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Brain Farts was a weekly humor column that ran in the Louisville Eccentric Observer from mid-2000 until the summer of 2002. It was, well, eccentric. And occasionally satirical. And sardonic. Some liked it, some hated it; some just didn't get it, and that's OK. There were times when I didn't get it either. I've compiled here some of the archives from Brain Farts for the enjoyment of friends, family and anyone else who happens by. I also have written some new Brain Farts, and added some links and other trivialities that you shouldn't be too concerned with.

Unless you're as bored as I am.

Apparently my namesake is a porn star. (Special thanks to my girlfriend, who is clearly bored, for Google-ing me and finding this critical information.) She actually sent me a link to, uh, my list of film credits – one of my films is called “Turbo Sex,” and my co-star was Becky Savage.

I told my girlfriend that the sequel will be even better. It’s going to be called “Turbo Sex II: The Final Thrust.” Difficult to describe the plot, but suffice to say it will be a lot like “The Empire Strikes Back” except that it’s not set in outer space and there are a lot more boobs.

And a friend of mine the other day had the nerve to tell me that he hated murderous clowns, but that “circus clowns are OK.” Obviously, I had to set him straight. If you haven’t already read my reasoning on my Myspace blog, here it is: All clowns are murderous, even circus clowns.

Seriously, how do you think they lure their victims into a false sense of security? By being wacky and zany and seemingly harmless while performing at the circus or at birthday parties. Then, just when you think all that falling down and horn-honking and balloon-animal-making is real, they beat you over the head with a fencepost, drag you into a trailer, remove your vital organs with a jigsaw, and have a personal blood orgy with your corpse.

I’m just saying.

It also occurred to me recently that the movie “Grease” might have been quite different if Olivia-Newton John's character Sandy had been named The Insidious Dr. Mung instead. I for one have lost a lot of sleep thinking about this. I’m sure many people have.

I was in Chicago recently for a trade show and was reminded of what I heard a comedian, whose name escapes me, once said (and I paraphrase): “If you find yourself in an occupation that requires you to wear a name badge, you have probably made some seriously unfortunate career choices somewhere along the way.”

Yes, there I was for four straight days, eight hours a day, standing in a 10 x 10 booth … handing people magazines and offering them free subscriptions. Although, I will admit that the whole unloading the magazines from the boxes and putting shipping labels on the boxes to send them back to our office was fairly stimulating.

Lucky for me, I studied hard in college and got my bachelor of science in Standing Around Wearing a Name Badge and Handing Out Magazines and Later Boxing Them Up and Shipping Them Back to Where They Came From in the First Place degree from Indiana University. They really have a great program there for aspiring worthless trade show geeks like me.

You know, I really have no idea why I decided to write this Brain Fart. I really need to sit down and study my performance in “Vagi-Blast III: The Ultimate Re-Load.” My co-star, Valentine Starbuck, said my form was a little off during the flaming lawn darts scene.

Contact this idiot at kgramone@aol.com. And feel free to murder any clowns you may meet. Do it before they murder you.