Sunday, February 28, 2010

Korner Wisdom

No. 7: "A knife isn't a weapon. It's a killing tool."
No. 8: "Being an optimist means seeing the glass half full--unless you're trapped in a vat slowly filling with water. Then you should see it half empty."

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

Retraction Korner

We are writing today to withdraw incendiary allegations we posted yesterday about the nefarious engravings of a shadowy kreation konspiracy. To put it vulgarly, we fucked up. Information from the HQ's own janitor has shed light on what has turned out to be far less grave a situation with almost no implications of smoke-filled rooms and impending global doom. Although we here at The Korner strive for perfection, try as we might, we just can't bat better than .900. But there's a tangy pimento lesson to be learned in this brown, shriveled olive of a misstep: we must always be vigilant, especially in light of what some of the more radical elements of us view as the imminent Kreation day of reckoning. Thanks for your patience and understanding and please read the following personal statement to bring closure to our faux pas:

I was in the cement game back in the 80s. Boy, I tell ya, that was a wild time for sidewalks--the blow, the Member's Only jackets, the grunge music--maybe that was the 90s. It all blurs together. Anyways, the year's 1987. I'm in Caldwell, I.D. The Dirty C. It was the hottest summer that year, and I was with I, P, T, O, L, C & B Construction. Damn, we must've laid 3 miles of sidewalk in a day. As such, I saw it fit to commemorate a job well done, so I traced my initials--"EW"--into the wet concrete. Above it, I inscribed "KK" in honor of my favorite recording artist, Kris Kristofferson. His duets with Rita Coolidge got me through a tough time after the rest of my crew perished in the Wilder Overpass Disaster of '81. So there ya have it, folks. You should see what I carved on the Barrier Reef during my underwater welding days. But that's another story for another time.

Errick Walsh
Kreation Kustodian

PS: To whoever stole my mop--April Fool's day was like 11 months ago. Give it back! The floor's only getting filthier, so joke's on you.

Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Konspiracy Korner!

Well, komrades, the day we've been dreading for nearly a year has finally come. Unfortunately, we've discovered a troubling thumbprint of ostensibly the same shadowy syndicate we reported on last winter. But this time, we don't have the buffer of most of a continent and one of our larger oceans insulating us from this terrifying apparition. Prepare to gasp in horror: it was discovered on a sidewalk in Caldwell--not 30 miles from The Kreation Korner HQ's front door. And it's as vague, elusive and frightening as the imprecise hand that inscribed it:

If you blur your eyes and move your head slowly toward and away from your monitor for a while, you should be able to compensate for this crappy photo and see the letters "KK" and "EW" carved into the cement. To say this is chilling is just the tip of the intrigue iceberg. "KK"? Hmm, those initials smack of a certain Korner we all know and love. The implications are alarming. What does "EW" stand for? Who left this mark? Why are they pulling our strings? What's their endgame? Is it a private organization or a limited liability corporation? These questions and more have been bandied about in and around the HQ and the answers are few and far between. When and where will the next calling card of this subversive brotherhood appear? We're of the mind that dwelling on it will only make us vulnerable. If we stand tall and undaunted, there's no question we'll be sorted with the sheep when the inevitable final showdown between pure, righteous Kreationism and wicked, perverse Kreationism occurs.

The Kreation Krew

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Hymnal Korner

A while back, we found the remnants of a Bangladeshi folk song translated into broken English that nonetheless spoke loud and clear to us Kreationists. Well, people, we've done it again. This is part of what we believe to be a Siberian hymnal, and its subject matter is strikingly similar to Kreationism. We have discerned that the pushing in question refers to pushing one's children into a trash-can lid filled with lard, as was the ritual custom of Siberia for many years. The lard was felt to fatten the souls of the children as they passed into adulthood, thereby... Ah hell, just Listen!

Ah, push the Ah, push it

Get up on this!

Ow! Baby! Salt and of Pepa the here!

(Watch now a minute, These dance ain' t for everybody Only the sexy men So you all fly mothers, get on from there and dance Dance, said I)!

Salt and of Pepa the for this reason and we become in result
Urge you it, child
Coolin to push' on to build against day then' s nights a sweat girls, rent us go
show the fellows that we know
How number an in a hot party show Now push it

Ah, push the - push the good
Ah, push the - push the real good
Ah, push the - push the good
Ah, push the - pen-push it really good

Pile-driver! Ow! Push the good!

Push the good Push the real good Ah, push the Ah, push it

Yo, yo, yo, yo, baby-bang
Yes, come you here, gimme a kiss
Better makes the fasting or otherwise I became gonna gepist
Cannot you hear the pumpin of the music'
fast as I wish that you will?
Push now it

Ah, push it Gets up on this!

Boy, you got not goes got know do really me that YOU me so I what I

Ah, push it

Sunday, February 14, 2010

Fiction Korner

"Great sauce, Larry!" I said, licking my lips. "What's your secret?"
Larry's cheery demeanor suddenly became surly and accusatory.
"You wanna know my secret, do you? Well that would require me to betray certain confidences I've spent half a lifetime building and that..." he said, prodding my chest with a piping-hot, sauce-covered wooden spoon, "I cannot and therefore will not do."
"I see," I said humbly, wiping the savory, burnt sienna concoction-in-question from my blouse.
"With all due respect, I don't think you understand," Larry continued, his voice now gradually increasing decibel-wise. "You wanna know where my loyalties lie? Well, I'll tell you:
"First and foremost, I'm a human inhabitant of the planet Earth. Second, I'm an American. Third, I'm a citizen of the great state of New Mexico. Fourthly, I'm the father of six children--four average, two exceptional. Fifth, I'm a widower. Sixth, I'm a god-fearing parishioner of the Atheist Reform Church. Seventh, I'm a card-carrying member of the International Projectionists Guild. Eighth, I serve as social chair for a local adults curling club. Ninth, I'm a collector of rare hobbyist periodicals and catalogs. Tenth, I play the vibes at the annual Founders Day mixer. And eleventh, but certainly not least, I'm an aspiring sauce magnate."
After that, Larry just nodded a quick, curt nod and hobbled out of the grounded hot air balloon basket. I sympathized with his perspective, and accepted that I, his son's oncologist, had no more right than anyone else to breach the tasty barriers of his gastronomic charisma. I couldn't help but smile as I licked from my forearm a molassescent globule of the very condiment responsible for my ultimately unpleasant encounter with Larry Van Hanssen.
--Jawn Steighmeaus

Tuesday, February 9, 2010

Recovery Korner

This is indeed a jubilant week at The Korner. In addition to clearing a most kontentious air with KSW, we are elated to announce the return of a beloved komrade who was until recently rather near death. That's right, the Kreation News Wire Service announced this morning that kommentator Peter Doe has been released from the hospital and is on the mend. Thanks to an impromptu trip down to Mexico for a coffee enema and 'round-the-clock attention from a plucky medical professional known simply as Nurse Jason, Doe has made a full recovery--save for being temporarily konfined to an oxygen tank-outfitted wheel chair. We were worried about Doe's spirits, but those koncerns were kwelled when he was overheard at the hospital pharmacy shouting, "Who's a guy gotta have relations with to get some Percocet around this dump?" It's good to know that behind all the surgical tubing and IV scars the real Peter Doe is back. To celebrate his return, we bring you a poem Doe dictated during his cardio-pulmonary episode. Admit:

Hospitals are venerable
establishments. Stalwart bastions
combating an all too real
threat of pestilence.

But I’d never want to have a
surprise birthday party at one.

You show up for important
test results. Your friends
pop out of the soiled
utility closet.

Wear a pointy hat. Eat some cake.
It’s hard to celebrate when you’re
terminally ill.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Cease-Fire Korner

Hello, faithful Kreationists. If you have been paying attention these last few months, you will no doubt notice that the Header section of our (in)glourious blog(sterd) has seen a drastic change from its previous message of defiance and outrage. Yes, in the past we took umbrage at Kreation Systems Worldwide's attempts to control and (we felt) stifle our kreativity, and we thus called upon our resident dog-in-sunglasses-art-kollective-mascot, Salvador, to voice our own frustrations. But now, we find solace in the fact that time heals all wounds. It is in this spirit of familydom that we offer the olive branch of peace to Chas Murdoch. You're a true human among humen, Chas, and we're lucky to have you. So, for now, enjoy the visual pleasures of our latest Header Kreation, manipulated by none other than Lee Watt.

Friday, February 5, 2010

Poet's Korner

Stop. Drop. Roll.
Don’t tell me what
to do when I’m on fire.
I’m not listening to you.
You only wish to deceive.
How much did they pay you?
It had better be worth my life,
or else you got ripped off, pal.
Now fan the flames before
this conflagrant maelstrom
sends me to an early grave.

--Dr. Cristobal D. Peebles II

Wednesday, February 3, 2010

Komedy Korner

Once again, our own Svetlana Mendoza has made komedic history. With her daring retelling of the old "Donkey in a Top Hat" bit, Ms. Mendoza will be delivering the world's first ever serial joke. We've all grown up being beaten over the head with "brevity is the soul of wit". But Svetlana isn't about to listen to the "wise words" of George Washington or whoever. Her utter distain for all things konventional has led her to the ardent belief that waiting weeks, months, even years to hear a punch line will make a gag exponentially funnier. Much like the aging process crucial to fine wines or botulitic sardines. We support her in this ballsy, paradigm-shifting endeavor and intend to stand stalwartly by her for the inevitable public outrage, rioting and police inquiries. But enough with all that ado. Here's an exclusive sneak peak at the first of a yet-to-be-disclosed number of monthly installments. Mainline:

A donkey in a top hat walks into a rendering plant.
The foreman says, "Hey, Donkey. Don't I know you?"
"You must have me confused for someone else," replies the donkey.

To Be Continued...