. The End.

--Dan Kilian

Program from Saturday Night's Show, when many had predicted The Rapture would occur.

Stephen Hawking Contemplates The Void

Felix From The Flame

Thursday, May 19, 2011


Hey, Tom, how's it going?

Joe!  Great to see you!  How the hell are you?

Well, I'm –

No, seriously – how the bleeding Christ on the cross are you?

Uh –

Come on, how the stack of dead babies killed by Crusaders in the Thirteenth Century are you doing, man?

Gee, Tom –

Don't bullshit me, Joe!  How the wave after wave of Mongol raiders pillaging and raping their way across the lower steppe-lands are you getting on?

Tom, I don't –

It's me, Joe!  It's ME.  How the shipping container full of fifteen-to-nineteen-year old eastern European girls being sent into a short and thankless life of heroin addiction and jizz-encrusted prostitution are you doing?

Tom, I think –

Joe, come off it.  You can tell me.  Back up and start from the beginning:  How the melanine-poisoned troupe of crippled Chinese acrobats serving as the video backdrop to your twisted jerk-off session in the special room beneath your stairs are things going in your neck of the woods?

TOM, stop!

What's wrong, Joe?

I have spinal cancer.

-- Steve Kilian

Batman vs. The Taliban

The Ghost Is Dead But The Corpse Is Still Walking Around

Wednesday, May 18, 2011

Tuesday, May 17, 2011

A Couple Nights A Week


--The Ks

Get the Album

One Great Wisdom and One Great Truth