Thursday, July 13, 2006


Jesus Christ...Martin Luther King, Jr...Ken Lay

Until I became a martyr recently, the only time my name was uttered in the same sentence as God's only son and that black civil rights guy would be when someone said something like this:

Jesus Christ, dude, I was walking down Martin Luther King Boulevard when I heard the news that Ken Lay was found guilty!

What a difference a few weeks make.

Monday, July 10, 2006


OUTRAGEOUS: the liberal media snubs my blog

Howdy, friends.

First, there was the case of the "Pentagon Papers".

More recently, there's been the treasonous disclosure of clandestine (but necessary) government programs designed by my on-again-off-again best-buddy Dubya' to monitor (or spy on or whatever) American citizens for the purposes of defeating the evil-doers.

And in between these incidents, there has been decades and decades of liberal bias. As a proud Texan--dead or alive--I don't generally use fancy terms such as "liberal bias". Rather, we here typically call the New York Times a pussy-publication. People who read that bull-dookie tend to be homosexual or effeminate fancy types who put nutmeg in their tiny cups of joe. They are artsy, whiny, politically-correct traitors who worship the United Nations and don't seem to understand the inherent economic sense in the mantra "greed is good" or, better yet, the foreign policy doctrine known as "Don't Mess with Texas".

In fact, while I don't have hard evidence on me (most likely got shredded), I strongly suspect the paper in question worked closely with George Clooney, left-wing trial attorneys, the labor unions, and Satan to bring down my baby--Enron (R.I.P.).

But now they've really gone too far.

Today, they ran an article about the so-called blogosphere's reaction regarding Kenny Boy's whereabouts. While they mentioned (run by an childish shell of a man who wishes to profiteer off of my likeness, stealing the name of this here "official" blog, prompting me to issue a Ken Lay Guarantee that I will NEVER help promote this bottomfeeder's enterprise) and other sub-par sites, they neglected the very one you are reading right now.

This is beyond outrageous. This very blog is the only "official" blog of Kenny Boy. The content here far exceeds all the imitators in terms of content, multimedia, and honesty.

Hey New York Times...fuck you! That's right, I said it. What are you going to do about it? Have me killed? Expose my lies?

I issue TWO challenges for the Times:

1) Issue an official correction regarding your reckless oversight of this important blog and offer me a tell-all interview on Page One, above-the-fold this Sunday (for a nominal fee);


2) Send Maureen Dowd and her stylish, snarky, sarcastic, but ultimately boring journalistic skill set down to Houston to investigate the ongoing mystery surrounding my death. Better yet, send fathead Frank Rich. Oh wait, I bet he's too busy watching some gay shit on Broadway.

Remember: this is the newspaper that has NOT endorsed a SINGLE Republican for President since Ike, and we all know he ostracized himself from the Party with that seditious speech warning against the military taking its orders from our fine nation's rightful leaders: the wise, honorable corporations. I mean, they did not even endorse Nixon, Reagan, or Dubya'. I can understand not endorsin' 41--we're friends, but he strikes me as a closet case.

Anyway, a big Ken Lay shout-out of love to those snaggle-toothed, tea-drinkin' limeys over at the Telegraph. They devoted multiple paragraphs to my very fine blog in an article about the topic!

Cheerio, you charming sons of bitches! You just made a friend in Ken Lay. Britain is looking like a better vacation spot all the time!!!

Friday, July 07, 2006


Quick, shred the evidence (or CREMATE it)!!!!!!

Hola, bitches!

In keeping with my longstanding tradition of destroying evidence in attempts to get away with massive fraud, the news on the street is that I am getting cremated.

This should not be too surprising. As previously reported here, nobody who has not been paid off has seen or will see my alleged dead body before the casket (the empty one) goes into the ground. Well, I guess the story will be an urn with my theoretical ashes will go in the ground (but those ashes could be anybody's--if fictional television character Nate Fisher can pull that scam, why can't I?).

Now that people think I am merely ashes to ashes, dust to dust, I am going to spend some time on my new yacht, boating through some beautiful tropics in the Southern (or Northern) Hemisphere.

Oh, good news: it turns out that now technically I was never convicted of any crimes! Not even indicted! There's precedent. Eat it.

And while I make the claim that I am still alive, I will leave open the possibility that the Bush White House had me killed. Or that I committed suicide by inducing a heart attack (toxicology reports not expected for three weeks). But c'mon, I didn't just die, silly.

And what about Colin Powell winding up in the same hospital as me? I don't know what it means, but it's fucking weird.

One more thing: David Letterman is an asshole. Inappropriate.

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Thursday, July 06, 2006


"Death" Day Two Updates

* Some bastards registered a domain name ripping off the clever, catchy name of my blog. What's more is they are selling t-shirts to profiteer off of my tragedy. Can you imagine somebody viciously making buckets of money at the expense of others? I cannot. Oh, the humanity! But remember, this is the world's only "official" website giving you updates of my life in exile. Those sycophants at will NEVER receive my endorsement or help.

* But he held me and told me he'd love me forever!!! Now Dubya (through an attractive, yet creepily android-like spokesman) says we were just acquaintances.

"Q: What has been the President's reaction to the death of Ken Lay?

SNOW: I really have not talked to him about it. I will give you my own personal reaction, which is that when somebody dies, you leave behind those that grieve, and I think that they deserve our compassion. But I don't know, what do you think would be the appropriate thing to say?

Q: I do not know. I don't know him. The President was his friend, not me.

SNOW: No, the President has described Ken Lay as an acquaintance, and many of the President's acquaintances have passed on during his time in office. Again, I think that it is sort of an interesting question but not answerable by me."

That's not what you said to me by the lake on Naboo, so long ago...when there was nothing but our love...No politics, no war..and you called me your friend, Kenny Boy. Dubya, what about this...and this? It hurts.

See our friends at Thinkprogress and/or Wonkette for more on this.

* Okay, I'm off to take a bath in my new diamond-studded, gold-plated jacuzzi deep in the lush forests of (OMITTED).

Wednesday, July 05, 2006


Proof that I'm NOT dead...

The U.S. government seems to have no bones about providing photographic evidence to prove to the world that big-time criminals are indeed dead so that the public at large can sleep peacefully, feeling safe and secure (al-Zarqawi, anyone?).

I'll betcha they don't hold a press conference showing photos of my carcass. You know why? I ain't dead, that's why!

In fact, people should make demands along the lines of Principal Ed Rooney from Ferris Bueller's Day Off (my second favorite film of all time). Only, those reasonable demands should be met as they were with al-Zarqawi, unlike what happened with Rooney (the movie is so unrealistic in that respect):

MR. ROONEY: You just produce a corpse, and I'll release Sloane…I want to see this dead grandmother first-hand.

CAMERON (impersonating Mr. Peterson): Ed, I'm sorry, did you say you wanted to see a body?

MR. ROONEY: Yeah, roll her old bones over here and I'll dig up your daughter…That's school policy…was this your mother?

CAMERON (impersonating Mr. Peterson): No, my wife's mother.

GRACE: Ed Rooney's Office...

FERRIS: This is Ferris Bueller for Mr Rooney.

MR. ROONEY: I'll tell you what, dipshit, if you don't like my policies—


MR. ROONEY: —you can come down here and smooch my big old white butt—


MR. ROONEY: —pucker up, Buttercup…WHAT?

GRACE: Ferris Bueller is on line two!!!

FERRIS: Mr Rooney, I'm not feeling very well today. Could my sister bring home any assignments from my classes? Have a nice day.

MR. ROONEY: Mr Peterson, I think I owe you an apology.

CAMERON (impersonating Mr. Peterson): Well, I should say you do!


I faked my death!

Howdy, partners!

First and foremost, I just want to Lay forth this caveat: I ain't much known as a blogger, so I may not be all that skilled with this at first. As you probably know, I'm more of a businessman, a big Texas dog in the energy game. And you probably are aware that I was the Chairman and CEO of Enron, and that I allegedly oversaw the biggest, most egregious incident of corporate abuse and accounting fraud in American history, supposedly costing thousands of innocent employees and honest investors billions of dollars after my company filed for a Texas-sized bankruptcy in 2001.

As I (and many others, the silent majority) have continuously claimed, I am innocent. The convictions handed down against me were ludicrous.

While I have been awaiting sentencing, I have consulted my powerful personal friends and spiritual advisor, and they have assured me that there is only one way for me to find justice...

Would there be justice in submitting to life in jail, to serve my time and pay my so-called debt to society that way? Unless getting made love to via non-consensual sodomy day after day until dying a lonely death in a dark cell is considered paying a debt, I ain't gonna do it.

What about committing suicide? A lot of y'all are sayin' that's what I did, took some drugs to induce a lethal heart attack. Hell no! The big fella' upstairs might have the same bull-dookie information the judge, jurors, and media had down here on Earth! He might send me straight to H-E-double-hockey-sticks if I die now! I ain't gonna spend an eternity in Hades getting tortured and molested by liberals, communists, and poor vagabonds who want to take out their misfortunes on me. I was a poor boy, and I worked my ass off to create the wealth and happiness I eventually enjoyed. I ain't goin' to hell until I can prove my innocence to Jesus.

Therefore, I did what any justice-loving industrious American would do: I faked my death, changed my identity, and moved far, far away!

As the reports circulate about my death today, I am already at an undisclosed location on another part of our planet (some of my powerful friends are good at securing such locations). I have already taken out hundreds of thousands of dollars from the Swiss bank accounts made up of my fortune that cannot be touched by pesky litigation.

So, rest assured: Kenny Boy lives! And I promise you that I am and will continue to live well. In my free time, I will continue to post on here to tell you about my mission to prove my innocence. When I finally secure the evidence to do so, I will (much like Jesus) return.

Lastly, a quick shout-out to my friends who helped me out of that minor jam I was in (I am using affectionate nicknames to protect their identity for now): 41, 43, and Chainy. You're the best buddies this cowboy could ever ask for!

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