Archive for January, 2012

More New Cover Bands

Posted in All things music, Comedy on January 31, 2012 by klogtheblog

The ’oo?

The Guess ’oo?

Yourself As Well


ZZZ Middle

The Creedence Clearwater Revival Revival

The If Jimi Hendrix Were Around Today and Not Dead Experience

The Grateful


A Bunch of Guys In Kiss Make-Up, But Playing Belle and Sebastian

Sounds Like Teen Spirit

Sounds Like Teenage Fanclub



Led Zeppelish


Styx and Stones



The Pstolicex

New York’s Finest

Captain Beefheart & Tennille

Admiral Porkbrain

We Bought The Name Pink Floyd From David Guilmore

Roger Water’s Latest Album Tour

–Dan Kilian

Jacob Bartelby, Temporary Fileclerk To The Stars

Astral Dumplings and Purple Prose


Light Bulbs Going Off

Posted in All things music on January 30, 2012 by klogtheblog

No, Edison did not invent the light-bulb, and Columbus didn’t really discover America, and Amerigo Vespucci certainly didn’t, but don’t try and argue that Europeans didn’t change the new world, or that carbon filaments didn’t create the modern age.

It was during an expedition to Battle Lake in the Wyoming territory to view the eclipse of the sun that Edison noticed some threads on his bamboo fishing pole. As the sun went dark, a light bulb, the likes the world had never seen, one that could burn for 1200 hours, appeared above Edison’s head. Good thing he’d already gotten the patent for a carbon filament light bulb, using an inferior filament, months prior.

Those months ago are now one hundred years ago today. A century of electric light. Turn up the lights in here baby extra bright I want them all to see this.

Following soon, the phonograph begets the CD Player begets the ipod begets the tape cassette player, and music streams through our lives for free! Never pay a musician again, until he’s begging on a subway platform. The kinetoscope begets cinema which someone will hopefully record with my flip camera.

Surely the record of this day will survive in some medium one hundred years from now, when light bulbs are the size of atoms and as bright as the sun, and music is projected straight into your brain through your eyes. Surely we shall be plucked from the realm of the forgotten by a new generation charmed by our rustic technology and techniques and enamored of our simple rock music.

“Who were these people?” they shall wonder, “What were they like?”:

They shall remix it and reconsider and fill our feeble attempts with wonders and wonder, from every angle and every vantage, with the sole exception that  they can never be in the room.

That will remain for the NEXT generation, the ones with the time machines. That guy in the corner: I think he’s one.

–Dan Kilian

This was the program from The Ks 1/27/2012 show at The Parkside Lounge, which rocked.


Interesting Turn In the Karzai Taliban Peace Talks

New Cover Bands

Posted in All things music, Comedy on January 26, 2012 by klogtheblog


Let’s Zeppelin

The Doorks



Expensive Prestidigitation

The Spinning Boulders


Metallic Daniel

Black Sabbatical

Ozzy and Harriet

Gary Busey Plays Buddy Holly

Nick Nolte Plays Buddy Holly

The Buddy Hollies

The Elvis Impersonators

Presley McMannis and the Unattractions


The Comebackaways

JJ and the Shades of Greyhearts

Spring Brucesteen

Not So Sly and A-Bunch-of-Friends Stone

James Beige

Rick James Brown and The Family Stone

Earth Wind Fire and Ken

Crosby Stills and Fire

The Clash of The Titans

The Ramones of The Day

Never Mind Sandra Bullock

The Bees Gees

The Carpenters and Tennille

The Captain and 10cc

The Foreigner Takes a Journey

Journey To The Center of Earth Wind and Fire

Pixies Cover Band

Private Friend

Nice-guys With Gratitude

New Kids Off The Old Block


More Than Words (A Tribute To The Third Incarnation of Van Halen Featuring That Guy From Extreme)

Lee Roth

Elton’s John

Elton John Lennon Sisters

Leonard Skinnard

–Dan Kilian

The Last Neanderthal

Two MSNBC Producers Lay It Out

Two Variations On The Same Joke

Posted in Comedy on January 24, 2012 by klogtheblog

Version 1:

A guy walks into a bar and says “Your door is squeaking. I could replace those hinges for you, cheap.”

Bar tender glances at the bar owner who is sitting at the bar. Bar owner says, “Not interested.”

“You sure? I specialize in saloons.”

“We’ll think about it.”

Guy has a drink, hands the owner his business card and leaves.

Moments later the roof collapses. The bartender and owner climb from the rubble of what used to be their bar.

Bartender says, “I think that guy had something to do with this.”

“What makes you think that?” asks the owner.

“I think he was a bar hinger of doom.”

Version 2:

Same kind of deal, instead there’s a laughing pirate getting really drunk and he’s a HAR! binger of doom.

–Dan Kilian

Three Variations On the Same Scatological Joke

A Hollywood Exec Calls Up Alan Alda

This Is What I Got Out of It, Chapter I

Posted in Fiction on January 23, 2012 by klogtheblog

Holy crap this is a good book. It’s amazing, start to finish. It’s over: the end. It ends before it even begins. Then, Phoenix, it rises from the flames. Some say (and when some say “some say” they don’t mean someone, they mean no one. “Some” means “none” means the straw man means some asshole means “Look at this argument some asshole made! I’m going to tear this asshole a new asshole!” Assholes tearing assholes, babies making babies.”) you should say “Phoenix from the ashes,” as that’s the true myth, (true myth!) but some people and not just some people but one person, Boudleaux Bryan, would say that when love hurts love is like a stove, it burns you when it’s hot, but Nazareth would say love is like a flame it burns you when it’s hot, and some people would say what the fuck does that mean, of course flame burns,  when is a flame not hot (oh we shall see! We shall feel!) it’s got to be a stove, something that can get hot and burn, but other people, particularly this person, who is the narrator (and yes, I am a motherfucking omniscient narrator, so I am speaking with the voice of God, so how can I be wrong?) would say, yes, but is “stove” a word that rocks? Can you really stick a big lump of cast iron onto the delicate threads of beautiful song and not have it pull them til they stretch and snap? Is love, burning fire that it is, really a kitchen appliance? Rock music burns and therefore you can add fire anywhere, whether it makes any damned sense or not. Likewise, Phoenix from the flame, because we’re not waiting for the ashes, we’re borning again right now, and besides have you never learned that alliteration is truth? Anyway, it’s a great book. Wait til you read it.

Keep waiting. Wait for it, wait for it….Wait forever. It never begins, because first you have to live for eternity, in a fire that is cold and then gets hot (See? Feel?) and burns forever. The iron ball in the sky is brushed by a pigeon every thousand years (Some might say million, but you cannot know a million, only a thousand thousands.) until it is worn away to nothing, and then eternity has just begun. Don’t crack this book’s spine until your spine is scattered like dice in the dust and then the dust, and then glass and then broken glass ground down into powder and that powder turns to silt in a riverbed turned to mud turned to man turns to all mankind born and died until the last man, last spine, last pile of sand, glass, dust until there are no riverbeds and there is no dirt only fire in the flame that burns you when it’s hot but then it cools and cools until the flame is frozen, only then should you gaze upon the page you are now reading. I probably should have given you some advance warning.

If you’ve ignored the warning that was never given (the most important of warnings to heed) then you are hungrily eating a forbidden fruit that you should have waited to bite. (If only Adam and Eve had not been forbidden the fruit! If only they’d been told to wait, just wait for the fruit, albeit forever, maybe they could have waited, and then we wouldn’t be doomed from birth and ages before birth to eternal punishment for a crime we did not commit, praying before we even learned to speak or even learned to be, for The Lord’s forgiveness and the Church’s holy wash-tub to soak us free of those first hungry sinner’s heartburn. They probably wouldn’t have waited, either. No one likes to wait.) You should have waited, for our hero, who is hardly a hero, hardly a protagonist and hardly a man, more a morsel of sin than a person before he begins again, he had to wait, wait forever, frozen in fire, waiting without waiting, for he’d long ago lost all expectation, except for the expectation of more eternity passing in infinite slowness, and the expectation of extreme pain.

For this is the story of the one man to escape from hell.

–Dan Kilian

Simon and Guildenstern

The Invention of the Weekend

The Secret War Between Leprechauns and Elves

Posted in Fiction on January 20, 2012 by klogtheblog

George’s car broke down along a lonely stretch of road in Colorado. He’d never hitch hiked, but as the length of the walk to the nearest exit dawned on him, he stuck his thumb out. No takers.

With his car miles behind him and miles to go, nature called. Gearge saw a small patch of woods, and took advantage of it. Sweet relief!

Just as he was making his way back to the road he heard a loud rustling in some nearby bushes. He was startled to see a very small man, perhaps two feet tall, emerge from the bushes. The man was very portly, with a bushy and fiery-red beard and carrying a proportionally large and evidently heavy cloth sack. He was dressed all in green, in a dapper classic style and a Puritan style hat. He also had three small arrows protruding from hip, side and back. He was bleeding profusely.

“Pleas sir…” the little man gasped.

“Oh my God!” George shouted, “What? What can I…?”

“Please sir!” rasped the little man, opening up his bag. Inside it was packed with gold coins. “I’ll give you all this gold if you just wish these arrows out of me!”

“You want me to wish those arrows…”

“I’ll give you three wishes, but they’ve got to be for the arrows! You can have all the gold!”

“You’re a…Why can’t you just wish them out yourself?”

“It doesn’t work that way! Please sir, I’m dyin’”

“Okay, okay! I’ll do it!” The Leprechaun (for that was what he was) set the bag of gold on the ground before him. “I wish that arrow…” George pointed at the arrow protruding from the Leprechauns hip, “I wish that arrow would go away…”

“and leave no wound!”

“…and leave no wound.”

The arrow disappeared, and the bloody hole from which it protruded was gone as well!

“I wish this arrow gone and leaves no wound. And I wish this…wait can I wish for more wishes?”

“NO! PLEASE! I’m bloody dying, you greedy prick!”

George wished the third arrow away. The little man smiled and did a little jig. “I’m alive! Aye, tis good! Here’s your gold, as promised! Now I must be off before…”

He could not finish his sentence, as another small arrow had lodged itself in his neck. In quick succession two more arrows lodged themselves in his chest. He collapsed, blood gushing from his mouth.

Out of the bushes George saw three of the most perfect looking little people he could ever imagine to see. They were shorter and slimmer than the leprechaun, dressed in leaves and carrying bows. They walked purposefully towards George and the fallen leprechaun. Two of them grabbed the bag of gold and one shot the leprechaun again in the chest, ending his twitching. His body began to smoke and dissolve.

One of them looked up at George and glanced to his compatriot. “The son of Man has seen us. What do we do?”

“Kill him.”

In an instant the little elf shot a tiny arrow, piecing  George’s throat. He fell to his knees. The elf shot him again in the eye, the arrow going into his brain, killing him instantly.

The elves took their gold and left.

–Dan Kilian

The Monitor vs. The Minotaur