Komik Korner

Good tidings Lee brings to you and your kin! That's right, Lee Watt is back -- and how! After a much-needed sabbatical devoted to the exploration of oil slicks as a veritable art medium, the Korner's enigmatic kartoonist is back at it with a series entitled, "Things aren't what they seem, even if they may look like it. Haven't you ever heard the saying, 'Don't judge a book by its cover?'" The first in the "TAWTSEITMLLIHYEHSDJBBC?" series is a heady combo of razor-sharp cultural critique and minima-expressionist illustrations that will leave you drink with somber meditation. Pump up the jam:

Korner Wisdom

No. 16: "Everything is exactly what it seems."
No. 17: "Cleopatra isn't the only queen of denial. The other is Hatshepsut."

Komedy Korner

Buenos day to you! Before we unveil the latest installment in Svetlana Mendoza's groundbreaking episodic joke, we present you with a bonus feature: the komedienne's much awaited kontributor bio! Peruse:

Little is known about Svetlana Mendoza. This kharismatic comedienne keeps much of her early life close to the bodice. What we do know is that she is a missile crisis baby--perhaps the only one. Born to a Cuban father and Russian mother, she grew up on the wrong side of Smolensk raised almost exclusively by an ex-KGB nanny who had ice water for blood. Our best guess is that she arrived in the US sometime around 3:47 pm on July 15, 1996--but that’s just a rough estimate. Legend has it that Svetlana--dreaming of better opportunities in America--smuggled herself into the country in a box of streamers belonging to Russia’s Olympic rhythmic gymnastics team. Once stateside, Mendoza began hitchhiking across this great land--after allegedly watching a few of the minor field events. From then on it was a life on the road, relying on the charity of strangers for a meal and a place to sleep. It was during this itinerate phase of Svetlana’s life that she saw her first Sinbad VHS, a revelatory experience that set her on her present career path. “The energy, the passion, the clothing,” Mendoza recalled. “It was then that I knew my calling in life.” Starting with an open mic at Knock 'Em Dead Comedy Club and Crematorium in Gastonia, NC, Svetlana cut her teeth at dive bars, laundromats and street corners from the South Atlantic Seaboard to the Great Basin. Her unorthodox, uncanny, untamed style earned her a reputation as one of the least funny traveling acts. Shows how much the kritics know! When Mendoza isn't causing her fellow kontributors to writhe around on the floor of the HQ in laughter, she is an outspoken activist against the rampant portrayal of Russians in film and television as sociopathic arms dealers. The Kreation Korner is truly lucky to have a kreationist of such kaliber on staff.

The old "Donkey in a Top Hat" bit as told by Svetlana Mendoza, Part IX:

When their food arrived, the donkey in a top hat and the foreman ate pollo con mole faster than either ever had
The foreman even burned his wrist the plate, despite the server’s explicit warning of its hotness
Rather than waiting to deal with the foreman’s debit card, the man and beast just laid cash on the table (including a less-than-generous tip) before hitting the pavement

To Be Kontinued...

Komik Korner

--Hadley Daughterson

Poet's Korner

"Complementary Floss"

What gives you the right?

What gives you the right?

I see you over there trying
to hide your face.
You must think I can’t see
you but I can.
And I’m asking you:
what gives you the right??

What gives you the right
to treat me as inferior?
You can’t make me feel
inferior unless I give
you permission.
Eleanor Rigby said that.

You think just because
you’re a dentist you can
prod and poke at my molars?
And incisors?

DDS--those are just letters.
Two the same, one different,
like the chambers of my
amphibian heart--a heart
which you have broken into
countless pieces.

Like a shattered mirror in
the corridor of discontent.

--Chris Peebles

Kommentary Korner

Where would we be without dissenting voices? If you ask Peter Doe, we’d be observing a government-mandated curfew somewhere in Red China. But such konjecture is kounterproductive. The fact is, we at The Korner don’t know all the answers. We know most of them, but not all. To think we are perfect would be the height of arrogance and would kompromise our kreative kredibility. As the old saying goes, “humility is the mother of invention.” To that end, here’s some konstructive kriticism from our own Nash Stillwater. Konsider:

Not to sound like a suck-up, but our benefactor Chas Murdoch is right to raise an eyebrow at our prodigious use of elicit substances. I know the prevailing stance of TKK is that said substances are necessary, nay required, for the kreative process to occur. Those more radical among us would go as far to fancy themselves as shamans, selflessly losing themselves in the embrace of hallucinogenic oblivion so as to lead their fellow man to higher states of kreative konsciousness. But what nobody seems to consider are the negative effects of our excess. Remember the time a mescaline-addled Stankowski thought Snappy Tom’s derringer was his inhaler? Thank Odin it wasn’t loaded! Or the time GRECH had an acid flashback whilst performing an emergency tracheotomy on maljohn? And let’s not forget the countless gastric algal blooms we’ve all suffered as a result of those fertilizer confections we ingest regularly in the name of Kreation. What I’m getting at here is that we can be just as kreative without the copious use of mind-altering chemicals. I’ve been on the wagon for three weeks now, and I tell you, it’s a trip! The other day I saw a sunset. A real sunset. Not just the paisley hippo undulating in the sky I’ve become so accustomed to seeing. And you know what--I got the same kreative jolt out of it as I would’ve from four short-stacks of phosphate-laced flapjacks. To conclude, I just want to encourage us all to put aside the psilocybin mushroom and take up the shiitake of unaided sensory experience. Our physical health, well-being and--most importantly--our kreativity depend on it.

Lately, The Korner has been inundated with korrespondences in every imaginable format. Our mailboxes are full--both electronic and snail, our pigeon holes are bottlenecked and the telegraph machine literally blew up. What does everyone want to know (other than what Howard Fork smells like)? They want to see the face of the workaday life of professional Kreationists. For our loyal followers who live in parts afar, we've learned that it's difficult for them to visualize and relate to the kreative life here in Boise's Little Novgorod district. Try as we might to push the limits of written language, one thousand words isn't worth a picture. As such, we bring you today the first in what we hope will be a series of photo essays vividly illustrating the places we live and work in the ongoing effort to deliver our brand of kutting edge Kreationistic kontent. Feast your eyes:

This image is of the now infamous Kreation Korner HQ. Akwired in late 2007, the HQ has served as the nerve center of the Kreationism movement ever since and is a class B office space. Although many of our kreative kapacities of have relocated to the kommune, the HQ retains all administrative functions.


Home sweet home! This handsome structure is the new kommune that has been causing quite the stir amongst our readers as of late. Since settling the property in July, we've been attaining new benchmarks in kreativity daily. Think of it as a barracks for soldiers in the Kreation Kause.


Here's an extra treat. This is Union Credit, the credit union where The Korner does virtually all of its banking. UC's responsive, down-to-earth staff belies the mysteriousness of the building's outlandish design. It is the only structure of its kind on General Westmoreland Blvd and one of very few planet-wide.