Sunday, December 30, 2007


I'm afraid to be sincere with people because I'm afraid they'll doubt my sincerity. So when I want to be sincere, I restrain myself so that what I fear will happen won't happen. But since I'm not showing them any sincerity, they doubt my sincerity and what I fear will happen happens.

Oh, hello there. Glad you could join me.

I was just figuring myself out.

Did you know that I have another blog besides this one? It's true! It's available at and it's called "The Blue Moon". Unofficially, that is. (myspace doesn't yet have a feature where you can title your entire blog--only individual entries) It hasn't been around as long as "The House Of Knod" but there's still all sorts of different stuff in it!

"But Will," you say, "why do you have two blogs? Isn't one blog enough? Shouldn't you be trying to reduce your cyber carbon-footprint?"

"Different blogs for different reasons, Sandra." (I hope you don't mind me calling you "Sandra".)

"Like what?"

"Well, Sandra, as a postmodern woman on the go, I wouldn't be caught dead wearing only one blog!"

"As a mother of four, I still don't understand why you have two blogs."

"Sandra, as a concerned college student, I don't want to really get into the psychological underpinnings as to why I have two blogs."

"But, Will, as a breast cancer survivor myself--"

"Jesus, Sandra! Stop trying to one-up me!"

Sandra can be a real showboating cunt sometimes. Never shuts the fuck up about herself.

I've noticed that the voices have gotten much louder lately. Especially Sandra's. Strange, with so many voices running at top volume in my head, that I should feel so alone this holiday season.

Oh, hello there. Glad you could join me.

I was just dealing with the truth.

I can't really explain why it is that I have two blogs. Sometimes I write something and I say, "that one goes into 'The House Of Knod'" and sometimes I write something and I say, "that one goes up to 'The Blue Moon'".

Once in a blue moon, I'll put the same entry in both blogs. But it doesn't happen often. That's why I said "once in a blue moon".

I just don't know if anybody knows what that phrase means anymore. Does anybody understand the cultural significance of a blue moon?

A blue moon only happens once in a blue moon.

Unlike these computer-animated, techno-soundtracked moons of today. Our universe is rife with illiterate, mainstream moons. They don't think. They don't question. They just follow along, blindly making a complete orbit around the Earth every 27. 3 days. And they're all white.

But a blue moon (or "bloon") is special because it's rare.

Legend has it that the reason a blue moon is so rare is because it only shines in special places. For special people.

Have you ever noticed when you enter "The House Of Knod" there is often an otherworldly glow emanating from outside the stained-glass windows? That is because across the great void of cyberspace, "The Blue Moon" shines down upon this house.

For this is a special place. And you are special people.

Come, let us go outside. The moon brings out your beauty.

I love you all. . .

Good night. Glad you could join me.

I was just being sincere.

Friday, December 28, 2007



"Mrs. Oatmeal", as she was called by her students, passed away at Memorial Cyanide on Thursday Evening. She was 72 years wide.

Known for her highly arched eyebrows and suspicious looking microphone-shaped earrings, Mrs. Oatmeal suffered a stroke and then another stroke and then a third stroke before a fourth stroke led to a master stroke that boldly claimed her life. En Garde!

She is survived by her five children: Whippany, Classless, Arcazio, Menundez, and Lilliputian. Mrs. Oatmeal did not believe in grandchildren.

For nearly 50 years, Mrs. Oatmeal worked as a Health and Hygiene instructor at Cedar Hills Forest Grove Pinewood Oak Academy in downtown Treetrunk.

In the late 60s, Mrs. Oatmeal received a grant from Proctor & Gamble to develop a new cleansing agent that would more efficiently remove ticks and leeches from feral children. Instead, she accidentally invented a soap that made noises like a feral child whenever used for washing.

The soap was called "Ock-Ock Soap" and it sold relatively well in adult bookstores and other novelty shops. It looked like a bar of Irish Spring, but once it was covered in lather, it would go "Ock! Ock! Ock!" Across the Midwest, a number of middle-aged women suffered heart attacks after using the soap. Sales quickly plummeted.

As a girl, Mrs. Oatmeal often played "Merchant Marine" with her brother Kinsey. After a psychological breakthrough in 1986, she realized she had actually been playing "Doctor". She chronicles her incest survival with courage, bravery, and notbeingscaredness in her 1993 memoir, A Bowl Of Oatmeal.

Her brother never forgave her for the damning expose which ultimately landed him 20 years in a McDonald's plastic ball play pit.

Services will be held this Friday at Remembrance-Mart.


Known as "Acid" by his friends, Alexander Reflux-Disease was a pioneer in the use of Stationary Ham Theory (SHT) to monitor the effect of pigs standing still in relation to increased slaughterhouse efficiency.

His work was highly criticized by the Seattle-based animal rights group, The Seattle-Based Animal Rights Group, as well as by the popular Vietnamese potbellied pig deejays Squeaky and Squeally, who regularly singled him out for ridicule on their morning talk show, Notes From The Underfarm.

Reflux-Disease passed away last Wednesday after receiving a gunshot wound in the mail.

He is survived by his wife of 4 months, Blondie Attaturk-Reflux-Disease, and his son from a previous fuck, Glib.

Services will be held Tuesday at Funereality in Soho. Doors open at 9pm. $15. DJ after party.


Sonya Mountain died last Wednesday in her hometown of Hope Springs after attempting to get baptized in a frozen pond.

"She loved the Lord so much, she didn't want to wait for the ice to thaw," said Pastor Red Banger, who earlier this month had cautioned 11-year old Sonya and her parents that accepting Jesus into one's heart is a lot easier in the summertime.

"Sonya got real paranoid during the fall that she was going to die and go to hell over the winter break," her mother Amahen said on condition of publicity, "We just hope the baptism went through before her brains were bashed in all over the ice."

"I thought I could break a hole in it using her head," said Banger, "but she was softer than she looked. She had tried to act tough, but in the end, we are weak and He is strong. And that's why Sonya decided to come to the Lord. Our Lord is strong, like ice. But He gave us His Son, who was melted and became water. And who rose again as The Holy Vapor!"

Sonya had been a member of The First Church Of The Three Stages Of Water-Christ.

She is survived by no one. The entire village of Hope Springs was massacred when the Islamists took over.

Saturday, December 22, 2007



You have been selected to join an elite organization called


Perhaps you've heard of us. We've heard of you.
You're disenfranchised. Nobody knows your plight. You're all alone.


THE FEELINGS BRIGADE IS A GLOBAL COMMUNITY of almost 6 billion members worldwide!

We're all united by our COMMON FEELINGS. . .!

So we're not really an elite organization after all. This letter is a mere formality. You've been a member of The Feelings Brigade since the day you were born.

You cried when the doctor spanked you.
You got nervous when you asked the girl to dance.
You were really paranoid right before opening this letter. (and still might be!)

In some way or another, you've always had feelings. There's no escaping induction into The Feelings Brigade. Everyone's a member. For life.

So now you know. . .

You're nothing special at all. . .


Congratulations for reading this far into the letter.

You've actually been invited to join an elite organization called The Facts Brigade

We're extremely elite, so I doubt you've heard of us. However, we had never heard of you until your recent accomplishment in the field of political sociology:

We were very impressed.

You are definitely the kind of person we like. A distinct individual of merit.

There is a fox hunt this Boxing Day. Afterwards, we will away to the sitting room and demean certain groups of people.


The Big Three

Wednesday, December 19, 2007

New York Is Food For My Hungry Ears

I never know whether or not to say these things privately or publicly.

The concept of appropriateness has always been a bit blurry to me.

So in order to avoid confusion, I have decided to say this privately to the public:

"New York is food for my hungry ears."

My ears have always been hungry. I'm an auditory junkie. And I get my fix here. Here's how it works:

I. My Head Is Very Noisy

My head has always been very noisy. Ever since I was a child. Sometimes it gets so noisy, I think I'm hearing what I'm only thinking.

Whenever this happens, I enter a state of confusion. "How can I
hear a thought? Thoughts enter the mind, not the ears."

So I attempt to rectify this disconnect by speaking out loud the thought (or thoughts) that I think I'm hearing. In other words, I talk to myself; and that's when things start to make sense again. "No wonder I'm hearing what I'm thinking! I'm speaking what I'm thinking and that's what I'm hearing!"

However, most of my life, I've mumbled and not spoken. I mumble because I have always been at least peripherally aware of
other people. I mumble things under my breath and out of their hearing range. Things like--"I wish they'd get the fuck out of here so I could talk to myself."

II. New York, Like My Head, Is Also Very Noisy

Because of the continuum of head and city noise that New York enables, I've always felt comfortable here not only publicly mumbling to myself, but publicly speaking out loud to myself, publicly shouting at myself, or publicly acting out multi-character comedic vignettes with myself. Consequently, the entire city becomes a much-needed rehearsal space for new ideas.

There is so much happening here at any given moment in any given location that nobody has time to concern themselves with the ramblings of a lone madman.

And knowing this makes me comfortable. Because it allows me to fully be who I really am:

A lone madman.

III. SUMMATION: The New York Process Of Acquiring Food For My Hungry Ears

A. My head gets loud and I think I hear my thoughts
B. I speak the thoughts I think I am hearing
C. I shape what I'm speaking into a live bit, a podcast idea, a blog entry; something

And then I rest for a moment.

And then it all comes echoing back to me in the aural tidal wave that is New York.

And then my head gets noisy again.

I've always loved the sound of the ocean.

Tuesday, December 11, 2007

My Christmas Present To You

I am sorry if the previous blog entry was a little depressing. However, I am a comedian. This is my job--to be depressing.

But I have decided to take a short break from being a comedian. By being funny again--

And here's something really funny: I recently gave birth. To a brand-new baby podcast episode. She's really funny and her name is "Michael Krenford Is Not Alone" and you can listen to her at Things We Did Before Reality. She came into this world at around 4:03 a.m. EST on the morning of Monday, December 10th. Which would make her a Sagittarius, I think.

I'm very proud of her. She weighs just a little over 28 minutes from start to toe.

She is my Christmas present to you.

If you enjoy her as much as I do, and I mean that neither in the Biblical nor sexual sense--or any of her other 9 online siblings, please consider making a donation via the Paypal button located underneath. No amount is too small. Or too large.

As I say, I'm extremely proud of this one. During the 2-week pregnancy, I often referred to her as "a corkscrew for the human soul." For she was born of my mind, my heart, and--cigarettes and black coffee notwithstanding--even of my body; the triumvirate of which comprises my soul.

I believe it is important in the pit of despair to reach for something higher.

Thus I believe it is important in the pit of despair to have faith. Because the Unknown, (like it or not, secularists), will always be greater than the known.

I had such fun making this episode. I cracked myself up so much during the conception, the writing, the recording, and the editing, precisely because I was relying on faith.

Faith is an action. It may be the unknown, but one still leaps into it.

And so I leaped. And, man, am I glad I did.

Sometimes it's important to take a break from being a comedian and be funny instead.

Michael Krenford is not alone.