Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Kommentary Korner: Goodnight, Sweet 2000s

Another decade. Boom. Gone. Just like that. Frankly, to me it felt more like 11 or 12 years, but considering the breadth of time, space and all that other Carl Sagan shit, even a dozen doesn’t amount to a hill of legumes.
Anyways, for the sake of retrospection, the past tenth of a century was really something. A watershed decade in a lot of ways. Not only did rivers continue to play an integral role in the cycling of water worldwide, a lot of game-changing crap occurred.
I don’t need to go over everything that happened since January 1, 2000. You were alive. You witnessed it all—unless you are a hermit or young child, which in either case you wouldn’t be reading this anyways.
Suffice it to say, life is different today than it was ten years ago. MP3 players have changed the way we port thousands of songs. Reality shows have revolutionized the way we voyeuristically observe our social betters. Unmanned aerial war drones have allowed us to remotely rain fire down from the sky upon our enemies at the effortless push of a button. Unparalleled technological advancements coupled with heaping portions of human suffering have proven themselves a potent match since the Y2K scare abruptly fizzled out.
Many have vilified the vapid, skin-deep extravagances of this soon-to-expire decade as humanity’s worst yet. Not so. Granted, my outlook on pretty much anything is exceptionally bleak—I’m just saying that the 00s didn’t suck as much as other arbitrary 10-year zeitgeists in recent memory. Take the 90s for example. The economy was too stable. Television programs and movies were too well-written. The music too catchy. How did we survive such tedious tranquility? Say what you will about this past decade, but at least it kept us on our toes. It's strife-ridden uncertainty is what made it great.
A man nearly as wise as I once said, “Kontentment is the enemy of kreativity.” That said, my fingers are crossed that the 2010s will be an era marked by unthinkable levels of hardship, tumult and all-around adversity on a global scale. For only in the worst of times can true Kreativity rear its cherubic face. And only when Kreativity reigns can our world become a better place.
So, First-Decade-Of-The-New-Millennium, with all your excesses and gnashing of teeth, we bid thee adieu. --Peter Doe

Thursday, December 24, 2009

Poet's Korner: Holiday Season Edition

I bet you I’ve drunk a thousand
gallons of water in my life

Ten bucks says I’ve eaten
hundreds of pounds of food

Wager: I’ve been alive for
millions of seconds

I bet you I’m the best
wherever I’m from has to offer

I’m the toast of my
particular milieu

You wanna make this bet interesting?
Then put your fancy watch on the line

I sense hesitation but
I don’t blame you for a moment

You know I’m right plus you don’t
want to be chronologically compromised

I may be a lot of things but
I’ll never reach your rung of pragmatism

--Crispy Bowls

Thursday, December 17, 2009

KreationKast!

Well, at long last The Korner has entered the Audio Age. That's right, fans and well-wishers, we've launched a new blog devoted exclusively to the kutting-edge new field of all-auditory kontent. We know what you're thinking, but before you go desecrate your signed Chris Peebles poster in outrage, let us assure you that KreationKast will pack just as much of a kreative punch as the predominantly visual kontent you've come to know and love. KreationKast will serve as a intimate platform, katapulting you to unprecedented heights of kreative familiarity with your favorite kontributors and saturating your nervous system with near-lethal dosages of distilled Kreationism. You'll thank us later, so for the sake of preemption, "you're welcome."

Klick here to listen now!

Disklaimer: As the burgeoning field of of audio kreativity is still in its experimental phases, KreationKast is a bit rough around the edges. Bear with us as we fine-tune and streamline the format overtime. Afterall, Rome wasn't built in a day.

Friday, December 11, 2009

In a Fog (New Korner Post)

As you may have noticed from the tasteful pun, a theme running through this post is indeed the City by the Bay, San Francisco itself. Now surely, this is enough to get any Kreationist all hot n' bothered, but just you wait, because there's a great deal more in store for you. Two months or two years ago -- time is irrelevant in the case of this man -- Chris Peebles made the pilgrimage to San Francisco to share his gift. With Gabe Gabriel in tow, Peebles slept in the back rooms of various taquerias and subsisted solely on scraps of lengua while in the pursuit of perfection. It is perhaps fitting that, filled with the almighty bovine mouthpiece, Peebles was able to commune with Kreation itself and offer to you this unique happening. Brace yourself.

Wednesday, December 9, 2009

Komedy Korner

Q: Why doesn't a block of muenster cheese enjoy pornography?
A: He thinks it's degrating to women.

-Tuner Jazzman

Thursday, December 3, 2009

Komedy Korner

Q: Whom should one call to inquire about night school enrollment?

A: The nocturnal admissions office.

--Svetlana Mendoza

Sunday, November 29, 2009

Korner Wisdom

No. 3: "Sometimes the best defense is a Tet Offensive."
No. 4: "Nothing says you've arrived like a knock at the door."

Friday, November 27, 2009

Good Tidings!

Hello, all! We at the Korner trust you are having a satisfactory break from the hubbub of this go-go-gadget world, but just in case you haven't yet gotten totally hammered on holiday spirit, we'd like to remind you that such a break is necessary. I am writing in a state of half-coma, as just yesterday we at KKHQ enjoyed a wonderful celebration of food, fun, and jarringly loud distortion-pedal wanking courtesy of Gerry Mander's Band. Let me tell you, the experience was truly illuminating, and I feel, despite my current state of repose, re-energized, reinvigorated, and ready to greet the day. So, to all you workaholics, take a breather, enjoy some tursirlointaco, and just be easy, baby. That is all.

Tuesday, November 24, 2009

The Korner "Kares"

Although the feud between The Korner and our parent company has quieted down a bit lately, we are by no means out of the densely vegetated area. As such, those KSW fat cats want us to reign in our "kounterkultural tendencies" so as to set better examples for impressionable youth and dimwitted adults. In fact, they're threatening to reduce our annual budget to half a pittance unless we release a public service announcement decrying the recreational use of intoxicating substances. Although, admittedly, we now accept that CEO Chas Murdoch is capable of forging his kreativity closer to the heart than we previously judged, we are in no way kompromising our own kreative kredibility by submitting to his will. You may think we're selling out to Big Kreation, but in reality we're disassembling the machine from the inside out. Disregard:

Getting high on booze is a slippery slope...


A message from The Kreation Korner reminding you to drown your sorrows responsibly

Sunday, November 15, 2009

Kommentary Korner

The only thing that we can know is that we know nothing. Everything we think we know is a lie, or at least false. Why do we try in vain to understand the universe when we possess faculties inadequate for extracting the truth from our surroundings? All we are capable of perceiving are flagrant perversions of the fundamental realities of existence.
Take a cow for example. Many of us look at a cow and say, "hey check it out, a cow" or "far out, a land-dwelling herbivorous bovine creature" or something to that effect. But what if we are wrong? For all we know, that cow could be a chair or a grain elevator or something more abstract, like honor. All we can be certain of is that cows are undoubtedly something different than we think they are. It's impossible to know.
You might be so bold as to think gravity exists. Glad I'm not so self-assured in my physical conceptions of this plain we inhabit. You could say my views of the phenomenon we misclassify as living are more metaphysical. I have burrowed out of the confines of the "box" (which might very well actually be a sphere, an icosahedron or some other geometric solid) and come to accept that there are forces beyond our feeble attempts at comprehension that govern our every move.
It literally sickens me to see people so arrogantly certain of what they "observe" with their "senses." Just the other day I vomited on a man who erroneously categorized a stop sign as "red." I wiped my mouth and asked him, "is that really red? Is it even really a sign? How can you be certain that substance I emitted onto your person is actually vomit?" He just cursed at me and stormed off in a huff. Moron.
In closing, I just want to urge anyone who heeds my words to stand out from the pride-riddled crowd. Think twice before you identify something. Don't be so quick to judge anything that gets you wet a liquid. Always question. Admit your total and utter lack of real knowledge.
--Nash Stillwater
P.S. If you have taken to heart any of the aforementioned, then you have completely missed the point and I worry in earnest for you and those you surround yourself with

Sunday, November 8, 2009

Rebuttal Korner

While I'm not surprised by the propensity of men with your constitution to thumb their noses at top brass, I am shocked by your flagrant sullying of The Kreation Korner with profanity and sarcasm. We at KSW value dissent and opposing viewpoints, but why did you have to do this junk to our esteemed organization? And further more, you just had to haul off and drag my good name through the muck with your trenchant jabs and jibes when all I was trying to do was give you all some well-intentioned advice. How dare you kwestion my kreative merit! I may not be keen on diving headlong down the business end of a jug of lycergic acid-laced wine to gain true kreative insight, but I can kreate with the best of you beatniks. Put this in your pipe and smoke it (not literally you junkies):

Poem: A Death

How many times have
I died?
Three?
Four?
86?

There was the battery
acid.
Esophagus dissolved.
Ouch.

Then blunt force trauma,
falling and liver attack.
In that order.
Each painful in its own
special way.

Once I froze to death.
It's true what
they say: it's like taking
a nap. Only very cold.

Next on the docket is
Burmese tiger trap.
Sounds exotic and
unsanitary. Maybe this
one will stick.

--Chas Murdoch

Wednesday, November 4, 2009

Like We Kare

To the Almighty Chas Murdoch,

It is with great pleasure that we receive His request. To have our poor little blog critiqued by His Highness is truly an honor, such is His mastery of Kreationism. Perhaps He in His infinite wisdom knows how to kreate a video montage of truly earth-shattering consequence without the aid of psychedelic alkaloids. Perhaps he too can deliver performance art on a whim without a belly full of fertilizer and curdled goat's milk.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps. It is with sadness, however, that we report His continuing absence from the kreative process. Thus, it is with great humility that we request His presence at the Kreation Korner Headquarters, for surely with His wealth of knowledge, far exceeding that of any measly Kreationist, He can outshine all of our efforts combined. Perhaps, I daresay, he'd like to try?

In the knowledge that Our Almighty Ruler Chas Murdoch is not fond of derivative verbosity - it does strain the eyes so - we of the Kreation Korner direct His unflinching attention to the header for a more succinct statement of our intent.

Sincerely, the Korner

Tuesday, November 3, 2009

Kreation Korner Staff,

First off, I'd just like to congratulate you all on over two years of swell Kreative output. That said, it makes me and my kolleagues alike sore to see your recent rash of spotty-at-best kontent. I mean, posting kop-outs such as your Halloween photos is not exactly what our founder Kol. Thor Gustav Kreationssen had in mind when he founded our multi-national konsortium two centuries ago. As the kultural arm of our organization, we expect better from you fellows. Frankly, we blame this lull in Kreativity on your habitual over-indulgence in vice. We understand you cats like to listen to bebop records and drink hooch and even smoke a little mary jane from time to time. Heck, even I've been known to engage in the occasional benzedrine binge and brandish a lawn flamingo at the paper boy, but I know when to draw the line. Discretion is what separates us from the animals--at least the un-kreative ones. So I charge you all, cut the guff and restore The Korner back to its previous level of plumb splendiferousness.

Peace in Kreation,

Chas Murdoch
CEO & Lt. Viscount, U.S. Region
Kreation Systems Worldwide

Saturday, October 31, 2009

Happy All Hallows' Eve!



Due to The Kreation Korner's strong personal convictions, we wish to stress that this post in no way endorses a belief in the occult

Sunday, October 18, 2009

Ask Snappy Tom

Hey, this is a question for Snappy Tom. Snappy, my name is Jerald and I'm thinking, it's a dreary Sunday morning, what should I do with my time? So next I think, perhaps a movie would do my soul some good. My question is, what do you recommend?

Hey Jerry, Snappy Tom here. To tell the truth, it is a rare occasion when I do make it to a moving picture. Oh sure, I seen plenty a Gene Autry flicks in my time, but things just wasn't the same once the Production Code got lifted in the '60s. Now all it is, is boobs and guns, I tell ya. Gone are the days of extended Hitchcock make-out scenes where each kiss was not to exceed one second, and when evil was not made to look attractive. I mean, whaddaya got now? Deep Throat? That made more money than even that peepshow they called Titanic! I had family on that boat, and believe you me, there weren't nothing sexy about that deathtrap. Alright, Jerald, seein' as I'm ramblin' I'll try to wrap this thing up real quick. Don't go to no movies, nosiree, you just go out and get a handle a moonshine and you have yourself a grand ol' time at the local cathouse. Now that there's some good wholesome fun. I'm up out this bitch...

Tuesday, September 29, 2009

Fiktion Korner

The following story was the winner of our "Ninety-Eight-Word Short Story Contest," not to be confused with the unrelated "98 Word Short Story Contest," which was a commemoration of the venerable word processing system of the same name.

Loud Sex and the Occasional Fishstick

We'd been living in San Francisco for a few months. It was bliss and it was agony. We piled the fishsticks in the shower in order to let them thaw. Exactly 111 at a time. The number was important, but for reasons we didn't understand. At dinner, he would say something to me. I'd cram my mouth full of fishstick and scream "fuck you" at him. His face now peppered with flecks of the breaded foodcraft, we would consummate our strange love like birds of paradise. San Francisco -- oh Jack, it's just like you said it would be.

-Boo Merengue

Sunday, September 27, 2009

Kids' Korner

This week at The Korner, we’re turning over a new leaf. After we awoke from our fortnight-long celebratory stupor, we realized things have gotten a little stale around here. But that’s no reason to point fingers *cough* maljohn *cough*. After all, when life gives you stale bread, make croutons—or in our case, explore a new genre. In a serendipitous and all too typical stroke of Kreation kismet, the inspiration for such a genre entered our lives recently and was deftly captured in this high-resolution snapshot:



A group of us were carpooling back to the HQ after an advance screening of Juno 2: Labor Party when we drove past this auspicious peddler of sleeper sofas, ottomans, and the like. It hit us all like a ton of propeller beanies. Kids are the future. Plus, there are thousands, if not millions of them on this planet alone. Why, then, had we neglected to cater to this demographic in the past? As we all had just seen from the tragicomic plight of the teen protagonist in the film, it’s not all malt shops and prom committees for youngsters today. They have real problems, making them worthy recipients for the rejuvenating and liberating effects of Kreationism. Grabbing this opportunity by the beak, we’ve commissioned our own Jawn Steighmeaus to produce some work custom tailored to the needs and interests of today’s youth. Like most of us at The Korner, Jawn has his finger on the pulse so his words will resonate in a big way with tots, tweens and teens. Let’s rock:

They sat and stared. Like the staring contests of times now only particles of a memory, dangling tenuously on the horizon of dream—but this time not for keeps. In their salad days they’d play for bubble gum, poster putty, power tools—whatever they could get their sticky paws on.
But then the precipitation swept through, and actually wiped corruption and decadence off the streets. Swift. Uncompromising. No quarter for the wicked.
After that, the old friends could man their respective seated positions, unfettered by unsavory thoughts and urges. One would sip Drambuie rocks, the other: tap water. With a new lease both on life and their third-storey walkup artist’s loft, the pair were content to exchange 17-foot stares, piercing each other’s retinas for minutes at a time.
“Look who’s laughing now, world,” the valiant warriors would guffaw as they reclined to saw logs after an arduous day of ocular combat. They had elbow room now. They’d climbed out of the quick sand pit of crazy tail and warm booze and carved out their own piece of Valhalla.
Now they could die happy as the broken factories rhythmically belched out uniform black plumes, like clockwork in the wasteland.

Thursday, September 24, 2009

Post-Party Post

Mmm, just woke up with the distinct taste of cake batter in my mouth. Or was it fertilizer? The details are sketchy at best from the last few hours, days, or weeks, depending on who you talk to. It looks as though Gabe has already caught you guys up on the goings-on of the Kreation Korner birthday bash, an occasion which saw yours truly at the height of his decadence. But, as it seems he has retreated back into the welcoming arms of a cocoon constructed entirely of stripped cassette tapes, I thought I'd record some of my own memories. As I look about me, I see others in varying states of beer-and-nitrogen-induced repose and I think, "This was a good thing." It's all I can do to remember exactly what happened in our celebration... I see myself slow-dancing with Tum Cruz, a guy whose face I still can't quite place. Might not have been a guy after all, I can't be sure. I can recall vague pieces of a conversation held with GRECH performed entirely through Etch-a-Sketch, and I seem to remember that a healthy dose of MSG was involved. Straight, no chaser. Oy vey, what a mistake was that. And who could forget Nash Stillwater and Peter Doe, two men who put aside their differences for the purpose of a truly moving duet version of "Love to Love You, Baby." Yes, this was a good thing.

Well, I am truly famished, so I suppose I'll go scare up some fish sticks -- the ultimate brain food -- and start rousing some kreationists from their slumber. In closing, I'd like to echo Gabe's sentiment: we wouldn't be here without you guys. Well, that's not entirely true, we'd probably be producing the same high-grade brain-exploding material with or without your support. But still, it's good to know you're out there, you little people, forever in need of newly blown minds. You always seem to pick up the pieces and come back for more.

-Gonzalez Drive

Tuesday, September 15, 2009

What day is it?

This thing on? Ok, here goes. Hi, everyone, this is Gabe Gabriel and I gotta say, it's been a harrowing 48 hours. Granted I was in the throes of a fitful, dreamless sleep for most of the time, but I must say it was the best Kreation Korner b-day we've had this year.
The kommemoration of TKK's second anniversary began sunday morning with a no-host breakfast burrito bar. I went with a scrambled egg-white, chorizo, bell pepper combo with a whole-wheat tortilla. Simple, healthy and not too bad on the taste buds either--but I digress. Any-hoo, after breaking our fasts and grabbing a brief group siesta, we moved on to heavier matter--namely, a "birthday cake" kourtesy of Jawn Steighmeaus that was really just uncooked batter that tasted strikingly similar to Miracle-Gro.
Maybe it was ingesting a generous portion of household fertilizer or perhaps the astonishing 14 cases of Pabst Honorable Mention we collectively washed it down with. More than likely it was the terrifying nexus of the two. All I know is that the entire Kreation Krew sans myself is presently in a great, comatose heap blocking one of the HQ's Francois Truffaut pinball machines. I'm trying not to type too loud lest I stir them from their slumber. Before I sign off, I just want to say thanks from all of us for your devotion and support. Once we all regain lucidity and hose down the place we'll get back to voiding our bowels of top-notch, semi-regular kreativity.
But for now, I think I'll dip over to what remains of the cake bag for some hair of the dog and then rejoin my komrades in the karefree klutches of unkonsciousness.

Thursday, September 10, 2009

Poet's Korner

If a man at the wharf
licked my eye
I’d get all mad.
I’d say, “easy on the
cornea, partner!”

He’d attempt to dismiss
it as nothing, but
I’d call bullshit.

When you’re giving a
guy a free carrying-a-
parrot-on-your-shoulder
lesson you don’t lick his
eye when he least expects.

It’s bad karma and unhygienic,
not to mention a betrayal
of trust.

I’d recognize the corsair
was bummed ‘cause he only
had one eye but that doesn’t
give him free reign
over mine.

Ask first. I usually say
yes. Otherwise, keep your
salty tongue to yourself,
you impetuous seadog.

xoxo chris peebles xoxo

Friday, September 4, 2009

Komedy Korner

Q: Why did the street mime handcuff the passerby to the heat register in his studio apartment?

A: He wanted a captive audience.

--Svetlana Mendoza

Monday, August 31, 2009

You sit there pickin your nose, yeah i see you, but do you. see you?
because you see what you are picking
is the future, you're knuckle-deep in it.
diggin for gold, the gold standard, standard ops.
obsolete ops.
your gold standard man it's not gold for long.
pick brains not noses.

$$$sex$$$you$$$up

Wednesday, August 26, 2009

Komik Korner

Now that the afterglow of our 100th post is finally in its death throes, we here at The Korner can focus our attention on other kreative endeavors. Namely, a much awaited kartoon from our own Hadley Daughterson. Not only is her work just really goddamn good art, it contains sundry profound messages as well. You wouldn't put that past us now, would you? Mull:

Thursday, August 13, 2009

Disappointment Korner

Alright, so we've been waiting on this little shit Percy Stankowski for three goddamn weeks now. In the spirit of our 100th post, he claimed to be working on a celebratory interpretive video especially for the Korner. And for weeks, we waited. We put off other potential posts in the hopes that little Mr. Filmmaker would come through. And guess what? He didn't. So, after several non-alcoholic mudslides, I have figured out a solution to fill the empty void left by this director's-chair-having, beret-wearing, film-school shitbird: we post the shooting script. Use your imagination, folks, and bring the story to life for yourselves!

FADE IN:

EXT. ABANDONED WAREHOUSE - DUSK

A man stands with hat in hand, peering into it. He methodically shoves his foot through its top and sets it on fire. The man's voice is high and grating.


MAN
This hat never had no corners. But look at it now. May the circle be unbroken.


The man shuffles hurriedly to the side, and a young girl in a flowery dress takes center stage, jump-roping expertly. The man shouts at her earnestly.


MAN
Spiders! Books! Religion! Prose! Religion! Prose! Religion! Computers! Jump! Jump! Jump! Jump! Sports! Bombs! Capitalism! Self-serve! Soft-serve! No service! Out of bounds!

The girls stops her jump-roping and takes a bow.


MAN
Thank you, dear. (To the audience) So now you see what we are up against. Shine your copper pennies, good denizens. The time is nearly upon us.

FADE OUT

Monday, July 20, 2009

A Message From Chris Peebles

As promised, The Korner brings you today happy 100th post wishes from one of our most valued kontributors, Chris Peebles. In this poignant, heart-felt video address, Peebles honors us with his deft manipulation of the English language. If you're like us, you'll even have to hold back a few tears. Thank you, Chris. As always, you humble and flatter us.

Saturday, July 18, 2009

The Century Mark

Well, ladies and gents, it's been a wild and crazy ride up to this point, but I am glad to present to you the Kreation Korner's 100th post! We at the KKHQ were ecstatic to have reached such a milestone -- in fact, we might have gone a little overboard. What started as a couple of the Kreationists enjoying YouTube videos over wine spritzers quickly turned into drunken mess of Percy's-Own mescaline and vast quantities of red beer. And so, as I soothe my aching head with a bag of frozen snow-peas, I must tell you: we blew it. We have no real post, nothing to show for this momentous occasion but our own revelry. Luckily, however, Gabe Gabriel was there to capture all the night's festivities with his new-fangled "point and shoot camera." Not sure what that means, not sure that you do either, but for those interested, we will be posting some belated 100th post submissions from some of our most celebrated kreationists in the weeks to come. Anyway, bring on the dancing pictures:


The man of the hour!


The entertainment.


Dance party!


GRECH and Lee Watt performing the Two'fer.


Chris Peebles and maljohn in an argument which brought the evening to a close.

Saturday, June 27, 2009

Korner Wisdom

No. 1: "When life gives you artichokes, make artichokade."
No. 2: "Don't judge a book by its cover. And for that matter, don't judge a book by its jacket--some trickster may have put an erroneous jacket on the book so as to mislead you. This is some sick people's idea of fun."

Thursday, June 18, 2009

Poet's Korner

Greetings Kreationists! We here at The Korner hope you're enjoying the sun--preferably with the proper application of sun block (we recommend SPF 15 or higher). We know what you're thinking: what would be the most refreshing and yet nourishing beverage on a scorcher like today? Well, we'll tell you: a tall, cool glass of Chris Peebles, of course! With his latest poem--"Feigning Sympathy"--our man once again proves he walks to the beat of his own tambourine player. Metabolize:

Remember that time
your pet animal got
asparagus blight?
I said "sorry, I know
how you feel."

Well, guess what.
I didn't actually
know.
I was only pretending
to care, so joke's
on you.

And that time a
criminal bludgeoned
you with a bag of
guns--I only visited
you in the hospital
'cause I was there
anyways for a skull
transplant and wanted
to see if you had any
cool scars.

All this time you
thought I was one of
the fourteen nicest
people you knew.
But I'm not. I don't
give a rip about you
or your pet. What is it
like being such a
sucker?

Monday, June 15, 2009

Fiction Korner

He was just pushing for the weekend. Just pushing produce. Pushing crackers. Pushing Kombucha-brand iced tea. $3.69 for a bottle, get in line. Don't look at the clock, get in line. Face those cookies, get in line. $13.88, sir. Credit or debit, sir. The minutes ooze by like the Jell-O chocolate pudding from a punctured single-serving cup. Gotta clean up that mess. Push it behind those other pudding cups. Push it. Get in line.
-Anon.

Sunday, June 7, 2009

Komedy Korner

This week, The Korner is pleased to bring you the latest from the hilarious jokeman Dugg Focks. In this cycle, Focks flexes his blue humor nuts. Due to the salty nature of his witticisms, we have omitted any potentially objectionable words. Although we at The Korner don't tend to shy away from colorful language--no matter how offensive in or out of context--even we have a limit. But don't worry, these jokes are just as funny without the potty mouth. You won't even notice it's missing. Savour:

Joke: What’s the difference between peanut butter and jam?
Punchline: I can’t peanut butter my [censored] up your [censored].

Joke: What did one [censored] say to the other [censored]?
Punchline: “That’s a [censored] [censored] you slut!”

Joke: How many [censored]?
Punchline: Twelve.

Joke: [censored] [censored]?
Punchline: [censored]!

Wednesday, June 3, 2009

Komik Korner

Today we bring you another bit of visual one-dimensional pen-and-ink storytelling from Lee Watt. Although a departure from previous content in its deft wielding of the komedic sword, it is a sword nonetheless and one that is capable of piercing you to the core. Just remember that you too may one day be just another sizzling egg in the frying pan of life. Check this shit out:

Sunday, May 31, 2009

The Korner Kills

Again, we feel the need to explain today's post title. It is "The Korner Kills" as in it kills preconceptions. We don't do murder, but we have gotten several complaint letters, hence the explanation. Get it through your thick skulls, this has been a long week and I am sick and tired of answering phones, emails, and telegraphs worrying me about the kontent of our humble blog. Anyway, now that I've hopefully satiated you insane do-gooder freaks, let's get onto the content, shall we? For this week's answers to your questions, we tapped our own aging resource of folk wisdom, Snappy Tom. While he might not ride scooters or read "Wall Street Journal" like all the hepcats of today, he can certainly teach us a thing or two. Here goes:

Hi, I see that you have a successful website, so you surely know your way around a computer. I've been trying to send this email with pictures attached to my mother, but my email provider keeps refusing the jpegs and saying they're are too big. But I know this can't be true because I downsized them to the specified 10-megabyte file size. Help me, Kreation Korner, you're my only hope!
-Friend in need, Seattle, WA


"email?" J-pegs? Super-bites? Friend, I can't say as I know what in the heck you're talking about. What I do know, though, is people. I've traveled the world and if there's one thing I've learned, it's that no matter where you go, there's always gonna be people. Sure, they might not look like you, talk like you, they might not even enjoy creamed corn like you, but isn't that what makes the whole thing so darned interesting? People everywhere, can't escape it, no use in trying so might as well embrace it and enjoy the carrot juice while it's still flowing. For the Kreation Korner, I'm Snappy Tom saying farewell.*

*This advice segment was transcribed by Gabe Gabriel after Snappy Tom was found attempting to push individual keys from our keyboard into the KKHQ tape deck.

Wednesday, May 27, 2009

Kommentary Korner: A Grievance

Recently, this very weblog published a column by the brash Nash Stillwater. I tend to see The Korner as hit or miss. Stillwater’s unfortunate opinions fall under the latter category. In the past, I have expressed my disgust for this impetuous rapscallion, but my feelings of animosity towards him are reaching a breaking point. Not only does his weepy, patronizing brand of pontification besmirch the hallowed name “Kommentary Korner,” my direct interpersonal encounters with him have compelled my blood to boil and my nerves to sublimate. Talk about one preachy asshole! The other day, for example, Huey Dood popped into the HQ with five large Wizard of ‘Za pizzas for the troops. I quickly noticed they were all pepperoni so I complained to Huey in a lighthearted manner, “Would it have killed you to have gotten just one supreme, goofball?” We were just joshing around, but Stillwater had to get all serious on our asses. He said, “You know, Pete, there are children in India who would give anything to have this pepperoni pizza. All they have is cheese with sub par tomato sauce.” After that, we all just stared quietly at our pie for ten straight minutes shamefully taking small bites. Not only did Stillwater dispatch the buzz at what would have undoubtedly been a legendary pizza party, he called me "Pete" after I made it explicitly clear that my preferred name is either Mr. Doe or Peterskeeter. Furthermore, he also had the rocks to tell me this morning that I should trade in my 1975 LeSabre for “something with better gas mileage.” Of all the nerve! Judith has stood faithfully by my side for the better part of 30 years, and this kid just expects me to abandon her for some half-electric Toyota hussy? I’ve had it up to here (imagine I’m holding my hand up really quite high) with Nash Stillwater. I know he’s spearheading the Header Committee and is considered by some to be a valued kontributor, but I will not just fold like a crepe on crepe day as Stillwater consistently disrespects my authority as Kommentator Laureate. As it is clear that the ever reluctant Korner staff will not reprehend him for his impudence, I have decided to take it upon myself to teach the brazen Nash Stillwater his place. To do so, I hereby challenge him to seven rounds of fisticuffs—Cityville rules; down and dirty. You pick the day, time, location, attire and post-match refreshments, Stillwater. I just want you to be comfortable before the swift pugilistic fury of Doe justice comes crashing down onto your sorry frame. --Peter Doe

Monday, May 25, 2009

New GMB Hit Single!

We are pleased to announce that our dear friends Gerry Mander's Band have just released the latest track off their EP "We Built This City On Easy Listening". The song is called "So Much Stuff" and it's a sonic revelation. The unrelenting klang of guitar and klatter of drums deliver a raw, uncompromising impact on the ear drums. GMB are authentic kreationists through and through, and we're honored to support and promote them. Klick here and prepare to have your very konsciousness rattled to the kore.

Gerry Mander's Band, Boise 2006

Friday, May 22, 2009

Kommentary Korner

Not to be a downer, but there is no reason why we deserve to be happy in this land of plenty. How can we even put a smile on our faces when there is so much suffering on this planet? What gives us the right to even get up in the morning when there are those out there without water beds?
Let me lay some statistics on you to better illustrate these woes: every time you eat a patty melt, 87 third world children starve to death. Every time you drink a grape Fanta, 143 children die of thirst. If it's strawberry flavor, make that 216 children. Every time you chew a half to whole stick of wintermint gum a staggering 456 needy children die by horrific means reminiscent of chewing. Feel guilty yet? You should.
Did you know that the electricity required to watch the season finale of NBC's The Biggest Loser on your video iPod could be used instead to power the entire country of Haiti for three entire weeks? Of course you don't know this. You're too busy watching the season finale of NBC's The Biggest Loser on your video iPod. If you ask me, the biggest loser in this unfortunate pickle our world is in is you, you ignorant capitalist pig.
The excesses of our American lifestyle do not merely result in human losses. Oh no. Mother Earth feels the pinch too when we indulge in our four-meat dinners and soak for hours in our Hollywood Jacuzzis. Did you know that every time you turn the key in your Hummer H3, four entire species of sea lion are swiftly eradicated by catastrophic oil spills? How about this disturbing little nugget: every time you deposit a crumpled sports section of a medium distribution daily metropolitan newspaper into a trash can rather than a clearly marked recycling receptacle, 48,678.3 acres of pristine rain forest are reduced to a hellish expanse of charred stumps.
Do you think it ends here? If you do, then you're a goddamn asshole. Just remember that the next time you eat a sautéed link of gourmet venison sausage you're denying the deer meat required to sustain one gray wolf. One doesn't sound like many, but wolves are a keystone species. Taking one of them out is tantamount to making an unadvised move in Hasbro's Jenga (the Jenga tower in this analogy is the entire ecosystem while a single precariously located block is the wolf).
I could go on and on like this, but someone less fortunate than I deserves the oxygen my brain requires to recall additional distressing statistics. In closing, the next time you engage in consumption of any variety, make sure to feel very, very bad about yourself.
--Nash Stillwater

Tuesday, May 19, 2009

Poet's Korner

saab out my window.
it's green, like the tree whose shade
it claims as its own.

that bowl of chili
it is so like an aero
plane, beans and pilots.

mouse on my desk, its
tail lashed to my computing
box, it is my will.

-peter doe

Wednesday, May 6, 2009

My Friend Percy

It is our great pleasure today to welcome back to the Kreationist fold, young Percy Stankowski. Now, earlier this week you might have heard some rumblings about his nasty little mescaline habit. We here at the Korner are happy to report that Mr. Stankowski has managed to get his prized Krasnogorsk-3 out of hock while still maintaining his daily intake of mescaline. How did he do it? Through Tony Robbins' wisdom on the art of streamlining, of course. But, well, that's neither here nor there. What is, however, is Percy's newest piece, a revelation of image and sound. Observare.

Monday, May 4, 2009

Header Korner

Well, hello all! It's, uh, great to be back in business. It's been pretty hectic around here lately, lot of irons in the, umm, fire, adding some strings to the proverbial bow, you know, uh...
Okay, I'm gonna give it to you straight. As explained in our last few posts, things have not been going our way here at Korner Headquarters. Perhaps it was our ill-advised venture into the fruit roll-up/sleeping bag arena that led us astray. In hindsight, we were not meant for the business world. A lot of starry-eyed optimists looking to satisfy both the fruit-snack and camping-needs demographics of this fair and ugly country is all we ever were. So, needless to say, even as I state it for you to read, we're scrambling. In the true spirit of this Almighty Clusterfuck, I did what any enterprising head of a multi-national, envelope-pushing, alliteration-laden arts kollective would do -- I delegated. To my son, in fact. For an eight-year-old, he did an admirable job. So, without further adieu, I give you the latest piece of header art, kreated by Gabe Gabriel II The Bookmaker.
-Gabe Gabriel

Saturday, May 2, 2009

Cowboy Poet's Korner

As you may already be aware, The Kreation Korner has been stricken by hardship both economic and mental--so much so we had to hock Percy Stankowski's Krasnogorsk-3 for mescaline money. But we are confident these unfortunate tides will turn. In an unprecedented twist of kreation fate, The Korner has recently received not just a new kontributor but an entirely new genre as well. We are speaking of Steed Stetson--a luminary of the field of Cowboy Poetry. We are well aware that Cowboy Poetry is a subject of much kontention and kontroversy. But alas, we at The Korner aren't ones to pull punches. We're not going to deny our readers top-shelf kreation pay dirt to appease the un-informed, un-kreative hoi polloi. As a third-generation rangeland raconteur, Steed’s mastery of verse reflected on the page is accessible to nearly everyone, whether you are saddling up for the first time or are a lifelong cowboy poethead. Either way, set your insight receptors to "on" and witness a rebirth of The Kreation Kause. Gitty-up:

I’d ride into town off the range on ol’ Martin Horsese
He was getting on in years but he could still hold a trot, God bless’im
The blood-soaked sunset spilled onto otherwise untainted sagebrush
The doggies were asleep—I don’t know why we didn’t just call ‘em cows
Now it was time for me to partake of some well-deserved grub
Inga would burn me a thick one—steak and potatoes
With Clem playin’ contemporary ragtime hits on the Casio, I’d fall into a trance
I’d ask what planet I was on only to hear Dennis Redchukar say, “earth, dummy”
That would kill the buzz—I was paying him to be my sidekick, not to bust my balls
But no matter, I was the biggest pushover this side of hell and I’d be the first to admit it
Soon it would be daybreak and Mr. Sun would over-bake the doughy earth
I’d venture back onto the alkali purgatory, my tongue as scaly as the occasional snake
Even the devil himself would sell his soul for a canteen of cold whiskey
But at the end of the day it was a living and I’d’ve been damned if it weren’t worth it

Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Komedy Korner

As I'm sure you've noticed, The Korner's kreative output this past month has been sparse at best. The economic discontent that plagued us so thoroughly last fall has once again reared its ugly face, to use a figure of speech. On top of that, we are under the constant threat of infection by a pig-born virus that is as savage and despicable as the animal from whence it came. Try being kreative under all that pressure. Anyways, with what little of our funding remains being put towards retrofitting The Kreation Korner HQ as a pandemic shelter (and, while we're at it, a zombie apocalypse shelter), kreation isn't exactly on the radar. With failure to kreate being a breach of our charter, The Korner's future has been looking bleak. But as luck would--and usually does--have it, a fresh, new kontributor has entered our midst with what will hopefully pan out to be a reinvigorating effect. He is a practitioner of humor named Dugg Focks. Our own Davin Krengel was at the Tsar Mart stocking up on Big League Chew and TGIF Mudslide Mix when he overheard Focks wowing the florist and several customers with his piano-wire wit. Requesting to be paid only in pieces of eight, Focks has allowed us to showcase some of his jocularisms. Accept his gift of laughter and don't worry about The Korner--we'll weather this shit storm. Cherish:

A man wanted to play a prank on his coworker, so he called up his coworker's wife and told her not to prepare dinner that evening because he and her husband would be taking a client out to dinner. Chuckling, the man set the receiver back into its cradle. After a hard day at work, the coworker arrived home only to find his wife did not have a meal prepared, so he beat her. [end of joke]

A Muslim, a Christian, and a Jew were all seated in the same row on a flight from Chicago to Boston. The Christian, who sat in the middle, took up both arm rests for nearly the entire flight. When the plane landed, the three men parted ways with barely more than a polite nod. [end of joke]

A man walked into a bar and ordered a gin and tonic. However, because with age his tolerance had waned, he woke the next morning with a hangover. [end of joke]

A woman entered a hardware store to ask for directions to the nearest laundromat. Turns out it was right around the corner. [end of joke]

Monday, April 27, 2009

Fiction Korner

Jason was a public servant--following in the footsteps of his hero Todd Stewart no doubt. I never respected him for it, but, looking back, I probably should have. After all, he introduced me to my first and third wives, saved my life on several occasions, and got me that flask with Bronson Pinchot on it for Armistice Day. If I'd known hindsight was 20/20 back then, I might have considered doing things differently.
Jason wanted me to keep him company at the regional medical center. I wasn't about to deny a dying man what was ostensibly his final wish. Anyways, I had years of being a complete asshole to him to make up for. But as I sat there ladling watery oatmeal on his third degree burns I realized I could do him one better.
"Do you remember when we used to go on the road trips, J?" I asked before taking a generous chomp out of a hospital-issued root beer popsicle.
"I do my friend," Jason replied, coughing up bits of charred internal organ. I forgot he wasn't supposed to talk. But at least he didn't have a brain freeze.
"What do you say, old pal? One more time?"
If Jason could nod he would have. But instead he just clenched his eyes shut and quivered his head a little. I guess this is lava beast victim for "yes."
On the way down to the car, I accidently "put Jason out of his misery." How was I supposed to know the air outside the quarantine ward would tear through his immune system like a bag of hot knives? The warning sign that said so was covered up by my sweatshirt. Now I'm being charged for involuntary manslaughter. No good deed goes unpunished, I guess.
--Jawn Steighmeaus

Sunday, April 12, 2009

The Komplete Korner Video Katalog

Percy Stankowski: ThLstDnce


Chris Peebles at Monroe


The Korner Kares: Practice Efficiency


Early Chris Peebles


Percy Stankowski: Raise Your Hand


Chris Peebles Kongratulates Korner


Chris Peebles in San Francisco


Chris Peebles at The College of Idaho


Chris Peebles at The College of Idaho, Redux

Friday, April 10, 2009

The Kreation Korner: A History

The Kreation Korner is an open forum for artists, poets, humans and everything in between. We are committed to the betterment of all life through the pursuit of true Kreativity in all its forms. The Korner traces its origins back to the summer of 2007 when Boise kreationists Henry York and Patrick Watson were dissatisfied with the lack of exposure kreation was receiving. In September of that year, they began utilizing the exciting and promising format of internet blogging as a platform for kreative endeavors. Since then, we have showcased this age's finest works of Kreation in the fields of poetry, visual art, video, essay, fiction, and komedy...to name a few. We have acquainted our readers with real titans of Kreationism, including but not limited to Chris Peebles, Maljohn, Peter Doe, Howard Fork, Marilyn, Lee Watt, Nathan Rhombus, Jawn Steighmeaus, Svetlana Mendoza, and Percy Stankowski. The Kreation Korner has seen times of prosperity as well as times of great hardship. But what doesn't change is our perseverance and undying dedication to The Kreation Kause. As our motto says: "Kréation Sans Limites".

Co-Founders Henry York (right) & Patrick Watson (center) with early collaborator Greg Johnston (left).

Friday, April 3, 2009

Poet-litical Korner

A young cowboy named Kim-Jong Il grew restless on the farm
A boy filled with wonderlust who really meant no harm
He changed his clothes and shined his boots
And combed his dark hair down
U.S. to N. Korea cried:

[Chorus]
Don’t launch your missile, son
Please, leave the missile home, kid
Don’t launch your missile now.

He laughed and kissed his mom
And said your buddy boy’s a man
I can shoot as quick and straight as anybody can
But I wouldn't shoot without a cause
I'd gun nobody down
U.S. to N. Korea again:

[Chorus]
Don’t launch your missile, son
Please, leave the missile home, kid
Don’t launch your missile now.

As little boy fell to the floor
The crowd all gathered 'round
And wondered at his final words

[Chorus]
Don’t launch your missile, son
Please, leave the missile home, kid
Don’t launch your missile now.

-Gonzalez Drive

Thursday, April 2, 2009

Tuesday, March 24, 2009

Back in the Day

To placate The Korner's staff nonagenarian, we once again bring you K. Hume O'Henderbaum. Kurmudgeonly as ever, Mr. O'Henderbaum highlights several of his latest beefs with this day and age in a meandering, almost incoherent diatribe. While staff opinion of this dinosaur is mixed tending towards dislike, kommentator Peter Doe is an avid follower. "Hume's good. Damn good. His stuff was my bread and butter growing up. Hell, I'd probably be him if I were born 50 years earlier," Doe remarked. What will you, the reader, think of K. Hume? See for yourself:

If there's one thing I don't understand about the world today it's the seatbelt. There are seatbelts in every automobile these days, and you're goddamned if you don't wear 'em. And that's not just because the sheriff'll get sore at you--the whole town will scoff and scowl at you. I just don't get it. In my day, we didn't need seatbelts. The namby-pamby, good-for-nothing kids of today think they're too good to be forcibly ejected through a windshield. But let me tell you, that kinda thing builds character. I wouldn't be half the man I am today if I hadn't lost my legs in that Model T collision--which is ironic, because I am physically half the man I was.
But that's not the point. The point is people today are weak. They're all, "Oh, boo-hoo, I just cut myself on a rusty nail. I need a tetanus shot!" Hog wash! We'd got cut up all the time in my day, and would think nothing of it. So tetanus and gangrene were rampant. But what did gangrene ever do to anyone except for the occasional need for amputation? Look at me: I have no legs and I get by just fine. Not many other old-timers like myself own their own houseboat. I don't see what the big fuss is over these "germ" things that are probably just a government hoax designed to scare folks.
There are a lot of things I don't understand about this crazy world as of late, but one thing that puzzles me perhaps more than any other is the so-called "condom." I hear that nowadays people use something called "latex" as a contraceptive barrier during the physical act of love. I don't know what this latex is but its probably something some bleeding-heart, liberal, intellectual, commie college-boy invented back east. What I do know is that I'll stick to the trusty, honest, good old-fashioned method of birth control: a tied-off segment of sheep's intestine. So what if it resulted in 25 unwanted pregnancies over the years? Last I checked, .300 is a pretty good batting average. And anyways, only seven of those 25 survived 'til maturity due to the limited medical technology of that time.
In conclusion, get off my lawn you kids!

Monday, March 23, 2009

Poet's Korner

Today, The Korner is overjoyed to bring you the latest from Chris Peebles entitled "Deceit is the Parent Material of Hurt Feelings." Need we say more? No, we do not. Obtain:

Stop lying to me.
Stop lying on my
thorax as well.
I can’t breathe when
you compress my
lungs like that.

My mind is also
suffocating due
to your dishonesty.
You’re like a blanket
of mongeese woven
together smothering
a bedful of innocent
cobras.

Sunday, March 22, 2009

Komedy Korner

The Komedy Korner has been an adored installation on this, the Korner of Kreation, for many moons. For a long time, none but Svetlana Mendoza dared step to the behemoth that is kreative komedy. And so it is with great pleasure and pride that we bring to you a brand-new komedian by the name of Captain Gooding. Hear, ye:


Why did the chicken cross the road?

To participate in the ritualistic cannibalism of its own kin by way of McDonald's, wherein it would order and consume a ten-piece Chicken McNugget meal.

Monday, March 16, 2009

Komik Korner

This week, The Korner is proud to present the work of a recent addition to the Krew--Hadley Daughterson. We hired Hadley three months ago to assist with various admin at the HQ. Her deft propensity for assembling pencil lines on paper into art became rapidly apparent, as she often doodled indifferently on a legal pad rather than completing her assorted menial tasks. Recognizing her as the shrewd Kreationist she is, we signed her on to an unlimited kontract instead of shit-kanning her. Turns out we made the right decision: Hadley's inaugural entry flawlessly combines wit, grit, social commentary and good old-fashioned aesthetic value into an unrelenting mind-missile. Vintage Kreativity. We're plenty kontent--save for the open office lackey position (slide résumés under front door). Requisition:

Monday, March 9, 2009

Kommencement Korner

Recently, our archivist stumbled across a transcript. You're probably thinking, "So what? I bet the intrepid Kaptains of Kreation unearth similar documents daily." Well, you're right. But you're also very, very wrong. This sheaf of papers is not another mere document whose only use is to be crumpled and thrown into a trash can in a vain forgery of basketball. It is in fact a transcription of a keynote speech our man Chris Peebles delivered for the Kansas Intermountain Alternative Arts College Class of 2008 (Go Chimeras!). Regrettably, we at The Korner inadvertently destroyed the original Super 8 footage of the address during a peyote-fueled kroquet sesh (session). Before you start screaming and drive a fist through your monitor, we have good news. The highly nuanced visual element of Peebles' speech is not lost forever. Our very own Gabe Gabriel was present at the event, and--as Peebles' inspiring words and actions were forever emblazoned into his memory--was able to go through the transcript and add annotations, flawlessly capturing the entire experience. So sit back, relax, and be jealous that this wasn't your commencement address (that is, unless you're a member of the KIAAC class of '08):

"Was there something innate in our founding fathers' DNA?"
Peebles shakes his head slowly back and forth three times, then does a single high kick with his right leg
"If B.D. Wong injected Thomas Jefferson's mummified essence into an ostrich egg, what would it yield?"
Peebles kneels, brandishes a can of pineapple Fanta, then pours the contents on his head
"Would a swivel-chair-inventing constitution machine burst forth from its calcium carbonate confines?"
Peebles runs in a large circle counterclockwise around the stage three times, jumps in place whilst clapping for approximately nine seconds, and then does a somersault back to the podium
"Or would we just get a bird, flightless and bearing too few feathers to make a decent pillow?"
Peebles straddles the provost seated at the end of the stage and makes a "raise the roof" gesture as he thrusts his hips vigorously
"They never used T.J.'s feathers to make a head cushion."
Peebles produces a single red rose from his pocket, sets it ablaze with a pistol-shaped cigarette lighter, then hurls the flower at the flag of Kansas
"Nor Ben Franklin's, for that matter."
Peebles flaps his arms wildly six to eleven times and then screams, "innovation!"
"In the end, these men met far better fates, which is what we should all hope for."
Peebles wraps the mic chord around his left arm, then inscribes a letter "m" on his Adam's apple with a magenta Sharpie he had removed from a houndstooth fedora beneath the podium just moments before
"Not just the alchemy majors."
With a wry smile, Peebles points a finger at the graduates. Scattered laughter ensues followed by several muffled coughs
"You kids are the future."
Peebles' form explodes into an orgy of skipping, jumping, twirling, fist-pumping, head-shaking, foot-tapping, hand-flailing and various other fiercely kreative bodily expressions. Suddenly, Peebles freezes, as if stricken, and crumples to the floor in a supine position. Peebles remains motionless on stage until the end of the commencement exercises at which point several security guards drag him offstage.

Wednesday, March 4, 2009

Kounterpoint Korner

Good day (English for guten tag)! As you may have noticed, The Kreation Korner's maverick kommentator Peter Doe recently issued some brutally articulate statements about England (the country), calling into question her kreative merit. In no way disparaging Mr. Doe's intellect or judgement skills, we--The Kreation Korner Staff--humbly disagree with his indictment. We actually have compelling evidence in the form of an image that proves that the entire United Kingdom (with the exception of several towns in Scotland) is in fact a vibrant outpost of kreativity.


This photo was taken by a Korner field operative in West London. The origin of the word "kew" has long been a subject of debate for academics and kreationists alike. As best as our etymology department (not to be confused with our now defunct entomology department) can tell, "kew" is an ancient Celtic word meaning imaginivity--which is, as a concept, startlingly similar to kreativity. Even more startling are the implications of this diskovery. How far back do the roots of kreationism in England go? Is this purveyor of nicotine and print media the last vestige of some iteration of kreation kulture millennia old? Or is it one of four or five vestiges, each one more shrouded in mystery than the last? What is clear is that the spirit of Kreationism is stalwartly established in the British Isles.

Nearly two months ago, we presented to you a German artifact bearing similar implications. We don't know exactly what these signs mean or when the next one will appear, but what is clear is that we are not alone in the [kreationism] universe. At The Korner, we firmly advise you--and all our readers for that matter--not to panic. Are these symbols of a sinister nature, perhaps the doings of an ill-intentioned worldwide konspiracy? We don't know. All we can do at this point is keep our heads up and kontinue kreating like it's nobody's business.

Hang in there,

The Kreation Krew

Saturday, February 28, 2009

Kommentary Korner

I won't deny it. After my sabbatical in England (the country), I'm glad to be back in America, The United States of. As you know, this country has a way of getting my goat at an alarming ramming speed a la 1959's Ben-Hur. But this goat-getting pales in comparison to the extra-flagrant goat-getting I received across the pond (which, to my surprise, was actually more of an ocean). My goat was gotten over there in a way I only thought possible in the most far-fetched of science fiction radio plays. That miserable isle actually achieved the impossible feat of making the U.S. look semi-tolerable. If I had a sentimental tendon in my body, I would say that even missed this nation.
I'm sure by now your wondering, "what are you wearing?" But what I'll tell you instead is why I traveled to Britain, pervert.
My intentions for visiting Britannica Firma were honest enough, but I wasn't, to my disgust, met halfway. I hoped to clear my head, get a knew perspective on life--all that shit. Rather than finding an enlightened cultural and artistic bastion of capital-k Kreationist proportions, I found an intellectual cesspool riddled with poorly planned avenues of ignorance and bad taste (I'm not referring to the food, which was actually quite good).
I could go on for a fortnight addressing my many beefs with the so called "United Kingdom," but instead I'll focus on one in particular which I feel pretty much sums up my assorted grievances. What I'm speaking of is Britain's baffling, unrefined, kreativity-killing ripoff of the American language. Everything about it is off. They call an elevatortruck a "liftlory." What the hell is that? And get this: they refer to a frenchfryline as a "chipqueue." Seriously? That sounds like some sort of liver disease--which I'm sure is rampant in that booze-soaked country. The list goes on: policeofficertrunk = "bobbyboot." Bottomlawyer = "bumbarrister." Gasolinecigarette = "petrolfag." Another particularly unsavory example is "pramtorch." What does this mean? If you guessed strollerflashlight then you're correct. You're also a fucking Tory who should be tarred and feathered if you're not already.
I have merely scratched the surface of Britain's pervasive and probably intentional bastardization of English. Any people who so skullduggerously corrupt a perfect language are certainly bereft of any semblance of kreativity.
I can now understand our founding fathers, putty-brained as they were. To depart from my policy of never being grateful, I'm grateful that these otherwise incompetent men were able to accidentally stumble upon the good decision-making skills necessary for expelling their unkreative, amoral oppressors. --Peter Doe

Fiction Korner

Upon cursory visual inspection, Bobby appeared to be suited up. Undeniably so. I felt compelled to pop the big question.
"Whatcha suited up for there, Bobby?" I inquired, voice aquiver.
Everyone was wondering it, but I was the only one be-huevoed enough to ask--though admittedly at the expense of some bladder control.
Rather than replying to me, Bobby began to play his "it-is-impossible-for-me-to-respond-to-you-by-virtue-of-the-fact-that-I-have-no-senses" game. Typical.
Bobby was easily the third worst ear, nose and throat doctor I have ever had. --Jawn Steighmeaus

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Poet's Korner

one-sided conversation #347

well, i was supposed to meet her at the mall, but she didn't show
UP.

well, see, yeah, i was supposed to meet her at the mall,
she was supposed to meet me there,
but she didn't show up. i don't think i can TRUST her, man.

yeah, i told her to meet me at the, umm, MALL. but she didn't show up, you know?


no, no, see, we were supposed to meet up at the mall like a HALF-HOUR ago.
she was supposed to,
i planned to MEET her there. yeah. i just don't think she can be, uhh, trusted.

-nathan Rhombus

Friday, February 6, 2009

Konsolation Korner

This week we have lost a true komrade in kreationism, the beautiful human known as Lux Interior. He has influenced each and every one of us at the Korner and will be sorely missed. We leave you with a prime example of the things we loved most about Lux -- his energy; his soul; and, perhaps most of all, his ill-fitting leather pants.

Monday, February 2, 2009

Header Korner

Hello, you of the wondrous and strange multitudes! Today we bring before you yet another slice of fried gold in the form of a brand-new header piece. The featured artist is Art Cretaceo. What has Art to say about his art? Well, we were wondering the same, so we had a little sit-down with him to figure out what makes Art tick.

KK: Who are you?

AC: I'd like to say I'm a visionary and a guiding light. Always maintaining a clear vantage point on the events of the day, the year, the times. Like a pterosaur in flight, really.

KK: Art, what do you think is the purpose of your art?

AC: My intent is threefold, much like the horns of a Triceratops. First, to shock. Second, to awaken. Third, to incite.

KK: Any words for the readers?

AC: In fact, yes. In this crazy world, we must be ever-vigilant against the hucksters, the alarmists, and the hooligans. We must navigate the world with all the agility of a clever dilophosaur, all the steady intent of a methodical diplodocid, and all the fierce confidence of the mighty Tyrannosaur.

KK: A final question. Do you draw inspiration from anything in particular, perhaps from the natural realm?

AC: Dinosaurs.

KK: Art, thanks for your time.

Sunday, January 25, 2009

Poetry Korner

"Am I raining on your parade?"
Is that what you really want to ask me?
"Am I
raining on your parade?"

You brought a clown to my father's funeral.
So yeah, you could say you rained on my parade.
I'd consider that the very fucking definition.
You goddamn asshole.

-maljohn.

Monday, January 19, 2009

Komik Korner

A very hearty "Hello!" to all of you visiting the Kreation Korner on this fine day. Today's post finds the viewer once again at the mercy of Lee Watt, a young man whose talents can easily make nine panels feel more like twelve. Perhaps you'll recall his "atomic cowboy" series? If not, you're a fool, and there's nothing that I can or will do to help you. Well anyway, let's not dwell on your stupidity. Today we look to a bright future of kreation from Mr. Watt as he proves that an atmospheric discharge of electricity really can occur two times. Ladies and men, we are proud to present to you "Sequential Images No. 32."

Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Poet's Korner

This ain’t water.
What do you take me for?
A guy who can’t tell
the difference between water
and flat 7up?
Take your deflated soft drink
elsewhere, Mack.
I ain’t thirsty no more.

--Kris P. Bulz

Sunday, January 11, 2009

History Korner

Guten tag! (Hello!) The journey we at the Kreation Korner have taken in our ongoing quest for unrestricted kreativity has brought us to many new frontiers, both geographical and mental in nature. Our most recent discovery comes via Germany, the land of poets, thinkers, and Bosch Diversified Technologies. Our traveling correspondent Gabe Gabriel reports a startling new find for Kreationism in the form of an inspirational poster circa 1975.



Referencing our Korner-issued German dictionaries, we at headquarters quickly deciphered the message. "Die freude von" can be translated easily enough to "The joy of." What is most interesting, however, is the final word, "kreatenstalt." While no such term officially exists, a cursory examination of the term's components reveals "kreationism" as the only possible translation. The significance of this find could be of truly mammoth proportions, and raises many questions. Might Kreationism be a secret society as old as mankind itself? We don't know. Are we at the Korner simply the newest generation in an eternal continuum of enlightenment and sophistication? We are not equipped to answer these questions. Could we, the practitioners of Kreationism, be the most important, most intelligent, most revolutionary figures of this or any other time? Again, we just don't know.

Little is known about the origin of this artifact, other than a small watermark on the back of the poster, stating simply "Das Amakorp." Needless to say, ongoing investigation has been moved to Priority 1 status here the Kreation Korner. May the joy of Kreationism be with you all!

Friday, January 9, 2009

Komedy Korner

Inevitably, kontributor and komedienne Svetlana Mendoza has made the daring jump to visual humor--or, as we have koined it at The Korner, the kartoon. Not being the type to tread lightly, Svetlana pulls out all the stops on her inaugural "kartoon." We at The Korner present it to you with a "view-at-your-own-risk" kaveat. At the risk of sounding offensively dramatic, just hope you make it out alive. Cautiously indulge:

Monday, January 5, 2009

The Korner Kills

Don't be startled by the headliner, folks. Or, whatever, be startled, it's no skin off our backs. But back to the headliner. What we plan to kill today is not people, but rather stale preconceptions of the world around us. Being of erudite wit and reasoning, we at the Korner are often asked for advice from those seeking a better life more rooted in kreationism. Our first question in this new segment comes courtesy of Joanne from Beaverton, OR.

Hi, Kreation Korner. I've been a fan of your website for a couple months now and especially enjoy the poetry segments. Onto my question. I had a dinner party a week or so ago and one of the party-goers spilled red wine all over my eggshell-white carpet. What would you suggest for a stubborn stain?

Glad you asked, Joanne. First, rip out the carpet. Next, trash your house. Trash everything. Commit the act of destruction, for out of destruction comes kreation. This is your only hope, and I say this with utmost seriosity, of leading a life of any worth. One's life is not meant to be spent fretting over affairs so rooted in triviality and vanity. Perhaps your real problem is not the wine stain on the carpet, but the stain of conformity on your mind. I implore you, Joanne, to meditate on these matters. Your ultimate happiness and self-worth depends on it.

Plus, who makes white carpeting their first choice? That's just destined to fail. When I was decorating my house, I decided instead on a lush forest green. Hides the stains and it looks wonderful, too.

Sunday, January 4, 2009

Onward the Kourse of Kreation Takes Its Way

When The Kreation Korner was originally launched during the French Revolutionary month of Fructidor in the Hebrew year of 5768 (or, in some circles, September 2007), we took the world by storm. We burst unrelentingly into existence, delivering a decisive blow to a stagnant art scene's skull as it timidly bit an uninspired curb. We benevolently extended a promise to simultaneously blow your mind, body and soul. During the ensuing months, we have surprised even ourselves. We have inadvertently blown our own minds, bodies and souls in the process of doing the same to yours.
Around this time last year, we promised you a revolution. Although we delivered, it was no easy task. We went through our share of hard times. But that didn’t stop us from producing some unprecedentedly ingenious feats of kreation. Our success would not have been possible without the support of you, our devoted reader. This new year will be full of challenges, and the Kause needs your help to persevere. So, in the upcoming months, we humbly ask that you continue engaging in the favorable kombat.

Danke/Merci/Gracias/Thanks/Спасибо,

Your Pals at The Korner