maintaining this page is devoted to the currently underrated lords of synth-pop, Devo, from whom the title concept was stolen. the concept is, generally, that humans are de-evolving. this was proven in 1995, though we won't tell you how. we are still sore.
we will add links as they are sent to us. latest links will (roughly)
be listed first, so that the newer, the further up the list. we do steal some sites
if we fear that they are only temporary. this prevents the cyber-no-no known as a
"broken link". please contact us if you know of a web phenomenon that
proves what we found out in 1995 (but won't tell you). just e-mail us your
suggestions by clicking here.
if you have the genetic misfortune of being screwy enough to be on this list, you will receive this wonderful "point of blight" award that you can display proudly on your page. click here for instructions on how to display it.
Poop is always funny. www.doodie.com is a riot. G.G. Allin played with his poop, and we think THAT is funny. But when a bag of poop shows up in your mailbox, that might not be so funny. The folks at DogDoo.com have figured that out. They are one of the many emerging remote-revenge services taking advantage of internet commerce. All you do is drop them your credit-card, and they promise to "pack and send a heaping pile of dog doo to the person you deem worthy". Not bad. Especially when you read their methods for making sure that your sweet revenge is bacteria-free and safe as a love-letter. Sigh.
Have you ever been up in a tree with a pretty girl, only to find out that when she pisses all over the ground from 25-feet up in the air, it only serves to scare the deer away from your hunting perch? Wouldn't a self-contained, hand-held, odorless urinal with a female attachment be just perfect sometimes? Here you go....
We think the devil is funny. We don't even have time to worship ourselves lately, but we wish others would. What we really want is to be at the top of the "sick puppies list" at the website that calls itself The Dark Lair of Infinite EVIL. Why? Because we ain't gonna win a Grammy, but it can't be too hard to work our way up this thing. Just click the link, and we'll get a vote on the dark side. We don't even know what we get for it, but it probably won't taste very good. Go ahead, click on it, and let the goofballs know we're pullin' for 'em.
There are games of sport. There are games of chance. And then there are games that, uhhh, are just plain pathetic. One of them is "Scissors, Paper Stone," or as it is known in the professional circles, "Rock, Scissors, Paper". In the religious circles, it is known as Roshambo, and it has a whole cult kind of thing goin' on. A little more difficult to understand than "Slapjack" or "War", this incredibly complex game consists of making a shape with your hand. We at Kill Creek can make a shape with our hands, but it won't win this deeply philosophical game. If you want to check out the religion\game that isn't sweeping the nation, check out the Scissors Paper Stone homepage, or the more ontologically based home of Roshambo. While you are there, make sure to challenge the online version of Scissors Pap ... oops! ... ROSHAMBO, by playing the Roshambot.
Wanna see some porn? We don't agree with the rampant spread of internet porn linked to children's web-sites and fake search engines, but we have to admit that we don't want ANYTHING censored on the internet unless the filtering mechanism is under the control of the owner of the computer.... With that said, some genius named Paul has a back-up plan. If you know what porn would look like, why not just make it yourself, on the net, and spare all those precious children the trauma of seeing a naked body unless they can draw the dirty parts themselves? That way, if you haven't been exposed to porn, you would "draw a blank". If you know what a naked body looks like, you can click here and "have it your way".
If you haven't killed your local women's health clinic secretary yet, you can look him or her up here. If you get a clean kill, they will put a "strike" through the name. If you only wound them, they gray out the name, inviting you to try again. And if you just sit back and do nothing, please remember that those secretaries will continue to answer phones and type memos without any repercussions. (Link has been down forever; sorry).
Terri Tickle is a nice college girl from Boston. She likes 18 - 23-year-old boys. She likes them tickled. She pays them. She pays well. If you e-mail Terri, she may give you a $2000.00 computer to document your tickling exploits with a computer-cam. She may pay you $250.00 for a 30 minute video of you being tickled. Just tickled. Clothes on. You MUST play by her rules. Shorts on, socks off, underarms exposed. That is just the way it is. Have your girlfriend tickle you, and then use that $250.00 bucks to fix your hernia. But don't expect to buy a video of someone being tickled.... Terri doesn't sell those videos!!! You wouldn't want to be exploited, would you? Browse Terri's world at www.tickling.com.
You know not to, and so you've been warned.... So why in the hell does everyone that comes across this link click on it and then send a nasty e-mail message? DON'T. This is not a joke. DO NOT CLICK ON THIS LINK. IT WILL CRASH YOUR BROWSER, and possibly your system.
O.K., so we get this e-mail from Matthew Woelk "submitting" his page for a "Point of Blight" award. Some page about aliens stealing pants. Well, Matt, that's great, your pants page is, uhhh, witty, but it doesn't really prove the state of cultural decline to which our award aspires. But, investigating further, it seems that you have wasted even more time than is immediately apparent. Kill Creek's well documented fetish about chickens is tickled (sorry Terri), and you seem to be hung up on statistics (grad student, soft-sciences maybe?). Well, anyway, this Matt fella qualifies for several reasons: 1). He WANTS to be lumped in among the culturally deprived. 2). He virtually brags about liking several really bad bands. 3). He has managed to dedicate a page to proving the existence of numbers that aren't pi. You read this right: Matthew Woelk and Karl Popper have something in common.... the falsifiablity principle has fascinated them to the point of a life commitment. Congratulations Matthew! Your page is really stupid.
Let's say you want to shock some young kids and play rock-and-roll at the same time. You could grab some lipstick, paint yourself like a mutilated clown and wear a silly contact lens (a.k.a. Marylin Manson). Or, maybe you could just cop a goofy stare and look like "the richest junky still alive" (a.k.a. Al Jourgenson, Butthole Surfers, etc.). Hair can always shock; just check out the melodically challenged young creep from Prodigy. Well, lets face it; those guys are just living out their shattered dreams from High-School drama class. In the '50s, Elvis Presley's hips had parents burning records, but, in 1997, Prodigy and their costumed brethren were Mom's and Dad's default Christmas stocking-stuffers.
Enter Kevin Allin. Kevin Allin died in 1993. Kevin Allin rocked. Kevin Allin didn't really catch Mom and Dad's attention because he was soooo far underground, it was hard to find a record store that would carry his wares. He pooped onstage. He pooped on fans. He ate poop on stage. He broke bottles on his head and carved himself with the broken glass until he passed out. He spent more time in jail than Johnny Cash. He performed naked, and went wee-wee on the front row. But, most importantly, he managed to release a dozen records that made Marylin Manson look like the Broadway poser that he is. He was better known as G.G. Allin, and he has quite a legacy, and quite a cult following these days. Just to be safe, don't follow this link unless you are "of age".
In this time of exaggerated job stress and self-help overindulgence, expressing job dissatisfaction no longer takes a simple loaded gun and brain tumor to let fly; for chrissake, Time/Life™ is worried enough to let employees CALL a toll free number to hear that they aren't "lame". Worried that you smell bad while on the elevator? No worries; hold your fire! Just call and press the number "4" to see how important you are. Not "1" mind you, but sneaking in at number "4". Stressed? Wanna hear a sample from 11/6/97? Unload that Uzi and click here.
What the hell is with the internet sensation of "Ball Eating"? For those of y'all in the dark about this, some "foo" made a web page called "Mr. T ate My Balls". Shortly thereafter, every screwball on the net made their own "Ate my Balls" page. Suddenly, Mother Teresa was eating balls, William Shatner was eating balls, even Bob Dole was eating balls. More than 200 different shrines were cyber-constructed to honor different celebs and their taste for "Balls". The most extensive index currently resides at "The Ate My Balls! Mega-Page".
Many of you are familiar with our willingness to exploit diaries and letters from jail and the like.... If you haven't stooped that low, do so here.
David Lee Roth is practically bald. That guy from Quiet Riot is completely bald. Hell, Marky Ramone is bald. So, you might ask, why does Dee Snider have his own homepage? Could it be because he isn't bald? Well, the 40-something ex-Twisted Sister vocalist has his about 700 gigs of hair pictures and tour dates for his new band "Sick Mutha Fucka's" at his own domain (six dates confirmed!). Some of the geniuses contributing to his page are particularly bright; tour reports are eloquent and insightful, as paraphrased here:
Moving on with "The Kids Are Back" and "Stay Hungry" in a non-stop frenzy, Dee burst the madness inside the few real S.M.F moshing into the front. He then addressed himself to the fucking assholes sitting like old dead pieces of shit at their tables and not even realizing that they were assisting (sic) to a private show made by the one, the only Dee fuckin' Snider!!! As he was injuring them in a most obscene and pleasurable way, I was controlling myself to not run straight to one of these dicks and knock him dead to the ground. But I forgot these jerks when "Destroyer" started, and resumed my moshing.
Interested? Take a swig of Ipecac™ and check out www.dee.snider.org! They are HUGE in Canada.
Most of you are too young to remember Maximum Rock and Roll. Ironically, it is still published, and the same people are still writing the same letters to the editor that make up 50% of its bulk. Maximum Rock and Roll actually contributed some interesting dialogue to the "punk rock" scene for a time, but it eventually devolved into another policy manual for a small section of music lovers that were young enough to think "punk rock" was changing the "Reagan Years". One of the columnists for MRR is Mykel Board, who's role is often the gadfly to the demagoguery of the other contributors. He is MRR's humorist/columnist/gadfly; the only combination that still makes consistently good reading. By fulfilling this role, Mykel pulls the plug on, or shines a flashlight on sometimes humorous and sometimes frightening Points of Blight with every column. His archives are hosted here.
What does God hate? Birthdays? Little bunnies? Carmeled corn? OF COURSE NOT!!! So where is lightening striking in the kinder, gentler '90's? Well, according to Topekan minister/disbarred lawyer Fred Phelps, God hates EVERYONE except for the few members of his family that haven't run screaming from him. Why? Because, according to the honorable Phelps, they're "FAGS"!!! Yes, the minister who's church's slogan is "God hates fags" has pegged everyone from Princess Di to Bob Dole as gay, soul-damning, nation-destroying filth. Oh mercy! For information on his silly little circus, check out http://www.godhatesfags.com. If "Requiem to a Royal Whore, Now in Hell" doesn't "touch" you, if online photos of his family picketing the funerals of AIDS casualties doesn't leave you in stitches, or if his rants about "Ellen Degenerate" don't entertain you more than her sitcom, you might check out "Addicted to Hate", as entered into evidence for a pending lawsuit involving the author of an unpublished book by that same name. Peruse through the evidence, and, surprise!!! You'll find the entire contents of the book!!! Read all about Mr. Phelps' ministry, relentless child beatings, goofy apocalyptic prattle, and a surprise interview with Phelps' reportedly gay (gasp!) son. Things are sure confusing when it comes to God!!! Weirdest of all, Phelps offers us proof that his hometown (Topeka, Kansas) is the actual, one-and-only Hell!!! For Christ sake, buddy: move!!! No wonder you're grumpy ... you're in Hell, for crying out loud!!!
Jack Handy was funny for a minute. This has more significance than you could imagine. We aren't telling.
Just plain disgusting. Pictures that shouldn't be shared. Famous people slaughtered; diseases that render you vile. All in one place? Heaven is saving a corner for the kids that have taken the time to post http://www.rotten.com. They will let the other kids in heaven splatter them with phlem.
What kind of idiot would waste two hours creating a javascript Beavis and Butthead™ insult generator? Without revealing the poor dipshit's name (he is in Finland, which makes us feel sorry enough), we just stole the script and modified the interface. If you click here, you have too much time on your fingertips.
The much feared "Retro-Present Gap".
