Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category

Re: There is no magic toilet fairy

Tuesday, March 28th, 2000

vicki wrote:

okay, i could be mistaken, but i thought we were all adults here…

as a general courtesy to others:
it’s bad enough that some people can’t clean up after themselves in the kitchen, but the bathroom really requires some common sense: SAY GOODBYE TO THE PAST, AND FLUSH THE TOILET AFTER YOURSELF. how hard could that be? no one wants to witness your dark secrets.

’nuff said.

As my dear old dad would say…” You sank my battle ship!”

–Remember this folks, poops are no laughing matter. There are some things in this world that you dont want to know about. And that rotten thing at the bottom of the toilet is one of them. This reminds me of the time I went to camp. I was a pretty sheltered kid and I never really hung out with the other kids. And as some of you may already know, I have three brothers. So I was quite uncomfortable around girls. Well, here I was at camp for two weeks and I ate custard and pie and cookies with steak and pancakes. I ate all sorts of shit. I ate berry’s off of trees that I wasn’t supposed to. But when it came time to letting go, I couldn’t. There was a girl I liked Eileen Scott and I was afraid she would hear me or see me some how. I was just too damn uncomfortable. Anyway I held on to breakfast lunch and dinner and all sorts of snacks for about two weeks. Remember Charleston chews? I had about two hundred of them. I couldn’t move. three days into it I started to grind my teeth. Thank god I was too young for coffee, if you know what I mean. Well anyway, Last day of camp they go ahead and make us do all these dumb races. Here I am trying to hold a freaking egg in a spoon and not let go of my eggo’s at the same time. To make matters worse they team me up with Eileen for the potato sack race. We get in, I’m in the worst pain I’ve ever been in. My stomach sounded like Trailer Truck and Eileen turns around and says that she likes me…A LOT. Boom. Bang. Zoom. I couldn’t clench anymore. I filled that entire bag with Jabba the hut if you know I mean. I rocked the Phantom menace twice if you know what I mean. Anyway, I felt a whole lot better, but I never spoke to Eileen Scott again. Poor girl, they had to cut the bag off us.

your pal Randell J Krandell

phones don’t suck, people suck

Friday, February 18th, 2000

We really need to talk about this one folks. Last night for about the twelve hundredth time this month, someone pulled out FAST infront of me, cutting me off, then slowed down to about twenty miles per hour. And the whole time their neck was crooked over to one side. Why was it crooked over to one side? Because they were on the goddamm phone, that’s why! How many times have you been cut off by some asshole driver, then have to stare at the back of their head all crooked over while they find out what kind of milk they need to bring home? It aint right people, it’s sick. I know that there is a small, and might I add small amount of people who don’t abuse cell phones, and to you guys I’m sorry. But the rest of you suck ass. Think about it this way, it is yet another form of human antisocial behavior. When we were kids, and you ate lunch alone it meant that you sucked as a person. You ate alone because nobody wanted to be around you. People hated you. And you and everyone else knew it. It put a little pressure on individuals to think about why everyone would rather eat glass than to spend a half hour with you. Now if you have to eat alone because nobody likes you, you can talk on the phone. It appears to everyone that you are important, and you have something to talk about. I bet most of the people you see talking on the phone at lunch are listening to movie phone or checking to see if nobody left a message for them. Do you see how sick that is? It’s wrong. Another thing is for centuries there has been the fight between evolution, or religion. Are we monkeys or were we made in gods great image. I can solve that one right now. Have you ever seen those documentary’s when the chimpanzees try and crack open a nut with a rock? Well next time you see someone push the funny little buttons on a cell phone look at the expression on their face…it’s creepy isn’t it. It’s exactly the same. Thousands of years of evolution, and we cant resist pushing the funny buttons. Monkeys. The pathetic thing is now everyone can afford it. So now you see truck drivers who can’t tie their own shoe laces talking on the phone. I think about three times in my life did I ever need a phone when I wasn’t home. I am so unimportant that nobody ever needs to get in touch with me ever. I am also quiet in movie theaters and bookstores.

Kill it people

kill it now

your pal randy

bring it on!

Friday, November 19th, 1999

I was routing through my change draw the other day, and I made an amazing discovery. Pennies suck ass. Ive got shit loads of these things, and they aint worth spit. Pennies suck so much ass, they are not even worth gathering them together to make a dollar. And that’s because it takes a hundred of them, and a dollar is almost not worth spit. Why the hell do things cost five fifty one? Why the one? Who cares about the one cent. Not me. I care about cookies, I care about cookies and milly. But I could give a rats ass about pennies. Why do things cost ninety nine cents, god damnit! I would give up the one cent every time just to make it even. It drives me nuts. We live in a god damn world where you can slide a plastic card in a slot, and buy a motorcycle, we put a man on the freaking moon, and I’m walking around with pennies in my pockets. it aint right.

your pal R.J.Krandell

Cookies and milk

Tuesday, October 19th, 1999

Ok, god damnit! Let’s get this straight!

There are two kinds of people in the world. You have the people who dunk their god givin chocolate chip cookies in milk, and then you have a bunch of cowards who aint worth spit. No, No, I know what you are thinking, and you are wrong. You are wrong radio baby and I’m changing the station. What the hell is going on here? God gave you two arms two ears two eyes and noses, and chocolate chip cookies with a tall glass of milly. And what are you fools doing with his devine love….you sure as hell ain’t dunking. Now for those of you who don’t eat cookies, fine. Your problem. I don’t know what planet you are from, but ok mister smarty pants don’t eat them.” well I don’t eat cookies, and..” I don’t care. But for those of you who know about the wonders of little chocolate chips floating around in some cookie goodness, let’s see some dunking for christsake! And don’t start that shit about Gramm Crackers. They aint cookies, and they never were. Ok. I’m sorry but you are barking up the wrong tree. Look at the name Gramm Crackers. It says cracker right there on the box. Think about it this way, Gramm Crackers are a communist plot, to bend your mind into jelly. They put these damn perferated edge running down the middle and you can’t get a clean break even if you use the edge of a table. Razor blades don’t even work on that shit. So forget it. My mom the communist would try and infltrate our god fearing all american cubbards with those commie cookies, and the good ol’ Link boys wouldn’t even touch them. We would rather go a whole day without cookies. We would make it through Gilligans Island and My three Sons starving for a good clean cookie before we ate that stuff. We would all cry when Chips came on because it would remind us of how much we love the chocolate chip. Now I don’t want to hear anymore about this.

You’re only as good as your freaking cookie!

Gone baby

Wednesday, September 15th, 1999

Randy is going to be gone for the rest of the day. If you need
anything, don’t call me because I will be drunk. You are on your own.

You’re only as good as your last cookie


Kids on Coffee

Tuesday, August 24th, 1999

I just want to say, that over here at Grayson we got a guy named Kelly. And I don’t really know what the hell Kelly does, but I will say this. He makes the best damn cup of coffee I’ve ever had in my hole dern life. I’m talking geek central here. I’m talking about putting water in the bottom of the pot so it don’t burn. I’m talking wetting down the filter before you put coffee growns in it so the water doesn’t shock the coffee. I mean it, the best damn cup of coffee I have ever had. Even better than Dunkin Donut. The reason I say this is because the last year and a half, the coffee you guys make over in the important building taste like doggy bm. And I think you know what I mean. Do you know what it’s like to make a cup of coffee over there before daily’s, dump a whole bowl of sugar and milk in it, and it still tastes like old George just pushed out another film into your cup. Makes your bottom half all sweaty in daily’s. I bet you do. So I’m just sitting here having the best cup of joe I’ve ever had getting ready to kick some more ass on my shot thanks to Kelly.

your pal R.J.Krandell

I don’t need no booze or drugs I’ll just chug o lug my coffee mug I don’t need no kiss or hugs I’ll just chug o lug my coffee mug

Shitty gear

Monday, August 16th, 1999

Now I don’t want to make a big deal out of this, but I got a problem. I went clothes shopping this weekend, and let me tell you folks, it sucks ass. Here is the deal. Nobody and I mean nobody makes clothes for dumpy white guys anymore. Remember the ” I’m going to play tennis” dockers look, remember that. Well I think that was the last time anyone tried to make us dumpy white folks look good. Now I know that hunting supplie stores always are trying to make us look good but that’s different dammit! Nowday’s every pair of jeans is built for the “I’m on Mtv spring break look. Baggy, baggy baggy. Now I don’t know if you people have noticed, but I’ve been doing Tie Bo like a bandit, and I feel like I’m ready for some tight jeans. Not Saterdaynight fever tight, more like jan claude van damn tight. And I looked and I looked. I must have tried on twenty pairs of dumb jeans, some even smaller than my little cousin jeffry who is about three and a half. Guess what. I looked like a rap star in all of them. I’m a little pissed off about the whole thing so don’t bother me for a couple of days.

your pal Ranny’s

Sport talk

Tuesday, June 1st, 1999

This weekend I overheard some sport talk, and I got some questions about it. Now before all you sport fans get into an uproar, and start writing nasty e-mail, think about it for a minute. Is it the same phenomena that when you go to a concert, all those guys air guitar, like they are in the band, or that the band really appreciates their help down there. I noticed that these guys were talking about these athlete’s like they were old friends. ” Boy, Occonel, sure slam dunkied the ball, I was counting on that.” like they talked before the game and gave out advice to the player, and he listened. And what’s with all the cute names? I noticed that sport men usually think they are tuff, or at least as good as the players, and they give them all these cute nicknames. “Occonel meister” or” dunk meister” I hate to say it, but that’s not tuff. Cute nicknames I mean. It’s like when you see a really tuff car with a Vinny tuff guy with chains, and a tuff hairdo, but they are listening to Madonna. I hate to say it, but it aint all that tuff. Anyway, you’re right,I suck at sports. I sucked. Me and a kid named Jonathan Laurie were always the last two kids to get picked in gym class, and Jonathan was missing an arm, an eye and a leg and his belly button. So you don’t need to make the comments about how I suck and I’m jealous. You’re right, I know you’re right. What I’m talking about is the fantasy connection between the people who are making millions per game, and the people who are sitting on their sofa believing they are some integral part of the game while their loved one tries to not be so bored. I mean I can kind of understand playing sports. Running around and all that stuff. But watching people run around, and then talking about it like you actually ran around seems kinda stupid.

please help me understand.

your pal R.J.Krandell

Our readers respond:

> It’s sort of like, “George Lucas pissed in my eyes.”
> But only this time it was Patrick Ewing.
> Just trying to help.

I think it’s more like,”Randy pissed on my email and I have to read it.”

just trying to help.

Actually like all art or literature, we have choice to read it or not. If we feel we are not going to like it we can simply not look at it. It’s not like people who talk too loud, then you have to hear it. But saying that you have to read it is like saying we have no control over ourselves. And that makes me cry. And I would hate to think that I am hurting people who are really busy so I will not write anymore E-mail’s


Flying to New York

Tuesday, November 10th, 1998

Now I’m not the kind of guy who likes to scare people or anything but planes go down. And I’m going to fly home to New York this Christmas. Here is my problem. Six hours of shit scared randy stairing out the little window of doom. Some people say ” planes are the safest form of transportation and blah blah yuk yuk whatever. I’m talking about a huge metal tube burning and crumbling with limbs flying out into space and people puking and shitting in their pants. Think about it this way, If you go in a train or car your just going along talking about Bill Clinton and his funny buisness when WHAM boom its over. So some people suffer a bit but the point is, your surprised, You didn’t know it was coming. But when your in a plane you got a couple of minutes to ponder all the shitty things you did before you start looking like tuna salad. And thats my problem. It’s the way down thing that I dont like. And because of guilt I’m gonna fly in the god damm snow. And you know what that means folks. Icy wings, hot coffee spills in the cockpit, me sitting right next to the bathroom, Lets face it we’re talking slay ride to hell here. So I figure I’ll make you guys a deal. If my plane goes down I will grab hold of the weakest looking kid on the plane and start kicking the almighty crap out of him. I mean I will beat him until he looks like the tacos at Juans. and I will keep beating him until the great fire ball comes and it’s all over.

Or some valium so I can sleep the whole way through.

Marin county kill em all

Friday, October 16th, 1998

Now that October is in full bloom, and the air is cool and crisp. And the season if cheer is almost here. I want to talk about killing every goddamn driver in Marin. What the hell is going on over there ? Here is the way I see it. There is three types of drivers. You have the ” It’s my road and I don’t have to use my blinkers ” group. Let me tell you something. The blinker is the easiest thing in a car to use. You don’t even have to look for it. Just drop your hand down or lift your hand up, and you will hit it. Sometimes I do it by mistake, it is that simple. And it saves lives. Boom. People who turn their blinkers on during mid turn suck. It doesn’t count, I have already slowed down and cursed out the back of your head. Then we have the ” I’m lost in the parking lot group.” This is mostly old people, but they suck too even if they are old and we should feel sorry for them. They just wander around looking up for some reason. No blinkers, no nothing. Just lost in the old parking lot of life. Then you have the most dreaded group in the world. The regulators. These people think they were born to make sure you drive at their speed. You are driving along, making good time. When somebody speeds out into your lane, in a real rush to get ahead of you, then slow…sloww…..slowwwwwdowwwwn…. WHY? why not wait for you to go first. Why cant they see how much they suck? anyway, I say bravo for road rage. Not enough people are afraid of getting shot in the head for not using the blinker.

love and kisses Randell.J.Krandell