Sunday, December 14, 2008

Hanging with Flat Eric

So, I have been hanging with my bud Flat Eric lately. Man, I thought I could drink, jesus wept! Flat Eric must have a liver of fucking stone! This homey can pound down the brew, boy. The other day we were doing the 136 shuffle and I swear he must have drunk like 25 cans of Anchor. Then he proceeded to dance with the chicks at Night Owl with his fuzzy face buried in LeeLee's huge knockers. He disappeared with her and a few other chicks he barfined...what a freaking nutter. He was out the next night all over again...I was still hung over as hell. He called me a pussy for not keeping up with his fuzzy yellow ass.


All Hail Felgerkarb the Magnificent!!!

Friday, December 12, 2008

Bettie Page

Just saw the news that Bettie passed away today in L.A.
I love '50s pinup girls.
Bettie will always be the Queen.

Monday, December 8, 2008

Very Interesting...

Wid sie neu helmut law coming in geforcen zoon, wie zhuld alle putzen sie Stahlhelm opft ouren kopf.

Just to fuck with the police.

Sunday, December 7, 2008

My Testament to Ros Sereysothea

I simply love Ros Sereysothea. I love her voice. I love her face. Somewhere out in the heavens, she still sings to all of us, her crystal voice a perfect accompaniment for the wonders of the universe. Whenever I think of my beloved adopted country, or stroll around the Penh in the early morning, I can hear her song in the movement of people and things in the streets. The sound of her music brings the smells of fresh food cooking, cool breezes across the Mekong, the early sun on my face, and the pleasant faces of the young girls walking along that smile at me. All these images and exeriences I feel are gifts directly from her to me every time I hear her song, her perfect, sweet voice.

She died at the hands of the brutal Khmer Rouge, but they could not kill her gift to me. Although they buried her in some unmarked hole as an enemy of Angka, her music in now the mightiest of epitaphs. It is a friend to all, her voice liquid honey to be gulped down as an elixir for the soul. This is her monument to the universe that those bastards could not tear down. I hope they all burn in hell for what they did to her, and to all her people who enjoyed the magic she brought to their lives.

Thank you my sweet angel, oun aeng.

Thursday, November 20, 2008

I Am Jack's Sense Of Humiliation

DJ Ano appeared on TV last night unhurt, contrary to witness reports and a local film clip circulating around town of a woman being pulled into a car and brutalized.

Something very strange is going on here, or, simply, I fell victim to the usual Penh rumor mill.

I am Jack's sense of humiliation...

Better I stick to what I can confirm personally: harlots, catamites, and popular culture.

Davros Still Hiding Out In Skarro...errr...Cambodia

"Yes. Yes. To hold in my hand, a manifesto that contained such power. To know that life and death on such a scale was my choice. To know that the tiny pressure on my comrades, enough to break their will, would end everything. Yes! I would do it! That power would set me up above the gods! AND THROUGH THE KHMER ROUGE I SHALL HAVE THAT POWER!"


New Gatekeeper at Felgerkarb Castle

With all the trouble that has been going on around town lately, I began thinking of the security situation around Felgerkarb Castle. So I picked up the phone and gave a call to the Demon Prince himself asking him if I could borrow Cerberus for a while. He told me no problem, as he owes me a few favors anyway for all the great things I have been doing around town, and especially for keeping an eye on one of his minions, Squeaky. Anyway, from now on, you have to get past this motherfucker to enter the Castle grounds, so it would be best if you gave us a ring before you came over. Wouldn't want your immortal soul torn out of your body and carried off to hell and all that....very inconvenient for all involved.

Monday, November 17, 2008


Cute Asian girls really know how to take a donut, eh?
Chew, baby, chew!

A Heart, Not So Dark...

"I watched a snail crawl along the edge of a straight razor. That's my dream. That's my nightmare. Crawling, slithering, along the edge of a straight... razor... and surviving."

Sunday, November 16, 2008

Attack of the Catamites!

The newest sensation to hit Street 136!
This doe eyed mistress of hellfire can be yours for only the cost of a few lady drinks...
...and your reputation.
So if you're a god-cursed sodomite,
Come down for your very own catamite!

(brought to you buy the letter X and your local Publican Club, 501)

Monday, November 10, 2008

Jabba the Hutt is Dead

It would seem not one hour before my posting about DJ Ano, one of the larger of the NKR crime lords was struck down by the hand of the gods in our beautiful land. While I would never rejoice at the death of another, I must say this was a long time in coming. I find it even poetic that Karma finally caught up with him. Princess Leia could not choke the life outta this Jabba the Hutt, it had to be like this. My faith that some sort of Justice exists in the Universe has been restored.

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Another Casualty of the NKR

Missy's friend from her TV days, DJ Ano, was recently brutalized. It is all over Khmer news sites and papers, another story to be looked at with shock and horror, then quickly forgotten.

DJ Ano is yet another example of the further atrocities that continue to be meted out upon the Khmer people by the Neo Khmer Rouge (NKR).

Her only real crime was being pretty and on TV. She was spotted by multiple NKRs who decided she would make a fine addition to their collection of chew toys. She was forced to make a decision, go with them into their underworld of Johnny Walker Blue, cheap sex and cigarettes and thus keep her career, or refuse their advances and be pushed down into the gutter with the rest of the trash. She of course knew she was doomed, but thinking of her family and position, she went along with the fat slob NKRs, and thus was damned.

One night she was abducted by thugs belonging to some frustrated NKR battle axe of a wife. Her head was shaved. Her face, breasts, labia, and the rest of her body were slashed with a razor. These mongoloid stormtroopers also gleefully performed some sort of crude semi-circumcision on her clitoris, then dumped her bloody and broken body on the side of the road. I am not sure if they raped her, but I would be surprised if they did not. She is still alive in a hospital in Vietnam, but she will forever be crippled in body, mind, and soul.

There will be no investigation. There will be no witnesses. There will be no charges. There will be NO JUSTICE for DJ Ano or her family. The fat pig NKRs and their Quasimodo like wives will continue to act with impunity, raping and plundering Cambodia until there is nothing left but an empty husk.

She is but another on the long list of NKR victims that will go unavenged...but not unmourned.

May Lord Buddha bring you peace, DJ Ano, and may Karma have its way with those responsible for this heinous crime.

Saturday, November 8, 2008

Felgerkarb Castle

I am going to build this mighty edifice somewhere on the outskirts of the Penh. Perhaps on the ruins of Camko City, that piece of shit development where they don't pay their workers and destroy the environment as Ming and Oknha Klytus put up soulless, cookie cutter crap, all the while calling it progress. These swine are worse than the Khmer Rouge as they grab up all the land and slowly murder their own people like a twisted black earth mother. Well, once I am done building Felgerkarb Castle, I will loose my flying monkeys to take vengence in the name of the people.

cue evil laughter

Monday, October 27, 2008

Sugarless Nights

"And the Great Whore will suckle us until we are fat and happy and can suckle no more..."

R.I.P. Sugar Shack

Monday, October 20, 2008

Bar of Ghosts

Emile is my hero, the quintessential bar owner in Cambodia. He takes no crap from anyone, but dishes it out like a true champion of grungehole bardom. Any bar owner who smashes a guy in the head while holding a baby in one arm is a mighty warrior of the tap in my book. Hero, villian, sinner or saint, it matters not, for he is a barang bar owner in Cambodia. There is NOTHING more colorful than HE. Who would you rather have a chat with, Emile or some NGO fucktard "doing good for Cambodia" who will be gone when their CV-ticket is punched in the appropriate place? Emile will still be here long after they are back drinking their lattes and getting ooohs and ahhs from people as they entertain them with their tales of not bathing regularly.
Emile will be serving his brew, living his life with his Khmer family (and baby boxing partner), providing endless hours of entertainment, all for the price of one lousy Anchor. And why is this?
For he is NO LONGER BARANG, but Khmer in soul if not in skin...
...and he is my brother.

Thursday, September 11, 2008

They are coming for me at Felgerkarb Castle

They are coming for me, my evil experiments have been exposed! Better go hide in the nearest Karaoke Bar that smells of cat piss before the girls tear me to pieces!
They'll never take me alive!!!!

Sunday, August 10, 2008

Bridge of Death (Spean Moranak)

So I was crossing Chrouy Chungva bridge with the rest of the posse while on our quest for the Perfect Karaoke Girl (this was before accomplishing my quest by finding Missy, Queen of all that is good and pure in a Khmer singer) and we came across this freaky old expat in the middle of the bridge...

Freaky old Expat: Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.
Sir Libertine: Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper. I am not afraid.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your name?
Sir Libertine: My name is Sir Libertine of Phnom Penh.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your quest?
Sir Libertine: To seek the Perfect Karaoke Girl.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your favorite color?
Sir Libertine: Martini.
Freaky old Expat: Go on. Off you go.
Sir Libertine: Oh, thank you. Thank you very much.
Sir Choad: That's easy.
Freaky old Expat: Stop. Who would cross the Bridge of Death must answer me these questions three, ere the other side he see.
Sir Choad: Ask me the questions, bridgekeeper. I'm not afraid.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your name?
Sir Choad: Sir Choad of Pattaya.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your quest?
Sir Choad: To seek the Perfect Karaoke Girl.
Freaky old Expat: What... is the capital of Thailand?
Sir Choad: I don't know that.
[tumbles screaming over the side into the Tonle Sap]
Sir Choad: Arrrgggggggg!
Freaky old Expat: Stop. What... is your name?
Sir Dirty Sanchez: Sir Dirty Sanchez of Pattaya.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your quest?
Sir Dirty Sanchez: I seek the Perfect Karaoke Girl.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your favorite color?
Sir Dirty Sanchez:, snowbal...
[tumbles screaming over the side into the Tonle Sap]
Sir Dirty Sanchez: Yearhhggggggg!!!
Freaky old Expat: Hee hee heh. Stop. What... is your name?
King Felgerkarb: It is 'Felgerkarb', King of the Karaoke Parlor.
Freaky old Expat: What... is your quest?
King Felgerkarb: To seek the Perfect Karaoke Girl.
Freaky old Expat: What... is the ground-speed velocity of a karaoke girl on an Airblade?
King Felgerkarb: What do you mean? A Vietnamese or Khmer karaoke girl?
Freaky old Expat: Huh? I... I don't know that.
[tumbles over the side into the Tonle Sap]
Freaky old Expat: Aahhhhhhhh!
Sir Phnom Pen: How do know so much about karaoke girls?
King Felgerkarb: Well, you have to know these things when you're a king, you know.

It's good to be the King!

(With credits to Monty Python for making life that much better.)

Bitch Slap!

Don't worry, my loyal readers, I am NOT going soft on Baphometa. My last post below was my online catharsis and electronic farewell to Squeaky.

And thus, this BITCH SLAP is for you, baby!

Now, on to bigger and better things....

Saturday, August 2, 2008

Ode To The Spawn of Baphomet

It has been a few months, but those that know me personally know the deal (and thus some of the reason for my lack of updates). Squeaky and I broke up a while was a long, drawn out process. I was with the most hot girl I could ever dream for...for over a year. She was everything I ever wanted in a partner -- only she just could not stop doing psycho CRAP that drove me fucking INSANE (not they typical inane chick prattles, but some serious shit).
I am dating somebody else now (a simply amazing, loyal, smoking hot singer), but I cannot get Squeaky out of my mind, out of my soul. Her crude, rough humor...her smile, her loud mouthed inappropriate bullshit that would drive me up the wall. Wtf is the matter with me? I want her back, but I cannot take her back. Who in his right mind take a wild, knife wielding, hockey mask wearing maniac back?

Friday, May 23, 2008

Breath Like An Open Grave...

So I walk into a new hostess bar and sit down. I see the most amazing creature I have ever seen making eyes at me (yes, I know it is her JOB, but allow me to get on with my story, you fuck). She is really the most lovely creature I have yet to see here in the Penh, so I make sure I lay it on thick with my looks (STFU, allow me some dignity here!). She comes over and sits down. Sweet mother of GOD! The curve of her hips, the smooth, sleek thighs, the full, upthrusting breasts ripe like melons. I thought for sure I had finally met the holy grail of bar girls...until she spoke. (All italics are inner voice, courtesy of one of the greatest SciFi writers of all time, Frank Herbert).

Hello, what your name?


You a very handsome man.

What is the origin of the atomic fire emanating from your screeching maw??!! God in HEAVEN, my face is on FIRE!!!

What is matter, bros saát?

You mean besides the fact that the GATES OF HELL have opened and the brimstone has singed the eyebrows off my face???!!!

You like me, bros Saát? Me go wit you...

I would rather throw myself into a active volcano, Harlot from HELL!!! Christ, I think my shirt is smoldering, the paint is bubbling behind me, and that bacon smell is the skin on my face starting to crisp like pork rinds prepared by Hannibal Lecter...

Buy me lady drink?

Only if it some new fucking super secret formula Scope that will kill the pyroclastic blast emanating from that Vesuvian petri dish, Mad Max - Gamma World, radioactive wasteland of a mouth you got there honey...

Why you go so soon?

Because if I don't, I better buy a fucking IRON LUNG!!! What the hell can that be? Prohok never smelled like that super trifecta of a George Romero movie, 9th level of the Abyss, gate to Chaos, projectile vomiting Linda Blair demon killing MOUTH of yours does...

See you tomorrow, bros saát?

The sad thing is, you probably will, honey...

Sunday, May 18, 2008

Attack of the 50' Bar Girl!!!!

The Latest Terror to Hit Asia!

Oh No, Tsunamis were not enough!

Cyclones? Pffft!!

Earthquakes?!! Ahahahahah!!!

No, nature had to unleash this HARLOT FROM HELL upon us all!!!!

She was last seen stomping down St. 136 and biting the heads off Pattaya trash roaring:


(Photo courtesy of

Saturday, May 17, 2008

"Klytus, I'm bored..."

"...what plaything do you have to offer me today?"

"An obscure country in SE Asia, your majesty...the inhabitants refer to it as Cambodia."

"How peaceful it looks..."

*sounds of rapid over development and garish building*

"Mwhahaha, most effective, your majesty. Will you destroy this...Cambodia?"

"Later, I like to play with things awhile, before annihilation!"

-- Statements attributed to the evil developer Ming the Merciless and his sidekick, Oknha Klytus

Sunday, March 9, 2008

Traffic in the Penh...Going Bananas!!!

Every time you start getting pissed about the traffic in the Penh, just cover your ears and imagine this as the soundtrack...keep watching and see what happens!!! Damn, ain't it hilarious!!??

Sunday, February 24, 2008

Here's Uncle Joe...

...and he's movin' kinda slow at the Junction....

Lovely internet here in the Penh is keeping me away from my most important duties here at the World According to Felgerkarb. Once I get a more reliable internet connection, expect the fun to never end at the Junction...Petticoat Junction!

Sunday, February 10, 2008

The Magic Flute

No, I am not referring to Mozart; I ponder the magic flute, Freddie, from H.R. Pufnstuf as I listen to our own magic flute player along Sisowath Quay. I always hated Freddie and his piping little pipsqueak voice. As a child I always wished Jimmy had snapped that flute in half, or Witchiepoo got her green gnarled hands on that little piping prick. Talk about Freudian symbolism...
Come to think of it, I would have liked to kick Jimmy right in the crotch about five times in a row for his happy go lucky, smiling always happy crap.

Revelations, Cambodia 1975

Beware the beast Man, for he is the Devil's pawn. Alone among God's primates, he kills for sport or lust or greed. Yea, he will murder his brother to possess his brother's land. Let him not breed in great numbers, for he will make a desert of his home and yours. Shun him; drive him back into his jungle lair, for he is the harbinger of death.

Rip Taylor -- Personal Hero

People always have personal heroes, be it Gandhi, Jesus, Einstein, Billy Carter...My personal hero has always been Rip Taylor. Talk about the gift for gab with a slightly skewed spin on things. I think he would be perfect for Cambodia. I will be negotiating with his agent soon to come and do a few shows here in Cambodia; I have already emailed him directly -- he responds to all his emails, what a great guy, eh? I have several jiggly bargirls tearing up confetti for him as I type this.
Happy days are here again...

Death to Scrappy Doo!

Just in case there was any question, I really fucking hate Scrappy Doo. Totally ruined everything with his blasted PUPPY POWER battle cry. Little fucker. I hope he got euthanized. Bastard.

Stream of Unconsciousness

What better way to spend the day, thinking out loud, smoking the proud, opening the way to a better stay in the streets where the traffic booms and the clouds loom...

...where the noise blasts and the Khmer gasps provide the counterpoint to a life gone past...

...questions remain, but the day remains unexplained... I drink a beer and keep my thoughts clear as I move towards a destiny without fear... the door, cross the floor and join those who may know more...

...join them in the dance...what is life perchance? I know not more....

Saturday, February 9, 2008

Pope Palpatine

Not mine originally, but I noticed the same thing everyone else did at the time.

Noun Chea is Davros!

Coincidence, I think not...

I always thought Nuon Chea looked familiar!

And remember what Davros said:

"This is not the end..but only...THE BEGINNING!"