Jack Kukoda

I’m heading to Denver tomorrow morning to visit some friends for a week. Holy Christ, I can’t wait. Denver is very fun. They have horses instead of taxis that pick you up from the airport and instead of hot and cold water, the faucets have sasparilla and Coors Light. It’s great. And everything looks like Ponderosa. I think I mentioned that before. Here, too.

I’m going to see all the sights while I’m there: the Pepsi Center, Columbine, the grocery store where John Elway buys his cigarettes. Should be awesome. I’ll even do some sledding if I get drunk enough.

I’ll be there for almost a week so I’ll be posting from there, too. It will be glorious. Oh, and they announced this year’s winner of the Newbery again. When will those bastards learn?

For some reason I’ve been thinking about this Kids in the Hall sketch lately. It’s one of my favorites.

Have a good weekend!

1. Crystal goblet
2. Scalding, and I mean SCALDING, coffee
3. Several Blackberries(I rubberband my Blackberries together like remote controls.)
4. Another servant
5. The bones of the Elephant Man(I won them in a poker game.)
6. A tube sock stuffed with billiard balls.
7. My own feces

Get your freaking collective act together, servants. I just bought a hot caramel maker. You want hot caramel thrown at you?! Then don’t leave my socks lying around anymore!

I have not slept for two straight days.

Hey everyone. If you were just thinking to yourself, “I’d really like to see Jack Kukoda looking very bloated and talking about celebrities wearing wigs,” then guess what: It’s your lucky day! A couple weeks ago I participated in a “bloggers roundtable” for the delightful Sara Schaeffer’s show on AOL. It was mostly about celebrities and music and celebrities and yeah. I didn’t know what I was talking about. But if you really want to see it, here it is:

The other participants are Lang Fisher and Todd Levin, two very funny comedians and writers. And both much more comfortable being on camera that particular morning.

And one more thing. Happy Birthday, Mom!!!!

The DL (AOL)

The president is going to send 20,000 more troops to Iraq to quell the violence in Baghdad. 20,000 young men and women who will risk life and limb in this folly of a war. And what do they get in return? A dearth of hilarious song parodies on popular radio. When I was a boy, you couldn’t listen to the radio for 5 minutes without hearing Weird Al’s latest assault on Michael Jackson or Nirvana. And what of those local radio station DJ’s that would write their own song parodies? I’ll never forget where I was when I first heard MC Hammer’s “Let’s get it Started” re-interpreted as “Somebody Farted” on Buffalo, New York’s own Kiss 98.5. Where are you now in our hour of need, DJ tandems? Where? Will I ever know who that somebody who farted was? Doubtful.

Think of all the songs being made today that would be perfect for a parodying. Really, think about it. Take your time. You done? Okay good. That’s a lot of songs, isn’t it? So who’s parodying them? Nobody. And why not? Because the government refuses to fund programs that would allow song parodists to work on their craft. The air force gets another bomber while the Weird Als of tomorrow put on bake sales and borrow money for their parents in order to buy an accordion to create a spot-on parody of that song by Rihanna. You know the song. I think it’s Rihanna. Doesn’t matter.

I think I’ve made my point. And that is, I could not think of any funny ideas today. So this is what you get. Whatever, it’s not like you’re paying for it or anything.

Related: Scatalogical Holiday Song Parody Titles

For those of you who aren’t giant dorks and didn’t spend the last two hours reading three! different live blogs of the Macworld keynote address like me and Alex Zalben, let me direct you to the iPhone. It’s a stupid name, I can’t possibly afford it, and it’s not even available until June. But Good Lord. It’s…glorious. I can’t even begin to describe what it can do. Go read about it.

I just realized today I haven’t watched a new Netflix movie in about 4 months. I know that’s not very original. Lots of people leave their Netflix accounts dormant, unable to bring themselves to watch the director’s cut of Maria Full of Grace that sits on top of their DVD player, daring them to watch a heart-wrenching immigrant’s tale. But it’s new for me. I used to watch on average at least 15 Netflix movies per month. I took it as a challenge to watch them as quickly as possible and get them back in the mail. But no longer. They keep taking my money and I get nothing for it. I might as well dig a hole in the ground and bury my money in it. That’s what my mom used to say when I was a kid and would break a toy or beg for something new I certainly didn’t need. “You need another video game? I just bought you a video game. Why don’t I just dig a whole in the parking lot, throw all my money in and pave over it?” I believe that is a direct quote from a Buffalo-area Toys ‘R Us, circa 1990.

Anyhow, I’ve realized Netflix isn’t the only subscription service I’m currently wasting money on. Here’s the rest.

1. Pudding of the Month Club - I pay 40 dollars a month to have a 25 gallon barrel of a different pudding flavor delivered to my apartment every month. No idea why. I don’t even remember signing up for it. And the human body can only consume about a half pint of pudding a day, so even if I eat as much as I can I’m wasting approximately 23 gallons of pudding per month. Need to cancel this.

2. Extremely Perishable Cheeses by Mail - Not once has one of these arrived suitable for consumption.

3. Hookers by Crook - This is a service that delivers hookers to your apartment directly through the window. The have a big crook they use to get them up here. Actually, this one is pretty amazing.

4. Asskickings Delivered to Your Door - For some reason I pay 200 bucks a month to have a karate master come to my house and beat the ever living shit out of me.

5. Farts in a Bottle - This one is fairly self-explanatory. For 20 dollars a month Farts in a Bottle will send you a hermetically sealed bottle containing a human fart. How they make money is beyond me.

Okay, so that’s where all my money is going. Well, that and the drugs, since nobody wanted to give me any free ones. Some friends you are.

Jesus Christ in a sun dress, it’s been a long time since I’ve written anything, huh? But I do have good reasons.

1. I am lazy. I know this might not seem like a good excuse, but that’s because you don’t realize exactly how lazy I am. The other day I got some sauce from a meatball sub on my face and rather than go to the bathroom to wash it off, I bought a dog online. Then when the dog arrived, I had him lick the sauce off my face. Then the dog started fucking up my apartment, so I had to order a wolf online to whip that dog into shape. Then the wolf got out of hand and-well, let’s just say my apartment is like a freaking menagerie of underfed and extremely angry animals. So that has been a problem.

2. It was the holidays. I do not work during the holidays. Ask my boss. Actually, don’t ask my boss because I told him that I had Hepatitis C and couldn’t come into work. But I don’t really have Hepatits C. Or maybe I do. I stick my finger into a lot of pay phone slots so I’ve lost count of how many hypadermic needles I’ve been pricked with. Urban leged, my ass that shit is true. Also, I perform a lot of citizen’s arrests and before patting down a perp, I always forget to ask them if they have any needles on them or anything that might cut me. Sure enough, about half of them have needles in their pockets, poised to strike. Why do I even watch COPS if I’m not going to follow their procedure. Oh right, because COPS is still the best fucking show on television. Choke on it, Sorkin!

3. I had been very busy. This one is real. Lately, I’ve had a number of offers to submit writing packets to various comedy outlets. Some have led to work, some have not. I’ve also been meeting with agents and stuff, which is kind of cool, but instead of simply handing me a giant bag of money, they just want to see what ideas I have. What? That’s bullshit! Give me the sack of money first and then I’ll tell you my ideas. I’m pretty sure that’s standard business policy. Businessmen, back me up on this.

Anyway, I’m feeling a little rusty when it comes to writing this site. But, I also feel rejuvenated! Hurrah! Like I’ve been given an enema. But not one of those cheap do it yourself at home enemas you buy right before you get into some felching with a bunch of people you just met at a Gwar concert. I’m talking about the high colonics you pay good money for. Yeah, that kind.

So I’ll be back to my regular schedule of writing for this site everyday, sometimes multiple times a day. And I don’t get into much earnestness on this site, but I do want to thank all the people that comment on this site or email me to tell me about something they like, or forward something I’ve written on to their friends. So thanks. Okay, enough earnestness.

Oh, and sort of keeping with my idea of marking the one-year anniversary of this site, here are my favorite posts from the month of January 2006. Enjoy.

I got screwed not once, but actually twice in January ‘06.

Drugs are bad.

Not my best nickname, but okay nonetheless.

Later today! For Realz! Also, are there any lawyers out there? Some Finns are threatening to sue me for posting a photo of their cat I found on Google Images. I believe the photo falls under fair use for satire and all that. Terry, and any other lawyers, please advise. There might be a free trip to Europe and a harsh lesson in Scandinavian justice in it for you!

Yes, yes, I’m fully aware that I barely posted at all the past week. But it was Christmas, so cut me some slack. I also managed to get deathly ill yet again. Maybe I should stop eating gum I find on the sidewalk. No, eating strange gum is what makes me special. I have to keep doing that. Anyhey, after the first of the year I’ll make it up to all of you. A full rundown on the magical land of Buffalo, my Christmas, how the goddamn Bills broke my heart again-even though I swear every year not to let them do it again-all that shit.

In the meantime, enjoy this picture of my nephew wearing a baby beret and fake mustache. That’s his dad holding him. No further explanation needed for this one.

In honor of Christmas and creches, here’s a photographic evidence that my friend Katie and her sister will be going to hell at some point in the near future.

In the grand tradition of people on the Internet stealing from each other, I thought I’d do my year-end roundup in the same style as Deadspin. Let’s take a look back at December, shall we?

I discovered that my parents were going slowly insane.

I came up with a perfect nickname for Takeo Spikes. Now that I think of it, I’m a little behind on all those Bills nicknames.

Everyone learned an important lesson about the proper way to drink a pina colada.

And I ruined the Da Vinci Code.

Oh, and I will be posting new stuff, too. But I’m going to intersperse some best-of horsecrap in between the new stuff.
Wow. That was a magical fucking time.

(Sung like Toni Tony Tone) Do you know what today is? It’s this site’s anniversary. Well, not quite. I started this site just over a year ago on December 16th. It’s true! Here’s the first ever post right here. I can’t believe it’s been a whole year I’ve been half-assing this site. Amazing when you think about it. I’ve covered so many monumental events on this site, it’s hard to pick which one my viewpoint had the most impact on.

Well, since it’s my site’s anniversary and it’s the holidays, when most magazines and TV shows just pump out year-end best of lists, I think I’ll do the same. Until Christmas, I’ll be reposting some of my favorite things that I ever wrote for this site. That’s right, it will be one long clip show. And it will be great. Feel free to email me any suggestions for your favorites or leave them in the comments section.

Hey, everyone! How is everybody? Really? Aw, that’s great. Because I am goddamn miserable. Yes, miserable. Commence with the pitying. Shower pity upon me whilst I attend my own pity party.

Okay, enough alliteration there. Let’s just say it’s been a shitty week. Without going into too much detail, I can tell you that a relationship ended, a job fell through, and I received without a doubt the worst haircut of my life. I know it’s a cliche that comedians get bad haircuts, but sweet Mother of God, this thing is brutal. I can barely leave the house without a hat on. And all my co-workers made fun of me this morning. That’s how bad it is. Let me tell you how it went down.

Friday, after I taped that bloggers’ roundtable for the show on AOL(more details later, I think it’s airing in a couple weeks) I decided to get my hair cut. It was getting a little long in the back and starting to look like the guys from Young Blood or Slapshot. That’s a good look if you’re going as an 80’s hockey player for Halloween. If you’re living the present day and trying to look halfway decent, however, it is not a good look at all. I went to this salon in Chinatown that I’ve been going to for over a year, when I used to live in Chinatown. I get my hair cut there by a guy named Skyy. I do not believe Skyy is his real name. Perhpas I am wrong, but I don’t think Skyy is a traditional Chinese name. And I know Skyy was born in China because he doesn’t speak all that much English. But that’s okay because Skyy and I have developed an understanding about how I like my hair cut.

When I first started going to him, Skyy would sort of try to give me a fauxhawk or a fashion mullet like his. And if I were a gay man in Chinatown trying to look my best, that would have been great. But I wasn’t, so when Skyy would ask how I liked the mullet, I would politely ask him to trim the back a little more. Which Skyy would always do. See, an excellent relationship.

Anyhonks, I went to the salon on Friday and asked for Skyy. The receptionist told me it was his day off, but I figured as long as I was down there I might as well get my haircut. That’s when things went horribly wrong. I thought Skyy only spoke a little English, but compared to the guy who butchered me, Skyy was the freaking poet laureate. This guy actually tried speaking to me in Mandarin I think. Or perhaps Cantonese. The point is I speak neither of those dialects. So I had to tell hime what kind of haircut I wanted using hand signals. And guess what: I don’t speak American sign language either!

Sweet Lord above, this guy went to town on me. I ended up with one of those mushroom/skate haircuts kids used to get in grade school. Shaved up the sides with a bowl on top. Then he put a whole bunch of product(not sure what kind) and spiked the back up, then combed all the hair in the front to the side. I had never seen anyone in the world with this type of hair style. It looked like Ryan Cabrera’s hair in the back with a Flock of Seagulls in the front.

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When he made it clear that he was finished I actually said, “Are you kidding me? What is this?” I told him that it was all wrong and he had to fix it. He seemed displeased. Then he just started cutting all over the place. I believe this was to spite me. Then I told him just to stop altogether. The shampoo girl rinsed my hair, I paid for my haircut and left.

The next day I got drunk in the middle of the day and stumbled into a salon next to the bar. I asked the lady if she could fix my haircut. She seemed horrified by what the previous guy had done and said she could easily fix it. I thanked her profusely and put my trust in her hands. She took her clippers out, shaved the sides of my head, cut a little off the top and that was it. I paid her 20 dollars for her trouble. I’m pretty sure it’s even worse.

Okay, last day of non-posting. I promise. In the meantime, enjoy this video from Saturday Night Live the other night. Probably the funniest thing I’ve seen on it in a long time.

I’m guessing the YouTube link will be removed soon enough, so for an uncensored version go here. Click on “A Very Special Christmas Box.”