Deal With It

Music and Vid by me
With brohams and my dog.
tilt your head back and accept it.\

1.4 Kurt and The Velociraptor

Kurt awoke an hour later on the bench weary and hungover to find a Velociraptor peering down at him.
"What is you doin in my house yo?" She said with a heavy Bronx accent.
Kurt looked down at the Ty-dye bench perplexed and replied, "I didn't know this was any one's house... it's a bench isn't it? Not a house..."
The lady raptor snorted in annoyance and bent over to fish several personal belongings from underneath the bench.
"Dis where I keep my Tic Tac's an Laser Gun, whatchu thinkin stoopid?"
Kurt, realizing he'd offended the mighty beast quickly jumped to his feet and licked her snout, a sign of apology amongst Velociraptors. She accepted his apology by reciting a line from Three's Company.
"I'm still mad at u n shit tho" She said.
"Well how about this then," Kurt said, "I go on a lot of adventures and i think it would be just swell if you joined me."
"But i hate you." The raptor replied.
"Hmm... Well, If you go on adventures with me I'll buy you Cherry flavored Tic Tac's" Kurt ventured, hoping she would bite.
She did.
Literally.
And Kurt, though bleeding profusely from his dinosaur wound was very relieved for amongst the noble Velociraptor a bite to the prostate was a way of saying, "Sure! I'd love to go on adventures with you, let me put away my Tic Tac's and Laser Gun and we can be on our way. Also, my name is Madison."
Kurt jumped atop Madison's scaly back and the two rode off together, he wondered what sort of erotic adventures he would embark upon with his new lady friend.

Great video, great song, bitchin movie

Love the movie (Suicide Club) and the sequel (Noriko's Dinner Table) and the song.
Whadya think?

Moar Franklin Evans

the more i see of this guys work

the more i like it

Franklin Evans

The Dead Milkmen

A really great band from the 80's, recently got back together, i think everyone should hear at least once.

1.3 Kurt and the hangover

Kurt, being a man of the future gets drunk and sobers up at a rate most would find amazing by today's standards. After his narrow victory against Xartor the Hell Shrub Kurt stepped into a whiskey booth, got hammered and slept for the following hour. He awoke with on a park bench completely hungover, and as a result didn't put as much effort into his blog as he normally did, he's sorry though.
Here's some music again.

Off topic. More of Kurts Favs

1.2 And then some other stuff happened PT.2 Kurt V. Shrub

     Kurt stood boldly holding his ground before the thrashing Hell Shrub. Xartor approached slashing forth with it's thorny branches. Kurt felt the skin of his left cheek rip open, sending blood onto the front window of a nearby bakery. Several customers, casually dining on various pastries looked up briefly and realizing nothing more than a boring Hell Shrub battle returned their attention back to their foodstuffs.
    "God. Every day with those Hell Shrubs, so last year." A brunette said apathetically in between bites of her raspberry ham roll.
    "I battled Hell Shrubs all the time before everyone else started doing it." Her androgynous friend quipped.
      Outside, Kurt threw himself deftly to the ground and rolled quickly to the left. Xartor, as all Hell Shrubs, had horrendous ocular capacity and momentarily lost sight of it's prey. Kurt, using his momentary visibility drew forth his shotgun and fired off a blast, aiming at Xartor's midsection. The blast was thunderous and a passing police officer looked sternly at the noisy Kurt. Xartor was knocked back by the impact but it recovered quickly and charged Kurt once more. Kurt's second shot chipped Xartor's shoulder bark on it's left arm branch. Xartor charged on, unphased.
    Things were not going well, feeling dispirited Kurt ducked into a narrow alley. Vines and branches followed, ripping and snagging his clothes. As luck would have it the alleyway continued far back enough for Kurt to successfully out of reach of the Hell Shrubs fury. He leaned against the back wall of the alley and shot several times at the oaken tentacles, breaking several, but not enough. Kurt knew he had not nearly enough bullets to continue on this way much longer.
    His disenchantment grew, morale was low. He needed a boost, and as he grabbed for his bannanazest power bar his fingers brushed across the tip of his mini record player, the mp3 of the future. He pulled it forth, forgetting the bananazest bar, and used the power of music to assist in his battle. The beat which was far too dopephresh and the rhymes utterly overwhelming in their mad stupid flow left Xartor dumbfounded, his thrashing vines and branches fell to the ground of the alley and Kurt rushed forth.
    As Kurt sprinted toward his foe he marvelled at how his impeccable music taste had rendered Xartor completely harmless. He jumped onto an empty bench and raised his weapon, which he'd begun to think of as being a Lucy, possibly Shelbert. With one well placed shot to the Hell Shrubs brain crystal, located atop the beasts head, Kurt slew his foe. Xartor fell dead before his feet.



Kurt's song >

1.2 And then some other stuff happened. PT.1

Kurt hurried from the bus stop, the gypsy womans shotgun bundled snuggly in his arms. Little did he know of the gyspsy woman's curse and thus was exceedingly surprised when a ravenous shrub jumped out at him from the sewer. It's spindly roots were blood soaked from it's previous victims. Xartor the shrub was truelly a mighty adversary and many had fallen before his terrible wrath.
Kurt trembled in fear as many had done before him, all those who crossed paths with Xartor the Shrub of Despair fell before his mighty roots.
What, he wondered, would he do next?

1.1 Schedules

     Kurt stepped briskly onto the sidewalk, he paused, pretending to check his pockets for daily necessities while he swiftly and subtly kicked the mouse carcass sending it successfully away from his front door. He'd misjudged his apparently vast mouse kicking abilities and it ended up flying across the street landing propped up in a gutter, where it sat, it's beady eyes seeming to glare at him accusingly. He chuckled and hurried off to the station hoping he actually did have everything he needed.
     Once at the bus stop he checked his pockets, starting with the front vest and he found within a bannasteak Zest bar, for midday power snacking, his cruise ticket and his eWallet, which accessed hammer space to store his drivers license, bank card, and the photos of the smiling robot family which had come with it. In the pockets of his red and yellow striped Lycra comfort pants he found nothing, for the glorious material was far to tight and unyielding to fit anything inside the small, awkwardly placed pockets.
The 6666969 bus pulled into the stop and Kurt entered, sitting across from an elderly gypsy woman cradling a shotgun. Kurt slapped his forehead, exasperated with his forgetfulness.
      He'd forgotten toady's scheduled riots, sheepishly he looked around the bus to see if any weaklings were packing heat he could steal. He decided the gypsy woman had lived a long and exciting life and would fall first in battle anyway, so he deftly sprung from his seat and grasped her head in his large hands. He slammed her face first into the safety railing, her stringy white hair flew in all directions, blood eventually matted the majority of it to her forehead. The bus driver blew his whistle and pointed to the 'NO UNSCHEDULED RIOTING ON BUS' and pointed to the clock. 'Riot don't start till 3pm bub' the driver yelled back to Kurt who stood embarrassed at his social faux pas.
    He returned to his seat, blushing and placing the shotgun back on the old woman's now rigid blood covered corpse. It tumbled off her side when the bus reached Kurt's stop and the woman followed suit. The gun slid towards the exit door and, shrugging, Kurt picked it up, just in case.

1.0 Of Mice And Box Fans

     Kurt awoke around Noon, greeted as usual by the foul stench of his sparse one bedroom apartment. The smell, which he had assumed was inherent in the room itself, for he hadn't lived there long, had an earthy base with a hint of sour milk and rotten fruit. He fixed his daily breakfast of Ultra Ramen in his UtiliWaveOven and to occupy the 12.3 seconds it would take to finish he busied himself admiring his antique boxfan. He had purchased it a few days prior to moving to Wankstachion, formerly Philadelphia, at an old pawn shop just outside his hometown. The novelty of the device, it's bulky shape, the silly blades apparantly meant to cut the air into smaller, cooler pieces, the absurd white and gray coloring had piqued his normally absent interest. It was a truelly unique device, he had laughed aloud when he saw the cord protruding from the back where the semen receptor should have been. It ran on 'electricity' an entirely outdated energy source.
 'ULTRA RAMEN COMPLETE' his UtiliWaveOven yelled at him, breaking him from his reverie.
     Kurt stood, stretched, and plodded over to retrieve his meal, the stench followed, as if carried on the currents of the fan. He ripped open a packet of Goat and Cool Ranch flavoring and added it to the soup. Delicious. Ever since the Chicken shortage of 2841 Goat had become America's new favorite Ramen seasoning. Poor Kurt could hardly remmember what Chicken Ramen tasted like, the last time he'd had it was when he'd crashed a rich wedding 4 years ago.
     As he ate he absent mindedly folded, unfolded and refolded a small paper ticket. Being a fan of vintage materials he'd specially requested his Cruise ticket to be printed on paper, it was worth the extra 47,000 dollars, one less packet of disposable coat hangers per week was a small price to pay for such a fun slip of paper. His departure was in one hour, he became erect with excitement and relieved himself in his clock radio, ensuring continued non electrical power for the next two days, and resumed eating. Readjusting his belt he caught sight of a mysterious lump inside his boxfan. Taking another spoonfull of UltraRamen into his mouth for the trip across his room he zeroed in on the brownish gray shape.
   Kurt knelt before the fan and gasped, causing several hot pink noodles to plummit from his mouth onto his neon green PlastiWood floor. In the far back corner of the fan lay a dead mouse, it's spine apparantly rended in twain by the powerfull blades. Disgust evolved into Revulsion which morphed into a small Chuckle, out of self defense, and eventually found it's final form in Relief. The enigmatic source of the stench had been located. Each time he had turned his fan on to air out the room he'd made it worse, blowing and spreading the dead mouse aroma. He plucked it by it's tail and flung it out of his window, instead of a small thud he heard a shriek and the sound of high heels clicking swiftly away from his apartment. He sighed disapointed, he never made a good impression on the neighbours.
     Before leaving to catch his cruise to Titan, Satruns largets moon and largest singles retreat, Kurt flung all his clothes into his sperm powered washer dryer. Attempting to pick up a mate while smelling like dead mouse would be one folly he would never engage in again. This he vowed to himself.