29  Mar

If you have sex with a post-op tranny does that make you gay? Does paying for it make it worse? Feels like an oven mitt that has dried cheese stuck inside it. Uh, so I’ve been told. Anyways…

White people are all like this is how you use a bike

Black people are all like this is how you use a bike

fuck i itch so bad I think they’re both right.

Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 29, 2012, 9:08 pm | No Comments »

fuck that horse

Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 25, 2012, 5:33 pm | No Comments »

22  Mar



Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 22, 2012, 10:13 pm | No Comments »

heyDearest friends, I regret to inform you that my most precious amor is now nothing more than a memory. While the brain tumor that consumed my bride to be was thought to be terminal, it turns out the amorphous legion that attached itself to her thinking cap was in fact a treatable concern, and after successful sessions to reduce the demon, along with the resulting regaining of her eyesight and realization she would not soon become a shade, our wedding plans quickly dissipated. While I cannot be certain her screams of “how does it live, how can it be breathing in this world that we are taught has order and does not contain monsters, but here I stand in the presence of one such thing” and “why aren’t the police here putting all of their bullets into this forever smirking, marshmallowed affront to god” were directed at me personally, I have a sneaking suspicion they may have been. Mostly due to my eyes being soggy marshmallows, and my other facets of physical appearance not being what many would consider human. The accompanying rain of blows that matched my one time loves words to my withered and mostly pustulating appendages and failing core organs gave me the idea that our relationship may be over. But do not despair on my behalf amigos, for good things have come from our split!

I have since mostly healed from the savage beating, and the good people at the hospital were nice enough to carry me out and sort of carefully dump me out into the street three blocks from the hospital entrance! They barely even remarked how my insurance card I gave them previously was no more than a Cap’n Crunch “kids ahoy” adventure sticker, and how I would be sued into oblivion for trying to be so sneaky! I don’t know what sued means, but it sounds involving and I have a date to visit with my hospital friends in a court in one and one half months! I now sleep in a sewage drain! Other than the nipping at my heels by visiting rats, and the cholera, I think this is one of the nicest places I have ever lived. I swear on my mother Joze that I will make enough money to move from this sewage byway to a bonafied hobo town, under a bridge or beside a train yard or in an alley way. My possibilities are endless! Things are looking up friends!!!

Posted by Roberto Sanchez, filed under Roberto Sanchez. Date: March 18, 2012, 2:31 am | 2 Comments »

cannot be unseen


Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 17, 2012, 5:35 pm | No Comments »

12  Mar
Until that day.

Blighted by the sun-scorched earth,
Ruinous is the shade;
Bludgeoned by our once felt mirth
As youth begins to fade.

All that was and all that will
A never-ending joke;
Our grand self-image drowned in swill,
All our dreams lay crushed and choked.

For no man that ever was saw glory in the end,
Yet we struggle on in vain;
We march on with false hopes to protend
While we are circling the drain.

Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 12, 2012, 9:37 pm | No Comments »

Half-drunk from the preceding afternoon out socializing and rendered unable to drive, I was seated on the city bus with home and perhaps the opportunity to further imbibe on my mind when a strange and unwholesome feeling overtook me, something more gripping than the aforementioned booze had already laid. I glanced up from my beaten copy of Wuthering Heights which I was only half following anyways to meet the gaze of a handsome young gentleman, hair like electrified worms dancing some unholy number you would expect to see in the type of nightmares you don’t want to talk about, eyes screaming red and gold, neck tattoos signaling “I am excelling in every aspect of my life”. His gaze didn’t dissipate when my pupils met his, in fact it seemed to only encourage him further. The scowl on his whiskered face made things even more interesting. As did his constant fidgeting and scratching. This guy was about as undamaged as the RCC panel on Columbia, and as likely to burn up and kill a lot of people upon coming back to earth from whatever high powered drug he was currently on. I was seated directly across from him, so it was unpossible for me to simply turn away. I thought about screaming for help, but a quick recon of the rest of my fellow welfare travelers led me to believe assistance would not be forth-coming from any of them. The denizens of public transit are an unwieldy bunch to be sure, and there is a tacit understanding when boarding that you should expect the unexpected, unpleasant, unfathomable. So here I was, sitting quietly, book put aside and mind racing, wondering when the staring would stop and the screaming and/or stabbing would begin.

I decided to be cordial, and flashed a grin in the direction of the man who would undoubtedly be featured on the evening news as a big fan of the work of Vince Weiguang Li. His reaction was decisive and expected. A grimace, accompanied with a guttural grunt and increased scratching of his large, unwashed arms. The stare did not, however, break. I went into survival mode, positioning myself in my seat with anticipation of an attack, ready to defend from what looked to be an inevitable frontal attack from this 6 foot something demon, dreaming of my various butterfly knives, machetes and switch blades resting comfortably at home. My novel was not going to provide the defense I so utterly needed, nor would my fists or cries for mercy when the fiend descended upon me. I was, in a word, fucked. I broke away from his unwavering gaze, thinking of sun-drenched beaches, delicious, 15 year old girls scotch, and various other things that make this nasty, brutish and short life worth living. All the while I felt his lecherous eyes on me. I felt the naked and un-ebbing hatred that came from them, like a goddamn tractor beam, sucking the life out of me and filling me with dread and understanding that I was going to die on this fucking bus.

Epicurus said “Death is nothing to us. When we exist death is not, and when death exists we are not. All sensation and consciousness ends with death and therefore in death there is neither pleasure nor pain. The fear of death arises from the belief that in death there is awareness.” I don’t think Epicurus ever sat a mere 3 feet away from a rabid beast who, fangs bared, was poised to rip his throat out and eat his guts. If he had, he wouldn’t have had doubts that there is awareness in death. Maybe not once it comes about, but there sure as hell is in the seconds leading up to it. The brute stood up. My eyes traveled up for what seemed to be a long time to meet his downward gaze. Those wild, blood-crazed eyes seemed to be looking down from space. The ubiquitous accident lawyer and earn a thousand dollars a month from home ads that once filled my every glance on the rolling machine of nameless shapes now were gone. It was black and desolate all around him, hellish landscapes of pestilence, need and suffering became his backdrop on this waking nightmare I found myself ensnared in. Those piercing, mindless eyes were gnashing at me. I could already feel his cold, clammy hands around my neck. The tip of his carbon, razor sharp knife was already twisting into my guts. I could smell his vodka and embalming fluid tinged breath as he moved his face inches from mine, those bottomless eyes watching mine go dark as he drained me of breath. This is what you will get to experience if you ever get the chance to be murdered violently. I was seconds from the end and all I could do was look at him with a wide, blank stare, screaming at myself to move, jump, pounce at him and try to somehow bring an end to his unbridled tyranny.

Just then, the bus came to a stop. The monster shifted to his left and began walking for the door. As he stepped off the bus, my senses started to return and I was aware that I wasn’t looking up at my body from the floor. I watched him trudge aimlessly down the street, still scratching himself incessantly, anarchistic stature blighting everything in it’s path. For the innumerable time, I had escaped a searing, blunt and abhorrent end at the hands of my city’s inhabitants. Eventually my luck will run out.


Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 10, 2012, 4:27 pm | No Comments »


Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 10, 2012, 11:33 am | No Comments »

03  Mar


Posted by Krank, filed under Awesomeness. Date: March 3, 2012, 12:37 pm | No Comments »