Interview: Phil A. Buster

 

Most interviews are, if not like pulling teeth, they bear some resemblance to ancient dentistry. This is especially so when talking to politicians of any stripe. Phil A. Buster is a talking head, a seasoned pol and an elected official. Given what’s going on all around us from now until November, I wanted to finally dive into the seedy world of politics with a bona fide expert. 

 

MTP: Who are you voting for?

 

PAB: It’s interesting really, the thought and then the decision. On the one hand you have a man, and on the other you have a woman. But both are people, human beings, homo sapiens. We’ve all – all of us including you and me – have come a long way since those sweaty days in Olduvai Gorge. To be here, to be talking to you is nothing short of a miracle. What we’ve gone through, winding across the continents, rivers and streams, mountains and land bridges. It’s a beautiful thing. Because people are people. Sometimes I think of my dogs as people, and in certain key aspects they are more human than us. More loyal, even kinder. What listeners they can be. They know, maybe not what to say, but how to act when you need them. It’s winding, wending. We took a circuitous route to get here. It wasn’t always direct or first class. Speaking of which, I sometimes wish I was alive during the heyday of rail travel. The Orient Express without any murders. That was a way to go places. You can see where you’re going. In a plane, sure you get some views, but mostly it’s clouds and that’s only if you travel at certain times or day and have a window seat. Which as we know, is not the seat you want. I’m an aisle man. I need the extra room to swing my leg before the food cart rumbles through the cabin. Now is it a great place to walk around and get your steps in? Maybe not. But it’s worked for me. I’m sorry, I got off on a few tangents. Did I answer your question? 

 

MTP: Thanks for your time.

Walks of life

 

You might think walking is a rudimentary activity practiced to varying degrees of proficiency by most bipeds. But you’d be wrong. Like anything, there are degrees. The object is get from point A to point B without interruption or distraction. You aren’t on foot to make friends or small talk. You follow the crows as much as humanely possible, through traffic, fountains and expansive gaggles of oblivious tourists. 

 

You’re on foot to make good time, not great time. Great time requires an internal combustion engine. But you’re meant to get as close as possible to the ambler in front of you. Tailgating isn’t a concern, since we have no tails. Though rearends are possible, since we do have those.

 

Breathing on someone is a message for them to get out of the way. They should hear you fidgeting with your keys, a jangle signaling them to pull over.

 

Walks aren’t meant to be relaxing; they’re meant to be productive. Otherwise, take a nap instead. 

Rodney Safetyfield

 

I get lots of respect, lots and lots of respect, I tell ya. When I come home after a long day at the office, my kids give me a standing ovation. They’re just so happy to see me. My dog feeds me, and it’s quite good honestly. 

 

I get plenty of respect, I’m considered an upstanding member of the community. Whenever I ride the subway, the disabled, pregnant and elderly offer up their seats, not wanting to see me stand for even a single stop. It’s a rather humbling experience. 

 

I get a good amount of respect, a really fair amount. Nice, quite nice. The other day I was getting lunch at a deli and the man making my sandwich tipped me. It was nice, I never carry cash anymore. 

 

I get a great deal of respect, more respect than most my age. It’s humbling, really. My wife paid for her engagement ring and proposed to me, said t was the least she could do. 

 

I get tons of respect, a heaping pile of respect, Oh yeah. I met Aretha Franklin at a hotel and she held the door for me. 

 

Imagine that?

Too many cooks?

“Too many cooks in the kitchen.” This is a frequent chorus from a project mired in the muck of group dynamics. Is it really the main concern? I like cooks. I want cooks in the kitchen. That’s where they belong. The number itself doesn’t particularly interest me. 

I object to non-cooks in the kitchen. Leaning against appliances or commenting on the wainscotting. Plumbers, electricians, baton twirlers and lion tamers. Standing around and obstructing foot paths is better than that. 

Cooks belong in kitchens. Too many kitchens are full of gawkers and oglers, obscurers and loiterers. A group of confused individuals committed to getting involved in the preparation of a dish. Have you tried this? Have you tried that? What’s the deal with saffron? It doesn’t help the meal. Eating is not a substitute for cooking. You eat to live, you cook to make a living. And therein lies the difference. 

Hungry?

Dr Jekyll and Dr Jekyll

Not too deep within the shallow outcroppings of your soul exists a creaky lever, that when pulled, welcomes a totally new personality. It’s something reasonable people only use under extreme duress. Should an actual emergency require such a change, it’s there waiting in your psyche, powered by adrenaline and other unmentionables.

 

Tragically, many people consider a cocktail, vape pen or a psychedelic retreat a viable excuse to broaden one’s horizons. Your horizons can only be so broad. We damned athletes for performance enhancing drugs, the same moral judgment should be applied to personality enhancing ones. 

You shouldn’t change from therapy or long conversations with friends. Not for someone who had an extra martini at a charity golf outing and warns all the waiters, “say goodbye to Jake and hello to Big Joey.” 

 

Multiple personalities are something best left to those diagnosed with the eponymous disorder.

 

Debatable

 

Did you watch last night’s debate?

No, I didn’t catch it, it was on too late.

But didn’t you hear, it went great?

No, I had too much on my plate.

Almost every answer was first rate.

But I’ve lost respect for the fourth estate.

That’s okay, I’ll do you a favor and annotate

There’s still too much time to bloviate

Still want me to automate?

There’s not much to celebrate

Anything else to resonate?

Neither that nor resuscitate 

Any faith in the welfare state?

Am I allowed to vacillate?

Only if you want another Watergate

Wouldn’t want to overstate

You’d be surprised what the public will tolerate

Do you care about either running mate?

I’d rather defibrillate.

Ya know, some watch just to commiserate. 

Sounds better to evacuate 

What if they incriminate? 

Exonerate, consecrate or indoctrinate?

Not much left to disseminate

Lots to capitulate

Or impersonate?

Usually gesticulate and berate

What is there left to evaluate?

Are we supposed to donate?

To whom: the newish candidate?

Or the future inmate?

But by not watching, I don’t need to recuperate.

Maybe next cycle, I’ll recalculate

It’s not exactly hate

But it might’ve been something I ate. 

Voice in the wilderness

 

It’s not always what you say, but how you say it. The phonebook, an artifact of a simpler epoch, is often cited as a fair verbal test for the truly mellifluous. Ticking off a list of Polish plumbers sounds easy enough. But does it sound beautiful? Voicemails harken back to when people were unreachable. Out and about and nowhere to be found. A nice voice can make the caller forget the reason they were calling in the first place.  

 

You can read the menu in silent desperation while the waiter waits patiently for your decision. Or you can belt out each ingredient like an opera star. 

A great voice can cut through birdsong, propellor song and other examples of manmade or natural noise pollution. A great voice is not a voice of a single generation, but a voice for every generation. Leaf blowers, lawnmowers, chainsaws and many things not used by professional landscapers are no match.

 

Each piece of incomprehensible fine print is typically ignored by the average tax preparer. There are those who can utter any old piece of tax code minutia and render the room speechless. And not because of the temerity to claim extra dependents. Coming out the right mouth, nutritional facts can almost sound good for you. 

 

Oh, and a great voice is also nice in the movies or on stage, too

Mirage

 

 

How do you create a successful band? It’s a recipe that many still fail to grasp whether in basements, garages, or gazebos. Even if there’s evidence laying all around us, under dusty amps and cord clumps. It’s true you need good songs, but you don’t need original songs. Let me amend that, you need songs that appear to be original but like tailgating an ambulance, merely drafting off their past success. The audience feels like a tune is eerily familiar it’s usually because it is eerily familiar. 

 

And you don’t need good poetry. That’s the thing about poetry. Put any decent rhyme to catchy music and your job is done. Just two blokes in a band that was once massively successful, who’ve sailed on the coattails of ancient work for decades. You see, being a great artist isn’t always about producing great work. It’s about criticizing other artists, furrowing your brow during interviews and maintaining a hostile view towards pretty much everything. Ornery over irony, since few know the difference. Convincing the public you’re talented requires adopting a persona that feigns interest in all things. Stay mysterious. 

 

Do this and you’ll be fine. When fans squint through their trendy sunglasses, you appear like a good band. A great band. Only the view is amid the desolation of a harsh desert. There’s no water, only sand. No animals, only camels. They’re desperate to attach themselves to something meaningful. Like an oasis they embrace the annoying melodies and maudlin lyrics against their better judgment and without the assistance of drugs.

 

It’s not the nineties anymore. They're older. They know the difference between water and sand. Because this? This isn't a comeback. This isn't a reunion.

This is a mirage. 

The Class of Emails

 

Hello class, today you will be learning how to craft deliciously nebulous sentences for maximal deniability. Don’t know what nebulous means? That’s a good thing. You shouldn’t. use a dictionary to find cool words, not definitions. The less you know, the more you can say.  But the more you say, the less clear you should be. Pepper your emails with long words that just feel right. Was the meeting “woebegone”? Maybe. Maybe not. The point is that people will be searching and by the time they have deciphered the note, you’re gone for the day, tucking into the cocktail hour with extreme prejudice.  

 

Instead of saying, “we’re doing X” say “we’re considering thinking about the possibility of doing x under the right circumstances that need to be weighed through pros and cons.” 

 

Understand? Not really? Good. You’re learning. The more exclamation points, the better, especially when making a demand of an agitated underling.  

 

Use colors, bold, italics, underlines, strikethrough for added emphasis and unclarity. What you want is for someone to be so confused what you’ve written that they give up and move on. Apathy creates a fine working environment. 

 

Any questions that I won't understand? 

All things being sequel

 

Instead of focusing on mediocre movies that place a large emphasis on spandex, let’s take beloved artifacts of pop culture that no one has ever considered following up on and do exactly that. Right when you think there’s nothing more to say is the best time to say something...more.

Dog Day Evening 

 

Front Window

 

Some Pulp Fiction

 

Sound of a Woman

 

Eight Samurai

 

The Big Lebowski

Some Like It Hotter

Mostly about Eve

Closer Encounters of the Third Kind

Triple Indemnity

North by North

Midday Cowboy

From Here to Not Quite Eternity 

The Fourth Man

Lawrence of Suburbia

Apocalypse Then

Mr. Smith Leaves Washington

Goodfellas 2: Greatfellas

 

Multi-factor authentication

 

 

What’s your name?

 

What’s your mother’s maiden name?

 

What’s your mother’s father’s uncle’s aunt’s maiden name?

 

What’s your dog’s name?

 

What’s your dog name?

 

Where did you go to high school?

 

Why did you go to high school?

 

What did you have for dinner last night?

 

What did you want to have for dinner last night?

 

When did you have dinner last night?

 

What are you doing with your life?

 

Why are you here?

Hello, I’m an automatic reply

 

 

Why deal with a written response when you can automate something to suit the situation? 

 

Hi, I’m on vacation and away from my computer, phone or any other trappings of modern technology. 

 

Hello, I’m currently out of the office, watching the sunset through

a champagne flute from the deck of a Russian oligarch’s yacht.

 

Hi there, I’m under indictment and have been advised by my legal counsel to avoid unnecessary correspondence. 

 

I can’t respond to your email right now, since I’m playing a game of chess with a nice man with a considerable amount of drool on his shirt at a public park.

 

When I return from my lavish escapades, your note will be at the bottom of the pile (yes, you read that correctly, I print out all my emails and stack them in a large, paper pile)

 

My time is clearly more valuable than your time because you’re reading this while I’m not even writing it.

 

You have the wrong email. Try again.

 

This is the closest you’re going to get to a response from me, so enjoy it.

 

No.