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."

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?

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.

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]!

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:

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.

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