Sunday, January 27

Today's Amazing Most Wonderful Thing: Kurt Braunohler's Cloud Project



If you haven't had the pleasure of seeing him live, on television or at a record-playing party you were randomly invited to that was so far away in Brooklyn the cab driver got out-of-his-mind lost, Kurt Braunohler is one of the funniest, weirdest, funniest (but still weirdest) comedians out there. He destroys greeting cards with sad notations, everything that comes out of his mouth (well, besides like, spit i guess) is insanely funny, and he once even made a show for with his writing partner, Kristen Schaal (oh yes), about a gal named Penelope who can talk to animals and save the world by way of orphan and bird advice.

Clearly — clearly — he is not a normal, which is exactly why he is such a wonderful human specimen. And, continuing in his pattern of creating plops of sheer genius from paper to person form, Kurt has embarked on a new Kickstarter project that's raising $4000 so he can "hire a man in a plane to write stupid things with clouds in the sky." Seriously.

Considering I've thrown my money away for horrific Urban Outfitters sale rack dresses and foamless cappuccinos (note to the Times Square visiting wise: never get coffee in MTV's lobby cafe), this investment is completely worth it*. Think about it — if you've tossed money in a pile for a crap band to record an album in someone's basement or even given those godforsaken acrobatic groups that flip through subway cars nearly kicking innocent bystanders in the face and don't contribute your hard earnings to this skywriting cause, ask yourself: what is life worth living for? Why does that sentence make no sense? Why am I so tired that my brain can't comprehend the words that are being typed through my fingers? Oh, sorry, don't ask yourself those last few, those were just for me and mine and the fact that I'm so worn down and hopped up on caffeine that my heart feels like someone's melting down metal inside of it to recast into tiny Abraham Lincoln heads, similar to those wax machines at science museums.

As for what he'll be writing above Los Angeles? I wouldn't dare ruin that insane surprise for you. I'll let him tell it himself:


Give him all of your money — ALL OF IT! — right oooover here.



*To the accountant who I'll have to beg to assess my tax finances and/or any adult relative who sends me holiday checks that pretty much sustain my existence: please disregard that previous sentence.

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