Archive for May, 2008

Making Your Life Simple

Published
by
Kyle
on May 28, 2008
in Help, Instructions and RSS
. 0 Comments

This is something I wrote a while back so keeping up with blogs (HINT HINT) is easier for everyone. You may have already read it if you were a Why I Will Never Be A Famous Writer blog-reader.

Since I am a super, extremely nice person, I am going to make it SUPER convenient for you wonderful people (all 4 of you) to read my blog. Now, I’m not talking about having it downloaded into your brain, or me printing it out and reading to you – NO, I’m talking about an RSS Reader. (If you are already viewing this blog through an RSS feed, then I apologize: this post is old news to you)

An RSS (Really Simple Syndication) Reader is basically a tool that can compile blogs, news headlines, or any internet page that gets updated (and chooses to have an RSS Feed). Instead of going to the actual page of the blog, the entry is simply fed into your own little RSS “homepage” so you can read all your favorite (ie ME) blogs in one place.

The first step in doing this is to get a Google Account. There are others, but this is the one I use and personally endorse. If Google was a person you would hate him/her because it is everything you want to be, but have no chance in hell of ever being. I would say sign up for G-Mail, if you haven’t already. I know you have an e-mail address already, but G-Mail is the future so get with the cool kids.

Okay, so now that you’ve signed up for a G-Mail account, you have the option of using Google’s other wonderful features. I can go more into those later, but all we care about right now is the RSS Reader.

Now, since you’re reading this at my site (and using Firefox)(which is WAY better than Internet Explorer) you should see a little picture of an orange square on the RIGHT side of the address bar. This is a button that signifies the page has an RSS feed. Simply CLICK that Orange RSS Button, and you are brought to a page which allows you to choose between “Add to Google Homepage” or “Add to Google Reader”. Add it toGoogle Reader (which is my preferred usage) and BAM you are SET.

It’s THAT simple. So when you decide to check your G-Mail, use the link at the top of the page that says “More” and then click “Reader” which takes you to your RSS page, and find out if I posted a new blog (I probably didn’t, but hey, you never know!). You can also just as easily go to www.google.com/reader if you don’t feel like checking your G-Mail.

The Google RSS Reader is my gift to you (I’m re-gifting it from Google) on this day, February 20, 2008. You are welcome.

Reason Number 9 Why I Will Never Be A Famous Writer:
Google will probably take over the world and banish me to Antarctica. I will end up writing for Penguin Monthly, but the salary will be too low, and I won’t be able to afford the proper warm clothing. I will freeze to death.

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Kent’s Big Day Out

Published
by
Kyle
on May 28, 2008
in Comedy, Funny and Lists
. 1 Comment

The Unlimited Freedom Castle has been on a minimal posting schedule as of late, and the main reason for that is laziness. Well, laziness and the fact that Kent (the artiste) is getting married this weekend (May 31). Apparently it’s a busy time, and when a day job is also involved it leaves little time to do anything. For the next few weeks he will be out of commission, but I (Kyle) will do my best to get some posts up here. I’m not sure if they will just be writing posts, or if they will feature art. It’s possible that I will do some of my own drawings that lack any sense of artistic talent, or I may find a guest artist to contribute.

Now, on the subject of weddings – with Kent’s coming up I started thinking – who would I invited to MY wedding? You know, besides the family, friends, and random people that you have to invite, but aren’t quite sure why.

So, I started coming up with a list of people that I would invite to my wedding. It’s by no means definitive, or complete.

1. Cal Ripken, Jr.: He played in 2,632 straight baseball games; a model of consistency. I would have him there as an example of someone who weathered the good and the bad, changed with the times, and ended up in the Hall of Fame. His presence would be an obvious symbol to my wife that I was going to bring Ripkenesque passion and dependency to our marriage.
2. Jack Nicholson: I would sit him in the front row, just like the Oscars or a Lakers game. Seeing him, with trademark sunglasses and crazed smile, would give me an extra boost of confidence at the altar. Plus, just having him in the same room would enhance my libido through osmosis – a little something extra for the honeymoon.
3. Paul McCartney: Instead of playing “Here Comes the Bride” I would just have him play all of “Hey, Jude” at the start of the ceremony, with the part where he freaks out and everything. Also, I would have him play “Live and Let Die” at the reception. The obvious reason is that he is a beast on that song, and the other is that I would want my friend, Mike (the biggest Beatles fan I have ever seen), to get really drunk and sing it on stage with him. I’m not sure if Mike’s head would explode or if he would just throw up all over the only meaningful living Beatle, but whatever happened would be awesome.
4. Alex Trebek and Pat Sajak: This could end up being the best part of the whole day. My plan would be to have Sajak think that he is presiding over the wedding – hosting the show as it were – and then, right when the wedding is about to start, Trebek comes in through a side door and grabs the microphone out of his hands. Sajak would look at me and I would just shrug as if to say “the man does what he wants”. With Trebek helming the ceremony we would play a round of Jeopardy in place of the vows, and if we scored high enough we would get an all-expenses paid, 6 days 7 nights trip to a tropical island for our honeymoon. Meanwhile, Sajak would have to get pay for his own cab to the airport. That oughta knock him down a peg.
5. George Lucas: I would invite him, and then when he showed up I would tell him NO, you can’t come in. It would be the first time he had heard the word “no” in well over 25 years. Evidence: The Star Wars prequels, and Indiana Jones 4.

So, that’s the list so far. Who would you invite to your wedding?

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Also, It Sucks

Published
by
KentAndKyle
on May 23, 2008
in Comedy, Funny and Lists
. 1 Comment

Samurai Trice

Reasons Why I Will Not Write Anything for This Drawing:

1. I could have drawn it.
2. It is beneath me.
3. I drew it already, but thought it was so awful that I ripped it in half, spit on it, and threw it in a dumpster.
4. My cat could have drawn it. I don’t even have a cat, so what I’m really saying is that an imaginary cat could have drawn it, and that is just ridiculous. That pure ridiculousness of the situation leaves out any possibility of me ever writing about it.
5. It lacks artistic merit.
6. Just an appalling attempt at chiaroscuro.
7. The subject is bald.
8. It looks like there could be a booger in the nose.
9. The caption is “Samurai Trice” but there is nothing remotely resembling a samurai in the piece. Not even an attempt at a sword, or one of those samurai haircuts. The obvious lack of effort is maddening. I don’t even want to think about it, let alone write about it.
10. I’m lazy.

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Crooked Creek No. 3

Published
by
KentAndKyle
on May 20, 2008
in Crooked Creek, Drama and Short Story
. 0 Comments

To keep up with this continuing story, check out the first and second installments.

If you had ever seen Conrad Christopher run, you probably cringed. His bowlegged strides looked more like a newborn foal than a 12-year old boy; 12-year old boys are supposed to run like silverfoxes over dirt roads, speeding past imaginary linebackers or scalp-hungry Indians. This is not to say that Conrad could not run – he was just an ungraceful-looking tornado of limbs. After finding himself next to the cold, blue body of Buddy Anderson, Conrad Christopher decided he’d better run like there was no tomorrow.

He didn’t have a plan. Thinking too much had gotten him into this situation, so he figured the exact opposite could get him out. That’s the trouble with young boys (and most people that find themselves in a lurch); it’s never about finding the best way to solve the problem, it’s about the quickest way. The pressure of the problem squeezes so tight that the first solution to squirt out is the only solution. It’s only later that the person finds themselves sitting in a ditch, surrounded by the better ways they could have handled the hard times. That’s all beside the point, though. In this case, Conrad Christopher’s life would change whether he found himself in a ditch, on the side of the road, or on his own doorstep. People have a way of treating you different when you might have killed someone.

Before he ran off, Conrad was treated just like the other boys in the town of Even. This was a mistake; a mistake in the sense that he was not like the other boys, and should have been cared for in a special way. You could tell from the glazed-over look in his eyes, and the way he would hum to himself. The world was too big for him, and he would just stare at it, trying to make sense out of all the colors and shapes. He had taught himself over the years to bring it in to focus, slowing everything down and deciding just how to go about living in that world.

Some people are just wired differently, but the folks in the town of Even decided to call Conrad inbred and stupid instead of letting him feel okay being who he was. These words weren’t beyond his understanding, and when he could hear the whispers (and shouts) he would get angry and close his eyes. He closed his eyes a lot around Buddy Anderson. It’s hard to say if Conrad’s eyes were closed when he shoved Buddy into Crooked Creek. Sometimes, in a matter of force, a person will close their eyes without knowing it, in a sort of automatic reaction. Either way it could be said that Buddy Anderson deserved a knock-down; he’d had it coming in a balance-of-the-universe way of things. However, no one would argue that Buddy deserved to die.

Little Conrad Christopher

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The Rules of Backyard Warfare

Published
by
Kent
on May 13, 2008
in Drama, Scene and Short Story
. 0 Comments

She is in the Trees

Sit down; it’s going to be okay. Everything is going to be okay. Just calm down please.

The instructions were so simple that she could not comprehend them. She wanted to slam his head against the table, pull his brains out, and slow-cook them in a mango sauce. The taste sat on her tongue as she struggled to free her wrists from the makeshift leather handcuffs.

Look, I know you don’t want to be here. Stop doing that. Will you please stop doing that? You’re ruining the carpet.

Pieces of fuzzy shredded carpet were floating in the air from the violence of the solid oak chair legs thrashing the ground. She had a sock in her mouth, and her feet were bound to the front chair legs as well. She pictured him, on the ground, his faced bloodied from knuckles to the cheeks, with her hands in his mouth pulling molars with a pair of pliers. In her mind he was fully awake, tasting the metal as she twisted each tooth from its soft, warm home. The images grew more vivid as she felt herself loosening the ankle straps.

I’m going to let you go. I promise. Just tell me what was going on back there.

She held her place for a second; the air in the room suddenly filling the holes she left – abrupt silence. In this instance she breathed in deeply through her nose and sent a muffled scream as loud as she could through the wall of the sock.

Oh, yes, the sock. I’ll just…

Hesitant, he forced his trembling hand towards her face. She sat, breathing quick and shallow like a cornered cat, ready to pounce. The relative quiet of the room could not have been more loud. Inside the man’s head were the high-pitched cries of thousands of ear cells dying. A bead of sweat dripped from his nose. He took the sock from her mouth and it was wet like a dog’s toy. For a moment he was paralyzed by her eyes. The death stare of her green irises. He caught himself entranced and scurried away.

See, I’m a reasonable guy. I’m not gonna do anything stupid. Tell me who else is out there, and we’ll get this all straightened out.

She was really moving her ankles around now. He didn’t notice; all he could see was her closed mouth, absent a sock, and those piercing green eyes. They were just so out of place. Inside her mouth she was methodically running her tongue over her teeth, measuring the size of her canines, and arousing her instinct. As he waited for her to speak she found the last knot in the leather. The ankle straps separated and eased off to the floor, but she kept her heels pressed together just in case.

With her escape a sudden certainty she let the man contemplate his next move. Her breathing slowed, and she closed her eyes. In the next moments, as he waited for her to speak, for her to send some signal of defeat, she began to wonder where a man like this might keep his pliers.

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All I Can Think of are Dancing Chimney Sweeps!

Published
by
Kyle
on May 11, 2008
in Random
. 0 Comments

With the shake shake shake you’d think that there was an earthquake. Bongos give the beat, and bounce along with a butterfly procession. Even the trees seem to bob and twirl to the up-and-down. This is a dream of a hot summer city, taken apart and reformed in a radical way. This is where you want to be.

It’s perfect – you think there’s no way this can be real. There is no way it can be real. Its polish is too polished; its sidewalks are too smooth; its people are too kind. They actually smile at you. The homeless guy near your stoop whistles. You’re jealous. So you become a kind of perfection-hound – monitoring its movements; watching it waiver; looking for it to somehow lose its composure. After a while the lines begin to show. It begins to break under the pressure. Your little city, invigorated, reincarnated with a joyous spirit, isn’t all that was advertised. Its streets need sweeping. The grass needs to be cut. The homeless people need to find homes. You frown. Ah, you just aren’t good enough for me.

So you leave.

And a few months down the road you’re in your new city, and it sucks. There aren’t any bongos here. There was an acoustic guitar one day – but it played the same song over and over and over. The streets sweep themselves, but it’s like, who cares? You’d pay for someone to smile at you, or even whistle. It could be the worst song in the world, it doesn’t matter, just somebody please whistle!

Chimney Sweeps

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Advice you shouldn’t take

Published
by
Kent
on May 2, 2008
in Comedy, Funny and Random
. 0 Comments

And he said…

Let me tell you; kids are precious! Half of them still think Santa Claus is real. HA! Man, oh man! Just think; if you showed up in a Santa Claus outfit to a kid’s party, the kids would be all like, “Santa! Santa! Give me a present!” And then you could just pull out a huge rubber knife and be like, “Or I could stab you!” They would just scream and scream – meanwhile, you just start wobbling the thing around, showing them that its rubber, and throwing candy in the air. That way, you get to scare the kids, but don’t have to worry about them telling their parents, and then having their parents tell the police, and getting your name on the community watch list. It’s like, even though you haven’t been convicted of anything, the whole town is basically blackballing you, and starting websites about you, and you can’t even shop at the grocery store without old women spitting at you and calling you scumbag. All you wanted to do was have some harmless fun. So yeah, just make sure you fill those pockets with candy and a few dollars (kids love money) and you’ll bear witness to beautiful children smiling, then screaming, then crying, then laughing, then smiling…all in the matter of seconds.

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