Bradley R. Weissenberger wrote:Kenny: The seventeen year old kid in pilates class. What the hell is he doing here? Oh, he's here to stare down the women's shirts and check out their asses. Hey, bears fish at salmon runs.

Just Better:The fifteen year old drug dealer in seventh grade. Why is he there? To tear the classroom apart and drum up the biznezz. But he's shrimpy and probably carrying. "Tricks get dealt with," he says.

Just Worse:The nineteen year old kid with "Fuck Me." tatooed on his forehead that rode the Greyhound. Have fun wearing a hat to work for the rest of your days.

Kenny:
Record stores that have all these beautiful guitars hung up as decoration amongst all the memorabilia that will never be played and only collect dust.


Faiz

Kenny:
Record stores that have all these beautiful guitars hung up as decoration amongst all the memorabilia that will never be played and only collect dust.

JW: The polar bears in the Sidney zoo in Australia have a snow day for the first time in their caged lives. Five tons of snow are dumped into their pen. They roll and play and cavort with bliss, before napping fitfully on a crest of cool white snow.

They awake in a shallow brown puddle on the concrete floor.

JB: The complete set of Original Star Wars action figures and all their accessories that sat in a cabinet at your cousin’s house which you were not permitted to open. Ever.


Kennify: The baby turkey that lives under the giant sombrero in your backyard and eats sunflower seeds out of your hand every morning wanders onto the neighbor’s driveway. You arrive home from work to a note on your door written with an orange highlighter. It says:

Keep yur fuckin’ turkey off my properties!

You go next door. You knock on the screen door and look in. Your neighbor is kneeling prostrate over a pile of feathers and blood and barking like a dog into a telephone receiver.

Thing is, you live in an apartment. You have no neighbors. Your mother weeps all day in the bedroom.

kerble wrote:Just Better:The fifteen year old drug dealer in seventh grade. Why is he there? To tear the classroom apart and drum up the biznezz. But he's shrimpy and probably carrying. "Tricks get dealt with," he says.

pointless story:

the one time i visited chicago (about 4 years ago), some friends and i were in a white castle near our motel at about 2 or 3am, and a kid like the one described above was freaking out, yelling at the staff about his order being fucked up. he kept ranting that if they didn't fix his order, they were "all gonna get dealt wit'" in what sounded like a badly-faked "noo yawk" kind-of accent. this reminded me of that. he had this hilarious fred durst look about him, and we could not contain our amusement. we did not, in fact, get "dealt wit'", unless that is slang for "scowled at".

Yes, placeholder. White Castle brings out the worst in people.

I know Mr. LAD has a kenny up above, here's a couple more:

Kenny:
Breaking into a brief, effeminate run in some bad shoes and seriously fucking up your feet.


Kenny:
Giving some poor drivers a "pressed fruit bowl" and having them yell: "We gonna fuck you up! Folk Love! Folk Love!" When they are clearly driving a mini van around in the suburbs.


Kenny:
Watching some suburbanites throw pennies at other cars from their parent's Mercedes and showering their car with a handful of dimes in an effort to balance out the humanity of karma.


Kenny:
Some stupid mandolin playing hippie who "doesn't eat meat because it stains his karma." He blatantly hits on your girlfriend and later on becomes relatively famous in his hippie rock band.


More soon.


Faiz

kerble wrote:Kenny:
Breaking into a brief, effeminate run in some bad shoes and seriously fucking up your feet.

Faiz

jb.. The ability to break into a prolonged masculine run in some nice pumps without developing one blister.

jw.. Breaking into a shoe store to fuck up the effeminate clerk who briefly dated your ex.

kill this kenny...please!

While walking with your best friend to the corner shop for a Sunday breakfast you realize that there is a parade going on relating in some way to Ecuador, its people, its pride, its presence in Chicago, etc. On your way home, while munching on some breakfast burritos and the like, it occurs to you to consult your friend, "I had no idea there were so many Ecuadorians living in Lincoln Square. Where are all of the great Ecuadorian restaurants?" Your friend replies, "That's funny, I had know idea there where so many Mexicans from Ecuador!"


T

Kennify: The baby turkey that lives under the giant sombrero in your backyard and eats sunflower seeds out of your hand every morning wanders onto the neighbor's driveway. You arrive home from work to a note on your door written with an orange highlighter. It says:

Keep yur fuckin' turkey off my properties!

You go next door. You knock on the screen door and look in. Your neighbor is kneeling prostrate over a pile of feathers and blood and barking like a dog into a telephone receiver.

Thing is, you live in an apartment. You have no neighbors. Your mother weeps all day in the bedroom.

jb: Tour neighbor gives you his turkey leftovers. You eat them and contract amoebic dysentery, resulting in seventeen consecutive hours in your outhouse, which is adjacent to the sombrero. After thirty-five minutes, you run out of toilet paper.

Thing is, you live in an apartment. You have no neighbors. It doesn't matter what your mother is doing, because you are so relieved to discover the truth about the illusory turkey, sombrero, dysentary, and understocked outhouse.

jw: Your mother is Joan Rivers.

The Kenny: You make a pot of high-quality imported Swiss coffee, but realize that you did not sufficiently grind the beans to be permeable to water, resulting in brew that, when treated with sugar, possesses a taste resembling a cross between expired cough syrup and psilocybin tea. That was your last box of imported Swiss coffee, so you settle for a cloying Cherry Coke instead. You have not slept for three days, and you are plumb out of psilocybin.

gio wrote:The Kenny: You make a pot of high-quality imported Swiss coffee, but realize that you did not sufficiently grind the beans to be permeable to water, resulting in brew that, when treated with sugar, possesses a taste resembling a cross between expired cough syrup and psilocybin tea. That was your last box of imported Swiss coffee, so you settle for a cloying Cherry Coke instead. You have not slept for three days, and you are plumb out of psilocybin.

Just Better: You are unable to purchase a pair of shoes that meet your exacting standards. Therefore, you decide to do it yourself. You will make your own shoes! You invest years and significant expense studying the craft of shoemaking. At the end of your self-education period, you fancy yourself quite the cobbler, and you begin preparing your dream shoes. You spend several months putting together your pair of dream shoes, and upon completion, they look spectacular. They are soft and buttery, but quite sturdy and impervious to the elements. You are excited to wear your new shoes! You sit down to pull on the first of your new shoes. However, just as your foot begins to enter the first shoe, you wake up and realize that you are Adrian Zmed, and that you lost your legs in a bear trap in Stack's backyard years ago.

Just Worse: You worked very hard, saved your money and denied yourself many small pleasures all for the purpose of buying one of those new Volkswagen Beetles.

Kenny: Spending a weekend in jail for something that you did not do. Seriously. You didn't do it. Your friend K____ did it. But you took the heat for it. Your friend K____ thanked you for taking the heat for it. But you still spent the weekend in jail. Even though your friend K____ did it.

Bradley R. Weissenberger wrote:Just Better: You are unable to purchase a pair of shoes that meet your exacting standards. Therefore, you decide to do it yourself. You will make your own shoes! You invest years and significant expense studying the craft of shoemaking. At the end of your self-education period, you fancy yourself quite the cobbler, and you begin preparing your dream shoes. You spend several months putting together your pair of dream shoes, and upon completion, they look spectacular. They are soft and buttery, but quite sturdy and impervious to the elements. You are excited to wear your new shoes! You sit down to pull on the first of your new shoes. However, just as your foot begins to enter the first shoe, you wake up and realize that you are Adrian Zmed, and that you lost your legs in a bear trap in Stack's backyard years ago.

I would love to kenny, but the awesome magnitude of this particular "Just Better" rendered me retarded. Stack and Chimp kennies mixed into one magnificent kenny? Now that's'a spicy meatball'a! Salut! Bradley.

When I stop laughing, maybe I can kenny like I've never kennied before.


Faiz

Kenny: Spending a weekend in jail for something that you did not do. Seriously. You didn't do it. Your friend K____ did it. But you took the heat for it. Your friend K____ thanked you for taking the heat for it. But you still spent the weekend in jail. Even though your friend K____ did it.

JB: You have an office job. It's "pretty kick-back." The boss is "pretty cool." It's not very taxing. You have time to post messages on Internet boards. It pays bills, rent, car. Commute is a bit of a hassle, but "doable."
Except now, today, you no longer have the job. Unbeknownst to you, I.T. was monitoring your Internet activity, and "narced" to your boss that, for the past couple of weeks, you have been spending the preponderance of your work day registering, developing, and creating "content" for your Web site, Zmedline (http://www.zmedline.com). Especially damning was the day and a half you spent converting lines of dialogue from "Bachelor Party" ("Look at those babies!!") into WAV format.

JW: The 6-hour "Masters Of Guitar Tone" seminar you took where the instructor played nothing but tracks featuring Andy Summers and Alex Lifeson, switching mercilessly between the two.

Tommy Keene: You live between two sets of neighbors, who do this call and response thing pretty much every night. One neighbor yells "Hefty Hefty Hefty!!!" out his window at his full lung capacity, while the other responds right away with "Wimpy Wimpy Wimpy!!!!"

If you have time, maybe you could also Kenny the following Zmed Trios:

Grease 2: Michelle Phieffer, Maxwell Caulfield, Zmed

T.J. Hooker: The Shatner, Heather Locklear, Zmed

Bachelor Party: Tom Hanks, Tawny Kitaen, Zmed