The Trustbuster

I like the fact that Bryan Clay, our Afro-Asian American athlete conquered the decathlon today in Beijing. He physically represents the mix of America: an indistinguishable combination of genes from Earth’s multiple continents.

Joseph Biden as VP cements certain fears in me. He’s the Dem insider that represents Obama’s move into the interior political deposit envelope of Washington. I dislike this choice. I’ve heard mock and serious propositions that the man may be assassinated (lynched) before he enters office. I personally believe our nation is beyond that, but having a guy who handed the keys to the war cash box as second in line concretes the notion (once again) that they are the power infrastructure that runs our country. I think we need to develop a democratic immunization to the herpes of wealthy gentry that occupies our nation’s power structure.

Rome and Greece could not escape a democracy devolving into dictatorship. Can we? I hope so.

Regards,
Dorkus Malorkus

As he sat in the bath, not actually taking a bath, he realized the tub was a bit too small to fit his above average frame.  He tried to squeeze into its green corners but was unable to find a comfortable position.  “Oh well, I don’t even like baths that much anyway,” he muttered, trying to stay positive, a habit he found exceedingly annoying.   The tub was deep, however.  Then it struck him.  When the bomb went off, he and she (his lady-friend) could fit within the confines of the thing with a little squeezing.  She would have to lay underneath, perhaps on top of some pillows to ease her back.  He could lay on top covered by thick blankets, always the hero, demanding to be her buffer zone against whatever might be blown their way in the blast.  It would be tight, but they could manage.  Perhaps this would be the perfect excuse to buy that body armor he had been coveting.   Yes, this could work!  This could be a makeshift bomb-shelter in a pinch, if needed.  One must always plan for these things.   But when he mentioned it to her, his excitement wained when it met her sobering comment.  “Well, I’ll be sure to keep that in mind when I receive the notice of the impending explosion.”  He was just trying to ensure that he could keep them alive well into the aftermath…but what then?

As he walked down the street he casually peered through peoples’ windows, craning his neck.  “I hope I see someone watching porn,” he muttered to himself.  “Better yet, I hope I see some people having real sex, that would be tops.”  He said these things to himself.  He was always on the lookout for people coming down the street.  He did not want to be noticed peeping in the night.  When someone came he would look around, mock bird watching.  Or, he would pull out his phone and pretend to text people he would rather not talk to at the moment.  “Nothing must blow my cover.”  He was too busy.   Then he thought, “What if someone can hear my thoughts?  Well then I will pretend not to be psychic.  But, if they are psychic then they will surely know that I am psychic.   How does being psychic work?”

When does it stop?  When I get money? When I become pleased with myself?  When I stop feeling inadequate?  When I feel like I have accomplished something? What will I do then?  Will I finally be able to relax?  Will I be happy?  What is going to happen when all is forgotten?  Who is going to care?  If we live in Heaven, what will we do then?  Do we sit around on all of our laurels and talk about the past.  Or, do we finally get to have everything we always wanted, instantly, without having to work for it?   Where are we headed with all this?

–Gunther Carlsbad

You ever wanna just mmmm, grunch?  Just, squeeze meech grummmm.  Just ohhh man jumper stunt crunch.  I wanna rilch and stiln.  Just rrrrragha.  I am gonna squeeze that skin and meal time hand banister clam.  I wanna mmmunch and build your beal and creal with that thing.  I wanna raurgh.  I wanna naahhhhgh.

–Gunther Carlsbad

I could be talking about anything. Sometimes they’re just annoying guys with flappy lips. Always making noise but saying nothing. Just flapping in the breeze. Usually they’re wearing ties to casual occasions to be “ironic.” I just wish I was as cool as them. Panting on the scene. So skinny. I just want them to love me with their no ties haircuts. “I just let the universe shape it for me,” they say. God, I wanna be in the crowd. “Yeah, my jacket is pure crow. Wanna touch my fuzzy ball golf socks. Fuck no, I hate golf, that’s just something my dad plays.” Let me in.

Mom? Are you finished breaking my lithe.  I need to use it later.  Pinch me please.  I do too like it.  Stop!  I didn’t start it.  No!  I am ready for big boy juice.  Am Too!  Let me see it.  I want my baba-nackin time snacks.  Gummy Goo Boys and Pals are too the best cereal!  Fry it for me.  I want fried cereal.  I have a job I can do what I want.  Lunch time is my time.  Please center it for me.  Don’t come too close or I will bleach my skin for you.  I am going to be the Zebra boy at school.  Am too!

–Gunther Carlsbad

Hi boo-boo.  Wanna crab crawl inside my goochy place?  I left it open for you.  No! Don’t touch that, its raw!  I love your palpable palms and outside-voice.  You have the most wonderful girly goo-gums.  Who needs Teeth?  I have a surprise for you.  I’ll cream your sleeves green.  Tee me.  Peeper ability.  You are so cute honey.  Cupcake dream.  I will squeeze the shit out of you!  Do you hear me?  We are going to melt into grip.  Come over to my apartment now!

–Gunther Carlsbad

Viva is opening this weekend in LA at Sunset 5! This movie is ridiculous, hysterical, sexy, beautiful, and magnificent! Anna Biller does almost everything, and we at TheTrustbuster.com love Bridget Brno!

SEE IT!

    When I watch a movie like “Transformers,” I get bored.  I don’t want to see Megan Fox and Shia Lebeouf coming of age.  I just want to see robots fighting each other.  When Optimus Prime delivers the exposition he mentions a war that destroyed his home-world.  Why couldn’t the movie be about that?  I would much rather watch forty minutes of robots beating the shit out of each other than a bunch of blah, blah, blah.  Another example: Alien Versus Predator.  This movie sucked.  Why did there have to be humans in the movie?  I’ll read subtitles.  The Predator species has their own language.  What do they have to say?  Let us see an all out extraterrestrial war.   Unfortunately, I don’t fit into a particular demographic, so most movies aren’t made for me.  That’s okay, I like to be alone.

–Gunther Carlsbad