On this day in the past, August 14th.

Okay, like last time, another time killer....

2011-

Nothing.

2010-

Nothing

2009-

Nothing.

2008-

More from the good old days.

Well, let's repost those, and see what buried treasures we've got....

The smell of Krazyfool.

Smells have the ability to effect mood.

The perfume industry is based on this notion.

Some smells can even make you high.

Like permanent ink marker inhaled for a good minute or two.
MMMMM.

Gasoline stinks pretty good.

Reformulated gasoline really stinks all chemically.
You just know that shit's more poison than the regular stuff.

Y'ever get one of those clear super bounce balls out of a quarter vending machine as a kid?

That's what reformulated gas smells like, the stink of clear superballs.

Play-Doh, oh MAN does that shit stink good!

I don't know why they have never made a Play-Doh perfume or air freshener.
I guess Play-Doh guards that secret dearly.

Play-Doh gives me a rush.
I take a good hard snort of that, I'm floating on a cloud of bliss.

You could passify rioting protesters by cropdusting Play-doh smell on 'em.

Every smell gives me another mood.

Y'wanna know how I smell, and see the world through the mood I see it through?

Okay, first get anti-bacterial Dial bar soap.
Specifically, the "spring rain", scent.

Bath with it vigorously.
Wash your hands compulsivly with it.
Afterward, sniff your hands.
Don't be embarrased, snort your palms like a bloodhound.
That shit's a real good stink.
Nice and clean, gives you an "ahhhhh", feeling.

Okay, now the next ingredient.
Get old spice high endurance deoderant.
The green "pure sport", kind.

Now, don't just rub it on your armpits like normal SMEAR that shit on!

Ten strokes a pit! That's the secret.
Get good and sticky.
Then put your shirt on and rub it in.
Poke your fingers up in your pits good and sniff 'em after.
If you've got a hang up about doing weird shit like that, just don't get caught.
Do what I tell you! 
Sniff your goddamn fingers!
Good ain't it?
'Specially mixed with the spring rain soap.
Now cross your arms behind your head and let your pits potpurri the air for a bit.
The high should kick in in about half an hour.

Not really a trippy state, just colors seem brighter, air seems fresher, and sitcoms seem funnier.

I've gone through many soaps and deoderants to find this combination.

Reaction to your personal body chemistry may vary.

Like I said, I've made scent sniffing a little side study of mine.
I'm quite sure the spring rain all sport combo is the way to go.

Sure, there are more mouth watering smells to be had like potpurri sprays and incense and shit, but that stuff is strong and cloying.
I find it actually overstimulates to the point of a kind of logieness.

Clean smells are more relaxing.

Spring rain, all sport.

Trust me.

Yeah, Old Spice All Sport is still my stink-crayon of choice, but I haven't seen "Spring Rain", around in a helluva while....

My goodbye to Ryan's Realm.

Well, I know how much you love my brand of irreverent humor and my velvet smooth singing voice, but all good things must come to an end. That's right I've got to be moving along. No, don't cry, it'll just make this harder.
I'm going to ..Califorina..yeah, that's it California to study...computer..technical..scientific..computer............SCIENCE! 
Yeah, that's it, computer technical scientific computer science. 
In California yet.

Yep, I'm gonna settle down and be a good little boy and wear a tie and do my homework and study computer technical scientific computer science. 
Yeah that's it, that's the ticket.
I'll be all responsible and mature like. 
What with my computer technical scientific computer science degree I'm sure to aquire with all my studying and tie wearing.

Someday, you may be out in California and see a respectable responsible computer technical scientific computer science technical specialist lighting his cigar with a wad of $100 bills, and you'll say to yourself "holy crap! I think that respectable responsible computer technical scientific computer science technical specialist who's lighting his cigar with a wad of $100 bills is Krazyfool!".
Maybe you'll walk up to that respectable responsible computer technical scientific computer science technical specialist who's lighting his cigar with a wad of $100 bills, and ask "are you my childhood hero Krazyfool?", and maybe, just maybe, I'll call my gang of hired goons to beat the shinola out of you. 
Because, after all, I'm a respectable responsible computer technical scientific computer science technical specialist with respectable responsibilities, and I can't be doing frivolous immature things like reminiscing with Ryans.
Maybe you'll look up from the pavement as I walk off to my hovercar whilst one of my goons keeps step, refilling my martini from a tumbler. 
You'll say to yourself "what a respectable responsible computer technical scientific computer science technical specialist with respectable responsibilities he's become, If only my life could be as respectable and responsible and computer technical scientific computer science oriented as his, in California even". 

Maybe you'll even shed a tear of admiration and think to yourself "gee, he wasn't such a bad dude way back when, If only I hadn't flamed him".
Maybe I'll wave goodbye with a warm smile on my face as my hovercar's engines blow your hairpiece out into the street.
As I sit in my hover car being orally pleasured by a $50,000 whore, I'll think of all the good times I had with my message board pals, and how they saw through my psychotic rages and clinically depressed funks to the lovable marshmallowy piglety creature beneath. 
I'll remember all the happier more innocent times, of 33K modems, of Billdudes, of Wubbs, of Minions, $Legion$s and all the other denizens of the cyberplayland of my youth. 
As my hover car speeds me towards my respectable responsibilities at the computer technical scientific computer science technical building, I'll remember all the laughs we shared, the songs we sang, the 3DFX games I refused to buy because of my thrifty nature, and all the things I managed to frame };-)Legion's(-:{ name with. 
Then, the hover car will pull up to the computer technical scientific computer science technical building. I'll ejaculate on the $50,000 hooker's face, write her a personal check, and saunter up to the computer technical scientific computer science technical building to perform my computer technical scientific computer science technical responsible responsibilities.

Or, maybe I'll just become a leech off the system with an elaborate insurance scam so I can stay home all day and watch gameshows.

Ouch! My kidneys! My kidneys! I'll sue!! I'll sue you for all you're worth you lousy rotten computer technical scientific computer science technical specialist who's lighting his cigar with a wad of $100 bills!!!

Well, either way, good bye, god bless, smack Billdude upside the head for me when he gets too out of line.

Happy trails.

Sayonara.


Internetz srs bznz, gais!! 8-P

An assault on starving children.

Starving children ads.

When those sad, soulful, puppy dog eyes of those sickly little foreign kids look up at me from the TV seeming to say "please help me, I'm so hungry, all it would take is pennies a day to feed and clothe, and educate me", I immediately respond....with NO!!! 

I don't WANT TO!!! 

I'm BAD!!!

Same goes for disaster relief, Jerry's kids, PBS drives, school shooting funds, wearing aids ribbons, wearing armbands, helping old ladies across the street, opening doors for the blind, not laughing at guys with metal voice boxes, not parking vertically across two handicapped spots, not doing 80 in residential areas across crosswalks in school zones, or any other namby pamby crap I'm "supposed", to "want", to "do", for my "fellow man".

What have they done for me lately? 
El zilcho, THAT'S what!! 
Where was a Jerry's kid when I was lying in a bloody heap covered in splintery lumber, nails, and chunks of cinderblock when I fell into that open bulkhead when my house was being built?

Nowhere for miles, THAT'S where.

Where was a starving Zimbabwe child when I cracked my collarbone that one time?
They were obviously where everyone else who didn't hear my shrieks of agony were.
Nowhere to be found.

I've had to drag my own carcass out of every goddamn bit of trouble I've been in metaphorically and physically.

"EEEEW, help us pweeese?", fuck you! You weren't there for me, I'm sure as HELL not lifting a finger for you little mocha colored bastards!!!

Let's see the fucking Ethiopians do a "we are the world", for our fucking drought!!!

Hmm, don't see it do you?

The silence is deafening.

Fuck the world!! Let it bail itself out. 
I've got TV to watch!!!

What can I say, I was bitten on the neck by a bat that was bitten by Denis Leary....

Well, there, there's your laughs for the day.

You weren't malnourished.

*Head pat*

:)