David Huntsberger » Blather

Fossil Fuels

david — Thu, 08 Jul 2010 21:22:30 +0000

i’ve never really understood how the bones of dinosaurs compressed into oil. it seems unlikely. we’ve been pumping oil for a long time, and we don’t seem to be at a real shortage. how many dinosaurs is that? and how much bone does it take to make one barrel of oil? did they all die right on top of each other? the bones turned slowly into oil then leached underground to find other oil and form big pools? i’d like to think the earth is really just a big complex machine with gears made of rock and metal that work constantly to pedal us around the sun and spin around its axis. and the oil is the lubricant for those gears. and eventually it will dry up, screech to a halt, and we’ll all fly off into space. i like that we have a constant leak happening under the ocean. complete with a webcam so you won’t miss a minute of the action. news channels with icons in the bottom that say “oil spill day 75″ and the like. that seems fitting for humans and our existence on this planet. while we’re here, things like that are bound to happen. and we go right on laughing and carousing. like when you’re at a funeral and you know people are out at bars laughing and slapping each other on the back, and you think, “god damn it! don’t they care?” no. no one cares. we just want to party. and that’s why a constant, human caused, stream of oil in the ocean is essential. it seems like there are two basic types of depression. the narcissistic “why doesn’t everyone love me?” kind, and the “why be happy? look at the world we live in” kind. but you’re not seeing footage of darfur, or children starving everyday on a webcam. now, thanks to this oil spill, there’s a constant reason to be depressed and hate the world. that’s good news for a morose individual such as yourself.

Brokeback Mountain

david — Wed, 30 Jun 2010 05:27:29 +0000

yep, the title of this insert is the hackiest two words that ever were lobbed into the comedy world. i’ve always avoided any sort of humoring chuckle or even polite smile when someone attempted to make a joke that involved that title anywhere in it. just an immediate frown, scorning, piercing – the likes of which …well, really i did nothing. but it’s just a terrible joke to make. they titled the movie purposely to take away all of it’s power. like when someone is going around the group insulting everyone, and then they get to the asthmatic fat kid with dandruff and bloody gums and say, “too easy”. what they’re really saying is, “it’s actually hard to think of something because it’s already obvious to everyone.” anyway, i was having a conversation with a guy. i was sitting in a chair next to an open door to my left. i couldn’t see who was to my left as people kept popping in the room at weird intervals, but i don’t think i would have answered differently if i had. we were talking about cowboy stuff, and the dude said, “oh yeah, like that movie.” and i said “brokeback mountain? yeah, it was kind of like that except with the gay sex.” (which was true) and then he said, “did you like the movie?” and i said, “yeah, until they started sexin each other. it was really pretty and…” and then i looked at his face, and he was looking to the other side of the door where a gay dude had popped in and said, “i guess i came in at the wrong time.” like i was some bigot or something. just because i didn’t like the setup to the movie, that makes me a scathing homophobe? i saw the movie. that in some sense, should give me a little credit in that regard. and as just a general movie watcher, it was a ludicrous love story – gay or straight. they go from barely saying hello to having violent tent sex? “they lived in a world where their love couldn’t be accepted” yeah, they already did that. it’s just romeo and juliet with a lame gay twist. the gay dude who was perturbed by my review hadn’t even seen the movie. as a member of the gay community, he felt he couldn’t support it. probably for the same reasons that i didn’t like it. so everyone can agree that no one should ever talk about it. ever.

Ponderings

david — Tue, 15 Jun 2010 17:56:09 +0000

why are the mario brothers called “the mario brothers”? isn’t mario the first name of one of them? what is their last name? why does luigi put up with that?

how soon after humans discovered fire was it until they discovered they were flamable?

am i the only one still saying ‘freedom fries’?

what is the longest someone has been a grandmother? if you become a grandmother really young, chances are you’ve lived a tough life and you probably like smoke with your grandchildren. you’re less likely to live as long as the grandma who just sits around and sews and emails pictures of kittens to people. there’s got to be a sweet spot where the sewing type gets pregnant really young and lives a tremendously long time. or maybe the trailer trash skank reforms her life — maybe through the power of sewing, and lives longer than any trailer skank ever has, marries a cool dude (your grandpa, who despite being made fun of for dating a twenty year old with a seven year old child (you) still marries her) and while living well into her nineties regales you with tales of how “i did a bit of whorin’ when i was younger” all while knitting a kitten sweater. anyway, we should keep records of this sort of thing.

why do we still use the term ‘widower’? it sounds like someone who kills people and leaves their wife a widow.

is there any difference between ‘amiable’ and ‘amicable’? other than that stupid c wedged in there?

Picaresqimos Ch. 2

david — Thu, 13 May 2010 20:41:13 +0000

“…see the moon last night?” BT grabbed his right ankle with his left hand and jumped through the resulting hoop. “the hell is that?” mario looked incredulous as he rubbed his knuckle into his eye. “you see the moon last night?” mario held out a cigarette and continued rubbing his eye. “yeah. so…” BT jumped though his hoop again then reached for the cigarette. “it was a waning crescent. it always seems sad to me. like when your mom closed the door after putting you to bed. that last little glimmer of light.” BT raised an eyebrow. “i always think it looks like my toenail after i cut it.” he took a deep drag from the cigarette, “it’s just a moon, dude. just always out there hanging out. it’s not your god damn mom.” mario smirked, “i just prefer it when it’s full. i like to know it’s there.” BT picked up a rock and threw it against what remained of a wooden fence. “well, whether it’s there or not – i doubt it cares too much about you.” mario slowly stood and walked over to the fence. he ducked through the missing pickets and walked to the edge of the quarry. BT slowly followed and saw mario staring into the void. mario turned to BT, “thanks for being my friend.” then he slowly turned back to the empty space and let gravity pull him in. BT took a drag and thought of how mario had all their cigarettes.

God’s Hell

david — Wed, 07 Apr 2010 21:05:37 +0000

“my son, welcome.” “wait. where am I?” “you’re dead.” “and you’re god?” “yes.” “really?” “yes” “really?!” “yes! I’m god.” “but you’re wearing the robes and everything. don’t you think that’s a little hacky?” “no. It’s what i’ve always worn.” “so, you’re really a dude who lives on a cloud …in robes …with a long beard?” “you’re looking at it.” “why am I here?” “well, everyone gets to meet me before they go down to hell.” “i’m going to hell?” “yeah. almost everyone does.” “why?” “because you’re an asshole.” “why am i an asshole?” “you didn’t believe in me.” “but i was nice to people. doesn’t that count?” “no. you had to be nice and believe in me.” “but you made yourself seem pretty unlikely.” “yeah, that’s the ass-kicker. pretty wild, right?” “i guess. i mean it’s just hard to believe you were sitting up here the whole time not doing anything …you’re real? this isn’t a dream?” “totally not a dream. you’re talking to god.” “damnit. i feel like if this was a dream it would be a nightmare.” “are you saying i’m ugly?” “no. no, i was just hoping if there was a god that there would be a better explanation for everything. not just a needy, vengeful dude who sits in the sky, swarms people with locusts, tells them to kill their kids…” “have you ever tasted power? it’s amazing.” “and you just let children die all the time?” “as long as they’re praying to me while they’re dying, they get to come hang out.” “and what?” “eh, we play harps. the occasional flag football game. it’s pretty sick.” “are they fun? your followers – do you enjoy them?” “oh god no. they’re the pits. but i can’t change the rules now.” “that almost makes this all seem ok. that you’re stuck around babies and assholes all the time.” “well, enjoy hell.” “you too.”

The Slapper

david — Sat, 03 Apr 2010 00:31:33 +0000

look at this dude. this is the guy that slapped another woman’s child in an atlanta walmart. he walked up to her while the child was crying and said, “if you don’t shut that kid up, then i will.” then a couple minutes later, he did. i don’t know why she didn’t believe him. look at this guy. if ever there was a person born to slap children, this is the guy. i wonder if for a brief moment when he re-approached and kneeled down in front of the child, if the woman was kind of thinking, “well, maybe this guy knows some old fashioned tricks that i’m unaware of …he is old.” and then that brief glimmer of hope was crushed as a rapid succession of slaps to the face of her child happened right in front of her. after which he said, “see. i told you.” that sounds horrible, but how loud was this child? i’ve been in public places filled with screeching kids where i couldn’t wait for a mysterious stranger to show up and start slapping the place quiet. the slapper should be a folk-legend. if kids grew up with that sort of fear, maybe they would cry in public less. “sweety, i realize you want that candy, but if you keep screaming and crying – you know who’s going to show up…”

Goodnight Poom

david — Fri, 19 Mar 2010 23:55:13 +0000

Goodnight, sleep tight
your teeth are made of peanuts
you live inside
a walrus named Athena

Curl up your eyes
and blend into the future
you work for bees
who never say real nice things
they sting your brain
and lead you into nightmares

Stab the bees
with daggers made of armpits
and watch their blood
turn into a tugboat

Now you’re free
to walk into the queen’s nest
and steal her head
she owes you at least that much

Crack the head
on marmots made of diamonds
and out will spill
the clones of all your eyelids
they float around
and bake you loaves of tea bread

You eat the bread
it tastes just like a mountain
it yells at you
and thinks your name is Ingred

Digest the bread
and crawl out of the walrus
sail a ship
that tells you it’s an island
it owns some sheep
and soon they start to count you

Two, three, four
and seven, eight, and nine ten…

Picaresqimos Ch. 1

david — Wed, 10 Mar 2010 05:40:54 +0000

…found jani tapping her fingers. not because she wanted to, or was nervous. she simply thought it might make her look more interesting. toddi looked across the table with cheeks puffed (she always looked ridiculous when she smoked. the act made jani think of a child trying to hold their breath and then failing terribly) and dramatically released the smoke like miners fleeing a cave-in. “well, it’s easy for you to do. your boobs are all like similar and what not.” jani tried not to look at toddi’s oddly mis-shaped left breast. righty was proudly displayed and somewhat pushed up to accent the volume. she never accounted for the difference in size, and lefty was left to roam around the bra like a field mouse on the prairie. jani masked her laughter by pretending to pretentiously respond. “it has nothing to do with boob size. you’re just going to the wrong spots.” more miners fleeing. “like where? i go to the bar. mitchy bingum told me my legs look like giraffes trying to kiss.” the laughter was harder to mask. jani pretended to sneeze. “well, he’s a drunk idiot. that’s what you find at the bar.” “i go to the post office. i go to the gym. no one even looks at me.” toddi took a long drag from her cigarette. her eyebrows furrowed, trying to meet at her nostrils. “you need to go to the grocery store.” the cheeks made jani think of the skin on a frog’s neck. “i go all the time. the check out girl always says she can’t believe i’m not even fatter. men don’t want to talk to a gal with itch cream and a limp.” “no. they don’t. but you can trick them into talking to you while you’re standing …and you can buy itch cream online.” toddi mashed the cigarette with unnecessary force. “…how?” jani took her hand. “just wait in line with like a cucumber and some wine. someone will say something”…

Mehwidge

david — Thu, 04 Feb 2010 17:19:39 +0000

“do you love me?”
“of course. you know that.”
“i know. i know i know that …i just wish there was a way to be sure.”
“you can’t just take my word for it?”
“i can. i believe you. but, like a guarantee would be nice.”
“a guarantee? …how about if we wore like matching rings or something?”
“that’s a good idea. can mine have some diamonds on it though?”
“…yeah. yeah i guess so. are you paying for the diamonds?”
“no. you should pay. you know, to prove you love me.”
“ok. well, if that will prove my love to you…”
“…”
“what?”
“well, it’s just …i wish we could like have our friends witness us putting on the rings.”
“so have all of our friends come out to watch us put them on?”
“yeah, and feed them.”
“who’s paying for that?”
“…”
“ok, so our friends come out, i feed them, we put on the rings, then you believe me?”
“i was thinking we could have like a priest or something there.”
“we’re not religious.”
“i know, but just to make it like super official. so god knows you’re not lying.”
“and then you’ll believe me? rings, friends, god and then we’re good?”
“…”
“what?”
“i was hoping to maybe get the state involved?”
“the state?”
“yeah, so if you divorce me, there’s a lot of paper work and semantics.”
“so that it’s less enticing to leave you?”
“right! right. see, that makes sense, right?”
“wouldn’t you rather just believe that i love you and use that money for a vacation?”
“i knew you didn’t love me.”

So Incredibly Asian

david — Tue, 26 Jan 2010 07:40:29 +0000

i saw a dude a while ago who was asian, and he was also dressed like you would dress if you were going as an asian for halloween and you happened to be ferociously racist. like railroad-era asian, with the cone hat and the weird shoes. he didn’t have the bathrobe/karate uniform type kimono you’d like to see …or the requisite buck teeth, but the rest of the costume was done exceptionally well. he wouldn’t have stuck out to me except that he was walking along talking into the atmospehere – which also isn’t that uncommon. he did have earbuds in his ear, but they were attached to an old 90’s style discman. he was holding it level (so the cd wouldn’t skip) and just talking away. my initial thought was, “oh, that’s sad. he’s challenged and he thinks as long as you have wires going into your ears, you can just chat away and no one will notice.” but he didn’t look disabled, so then i thought he was probably just learning english via CD and the best way to practice was to walk and talk. that made sense, but i wish i would have stopped, “hey, are you learning english?” “no, bitch. i’m so asian, i turned this old ass discman into a phone. that’s right. i’m talking to china right now for free! i’m asian as hell!” and then just roundhoused the bejesus out of me for thinking he was retarded.