Archive for February, 2009

Mr. Bingles

Posted in Fiction on February 28, 2009 by klogtheblog

The Ventriloquist’s dummy was no wooden facsimile, but a real boy, dead and mummified. It was his brother. They weren’t twins but they looked alike enough that the boy looked a tiny version of the man. They’d done the act for fifteen years, since Andrew, the older brother was sixteen. Phillip, the younger brother never got any older.

But his skin was yellowing as it tightened into a leather mask, pulling tighter around it’s skull. Andrew applied a moisturizer daily. Of course, moving the jaw muscles wasn’t good for Phillip’s cheeks, but the effect was uncanny when he spoke.
“We’re getting second billed behind a juggler.”
“Is that you Mr. Bingles?”
“You know that’s not my name, Andrew.”
“What do you want! Why do you torture me!”
“The Great Kuranski must die!”
“We can’t keep killing off everyone who stands in our way!”
“We must!”
Alexander Kuranzki was practicing a new routine when Andrew snatched a pin from its orbit and smashed the juggler on the head with it. He knocked Kuranski’s teeth out and jammed the smashed up teeth and flesh back into his throat, choking him to death.
When your talking mummy brother tells you to do something, you do it.
That night, Andrew noticed the retired Sergeant McDonald in the audience. In Pittsburg, he’d come backstage to compliment the duo on their act, and ask some innocuous questions about the craft, never mentioning the recent passing of the local magician who usually headlined the show. What was he doing in Kentucky? Andrew mulled it over, right there on stage. Phillip was turning yellow and stiff, and quite frankly, his timing wasn’t what it used to be. He had blood on his hands and now maybe a man on his trail. Killing the competition still wasn’t bringing the kind of following they needed. Maybe ventriloquism was a dead art. He didn’t know what to do, so he just sat there, waiting for whatever was coming. He’d stopped moving his lips a long time ago.
–Dan Kilian




Atlanta Braves Fans Here

Posted in useless excuses on February 27, 2009 by klogtheblog

My buddy Eppie’s podcast has arrived! This Saturday, March 1, they sit down with Pitcher Tom Glavine. Big stuff! They’re soliciting questions now. Check it out!

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

Posted in Fiction on February 27, 2009 by klogtheblog
At least he knew he was a “he” and not an “it.” The lesser members of the troop did not, acting like hyenas, smearing themselves with filth and spurning the grooming advances of their fellows. But he knew this was wrong. They were different, they were the People of the Gourd. Antelopes would drink from the watering hole with their mouths, and mudfish would flap in the shallows, breathing in the wetness. But the people of the gourd would scoop up the water in vessels and bring it to the shade-trees and drink together.
One day after picking nits from one of the females he went to the gourd-field. He found a big, dry gourd and sniffed it to be sure it was good. It was. He brought it back to the water hole and found two of the younger males wallowing in mud.
Enraged, he cuffed them about the face and shoulders with his open hands, bellowing and plucking at his erection. He cracked the gourd open on a rock and tore out the seeds and fibers, flinging them at the bleeding males. He waded into the water, scattering the lizards and two gazelles that had paused to watch the fracas. He filled the gourd and drank from it. He filled it again and poured it over his head. He filled it a third time and brought it to the males and forced them to drink from it. They crouched and trembled in bewilderment. He pointed to the gourd and to the water and to the two of them, over and over again. He barked at them and pointed to the gourd. He pointed at them and howled, his larynx going raw as he pounded his fist against his chest, leader of the People of the Gourd — a people who didn’t know that they were any different from the animals and insects they ate. Still they shook, uncomprehending.
He paused for a moment, panting. His grandfather had done the same thing, trying to show the lesser ones where to find the fattest grubs in the rotting logs. But every morning the lesson was gone. For them, every morning was the first morning, and every night erased what had come before. They needed some way of knowing that would last beyond the final swallow of water, the last taste of the grub. They needed some sound for things that was apart from the thing itself.
Finally, he held the gourd up in the light and croaked out, “Gooooord.”
So it began.
— Steve Kilian
The Polar Turtle

Sun O)))

Obama Song

Posted in All things political, Comedy on February 27, 2009 by klogtheblog

Giiiiiirl I’m a turn you on
Giiiiirl I’m a turn you on turn you out turn you into something we can all believe
Turn you into something that’s just too precious to receive
We can all pull through
We can all come to
A new place beyond yoga and false

–Steve Kilian

—————————————————- Obama Poem

—————————————————- Flikp!

Fire and Ice 2009 Remix

Posted in Comedy, Poetry on February 27, 2009 by klogtheblog

Some say the world will end in fire
Some say in ice
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I think that both are very nice
If you like them both, I have to ask ya,
Why not try some Baked Alaska?

–with apologies to Robert Frost by Dan Kilian

Obama Poem


A Pronounced Debt

Posted in All things political, Comedy on February 26, 2009 by klogtheblog
As the Obama administration rolls out a budget featuring a $1.75 Trillion deficit for this year, let us consider the size of numbers.

At some point in our history, possibly in the late 1800s (anyone know?) the government began juggling not just Millions of dollars, but Billions. There should have been an announcement given by the president or the secretary of the treasury to the effect of “Hear ye, hear ye, people, we’re dealing in BILLIONS now, not Millions. As in one thousand millions. BILLIONS. The shit’s getting big.”

We were too cavalier when it happened. They sounded too much alike. That’s why when W. Bush confused the two when he was running in 2000, no one made a big deal about it. We should have paid more attention. Hear ye, hear ye, we’re bumping into a Trillion.

I’m not saying we have to panic, just that we need to acknowledge where we are and how big the number is. Here are some ideas for giving Trillion the respect it is due.

Capitalize anything ending in “illion.”. These numbers are big enough to have a personality. A Trillion is a proper noun.

Never say 1.75 Trillion. That’s sounds like one and change. That’s 1 Trillion, 750 Billion, y’all.

When we speak the word aloud, we should pronounce it with an echo. As in “Barack Obama inherited a Trill-rill-rillion dollar deficit.” It’s a Trillion dollars; it merits a couple more syllables. A Trill-rill-rillion.

And of course, trill those Rs.

–Dan Kil-il-ilian

The New Depression


When Will We Find The Bottom?

Posted in All things political, Comedy on February 26, 2009 by klogtheblog
Whether you’re on the dole or just scared for your job, everybody is reeling from our economic woes. The signs are bad, the mood is gloomy, and prospects are few. If the only thing we have to fear is “fear itself,” it turns out that fear kicks ass pretty severely.
Still, things will eventually get better. Confidence shall return and we shall have a recovery. If it happens within two years, Obama wins. If it takes longer, cannibalism wins. The two questions are: when do we turn the corner, and where is the bottom? How will we know when we’ve seen the worst?
We shall have hit the bottom WHEN:

Houses in North Carolina and Pennsylvania cost as much to build as they do on North Carolina Avenue and Pennsylvania Avenue on the Monopoly board. (And by the way, green is the best monopoly; no one ever lands on Park Place.)

The Obama administration scraps its idea of creating a “bad bank” to absorb toxic assets in favor of an “absolutely horrible, rankly evil bank.”

Homeless guys get their hand-outs capped at twenty-five cents.

People switch back to landlines from cell phones, even when they don’t have a home.

Professional toilet lickers are just happy to have a job.

The Secret Ingredient on Iron Chef is…SHOE!

GM officially goes green when its entire workforce can share the same car for their commute—and living quarters.

Newspapers, publishing houses, refrigerator magnet makers, all industries that spread those confusing and dispiriting “words” are run out of business.

Songs can be bought for a song.

Tom Friedman develops a perfect recycling regime, allowing him to use the same four paragraphs for a column, three T.V. interviews, pillow talk and a book.

New Yorker cartoons featuring a blind guy selling pencils are funny again.

Pickpockets start stealing actual pockets, for the valuable pocket making materials.

Things will get better. While the global economy can exacerbate our problems, eventually it will help us. Once the Seppuku craze on Wall Street stimulates Japan’s export levels things may turn around. The Jonas Brothers should be brutally murdered and their remains set on fire. (This won’t actually affect our economy, but we should do it anyway, right?) Tim Geithner will be sacrificed to the volcano and the gods will be appeased. The bottom is coming. Climb up on it.
–Dan Kilian
The New Depression