I’m taking a stab at a superior vocab

Humor Post #24 from Middle School’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Yay!! We’re back online. After 5 1/2 days! Thanks to Maureen, who went and found everything through the Google cache (or something like that, you’ll have to ask her), I am again free to bless the world with my unique perspicacity. Whoa! I know I got your attention with that sentence. (And don’t you go and say, “Wow, I didn’t know Crankenfuss could spell the word I.” Not funny!) Yeah, I found that word on one of those Word of the Day places. Usually I can’t remember a lot of what I find on the web, but that word got to me. It means “keenness of intellect.” (Plus, it would be a great rhyming word in a poem about cowboys. Hey, check this out —

There was this ol’ cowboy named Butch Cassidy
Justa ridin’ his horse named Perspicacity.

That’s as far as I’ve gotten, but it’s a good start.)

I know I like to write so it would probably help if I knew a lot of words. And learning new words would probably make me smarter and that’s a good thing. I mean, I don’t figure I’m going to be a pro athlete and when I sing, dogs lay down and cover their ears so no American Idol for me. So… I’m going to have to use my smarts to get rich when I’m older. And perspicacity should help me. I know there are a lot of people who think smarts are for dorks, but I’ve still never heard anyone say, “Wow, I wish I hadn’t made that incredibly smart mistake” and I don’t think anyone would say, “Ooh, he is so awesome. I love how stupid he is.” So even though I like hip hop and would really like to be a hip hop artist — See my post about that — I don’t think I can really pull it off. I can write stuff okay I guess.

Yo, foshizzy,
Ah’m like a beast with a fresh cut
Fool wit mah shawty, I mess you up.

But I don’t move right and my hands end up slapping me and I look stupid trying to look black. But I’m good at learning words and that could really help me with my writing. And hey, I just thought of a cool saying – Good vocabulary is a secret code that smart people use to communicate with each other. That kind of sounds perspicacious, don’t you think?

Well, that’s all for now. Talk to you soon. And I have to say that the one good thing about being offline was that it gave my head time to heal. See, no more bandages up there.

From Dr. Crankenfuss, your paragon of perspicacity (and still the awesomest middle school blogger there is)

Here’s how to make some real bucks. For real!

Humor Post #22 from Middle School’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

I can’t promise you a whole lot today. As you can see from my picture, I’ll still recovering from my recent encounter with Mr. Locker, a fight which left me injured and dazed. (I guess that’s why they call this daily grind we have to go through “School Dazed.”) But I’ll be okay. Ol’ Crankenfuss promises you that. You can never keep a good crank down, that’s what I like to say. But come to think of it, I’m always down so I guess it should be You can never keep a good crank up.

Oh, never mind.

Anyway, I found out something cool yesterday. After that terrifying locker incident, I was complaining to my friend Max — yes, I do have friends — that I should sue the school for a million bucks, something like that, and I started wondering why we call money bucks. So I googled bucks money origin when I got home and I found out that in olden times, like 200 years ago, pioneers would use deer skins to trade for things. (Except they called them buckskins since a male deer is called a buck.) It was a kind of money, see? For instance what if you were a pioneer in some town and you went to the General Store and saw this nice trail bike for sale? Well, okay, they couldn’t have had trail bikes back then, so let’s say you needed supplies and you saw a big bag of flour and a big bag of nails that you needed. (Work with me, okay?) You’d go up to the guy behind the counter and say, “Hey, podner, what say I trade you this buck here for them there bags o’ flour and nails?” and you’d haul out this big deer skin from your back pack (or whatever they’d call it back then). And the store guy would probably say yes cause that sounded like a good deal to him. (And it would be too.) So now we still say bucks instead of money.

But what I also found out is you can still make real bucks, that is, buckskins. You know there are always like a million pages listed under every subject at Google so I checked out this site called TwoWolves.org and they have a course that’ll teach you how to make buckskins. They’re in New Jersey, for gosh sakes! And it looks like I’d qualify to take the course. Here’s the requirements:

Simply, there are no minimum requirements or skill-levels. Whether you have never even touched a raw skin before, or have a few hides under your belt, you will benefit from a deeper exploration of this art, and taking your skills to the next level. All you need is a willingness to learn and work hard.

Well, that fits me to a C. This looked kind of interesting. So here’s more of what they said.

Each apprenticeship program is in essence a “one-on-one” course. (Wow, individual tutoring. It doesn’t get better than that!)
Course meetings will convene at our home facility in New Jersey. Meetings at the student’s residence will require compensation of travel expenses. (Uh-oh! Well, maybe my mom would agree to the extra expense. I mean, to be able to make real buckskins? Even she’d have to admit that was pretty cool.)
During the duration of the program, students will be free to use all our tanning related gear (excluding chemicals, brains, and hides), to work on their projects. (Huh? Whose brains can’t I use? Theirs or mine? Without brains, this could be harder to figure out. Well, let’s go a little further.)
All materials are included in the tuition cost, which is $1450. (Wha-a-a-a?)

Well, there goes that idea. But then I saw the picture of one of the guys at that place in his buckskin outfit.Here’s someone who made some REAL bucks!

Whew! I know we’re into Freaky Dudes here at FDB, but we might have to make an exception for this boy. But hey, you gotta give him props for his self-esteem.

So it looks like the old Crankoid won’t be making real bucks after all. But he did learn something in the meantime and he may even have taught you something. Hey, that head injury I suffered might have changed me after all. I actually did something nice for somebody.

Man, I gotta think about this. Maybe I’m one of those split-personality types. Oh, no! That locker may have literally split my personality in two.

Sorry, gotta go.

From Dr. C

CRACK THE CODE #1 – December 11, 2011


The above number-word diagram is actually a secret code with a secret message in it. It’s not that hard to figure out, but very few people get it.

Okay, we’ll make it even easier. The answer actually tells you why so few people get it.

So what does this “secret code” say?

Okay, Mr. or Ms. CSI, you ready with your solution? if so, click here to see whether you cracked the code.

School lockers are dangerous, especially if you have a head

Humor Post #21 from Middle School’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

I was ready today to turn over a new page. “I’m going to be positive for once,” I said to myself. (Note: Yes, I talk to myself. But don’t you go there! I don’t do it out loud, for gosh sake.) So I was thinking real hard about what I could write today. Maybe something about liking school. N-A-A-H-H! No way! Or how about how scrumptious the school food is. Well, the fact that I chipped a tooth on one of their hot dogs kind of eliminated that one for a post. But I was going to come up with something. I knew I could.

Then I went to my locker and all my good intentions got beaten and bloodied, all because of my locker, that big bum! (In case you didn’t notice, check out those bandages on my head. Hey, it looked way worse before the nurse cleaned me up.) Here’s a picture of the type of lockers we have in our school. (I took this shot last summer when we had an orientation session for all the new sixth graders. Good thing, too, cause they look pretty nice, not all crunked up like they are now.)Now this isn’t my locker exactly but you get the picture. I have one of the lower ones. Big enough to cram in about half of what I need to. Low enough to get kneed and kicked by anyone nearby who is clumsy enough (or mean enough) to run into me. But that isn’t what happened either.

I think you can get a big clue from that open locker door in the photo. See that lower right corner of the door sticking out? The sharp metal corner? The corner that tried to enter my brain when I stood up the wrong way? The corner that didn’t try to help at all while I was staggering around holding my head while some people tried to help me and others laughed?

So much for positive thinking!

I guess I’ll live. I mean I haven’t noticed any post traumatic stress or anything from the accident yet (except the stress that typing this has caused, since this post doesn’t exactly paint me as Mr. Coordination, does it?) But the school is lucky. I could have maybe stood up so fast that the locker door could have gone clear through my head down to my neck and then I would have been standing there with the two sides of my head hanging down. Now THAT would have been painful! Nobody would have been laughing then. Yeah, I think me and my mom could have collected a bunch in court after that.

Hey, I do have something positive to say. I’m positive my school (and any others with the same lockers) should have lockers that don’t open halfway down to the ground. That way you’ll have a lot fewer accidents and students won’t be threatening their looks just to get a few books.

See, once again Dr. Crankenfuss, the coolest middle school blogger out there, has come up with a plan to help students everywhere. No thanks is necessary. (But money would be nice.)

from Dr. Crankenfuss, brightening up your life with humor and awesomeness

This chick done laid a brick

Humor Post #20 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

Freaky Dudes come in all sizes, shapes, and colors. They’re individuals and don’t like to be told what to do. Now of course you all know that I’m an awesome freaky dude and okay, I’ll give him his props: Daniel (the guy who runs this site) is sort of a freaky dude too (in his sad, old guy kind of way). But take a good look at this guy about to enter your consciousness.

Bo Muller Moore from Vermont (photo from The New York Times)

Now that, dear reader, is a true honest-to-goodness FREAKY DUDE! I mean how ’bout those green shades? I wouldn’t want to be in front of him when he was driving. Or next to him either, for that matter. But I have to admit the guy is way cool. And look what he’s been through lately.

How could this innocent vegetable feel threatening to anyone?

All he wants to do is make t-shirts that say, “Eat More Kale.” Like that one he’s wearing.

How could this sweet vegetable threaten anyone?

“So what’s the matter with that?” you may ask. And I may answer, “Nothing, that’s what. If he wants to make t-shirts, be my guest.” Kale doesn’t seem to be hurting anybody. (You can see at the right that it doesn’t look too dangerous.)

Ah, but that isn’t what Chick-fil-A thinks. You know, that big chicken restaurant that makes those (rather delicious, I must admit) chicken sandwiches? (Hey, their waffle fries ain’t bad either.) They’re like “Ooooooh, we’re really frightened of that guy Bob way up in Vermont. He might ruin our business.” They say that Freaky Dude Bob’s t-shirts sound too much like “Eat Mor Chikin,” the slogan they use in all their ads. They say people will get the Bob’s Kale t-shirt mixed up with Chick-fil-A stuff and that would be a dagger in the old heart for them.

Say what?? Is Chick-fil-A like on drugs or something? Here’s an article from The New York Times that talks about the whole thing. (That’s also where we got the photo above.)

And if you don’t believe the NYT, here’s another article by a “stay-at-home mom” who’s blogging about the same thing.

Now let me get this straight. If I’m sitting at the dinner table and I’ve only eaten a spoonful of my spinach and my mom gets all huffy and orders, “Hey Doofledork, eat more spinach,” does that mean I might think she’s ordering me to eat more chicken? (BTW, she doesn’t really call me Doofledork. I kind of exaggerate sometimes.) Will Chick-fil-A send the cops to our house and try to arrest her for trademark infringement?

This is very serious stuff, people, if it weren’t so laughable. So read those articles and learn something. (Hey, I learned that pro bono means for free. I always thought it meant you like U2.) Then go to those Facebook pages and exercise your constitutional right to free speech to let Freaky Dude Bob know that you support him even if you don’t want to eat any kale. And then tell Chick-fil-A to leave that Vermont guy alone.

As my title says, “This chick done laid a brick.”

And always know you can mozy on down to the ol’ Crankster’s blog any time you want to know what’s really going on in the world.

From your cranky correspondent (but defender of Freaky Dudes from the mean old establishment),

Dr. Crankenfuss

Sore Back Rap

Post #19 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

I’m sore. In two ways. My back is sore so I’m sore at the people who made my back sore. And that would be: our wonderful school system. Yep, the school system that makes kids stumble around school with a load on our backs heavy enough to slow down an 18-wheeler.

So instead of just lying around feeling sorry for myself, I’ve decided to do something about this. Let’s start with a rap song, okay?

by Dr. Crankenfuss

Yo, can’t get around
This freakin’ bleepin’ school
When Ima loaded down
Like an ol’ pack mule

Dey gimme 5 circles
To make my next class
Needa trade my old Armours
For a new body cast

They puttin’ my po’ parts
Thru a trash compactor
Me now need some face time
With the chiropractor

Maybe he know how
Make this pain a stop
So Ima got a ronday with
Dr. Crack and Pop

I got the answer fo this mess
This ain’t a case o My Bad
Throw those books in the trash
Replace ‘em with an IPad

Yes, that’s right. Dr. Crankenfuss has a solution to this national disgrace. Right now, every textbook we lug around weighs two to five pounds and costs like $30 or more. And within a couple years the books look like crap, all beat up and worn out. Couldn’t all that stuff be downloaded onto a Kindle or an IPad or a Nook? Couldn’t every teacher have a set of e-readers to hand out when we came in the room and we could just use those instead of killing ourselves dragging books around? Couldn’t the government buy e-readers for all students to take home? “But that would cost a lot of money,” I can practically hear some of you saying, especially any tax-paying adults out there. But lissen up, dudes. The readers would cost a lot less than all those books. One reader could hold hundreds of books. They could hold the whole school library, the encyclopedia, everything. Wouldn’t Apple and Amazon and Barnes and Noble fight each other like crazy to get the government to buy their machines? We’re talking zillion dollar contracts here. Well, to win those government deals, they’d have knock down their prices on those e-readers, wouldn’t they? It’d be an all-out price war. Kids win, yes!!!

Take it from the Crank. He’s telling you the truth once again. This may be my best idea ever and that’s saying a whole, whole lot. Yo peeps, we should make this a cause, a movement, a revolution! We could call ourselves the Crankenfuss Crew or something like that. (I admit, I haven’t given the name a whole lot of thought.) But anyway, think about it cause it really should happen. We could have signs that said, “We’re going insane/Give us freedom from our pain.” Or, “We got no flippin’ futures/Cause of all these stitches and sutures.”) And we’d get the smallest, cutest kids out front and show everyone how they’re getting crushed by their backpacks. Oh, TV people love that kind of stuff. Nobody wants to see kids hurt.

This is getting most cool. I need to think this out. Changing history could be very much fun!

All this (and a most awesome grill too) from your favorite middle school and YA blogger,
Dr. Crankenfuss

P.S. That picture of the little dude up there came from an article that says just what I’m saying about heavy school books. You can read it by clicking here.

At Dollar Tree, “Everything’s $1.00″ Hey, I should be RICH!

Post #18 from Kidlit’s Crankiest Curmudgeon’s Blog (and probably the awesomest YA blog too) –

So I’m at the Food Lion with my mom. Dull enough. So I ask her if I can go to the dollar store next door. She says fine and then she says, “Oh, and just to show you what a great mother I am, you can buy the most expensive item in the store. It’s on me.” Then she starts laughing really loud. Oh, she was so pleased with herself.

What a thrill it is to have a mother who thinks she’s a professional comedian!

So anyway I go and I get a great idea when I see their sign.
I go inside and get in the check-out line. When it’s my turn I say, “I’d like to buy everything in this store.”

The lady looked at me with this Yeah, right! look on her face so I said the same thing again. “And here’s my dollar,” I said and I showed her a dollar bill.

She still was looking at me funny so I had to explain. “See, your sign says, ‘Everything’s $1.00,’ right?”

She said, “So?”

And I’m like, “Well, if everything’s $1.00, I want everything in here for a dollar. You can just start putting all of it in some of those bags you have there and I’ll come back later with a bunch of trucks and get the rest.”

It was at this point that she went and got the manager.

I stood my ground. The manager was not happy. “Young man, I don’t know what side of the bed you got up on today, but you’re making no sense. That sign means that every item in this store is $1.00.”

“Exactly,” I said. “And that’s exactly what I’m asking for. Everything in the store for a dollar.”

Ooh, he was getting hot. “Are you dumb or something?” His voice was getting louder. “Anyone can tell that means each thing in the store is a dollar. That means a dollar each.”

“Then the sign should say, ‘Each thing is $1.00,’” I said. I had him and he knew it. By now a couple other people were crowded around and at least one of them was smiling. But it didn’t do me any good.

“Kid,” he said. “You need a life.” And he walked away. I tried to follow him but he went in the back of the store and didn’t come out.

I was stuck. I knew my mom would probably walk in soon and I wasn’t sure she’d be real happy with my genius move. So I left. I didn’t bother to tell my mom about it.

But I was right. I know I was. If there are any lawyers out there who want to help me sue the store for false advertising, you can reach me through Freaky Dude Books. Hey, you might get some national publicity out of it. Think of it — a big store treating a poor, innocent kid like that. I could be your ticket to stardom. I could get on tv and cry about how I’d been cheated and mistreated.

I’ll be waiting.

From your Ranter of Record and Your Teller of Truth,
Dr. Crankenfuss

Easiest Brain Teaser Yet – December 1, 2011

This Brain Teaser (aka “IQ Question”) could easily fit on one of those Stupid Tests you sometimes see on the web. In fact it’s so easy, we’re giving you a time limit for solving it. Why? Because if you really study this bad boy, there is no way in the world you could miss it.

So what’s the time limit? Let’s say 20 seconds if you’re 12 or younger and 15 seconds if you’re 13 or older. If you take longer than that, give yourself a big ol’ F.

Okay, so here it is. You have 20 seconds (or 15).

Ready…… Set…… Stop!

Ha, ha, got you.
(Yeah, we know that was an unbelievably bad joke.)

“C’mon,” you saying, “let’s get this party started.”
Okay, we hear you.
This time it’s for real.

Ready…… Set…… Stop!
Ha, ha. We lied.
Ow-w-w-w-w!! We can hear you moaning from here.


Joe’s mother has three children. The oldest is named April. The middle child is named May. What is the name of the youngest child?

You ready with your answer? Click here to see how you did.