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