Jack Kukoda

Did you know there is a SEXPIDEMIC going on in our nation’s schools? Were you aware that nubile female teachers are seducing young male students across the country in what can only be described as a SEXPIDEMIC?! Can you guess how funny I think it is that someone came up with the term SEXPIDEMIC to describe this situation?! Well I’ll tell you how funny: very. I find it very funny.

Last night, Joe Kovacs, editor of World Net Daily(which is just about as credible a news source as Lyndon LaRouche shouting on a street corner with a bullhorn) went on the O’Reilly Factor to discuss the SEXPIDEMIC. And, he announced his appearance on the show in a story called-wait for it…SEXTRA CREDIT! See what he did there? He punned two words using sex. Oh, I love puns. Especially when they’re attached to stories about sexual predators! Why? ‘Cause I’m real classy. Kudos, Mr. Kovacs.

Anyway, here are some more epidemics and what they describe.

1. Mexidemic: The unchecked flow of illegal immigrants into this country.
2. Hepidemic: Pamela Anderson AND Steven Tyler have Hepatitis C. If that’s not an epidemic, I don’t know what is.
3. T-Rexpidemic: Go watch Jurassic Park and see if you don’t agree with me.
4. Epidepidemic: The need to create fake words by punning the word epidemic.

DID THAT META-NESS JUST BLOW YOUR MIND?!!!!!!

You heard me right. I’ll be travelling from city to city, stopping in at bookstores and meeting my fans. What’s that? You didn’t even know I wrote a book? Well, I certainly did. It’s called The Devil Wears Zubaz and it’s awesome. If I had to describe it, I’d say it’s The Da Vinci Code meets Sex and the City meets the Buffalo Bills 2006 Media Guide. Yeah, it’s all over the place, but that’s what makes it so great.

The story centers around the very sexy protagonist, Zack Stakoda. He’s really sexy and sort of all-around awesome and he has to solve a mystery involving the founding fathers. Also, Zack plays for the Buffalo Bills and he sleeps around with a lot of sexy ladies. And then he goes out to brunch with some of the other Bills and they dish about the girls they’ve slept with. But everytime they’re dishing, Zack gets another clue about the mystery involving George Washington and Benjamin Franklin. You want to know what the mystery is? Well, you’ll just have to buy the book and find out.

Oh, and for all my readers in Denver, I’ll be at the Tattered Cover Bookstore on Friday. I’ll be signing copies of my book and probably fending off female fans who can’t get enough Zack Sta-oops. I mean Jack Kukoda.

P.S. Buy my book!

What’s up Kukoda-ites? By the way, that’s what I’ve taken to calling the people who read this site: Kukoda-ites. I also considered Kukodians, Kukodaroos, and Kukodans-really, with a beautiful, easy-to-pronounce name like Kukoda, you can’t go wrong. Anyway, if you want your complimentary(with payment of $19.95) Kukoda.com T-shirt that tells the world you’re a Kukoda-ite, just send me a letter with your t-shirt size, a check for $19.95, and shipping and handling charges of, oh, let’s say 10 bucks. That should cover it. In return, you’ll get a beautiful half cotton/half polyester shirt with my picture on it. I’ll even autograph it with an airbrush for added classiness.

Anyway, now that I’ve gotten all that out of the way, let me tell you about my trip to Buffalo. As usual, I forgot to bring my camera, so I’ll have to tell this story using…wait for it…Google Images! Hurray! Take it away, other people’s (possibly copyrighted) photos!

I got into Buffalo on Friday afternoon. I usually fly JetBlue, but they’re getting too expensive, so I had to fly Comair. Where have I heard of Comair before? It sounds so familiar. Oh right, that’s the airline that crashed in Kentucky after their pilots took off from the wrong runway. Sweet! I came to that realization after I had boarded the plane though. I kind of started to freak out, thinking the plane would try to take off from the sidewalk or something, but I figured everything would be okay and just wanted the plane to get into the air as soon as possible so I could relax. We ended up spending a good two hours on the runway. I’m not sure why. The pilot explained something but I was too busy crying with my sweater pulled up over my head to hear what he was saying.

The plane took off eventually and I arrived in Buffalo in the afternoon. I had a slight cold so I slept for most of the day. Yeah! Sleep! It was awesome. Later on, I went for a jog around Delaware Park, which was designed by Frederick Law Olmsted, thank you very much! Delaware Park also encompasses the Buffalo Zoo. So after I finished running, I went into the zoo and wrestled a couple polar bears to finish up my workout. Then I hunted the zookeeper as a cooldown. Good workout.

Friday night I stayed in because I had a cold. Also, I only have about 3 friends left in Buffalo, and none of them wanted to hang out with me. Whatever. I’ve got at least twice that many friends here in New York, so I’m not really sweating it or anything. Right, friends? High five! High five ’cause you know I’m so right? Hello? Car Ramrod? Nobody, huh? Aw, go to hell.

Saturday I went shopping…with my mom!!! Whoo-hoo! We went to Target to get some stuff for my new nephew(much more on him later) and I picked up a couple of frying pans. How’s that for excitement?! Nothing cooler than shopping at Target with your mom on a Saturday for kitchen supplies! Oh, I also bought some pants…at Target!! Good Lord, it’s amazing that I’m not raped by supermodels when I walk down the street. That’s how amazingly cool and sexy I am.

Saturday night, I went out with some friends. I went over to my friend Madeline’s apartment. Madeline is a big fancy lawyer and lives in a very nice apartment in this cool old house. Oh man, it was a party. It was me, Madeline, our friend Kelly, and…hmm, that’s it. There were three of us there and about four cases of beer. Now that’s a goddamn party. Whatever, we’re a super exclusive bunch. There were like 100 people begging to get in, but we were all, “No way. We’re a super exclusive bunch. You go to hell.” Eventually, the three of us headed to a bar in downtown Buffalo called…wait for it…Soho! And man, it’s just like SoHo in New York City. Except Buffalo’s Soho has neon signs advertising pina coladas and margaritas. And there are a lot of guys with gold chains and gelled hair. And Buffalo’s Soho bar was playing a Bills pregame show on all their TV’s on a Saturday night. Other than that, same exact thing.

I woke up on Sunday after a good three hours of sleep and headed out to the Bills game. It was a beautiful day; sunny, no wind. I had to meet a friend of mine to get a ticket to the game. No problem, right? I’ll call him, find out where he’s tailgating, and get my ticket. Not even close. It took me a good 40 minutes to find my friend, even though he was giving me explicit directions over the phone the whole time. If I ever get drafted into the army, I’m not going to pretend I’m gay or anything to get out of it. I’ll just say, “Hand me a map and tell me to go somewhere.” Then I’ll inevitably get lost just trying to find the bathroom. Sweet Christ, I am terrible at following directions or reading a map or just trying to navigate somewhere in general. Really, really bad.

After wandering the parking lot for close to an hour, I found my friends. We drank some beers, I tried to win a t-shirt by throwing a football through a net, drank some more beers, cursed the football throwing game for being rigged, and finally went into the game. The game was awesome for the first five minutes. The Bills looked unstoppable. Then they looked kind of shitty, and I became irascible. Oh, and I had forgotten the amount of white trash that can be found at a Bills game. I don’t know if it’s because I hadn’t been to one in a couple years or because I was sitting in the highest section of the stadium where the tickets are cheaper, but some of the fans around me looked like homeless people. Honest-to-goodness hobos. Sure they were wearing Bills gear, but it was all stuff from the late 80’s/early 90’s when the Bills had a different color scheme, so you couldn’t tell if they had bought it back then or if it had been donated to the homeless shelter they lived at.

Well, that’s about it for my Buffalo trip. I’m going to see my nephew at the end of the week and I’ve got a ton of pictures of him already that I can post. I think I’ll do that tomorrow. Word up. Go Bills.

I’m heading back to New York today. I’ll be back on Tuesday with full updated on my Buffalo trip. And details on my nephew. Hurrah.

So you might have noticed that most of my posts(all three of them!) this week have been about Buffalo. Well, that’s because it’s Buffalo Week here at Kukoda.com. The office has been going absolutely crazy with Buffalo fever all week. We’ve got buffalo pinatas hanging all over the place, Bills posters, chicken wings, and yesterday Frank Reich came in and gave us a motivational speech. Oh man, it has been super.

Also, I’m flying back to Buffalo tonight to see my parents and friends. I’ve mentioned before how crazy my parents have become, and it’s always exciting to see what new, batshit things they’ve been up to since the last time I saw them. Seriously, those two are just a few steps away from full-blown Grey Gardens lunacy.

Anyhow, I’m really looking forward to going home for a few days. I’ve been working on my new apartment non-stop(which I’ll have pictures of,) working a couple of shitty part time jobs, and bombing onstage when I can find the time. Oh, it’s been a glorious 2 weeks.

When I get back, I’ll have a house-warming party to celebrate. I’ll be registered at Pottery Barn and Wendy’s. You get me something nice. You hear me?! I want a leather club chair and ottoman set OR some crispy chicken nuggets and a junior cheeseburger. But not both. Because then the chair would get all messy. And nobody wants that.

In summation, the shittiness that has infected this site for the last week or so will come to an end next week. Unless the Bills lose this Sunday. In that case, I will dig a hole in the ground, fill it with chicken wings, and live there until the spring.

Really, I do. Nothing brings me more joy than filing frivolous lawsuits against individuals and corporations. In fact, most fast food restaurants have a picture of me behind the counter that says “Do Not Serve This Man.” Because I will sue you. Sue you real good.

This week alone I filed more than three dozen lawsuits. The first one was against Wendy’s because I claimed their chicken nuggets burned my mouth. So what if I doused them in kerosene and lit them on fire before I started eating them? It was still Wendy’s fault. The next day I sued the MTA because the doors of the uptown 6 train had some objectionable language written on them and it made me depressed. See, I’m like a modern-day Holden Caulfield. Except instead of being all whiny, I call up 1-800-LAWYER and I get to suin’!

I haven’t talked to my parents in about two years, ever since I sued them for not making a delicious Thanksgiving turkey. They were kind of pissed that I did that, but what do I care? I got a sweet ass settlement out of it. A settlement that included my dad’s lawnmower.

Okay, I’ve got to run. I’m going to head on over to the zoo and see if I can’t provoke a panda into biting me. Then I’m going to sue that panda for all he’s worth. Wish me luck!

So everyone I know from Buffalo has sent me this New York Times article(subscription req’d) about our hometown. It’s actually a pretty good story. Usually stories about Buffalo in the national press are absolute hatchet jobs that make fun of anyone who would live there or poke fun at the fact that Buffalo’s waterfront is dotted with abandoned grain mills, or that Buffalo is a blue collar town and has some residents that could be called “slightly trashy” or “horrifyingly obese.” So it was nice to see a story that pointed out all the positives about the city: the architecture, the parks, the fact that it’s the birthplace of Jack Kukoda. It does so mention that in the article! Read it for yourself.

So in the spirit of highlighting positive elements of the City of Buffalo, I thought I would point out some lesser known facts about my hometown.

1. Buffalo has SIX buildings designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. And I’ve left a flaming bag of poop on all their doorsteps.
2. Buffalo is often referred to as “the thinking man’s Cleveland.”
3. It is against the law in Buffalo to lure children into your home with candy. You have to use cheese.
4. Once, a polar bear got loose from the Buffalo Zoo when I was in fourth grade. The police were powerless to stop it, so they called me. I tracked that polar bear over the course of four days through the hills. Eventually, I caught him, wrestled him into submission, and returned him to the zoo. We gained a lot of respect for each other, though. I was the best man at his polar bear wedding. True story.
5. My ancestors were once the richest family in Buffalo until they put all their stock in Kids, Incorporated. That was a company that supplied child labor to sweatshops. It was doing well until it got sued by the Nickelodeon show of the same time. My family lost everything.

Whew! That was a lot of fun facts. Oh, and did I mention yet that I’m going back to Buffalo next weekend? Oh right, I did. Well, just to make you extra jealous why don’t you go to that article in the NY Times and take a gander at that photo of the Erie Canal and Buffalo’s sweet ass waterfront? ‘Cause that’s where I’ll be getting a tan come Friday. Whoo hoo!

After a Half-Century of Decline, Signs of Better Times for Buffalo [NY Times]

A lot of people will tell you that it’s pathetic to paint your face for a football game you’re going to watch in your living room. Those people are just jealous of me, my masculinity, and my unwavering Buffalo pride. Because I had two charging buffaloes painted on each cheek as I watched the Bills trounce the Dolphins yesterday afternoon. Or should I say “Dolph-outs? Hmm? No, I shouldn’t say that. “Dolph-outs” sounds really stupid and frankly, I have no idea what it means.

Anyhey, yesterday was one of the most satisfying Bills games in a long time. And you know what’s going to be even more satisfying? When I fly home to Buffalo next week for their home opener! Oh, there will be some facepainting going on that day. I might go for a full-body Bills henna tattoo. How do you think that would look? Never mind, I already know the answer. Awesome. The answer is awesome.

Let me know if anyone wants me to bring them anything from Buffalo: chicken wings, roast beef sandwiches, sexy. I’ll bring sexy back from Buffalo if you guys want. Just say the word.

Goddamnit, my back hurts. But that’s what I get for trying to raise boxing kangaroos in my apartment. I get a big kangaroo punch in my back! Yowch! Let me start from the beginning.

The other day I was sitting on my couch, trying to figure out how to make enough money so that I could retire for good and live on a sweet ass houseboat, when all of a sudden it hit me: train kangaroos to box and then promote their bouts. Kablammo-that’s a billion dollar idea. If cartoons and sepia-tinted silent filmstrips have taught me anything, it’s that kangaroos make excellent boxers. Now all I had to do was get my hands on some ‘roos and I would be in the money.

I called up the Australian consulate and asked for some kangaroos, but they must have thought it was a prank because they called me a “wanker” and told me to go blow myself. I didn’t have many other options, so I ended up breaking into the zoo and stealing one. Oh boy, did that kangaroo put up a fight. If there’s one lesson I’ve learned about kangaroos in real life, it’s that they DO NOT enjoy having a burlap sack tossed over their heads in the middle of the night and being dragged out of the zoo.

Anyway, I hurt my back because yesterday Destructo(that’s what I’ve named my kangaroo) punched me in the back when I bent over to pick up his boxing gloves for our daily training session. So now I’m back on the couch and well, Destructo pretty much has the run of the house. He’s been running back and forth all day, breaking stuff, and eating all the food out of my refrigerator. As soon as I get back on my feet, I’m going to put him on some sort of leash, teach him some discipline, and mold him into the greatest fighting kangaroo the world has ever seen. That’s a promise.

Hey everyone, I’m taking the day off to go see a movie. My Hungarian cousin Emeric will be taking over Kukoda.com for me today. Don’t worry, his last name is Kukoda too, so it’s all good. Take it away, Emeric.

Greetings, America. Please to make your acquaintance. I am called Emeric. I am from Budapest. I like your America very much. My favorite movie is The Terminal, starring Tom Hanks. So crazy! His accent is like mine. I also like your American TV show “Perfect Strangers.” Is just like Jack and me! I have crazy accent. Did I mention that yet? You should read all of this in a crazy foreign accent. That will make it much better. Accents make everything better.

I have many goats back home, but I do not live on a farm. I live in an apartment building and I am the only one with goats. My neighbors yell at me to get rid of the goats and tell me they stink. But I am partially paralyzed so I need the goats to help me with simple chores like opening cabinets and moving furniture. They are helper goats. I do not know how I would get along without them. Sometimes I ride the goats through the streets of Budapest like I’m King of the Goats. I have gotten tickets lately so I don’t do that as much.

Have I mentioned how much I like that movie The Terminal? So, so good. Sometimes, I’m afraid that I will have to live in an airport! Because I am foreign and that is the sort of crazy mix-ups we get ourselves into. Hmm. What else? I am having fun staying with cousin Jack this week. He treats me well, although he refused to let me bring my goats into his apartment. So now I have to ask him for help opening the cabinets. Jack is good at this, but I prefer the goats.

Okay, that is all for Emeric for now. I’m going to make goulash in Jack’s bathtub now. It will be surprise dinner for him. Adios!(That’s how you say goodbye in Hungarian.)

Because I do. I really, really like sports. Really. Fer Realz. I’m not sure why I like sports so much. Maybe it’s the competition, or maybe it’s the athletic feats that draw me to sports. Perhaps it’s because I once intercepted THREE passes in one game my Junior year of high school. Wait, that has nothing to do with why I love sports, but it’s pretty G-D impressive nonetheless.

The Bills lost on Sunday, but I wasn’t that disappointed because they looked pretty good and lost a close game to a good team at home. I don’t have the highest hopes for the Bills this year. They have a coach who frightens me, the quarterback from “The Longest Yard,” and an offensive line made up of teenage runaways. Just kidding about the teenage runaways part, although I don’t have any proof they aren’t. I digress.

Sunday was fun. I went to a bar in my new neighborhood to watch the game and managed to get a table right in front of the Bills game. I really like watching games in the early part of the season, before we turn the clocks back. Because now you can drink 5 or 6 beers during the game and go home while it’s still light out and warm. As opposed to November, when you go outside after a 1pm game and it’s pitch black and you’re drunk. That has a tendency to depress me.

If the Bills continue to play relatively well, I should be able to ward off my inevitable winter depression for a few extra weeks. If they make it all the way to the playoffs, well then, I might just manage to function as a normal human being all the way through January. If, however, they lose all their early games, I’m going to dig a cave in the basement of my apartment building and live there until March. That’s a little something I like to call hibernation.

Perhaps I’ll find some bears and a groundhog or two that would like to hibernate with me. That would be fun. We could gather berries or nuts for the long winter. And the night before we start our hibernation, we could all go out for a big dinner. I would order surf-n-turf. And tacos. I’m guessing the bear would order salmon and some sort of honey-based dessert. As for the groundhog, I bet he would go for a steak. I have no evidence to back this up. Groundhogs just seem like steak-eaters to me.

Oh boy, that would be fun. Camping out for four months with a deadly bear and a friendly groundhog. You can make it happen, Bills. Just keep letting J.P. Losman throw the ball on first down and I’ll be digging a cave in no time.

Oh man, I am excited today. My new line of ladies activewear goes on sale at Target and I couldn’t be more thrilled. What? You didn’t know that I design clothes for today’s modern woman on the go? Well, I do. And you know what? I’m awesome at it.

I started designing clothes when I was about 7. I used to make dresses for my 10 sisters out of whatever I could find around the house; ususally the furniture upholstery. My parents would get pretty mad when they discovered a dress pattern cut out of the couch, but they’re not angry anymore. Now that I’m making Target money, nobody’s complaining. You know what, why don’t I just let some of my clothes speak for themselves.

I call this first outfit: “Queen of the Hive” and I think it’s perfect for the office or a romantic dinner. A lot of people will tell you that a sexy bee outfit is really only appropriate on Halloween. Those are the same people that would tell Beethoven his music had too many notes. They are not dreamers like you and I, so don’t listen to them.

This outfit is a little something I call “Wolf in Sheep’s Clothing.” I call it that because this Shetland sweater looks all tame and innocent at first, but underneath you just know there’s a sexy wolf waing to pounce!

Finally, this is a little something I like to call “Wings of Desire.” This is definitely more evening wear. You can try to get away with silver hot pants during the day, but I wouldn’t recommend it. I was really inspired by classic Hollywood movies from the 1940’s when I designed this piece. Nothing says “old Hollywood glamour” like pointy boobs and sheer wings. Damn straight.

Anyhow, please head over to Target today and buy my latest creations before they’re all sold out. See you on the catwalk!

Yes, that is a lyric from a Jewel song. Most of you don’t know this, but I count Jewel among my personal heroes. A few years ago I was living in a van up in Alaska, just like Jewel did. But I wasn’t a struggling singer-songwriter. I was on the run from the cops, working in the Alaskan oil fields, trying to make enough money to send back to my family. Wait, I should back up a little and tell you the whole story.

A few years ago, a shady developer tried to force my parents to sell our family home. The family home that has belonged to the Kukodas since they came to this country in the 18th Century. The developer wanted to build a mini-mall on our land, but my parents refused to sell. All of our neighbors had already sold, but my dad refused. Luckily, I found some old pirate treasure and saved the day. Wait, that’s the plot from Goonies. That did not happen to us. What was I talking about? Oh right, why I was in Alaska. Here’s what really happened.

I killed a bear in a bar fight. I don’t remember who started it, but I ended it. And I ended that bear. Ended his life! Well, it turned out that bear had some pretty powerful friends, and despite the fact that a bear had no business being in a Buffalo Wyld Wings Sports Bar to begin with, they were determined to put me behind bars. So I packed up my van, drove up to Alaska, and started working the oil fields. Let me tell you, living in a van in Alaska is no picnic. Sure it seems like it would be fun, but Alaska gets pretty cold and a Dodge Windstar is no substitute for a house.

For a while, I thought I was going to die up there, but then I remembered that if Jewel could get through it, then so could I. So thank you, Jewel. Thank you for saving my life. By the way, I chose this picture of Jewel because I like to pretend she’s saying, “Shh, don’t tell anyone. I’m awesome. But keep it a secret.” And then I say, “It’s no secret how awesome you are, Jewel! Everybody knows!” And then Jewel and I have a good laugh. Oh, that’s fun.

Good Lord, I am lonely.

Jesus Christ in a chicken basket, I’m in trouble. So remember how I said I was moving to a new apartment this week? Yes, of course you do. Well, the moving went fine. In fact, the moving went so well, I got a little cocky and decided to paint my apartment right away. I went to the Home Depot, got a bunch of supplies, and got started. The place is pretty old, so I had to do a lot of scraping and sanding, but that’s not a problem for me because I’m all man. You hear me? One hundred percent beefcake!

Anyhow, things were going pretty well until I got to one of the walls. I noticed a seam in it where the paint was peeling back, so I poked my finger in the seam. The wall gave ever so slightly. I started chipping away at it and realized there was peeling wallpaper underneath the paint. I hate when people paint over wallpaper. I lived in a house where that had happened and it takes forever to get all the paint, wallpaper, and glue off the wall, which you have to do before you paint or everything will just chip right off.

I was pretty mad that I was going to have to do all this work before I could even begin painting, but the fun was just beginning. I soon discovered that not only had the previous tenants painted over the wallpaper, he had plastered over it too. Imagine my surprise when I scraped a piece of wallpaper off only to have a large chunk of the wall come with it! Oh, I was surprised all right. Surprised and furious! I was cursing the previous tenants out loud. “Who the fuck puts plaster over wallpaper?! Sweet mother of Christ, how am I going to fix this?!”

I managed to patch up some of the holes, but let’s just say I’m going to have to hang pictures in front of them. Because you can very easily tell that there was once a hole in the wall. Maybe I shouldn’t have tried to patch the hole with old newspapers and Big League Chew, but it’s too late now. I am not very handy. But I’m still all man. You hear me? Hundred percent.