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The Queerest of the Queer publicity campaign was started when I, Kurt Brown, alias Saint Ram Bone, was attacked in February of 2001 after investigating a murder labeled suicide at my prior employer, the federal agency known as the FDIC (Federal Deposit Insurance Corporation) in San Francisco. I have since that time decided to tack on the "also known as" name for the painting as, "The most dieR house talisman dual painting". Or perhaps "Something Strange" can be the new name, more palatable to more conservative audiences, and with a French twist, pronounced Strange-ay".
October 11, 2015: Since I came back into memories of my half brother Kurt Cobain I have had deep regrets for not following fathers advice and joining him. I had the street savvy except for psych ops warfare. In 1987 when dad told me to join his other son Kurt who was on the radio in mobile in a recording from Seattle, I should have listened. I soon forgot all details on my brother. In 1994 I was jumped alongside my mother. I have lost my faith in capitalism due to the predator in man without higher guiding altruistic principles and leaders. Murder for hire is a sin you know. So as I ponder my brothers songs Polly is brought to me for a tune and with my own words and shift in melody. Polly is now known as Kurtzy in this revision of the Polly song
Kurtzy Wants A Whacker, He thinks he's got shift in grease, I think he wants laughter, so he brings in one loose Poarch crease
,Grits and beans, Handsome creed, let me sip, your Samson disease. The freak show hides, handsome elf, get some grease, get some meat between. Got some ghost, could be jew, might be you, for all we knew. The freak show hides, handsome elf, get some grease, get some meat between
Kurtzy wants a whacker, Maybe he would like to be kurtzy's fool, Spring is what he's after, With no summer and no autumn too
Grits and beans, Handsome creed, let me sip, your Samson disease. The freak show hides, handsome elf, get some grease, get some meat between. Got some ghost, could be jew, might be you, for all we knew. The freak show hides, handsome elf, get some grease, get some meat between
Kurtzy Said
Kurtzy said his nut squirts, says it squirts mean seeds, getting old whores pregnant, the scent of pigs feet.
Grits and beans, Handsome creed, let me sip, your Samson disease. The freak show hides, handsome elf, get some grease, get some meat between. Got some ghost, could be jew, might be you, for all we knew. The freak show hides, handsome elf, get some grease, get some meat between
October 10, 2015: The saddest part underneath my smile is I lost a brother Kurt Cobain of NirvanaI never met because I had forgotten details due to brain stroke while in the USN in 1983 and again after working at the FDIC and observing psych ops warfare there in California and likely intimidation in Hawaii while working as an FDIC bank examiner and later as a journalist who ran tests in 2004 and tried to recall the horrors of nuclear exposure which I had forgotten from 1983. I can not explain the sorrow of all the events and his death and more. There is no end to life in Hell. So I have written a rough draft of a song lyrics below and hope Kurt hears me singing from the Pits of the Two Kurts and Dead old Dead Dad, Dod da. It is as if Kurt's song about the parrot Polly was to myself. How strange. I C U Soon.
32 years in a coma and I see you standing there
45 years and I hear mom screaming there
Kurt look out boy your daddys a conning hare
Now I wonder where is my brother there
Put a needle in his vein, pull the trigger to feel no refrain
Put a stroke in my hare, telling me to beware of the roving insane
Sargeant marshmallow feeling no pain, psych ops needles on its way
Brother I hear the parakeet, the parakeet in the hole where parakeets can not escape.
Momma Mia Momma Mia why didn't you let me know
My brother was my mother was a queen a queen a queen in Nirvana Nirvana Nirvana, Sow Queer
Time is a magic marshmallow, in time I will dead reckon
Too obscene, down in the hole with the parakeet escaping scene,
Two Courts in Stereo Kurt
Two Cuts behind the wheels,
One Kurt in Stereo Court
Behind the wheel with two cuts
The wealth of Kurt was the wealth of the insane
You touch Kurt and makes him feel swill
For the love of pecker, the father stem a horse
Who Are You, Given a symphony of symbols
Why are you here
Why are you hare
Why does the world move silent
Why does the world move psych ops insane
Update September 16, 2015: I have offered to do a DNA compare with Kurt Cobain of Nirvana and have invited Chad Cobain to test if he is the step brother or blood brother to Kurt Cobain of Nirvana. I am going to write a song to my sole brother and edit it here so it is a rough till finished. Then I want it sang by myself and a dangling Chad, you choose which one.
Song lyrics to my brother, "Sole Brother Sole Brother Kurt Co-fang, getty up getty up, and bring back diddy diddy bang bang. At that point a more melodic guitar plunge. A skip and hop for the dier FAGS of the WW 03 in 1983. Match, point, click. 99.9 percent accuracy on common father test among brothers. OK, whose strange and whose queer in here? Note Kurt and Kurt Cobains bubble butt. I will put one up. I have a frontal at Saintrambone's Youtube Big Easy Bud Hole.
Update June 6, 2015: I see new images in the painting as my memory returns. The curly q design in the hair of the Dier FAG Dog, you will see twirls like Van Gogh's Starry Night, and is indicative of the time between Tsar Bomba and Castle Bravo Shot. I see this as the passage of time through space over many years due to the repeated sine wave in the spiral. 7.66 is the number and the Betz Equation A1/S as the maximum power allowed in a synchronous environment for maximum output in a new method of power. As a Joke, Swede Carol Peking Cairn is in the center of the top layer in the white section at the bottom and at the shore is yellow urine. She is in esterus and leaving a mark. Is that Petty Officer Colburn floating there at the shore? CPO Marske? And where is Balboa Street in view of the Fat Fag Lady? Colburn is looking at her on the other side of the Dier FAG Dog.
An update. In revelation. I have studied the paint into 2014. I have concluded my memory was knocked out on the Nuclear Blast viewable from Los Angeles in 1983. The blind dog of Los Angeles is on the top layer. The decapitated sailor is in the water war, the sun is the explosion, and the guy dumping feces on the shore or something else, a dog skid, a feral bitch, a Dier Fag WW 03 Post Op Transexual who resented being called a homo. Strike One. California Wolf?
No response was given by the FBI or Secret Service to my cries for help after the attempt on my life, but they hound me incessantly if I do journalistic work. All of my charges for doing the Queerest of the Queer investigation were nolle processed in 2004 . I could not sue for the brain damage and memory loss due to forced injections and medical torture because the statute of limitations had passed since the second set of injections and torture in 2004. .
The year I was doing the investigative journalistic work was in 2001 and I had been employed there at the FDIC San Francisco in 2000. Whacking the San Francisco F-DIC Head and calling it self mutilation is a bit sordid if you have a few pointed questions like a journalistic sort with an inside take on things. They whacked him around the time of the year of the butcher, the FDIC Act of 1991. Since that time I have uncovered medical crimes, money crimes, and they nearly killed me, maiming me and living me partially blind and with a stroke from injections and torture and medical procedures, leaving me unconscious at one point. My memory recently came back on many things. I was not in a stroke and coma type of condition when I painted the bottom surface of the painting in February of 2001. The layer underneath was before the stroke and injections and coma and memory loss in April of 2001 and the repeat injections in 2004 forced upon me and unconsciousness and forced medical procedures. It is the darkest part of the painting because I saw it coming. I do not remember the date of the top layer of the painting, but it had to have been after August 11, 2001, the time I was scheduled for release from torture and jail.
Also when I was in the USA Navy in the 1980's, our gunnery man on the USS Reid FFG-30 threw the guns and computers overboard when he found that he and others were on a list on the computers that called many of us "Queers". It was in 1983 or the first few months of 1984 that he threw the things overboard. I spoke with him before the military police hauled him off of the ship and he told me that I was on the list as well. That is what another man told me also, a Yeoman, who was on the list also. The Yeoman was in almost in tears and told me that he was on the list and they had labeled him queer and they were going to get rid of him, meaning to make him resign from the US Navy. What he did not know is that those of us listed as Queers on the list were not queers, but guinea pigs for some sort of experiment and to say they had to get rid of us by a certain date meant that the tests dates were slated and that we had to particapate. I talk about it on page Love Line 12 of this site, Mobile Audit Club. I was the Quartermaster who navigated the ship and assisted the Captain. This page evolves over time. I have navigated the ship in a space time dis-continuum and have driven up Sheriff Jack "Snatch The Fairy Possum" Tillman's backside in the painting. "Jack is in the crack, and your kids ain't coming back". I did not know what it meant except he was starving men in his jail, but it meant more, it was a message about my shipmates on the Queer Guinea Pig experiment list on FFG-30. I saw Snatch in a dream and he was crying and apologetic, or was it Snatch? Here is a joke, your intestines knock and you ask, "Who is there? The answer comes back as a riddle -- "The Queerest of the Queer or the Gelibolus.?" Radioactive Turkey?. After all, there is a lot going on inside of him, the whole Lott of us feeling queer and dieR. In the deep dark river inside Snatch, all of us bear the queer long knights, each of us wearing our prison looking Navy work clothes feeling like a Blue Collar Man in the river Styx (music). Lucky for me, Saint Ram Bone, aka Captain Kurt, I am the navigator, Kurt Brown.
Click to enlarge
Before Kurt Fixed The Triangulated Problem I Dead Reckon
After Kurt Fixed Problem
You can buy this house Talisman by contacting Saint Ram Bone at zkurt555@yahoo.com
The painting for sale is extremely unusual in its virtues. We are being excavated or excremented in San Francisco via Mob. AL to LA, as we recite, "4 3 2 1 My Friend". One of the songs will be "The Queerest of the Queer" by Garbage as on this Youtube Video.
The image can be anything for the final queerest of the queer layer of the painting. I tend to play with Jack and navigate about with the other Queers in there.
Braman, Snatch The Fairy Possum, Bow Bone, Sueet Carol, Masa Shee-it, Saint Ram Bone, the Queer gunner and the Queer Yeoman are a few in the list of characters I Captain Kurt envision. I reported the assassination attempt on my self the Tuesday before 3-4-2001 to the Mobile Alabama City Council. The illegal regime in power blocks my entry into their govenment meetings since that date.
They do not want their atrocities televised, so I put the results here in art. The white night owl can be seen eating on the road kill in the underlieing painting, it is the murdered FDIC director and I hold the light for all to see. Behold, the greatest painting of all time, the house Talisman, the Queerest of the Queer.
Some people may ask why I tend to layer my paintings, one painting on top of the other, much like my $911 million dollar painting on the Quatrains 1 page of Mobile Audit Club. The world is in constant transition, and because life follows the wave pattern, or sine wave pattern, we are allowed a glimpse of two layers at once frequently and on somewhat of a constant continuum, manipulated by unequal pressures to become randomized. Therefore, my paintings are like those things that let you see into the future, and the past is always a question as well.
In a comment made after the news release link on Indybay.org below, I explained the scientific explanation under current scientific dogma of why I layer my more exquisite paintings. The comment is after this article on Indybay.org.
Update: The two layered painting above has on the outer layer an encrypted message(s). It took me a while to find one of them and I am not sure what it means, but it appears than one has blown his brains out while the other refuses to let go. I painted the San Francisco Harbor entry at the Pilot Rock, and I now call the painting, "The Queerest of The Queer"
It is time to have some fun, while the mongoose(s) is Attila the Hun. Watch the shadows in the nights, as they grip hold of things in the strong winds like rabbits and puff adders before he bites. His bite is shallow and is for the well, so do not struggle opposed when you hear the bell. The pic above was first of Earth a living hell, Kurt painted it over, and now it is for sale (House Talisman, Acrylic on Canvas 3 feet by 4 feet $9.11 Million OBO. You can email the artist at "> Saint Ram Bone hotmail, and send a copy to Saint Ram Bone's alternate email at Yahoo which is the Yiddish Saint Vechter Yahoo, meaning Watchman of the dead.
Direct the lens toward the light, watch man received a guiding light. Change is upon us and there is a tale to tell. Should he play his guitar, his tongue can cut corrupt political asp like a knife, and he does not even have to write. The little asps perched atop the crown of thorns and thieving directors seat in the "Village of The Damned" shudder when they see him with his six-string on his way, the cut and slit noose on his neck from the sailors deck, and the interlaced dual-triangle badge of courage of gay pink and black he likes to display for the Alabama Judas Priest Judge Moore. Kurt had a vision of being under the vanity lights of the Hollywood scene, but now he feels like a 2008 pound Gorilla and he wants to make a Village of The Damned clean up team before our earth loses all of its green, and he is feeling rather mean and lean.
Sidney Vicious, Chaser of Rats, says Rub The Mouse Across The Pic And Click To Enlarge Kurt and Himself
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Self-fulfilling prophecies are a mixed blessing with a fatal curse, sometimes the inevitable end and sometimes a bright new beginning. Like Martin Luther King and a billion other whispers of hope in a struggling world, I too have a dream. That dream is the propagation of the human species into the farthest reaches of time and space and an awakening of the consciousness of man to the least common denominators of utmost importance in a world consumed by seemingly infinite technology.
Space colonies of floating free form with bioengineered conveyances in life, with no final form but an infinite and expanding array, each self-contained. The garden of life should have at some points deserts between to save the sanctity of variety. Bio-engineered applications in Earth's environment should be restricted and monitored on Earth, as the over-bearing locust swarms comes in many forms.
If a species is contained to one environment the chance of survival is reduced to nil in the long run. The more something is cut, the more it grows, if it's environment is condoning to life. Beware of the hidden agenda of the destroyer and beware of the outright blatancy of the wounded child in their slicing of all around them in the darkness and remember that man is like an abused child, somehow remiss in some actions and traits, as if blind, deaf, and dumb, with a spite of genius and brevity on the quick slice.
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8-28-2004, written ~2002 .... Vexed within seven triangles of equal proportions with energized tips.
Floating ring tube to magnetic field with ball housing center house anew.
Totally transparent within Rubicon cubes of garnet of red rose.
Trembling strength bound by contradictory laws formulated to suppress will become clad like iron pipe harboring and suppressing within its walls the nation of the red calves.
An end to present.
Darkness of oppression covered in sheaths of silk eventually stained red of sky.
Release and reversal to a darker age with new species reigning supreme in light years time.
New specie of tougher exterior and larger cranium, gray of flesh and bulging blubber.
Possible time splits with concurrent realities unlikely.
Possible deception from exterior to all things.
All things possible.
No truly inventive things possible if contrived from prior knowledge or illusory distortion of fact as being a, "Dream within a dream", per Poe.
Nothing is as ever bad as it seems, a whisper of a past voice.
Consciousness singular muscular string of bypassing windows dark, gray, or light.
Flux stream pulse wild continuous evolving toward pulling current of primal space.
Tattered, torn world, of ineffective leaders, of weakness, of ignorance, of a defective stage.
History hidden of past vision, past animal, past master, revealed in tricks of trade pointing North from the Nile toward the emerging sections of the human race and the celestial pole.
Past builders more organic and conscious of environment thereby structures are gone, with possible loss through cataclysmic astronomic events.
Never a trace of the past master specie race, except of knowledge of North that was true.
Possible that more knew of greater knowledge and retained portions without distribution.