"never been kissed" is on the plasma tv here at meesh's suite at the mondrian. it's one of my favorite movies, but shhhh, dont tell anyone.

i love drew, i love that "dark angel" chick who's in it, but theres this scene where david arquette is asked by his teen girlfriend "what do you want to be when you grow up?" david is secretly undercover at this highschool and has really already grown up, but he answers her perfectly.

"a ballplayer." he replies with a cowboy hat on, nodding his head to the dumb pop music playing in the background.

she says, "no, but what happens if you dont get it?"

i want to be a blogger when i grow up.

i want to be as in touch as the instapundit, and as good of a writer as ken and matt, i want to be as outrageous as kitty and dawn and reverse cowgirl, i want to be as sexy as nerve, but i want to be able to be read in a totally pg-13 locale.

i want everything.

anyone who read the "funniest joke of all time," last week now knows that if you try to be all things to all people youre just going to be mediocre to all people. that wasnt the funniest joke of all time, it just was slightly amusing to tons of people.

kind of like marmaduke.

marmaduke is one of my heroes because whoever made that strip learned how to fill a niche and stay way below the radar.

karisa is my friend because she doesnt let me stay below the radar. she says i should be kicking major butt like all the time. she would be very disappointed if i made a marmaduke, she would want a blooms county, a calvin and hobbs, a far side.

i would be happy just to be out there.

or here.

i get disappointed in so called journalists who write about blogging and blogs and continue to miss the most obvious point of them all. blogging has allowed writers, real writers, and real artists, and real photographers, and real musicians the opportunity to create whatever it is that they want and give it to their audience immediately.

when weezer had new tunes they released them on their web site months before they would ever appear on their new record.

nothing is stopping writers and photographers and artists from doing that.

all blogging is is the technology that allows ideas to be published on the web.

simple as that might be, i want to be blogging forever.

and to get paid for it?

why shouldnt that be someone's goal?

keith gets to play guitar every night and look like a muppet.

okay theres a knock at the door. hopefully its the houseboy with more mint leaves for the mohicas.

# | |

meesh called me from the standard in the first inning. we talked for a few minutes and then the cell phone reception gave out.

she was poolside.

i know because she called me back a minute later. we barely got to say hi and happy birthday and the connection dropped again.

i tried to call her back. hi.

then dead.

an hour later she called back. she had changed hotels.

she was at the mondrian now.

im looking at a beautiful view, tony.

you must come over.

i asked why did you leave the standard.

she said, that place is a dump.

hmmm. it was the fourth inning now. the game was tied.

i told her i might consider coming over. she said we have pretty girls here. i said, do you have a tv? she said its a suite, of course we do.

i said is the angel game on?

she laughed and handed the phone over to the glamorous simone. jewlery designer to the stars.

why are you ignoring my phone calls sweetie?

i said, i was on vacation.

come over here and i'll make some mohitas.

i did have rum. all i would need is some sugar and mint leaves. two limes maybe. i always liked the mondrian. skybar. that pool. but what do you wear?

simone asked if she could pick me up in her convertible. i told her that it wasnt necessary. that i lived right next to sunset. quick subway ride to highland, walk to sunset, pick up the bus. twenty minutes, tops.

she said, youre coming?

i said, maybe. sounds great.

then the angels started errupting. then it was 5-2 angels. then it was 6-2 angels.

what would i wear?

# | |

please hold for the president

tony pierce?

president?

tony, how are you, i dont think ive spoken with you for a while?

i'm doing pretty good, sir, i just got back from aruba.

aruba? where's that, in the tropics?

yep.

sounds expensive.

it is. but the readers to my site all chipped in and got me out there.

wow.

yeah, then my brother in law flowed me with first class upgrades.

aruba. do they still have those little grass umbrella huts inches from the water, where theres enough room for two young lovers, one who looks hauntingly similar to anna kournikova, the other who looks remarkably unworthy. where the waiter asks you if you'd like anything to drink and you say yes a mai tai for the lady and liter of coke and a bottle of rum for me. and the sandpipers peck at a coconut tree, and theres music coming from the resort and you wonder, how on earth do i deserve this?

yes, they still have those huts.

because that's funny because someone told me that you were saying bad things about me, and i said, i thought pierce just got back from "aruba". i wouldnt think a guy who just got back from there would be running his mouth so soon after being treated to such luxury.

sir, nothing in here is true.

you didnt just call me a liar yesterday?

calling the president a liar goes all the way back to calling the king a liar. and no offense, but picking on you, mr. bush, is like throwing water balloons at the traffic, punching a woman, robbing a grave. it's too easy, and completely unrewarding. why would any one want to do it?

because i'm not a liar.

come on, everybody lies. especially people who have to be in front of cameras and reporters all the time. it becomes flourishes in a new language. it's accepted. it's okay.

seriously, ask me anything.

have you ever seen an adult movie?

of course.

can you name a porn star?

yes.

name one.

kelly o'dell.

is that really one?

yep.

did you know about 9/11?

nope.

do you know about 9/11 now?

nope.

that's funny.

we're a great team, tony. but you have to be nice for it to work.

okay.

nixon and sammy davis did a lot for each other. sammy told nixon to sign the farm bill.

food stamps? really?

of course. not everyone is as bad as they appear. and some arent as good. do you lie, tony?

no.

impossible.

no, always telling the truth has its disadvantages. girls cry. feelings can be hurt. things are much more complicated. but im too lazy to lie. i barely remember the truth.
only reason i'd even make something up would be to make a cute girl in the corner smile when im trying to ask her to the fair.

i love fairs.

im sorry for the things i said, george bush.

do you have any idea how hard of a job i have?

you have all these smart people around you, though.

still, it's like, hard.

hard? just say, pull me up the live feed of the spy satelitte north north west of kabul. and one in pakistan somewhere.

okay, first, youre talking out of your ass. second, dont you think channel k isnt on every monitor in the building. fuckers hiding. uv cameras, heat sensitive cams, one purple spot in a cave looks just like another. we might have blown him up on the first night of bombings and they took away his body. he could be anywhere. you dont think that frustrates me. dont you think i see the irony of once owning the texas rangers, who are also big time losers despite having money, a new stadium, the best catcher and the mvp in the league and still finishing last place. dont you think i know that im the sherrif in town and i have a wanted man who i cant find?

once again, im sorry sir.

dont you think when i look at the new york skyline, i dont feel completely responsible?

well, you shouldnt. dont be so hard on yourself.

please just leave alone on this. i'll give you money.

i cant take your money.

i'll get you a pretty girlfriend.

im surrounded by pretty girls.

yeah, where do you think they came from?

heaven.

ehnnn, guess again.

i dont want any of those ill gotten girls. im getting old. i think im ready for true love now, please.

well i cant help you there.

ok, help get tsar to play for my birthday then.

only if you promise not to start selling the "bush knew" tshirts.

thats so funny you say that because i was thinking about selling tshirts. simple white ones that said "busblog".

thats a great idea, i'd buy one.

i'd like to sell 100,000 of them.

thats why i like you, tony. you're not afraid to dream big.

i dont think conservatives would buy one though.

sure we would. it would be a symbol of this truce we're making today. like the rainbow that symbolized the new covenant struck between the lord and mankind after the flood.

select a size	smallmediumlargeextra large
political or social group

twenty bucks. free shipping. made by pink cookies dot com. payments by paypal.

thing is, tony, i dont think liberals would buy one. they would be upset that youre easy on me.

all liberals are easy on you. we have absolutely no expectations from you. how could you disappoint us?

the libertarians would buy one.

ive never met more libertarians in my life than before blogging.

fine, two large ones then, and mark down that two were bought by a republican. that way we can keep track of who's more generous to the plight of a young black american independent writer, conservatives or liberals.

ok, thats dumb.

who cares? i think it would be fun. and i think people would have fun with it.

okay whatever.

thanks. have a good weekend, tony.

aloha, mr. president.

# | |

something suddenly came up and not only could i not go to the art opening but i also missed out on the peaches + they will know us by the trail of the deal + queens of the stone age triple bill and i'll also miss hanging out with meesh and simone at the standard with its upside down sign.

this hardly ever happens to me. especially in the month of libra. the month of love, fairness, and beautiful magic.

speaking of ... how about those angels?

welch asked me to do a photo essay about his team and i could and i would use a bunch of lyman bostock and rod carew and bobby grich pictures, not forgetting my man bobby bonds, but the angels dont need it and my carpal is cilling me.

a pretty sexy girl said that if i get the gig that im gonna try to grab next week she'll find out where i live and do the christina aguilera dance for me.

i told her that i didnt know if i could handle that.

im just a man.

and here i am writing you super deep undercover fighting the good fight thinking about how the rocket fizzled in new york how petitte and now mussina were tamed and how the angels are going to knock out the boys from the bronx in less than twenty four hours.

some people are soulmates. some team own others. the angels own the yankees. i wouldnta believed it till i seen it, but look at them, they couldnt care less about these big name arms, or even jeff weaver or el duque. theyre not intimidated by giambi or jeter. these angels actually seem inspired by the crazy rally monkeys and never say die.

totally inspiring.

made me pick up the phone and propose a good dozen times to my exgirlfriend chris.

"you know we're meant for each other, baby."

no, no we're not.

"just you and me, baby. let me ruin your life till death do we part."

no thank you. but thank you.

shes got a nasty flu. had to cancel her trip to frisco where she was gonna be in a wedding.

"why dont you call your boyfriend to bring you over some oj and some soup?"

who?

"bro."

oh him, he's just a booty call boy. you cant ask your booty call to help you when youre sick. thats what a boyfriend does. she laughed, but it was interrupted by a cough. but she finished it off with a "silly."

then she explained that booty calls also dont help you move, they dont go to formal events with you, and they also dont stroll the aisles of target along side you.

i really do love that girl.

she asked me if the pitchers ever get "in trouble" with the manager after he takes them out of the game.

i told her that i wanted to get her in trouble.

she denied me for the twentieth time in the phone call and i finally let her go.

no movement in the stakeout target.

it was going to be a long long friday night.

# | |

more than just my lawyer, kim is a great friend.

she knows her rock music so well that before she was my laywer i wanted to kiss her. women should learn that lesson: if you have a record collection that is truly diverse, rocking, punk rock, soulful, and countrified in the right ways, the boys will want you big time.

nothing worse than going to a girls house and seeing three cds on the shelf and a cat. especially when the cds are cat steven's greatest hits, james taylor's greatest hits, and aretha franklin's greatest hits.

kim has tons of great cds and her cat is named after the guitar player in KISS.

you'd wanna kiss her too.

cute as a button and sex-say with that lil southern drawl that slides out when you least expect it, kim met up with the kids while they were in prauge. i think thats how the story goes. kim went out there with ken b. who shes been romantically associated with since the dodgers left brooklyn.

it was ken's birthday last week when i was on vacation and im sorry that i wasnt able to slobber all over him, so lets make it up with more love for kim, shall we?

k.

she has a kickass grownup hollywood hills mansion that she lets us all party in. it has a hot tub and plate glass and grey walls and a dynomite kitchen. proof that when looking for a new pad, try to find one that was recently owned by two arty gay guys. always up for a good movie, fine with wine, and blessed with a sense of fashion and a true love of college hoops, kim didnt go to ucsb, but she fits into our small group of friends like shes known us all forever.

what sorta law does she practice? entertainment law?

what firm does she work for?

she left the big firm a few years ago to start her own with just one partner and they're kicking ass. seriously.

i never had a better lawyer in my life and thats no lie.

tomorrow this southern belle turns 24 and i really hope we all get together and raise a glass to our sweetheart from carolina who has only gotten finer.

happy birthday!

# | |

all of my friends are beautiful and talented, artistical and magicful.
paolo is a king among kings who only dates the hottest women.

permasmile, a huge dog, and the love of the lakers and skateboarding, our pal paolo also worked at the ucsb daily nexus with matt, and amy, and tsar, and tsar's brother, and stacy teas (who i owe an email to) and hell, half of the cool kids in los feliz and the tri counties.

paolos art is larger than life and rich and colorful and dreamy and massively underrated.

if youre in LA and not accompanying meesh to the queens of the stoneage gig at the palladium, perhaps you might want to jump on the subway and head downtown to check out what i promise you will be an entertaining evening of great art and fine music.

and if you miss out on rick royale who will be playing, you've truly missed out. so dont coulter.

yours truly might even be there unless meesh convinces me otherwise.

# | |

"Daily newspapers are struggling, yet these are fertile times for some journalists. Blogs�stands for "Web logs"�are flourishing; they are Web sites with short hit-and-run commentary and abundant links to other blogs, articles, and sites.

Blogs are a pure expression of the Internet: unmediated opinion and information passing from hand to hand. Blogs promise a reckless, independent use of the First Amendment, journalism without fact checking, editors, advertisers�nothing but writers and readers communicating directly. In theory they offer across-the-spectrum opinion, electronic libertarianism."

- RJ Smith, Los Angeles Magazine, October 2002

dear rj smith, alex beam, and whoever that chick was who wrote about blogs in the la times last month,

please stop trying to write about blogs.

you look ridiculous.

you look older than you probably are.

you make it easy for us to pick on you, especially when you're critical.

because there are no editors doesnt make it reckless. dewey defeats truman?

please get over the fact that there are no editors.

i would love a fucking editor for my blog, but guess what, they'd probably edit out all the fucking.

when i read you and you make little snide snipes at blogging i wonder if you dont do it to get attention from the entire blogging community. more people on the web know alex beam than any other boston columnist. in a twisted way he became very popular. unfortunately he is as well-known now as anthrax. not the sort of infamy one would like, i would imagine.

because we type stuff into software and it turns up on your computer screen doesnt mean that it's journalism. and it also doesn't mean it hasn't been fact checked. infact who was it who said, "this is 2001, we can fact check your ass." mighta been welch. [ Ed. it was layne]

and just because it's free doesnt make it libertarian. very few people use that word politely, rj smith, and im not so sure that you did just then, so fuck you for your general high and mighty oh-arent-they-cute attitude regarding the next big thing. how many hits would you get on your own?

which brings us to welch and layne.

just because you got paid doesnt make you a pro, RJ, you name check the LA Examiner, you call my boys college "dropouts" like thats a bad thing (never mentioning Bill Gates, Peter Jennings, William Faulkner, Steve Jobs, Ted Turner, Tom Hanks, Bill Murray, Larry Ellison, F. Scott Fitsgerald, Michael Dell, Wayne Huizenga, Woody Allen, Dan Aykroyd, David Geffen, Warren Beatty, James Dean, Brad Pitt, and scores of even more interesting and succesful people who also chose a different path other than a college degree), but you dont ever ask Riordan why he's been playing footsies with ken and matt but continue to leave em hanging. or is it the sheepskin?

instead you surmise that the former mayor is savoring the attention. the attention of guys like you, RJ and your 150,000 readers.

so what do you do with the attention he's paying you, RJ? didnt Dick say in the spring that he'd have this thing by the end of summer, and here you are writing this thing in the fall and still there isnt dick out there. what's his answer?

bro's 72 years old. tick tock old man, what are you waiting for, christmas?

that's a question that a real reporter and a real editor ask and put in the article of a real magazine.

call us reckless all you want, junior, but at least we're readable.

# | |

hi giselle

hi tony, are you causing trouble again?

me? never.

you're treading on thin ice when you piss off your readers.

they'll get over it.

especially the ones who give you money.

the instant i think twice about writing something because i might not get money in the future from someone is the moment that i should just click the big Delete button in the options menu and go back to writing poems for chapbooks.

isnt there a happy medium?

all or nothing, hottie. else you lose your edge.

why do people hate it so much when you talk about politics?

they would love it if i wrote about politics if i agreed with them. i'd be the next sean hannity.

who?

they just don't like it when i expose their party for being what it is right now: completely impotent.

you've lost me, tony.

name one thing the GOP has done right in the last ten years.

they beat Clinton.

they lost to Clinton, they beat Gore and they had to cheat at that.

i'm trying, tony, but it's difficult, im just a gorgeous model who can keep it together when her shoe falls off.

i know. thats why they like this site. they just want me to put pretty pictures of happy faces up here, have fake interviews with celebs, talk about who i'm banging, and totally lay off the fact that the leader of My country cheated to sit at the table with the grown ups, and once he got there fucked the economy, fucked national security, made the military look like a bunch of dip shits who cant find the wascally wabbit hiding in a hole...

you're funny. kiss me.

and even though they all knew, they put Condesellout Rice on the podium and had her say that they had no clue that people would slam planes up against buildings.

are you saying Black people can't work for white Presidents?

im saying if you do it know youre going to be called a sellout, and when you do it don't lie to the american people at a time when they are as fragile as can be.

so what should they have said, tony, "america, good evening, we fucked up"?

for eight years the republicans tried to get clinton on lying about whitewater, and on getting a blowjob. they knew they couldnt kick him out but they wanted to publically embarrass him by abusing the impeachment card and silence the democratic party in the process. their whole stance was that the president lied. they sicked ken starr on him and never let up. and you cant tell me that lying about head is the same as lying about "not knowing" about bin laden.

he let up eventually

giselle, don't you remember when Starr tried to disbar Clinton so that he would be fucked even after his presidential term was over?

i thought they did disbar him.

that was just from arguing cases in the Supreme Court.

he was disbarred from practicing law in arkansas, wasnt he?

yeah for five years, but who the hell cares about practicing law in arkansas?

i miss Clinton.

me too, giselle.

he was a real president.

he's no dummy.

so do you know politics or don't you?

i was born in washington dc. i grew up in chicago. ive worked for two of the largest billion dollar companies in the world. i worked for a dot com during the gold rush and now i work in hollywood for a big time tv network. i know tons about politics. i also know that even though the airwaves and the web is full of conservative voices they Cannot Stand it when people point out how entirely ineffective their boys have been. they will say i dont know shit, they will say i shouldnt write about it. but all theyre trying to do is silence me. i dont blame em. nobody writes angrier shit than me.

silencing you? sorta unamerican. wouldnt you say?

sorta bullshit, i'd say. read that last post. change the picture to bill and hillary, change the 9/11 stuff to lewinsky and Rush Limbaugh would drive me a million hits. it's not the writing they dont like, it's the content.

god, i hate politics.

me too, baby.

wanna do some happy hour drinks with me after workie?

yes, please.

# | |

you knew about 9/11?

they tell me lots of stuff.

but you knew about 9/11 before it happened?

sure, i just didn't think...

exactly my point, you didnt think.

please. let me just be. i cant know everything.

yes, but you can know when something that big is going to happen!

i want a waffle.

i want a man!

i want strawberries on it.

you disgust me.

and whipped cream.

your father was a loser, you're a loser, even your brother is a loser.

im ignoring you.

i feel dirty even being near you.

some people put chopped walnuts on their waffles. i dont like that.

youre a disgusting human being.

a cherry on top would be nice, though.

your daughters are drunken whores...

and some chocolate milk, mmmmmmm.

everyone in your family are dirty theives, only concerned with money and power.

why did you marry me, then?

you Used to be fun.

im still fun.

you cant even spell fun.

f-u-n.

im going to jump off a bridge.

but, wait, i spelled it right.

wheres your cyanide pill?

# | |

christina aguilera
"dirrty"
rca records

anna got hurt in moscow yesterday
called me sobbing and wouldnt get off the phone.
she asked me if i had seen the new christina aguilera video
i said "yes i did see the video.
infact i downloaded the video last night, anna.
i played it over and over
slowly.
one handed.

i loved her outfits.
i loved the song.
i loved the production of the song with its overlayed whispers
i loved the production of the video with its flashes of everything.
i loved the heaps of men and flesh and women surrounding her
pulsating around her moving with her
grooving with her.

i loved that it was still her show even though she is so little
so white so good and so bad.

i loved that her hair extentions were made of yarn and twine and lint and
cobwebs.

i loved that she looks like she has fully become aware of her nastiness and
she is taking ownership
in a way much different than some tranny's dream of moulin rouge
but of a wigger with an attitude
with the waistband of a kilt as a skirt.

i loved that it seemed to me that she knows shes number two on my list
and she did everything she could to leapfrog you.

and didnt necessarilly fail.

just has a really long way to go.

but is definately knockin on the door."

anna sneered,
ho

# | |

today is gwen stefani's birthday. as everyone knows, gwen is one of ashley's favorite people in the whole wide world and if it wasn't for ashley i wouldn't know so much about gwen, in fact i would have probably just overlooked no doubt entirely because none of the guys in the band interest me, and gwen is, after all, just a girl.

so since ashley is working two jobs now and raising our illegitimate son, tupac roosevelt pierce, i will give you all the info about gwen that i have culled from the endless hours of listening ashley talk about her musical idol.

gwen was born a poor black sharecropper in the city of orange in orange county california.

like all the trendy girls who wanted something soulful, yet white and punky, she got caught up in the ska scene thanks to her brother eric who was an original member of no doubt. he played keyboards and eventually left the band right before they were about to make it huuuuuuge.

gwen and her brother are still super super close because gwen, like me, loves long long relationships and is terribly loyal and borderline co-dependent, typical libra traits.

her first real true love was a guy named tony.

tony is the dark skinned Indian bassplayer of her band. not native american Indian but from India Indian, which might explain why gwen sported those glittery dots on the center of her forehead in some of their videos back in the day.

they had a big time love affair which ended. she was crushed when he dumped her and began writing all the sad songs that became huge hits. the guitar player wrote lots of the parts, but the words were gwen's and most of the aptly named Tragic Kingdom were straight from the broken heart of today's birthday girl.

Tragic Kingdom ended up selling 12 million records worldwide. their manager at that time is tsar's manager at this time. if you thought i could write a post without mentioning my favorite band, you're insane.

gwen went on to sing duets with Moby and Eve which were both huge hits too, but being loyal to her bandmates, she truly meant it when she said that those were just little one-off projects, and last year flew off to jamacia where no doubt made the rock-roots flavored "rock steady" which lofted such hits as "hey baby," "hella good,"and now the smash hit "underneath it all."

rock steady is holding steady at #46 in the album charts which is quite an accomplishment since it's been on the charts for 46 straight weeks. and "underneath it all" is locked in at #12 on the singles charts where it's been quietly resting for the last seven weeks.

gwen probably hasn't been resting too much. after opening for U2, and headlining their own tour, the skinny blonde recently got married to longtime boyfriend, hearthrob Gavin Rosdale of the britian pop group Bush. the couple exchanged vows in london last month and later jetted to the states to have another service for their friends and family in america.

what's next for gwen stefani? role model, fashion icon, overall super cool gal, and frontperson to the incredibly successful pop group.

my guess is she'll be changing diapers in two years time.

either way, happy birthday gwen.

# | |

today is meesh's 76th birthday! and if you ask me she doesn't look a day over 40. friends, this is what vegetarianism, herbs, and yoga can do for you.

meesh is a nature girl. shes a gardener. shes into meditation. once i made love to a girl who was into meditation and she just laid there. for some reason i don't think meesh would be anything like her. she throws her head back when she laughs, she doesn't sip when she drinks, she drains. she swoops into a room and dominates quietly with her eyes and her smile and her subtle perfumed seduction.

ive met girls like meesh before.

shes one of a kind.

when i was trying to rally to get 100 new links a few months back, certain readers to this blog said that if they had something interesting to say they would make a blog just so that they could link to me to be one of the 100.

guys shouldn't make blogs just for that reason. they should make blogs because of this reason: theres no way i woulda met meesh without this blog.

i think what happened was she read Rabbit, i begged Rabbit to link me, meesh clicked my link on Rabbit and fell in lust with me.

ta da.

through meesh i met simone and through simone i met steve coulter, who then introduced me to tsar.

no, kidding. actually, turns out simone once dated a guy who played with keith brown in popsicko and that guy is friends with tsar, and simone had actually seen tsar about four or five times.

hollywood is a tiny place, people.

be nice to everyone.

meesh is nice to everyone, so since today is her birthday, why don't you go over to her site, read some of the xxx dear abby stuff that shes been writing beautifully, and write her an email and tell her that you're happy that shes around.

i am.

# | |

i want to feel sunlight on my face. see the dust cloud disappear without a trace.

i was stuck in right field steaming. i had missed one xbi softball game due to my vacation and i was no longer batting leadoff playing shortstop, i was in right field batting ninth. our team had gotten serious. they'd brought on some fratboys and brothas and they had forgotten about the kid.

they said that when he was pitching his 56 consecutive shutout innings orel hershiser sang hymns to himself , and even though i was a born again too, fuck hymns. i was whispering motorhead, maiden, priest, sabbath, metalica, and nwa 100 miles and runnin.

good luck, brothas.

theres a lot of time to think when you're playing right field in a softball game where all the macho guys try to pull it over the impossible left field wall. sex love death money

revenge.

i thought about how the bank job before my vacation went down perfectly. so good the bank didn't even want to talk about it.

much better than the early days when we'd pull that shit off at night in the wee hours. drilling under the streets with diamond tipped jackhammers in the day time and finishing the job at midnight straightup leaving behind a note that said ha ha bankrobbers were here next to a glass half empty of milk and a plate of warm cookies.

fingerprints?

what fingerprints?

i thought about the lady from the church who cornered me at the busstop before the game. hollywood and highland busstop at 8:20pm you meet all kinds and this one wanted me to take a survey and i said okay until i saw the name of the controversial sci fi author all over the page and i said, oh, no thanks.

she said, what?

i said, i know about you guys, i live up the street.

she said, where?

i said, over by your big building.

she said, oh, by the church in los feliz.

i said yeah. she was sharp as could be. great salesperson. no fear. i loved it.

she said, that doesn't mean you cant just answer some questions. its about a magazine. ideas for the titles of a magazine.

ideas?

she was talking to the right man.

she showed me six names. they were all terrible.

she asked, which one would you like best for a magazine.

i tried hard but i couldn't find one.

i said, no offense, but none of them.

she said, tell me what each of these names means to you.

i told her. they were all generic.

i said, this one makes me think of books. this one makes me think of the French. this one makes me think of Old People.

i wanted to say, none of them tells me, We Can't Brainwash You.

she asked me my first name, age, income.

i said, Sonny, 21, agent.

she said, movie agent?

i said, undercover agent.

she laughed. then she stopped laughing. she knew hollywood and highland just like i did.

she said, i live next to the church too.

she said, ive seen lots of she paused

people

coming to your door.

she wanted to say girls. i knew what she meant.

at first i thought she was judging me. then i saw she was curious.

do you have a favorite?

i said, i like the ones who are being nice to me.

and i sang to myself, i want to run, i want to hide...

then, magically, the bus came.

and i finally understood what some non christians probably feared about me when i would talk about the bible.

they were afraid that i might just be right.

# | |

i hadn't even gotten fully out of my flying car when blah blah blah from viacom said that they wanted my help saving vh-1.

i told them that i wasn't interested in saving vh-1.

they opened up a briefcase of money. i said give to caesar what's caeasar's.

they said ok and forget about the stones at staples on halloween, what about a pair for their wiltern gig?

i paused.

then kept moving. fuck vh-1.

they said we can get you a date with mariah.

i said i cant do a divorced woman.

they said we can make christina aguilera fall in love with you.

i said vh-1 needs to hire courtney love.

let her be on the air as much as she wants.

i want to see cooking with courtney, caulking with courtney, child rearing with courtney, chatting with courtney, and coughing with courtney.

not only is she a fine musician her self, sexists, but she's rock royalty, and if she's not her little girl is, so god save the queen.

i let them in my house! and said, what you did with her on mtv2 giving her 24 hours was brilliant, but "behind the music" is filler when theres nothing to watch on saturdays. courtney is such an attention whore she'd do it for peanuts. and don't let her fool you, shes as much into fleetwood mac as she is in fugazi. "malibu" is VH-1 101. not even boomers want to feel old and in order to stay away from celine you need courtney.

it doesn't need to be live. her friends are michael stipe (whose music you should be playing more of) and billy corgan and probably quite a few other interesting people who would give your channel the cool factor that has always resisted your eager grasp.

and secondly, you should bring back Rock N Roll Jeopardy.

That guy from "Survivor" was a good host, but i think you need to hire David Lee Roth for a week.

The week after that let Bob Costas do it. I can't stand Costas, but he'd be perfect.

The week after that have David Byrne, and then Quincy Jones, and then Kurt Loder, and then Moby.

they said those are brilliant ideas.

i said thank you.

they said, you far exceeded your reward, what else can we do for you?

i said, please fire john norris. i have no clue why i always have to see that guy on my mtv. who does he have photos of? mtv is notorious for letting people go sooner than later. from johnny knoxville, to jenny mccarthy, kennedy to tom green to tabitha soren to remote control to puck, you have no problem letting perfectly good interesting people leave right when they are about to explode.

why are you hanging onto john norris like he's your raggedy ole rabbit's foot?

he's entirely forgettable in every way.

i have nothing against the man, he's not annoying, but his presence is.

why not let that fat skinhead kid on m2 get a little face time?

that kid's unbelievable.

he's got tattoos and the lingo and the poise and the double chin.

america is ready for whatever his name is.

and that's who you need to hook up with christina, not me.

i'd totally corrupt that little girl.

# | |

If the Feds busted into my IE History for today, other than finding out that i still have a wicked bad crush on Christina Aguilera there are these items:

Meesh is making it very difficult for me to stand up, here in my lonely cubicle. But I'm glad to see that she's giving Raymi her due props. :cough::tonysandwich::cough:

Although a picture may say 1,000 words, i like Sara's words a lot more than pictures of britney spears and cher sporting a george washington mask (yes, the pumpkin patches are popping up on the abandoned lots of america, but take the mask off honey) and sara, get back to writing or i'll post more billy joel lyrics. whatever you do, dont let grad school get in the way of your blog!

reverse cowgirl takes the sort of pictures of hollywood that i wish i could, if best buy would only give me back my camera. fuckholes. anyway, today she announces that she will be featured in an upcoming edition of Playboy. now arent you glad you subscribe like me?

it's less than three hours before Game Two and Welch types the word "shitty" and yet isnt talking about the tough defeat of his beloved Angels to the dreaded Yankees last night in one of the best playoff games you'll ever see. maybe he thinks the never-say-die Halos will still pull that one out. shrug it off, pal, your boy Glaus sent a few messages that the SoCal homies are going to continue their mysterious who's-your-daddy on the bronx bombers. if you missed it the Angels rocked the rocket and mauled mario in game one at the house that ruth built. the cocky mothers nearly got away with loading the bases for Giambi and stealing game one away from the home team. but the angels will soar tonight, my pretties. and welch will rejoin the bandwagon that he is secretly driving himself.

laura crane would give two thumbs up on the Atkins diet if she could lift her left arm. i kid. my mom and sister are on it and they swear by it too. who knew cutting food out of your diet would help you lose weight?

kate sullivan lost her job, LA lost a really good newspaper, the doors of opportunity swing even wider. if i could only find that friggin iguana, i would ask for my fourth wish to be for there to be a real newspaper for me and all my amigos to work at and live happilly ever after. but alas, the LA Times is just far too mighty and good and powerful and well written and well edited and informative and sexy and colorful and smart and innovative and diverse and accurate and free thinking and superior for anything like that to happen in my lifetime, or yours.

Dawn called me a God today, which does wonders for my esteem, which is about to floweth over.

And then Uppity Negro done linked me less than 24 hours after i whined, and alas, the esteem has reached its peak, and then some. excuse me while i kiss the sky.

# | |

Billy Joel
Glass Houses
Columbia Records

"Close To The Borderline"

Blackout, heatwave, .44 caliber homicide
The bums drop dead and dogs go mad
In packs on the West Side
Young girl standing on a ledge looks like another suicide
She wants to hit those bricks
'Cause the news at six gotta stick to a deadline
While the millionaires hide in Beekman Place
The bag ladies throw their bones in my face
I get attacked by a kid with stereo sound
I don't want to hear it but he won't turn it down
Life is tough but it's just enough
To hold back the tears until it's closing time
I survived, I'm still alive
But I'm getting close to the borderline
Close to the borderline

A buck three eighty
Won't buy you much lately on the street these days
And when you can get gas
You know you can't drive fast anymore on the parkways
Rich man, poor man, either way American
Shoved into the lost and found
The no nuke yell we're gonna all go to hell
With the next big meltdown
I got remote control and a color T.V.
I don't change channels so they must change me
I got real close friends that will get me high
They don't know how to talk and they ain't gonna try
I shouldn't bitch, I shouldn't cry
I'd start a revolution but I don't have time
I don't know why I'm still a nice guy
But I'm getting close to the borderline
Close to the borderline

I thought I'd sacrifice so many things
I thought I'd throw them all away
I didn't think I needed anything
But you can't afford to squander what you're not prepared to pay

I need a doctor for my pressure pills
I need a lawyer for my medical bills
I need a banker to finance my home
I need security to back my loan
It isn't new what I'm going through
But everybody knows you got to break sometime
Another night I fought the good fight
But I'm getting closer to the borderline
Close to the borderline.

sadly, this is one of only a handful of songs that i have completely memorized. sadder still, it was one of the most punk rock song i had to grow up with.

# | |

greg and molli's baby boy is due any minute now and if they were different people i would love to get them this Military Forward Command Post (available for just $44 at kbtoys, jcpenny and etoys) which looks like what i would have done to my sister's Barbie Dream House if i had a little creativity, some markers, and a few stray bic lighters.

ah, kids. they have it all these days. ecstacy, two channels of nickelodian, free internet porn, mp3s, britney and christina showing off their bodies, Carrotop.

who would have ever thought that we would be looking back at the 80s as a time when life was so much simpler?

i can truly remember only having 75 tv channels. when i have kids theyre going to hear that and laugh me right out of the space pod.

right before i went to college, my mom helped me buy a $1,500 apple computer that had 128k of memory.

this blog takes up about 70k all by itself!

blogging was tougher back then. especially since all the modems were being hoarded by the military who were spending thousands to comminucate at 2400 Baud.

ah, hindsight. my friend. my love. my advesary.

i was thinking on the bus that i should really lie and have an About section and pretend that i am white, 21 years old, and i drive a BMW. but then i would out myself with these old fables of yesteryear.

anyhow, lets keep our fingers crossed for mr. greg and ms. molli as they await their lil bundle of joy.

if the world seems a little brighter and warmer today it's because someone very special is on the way, and its not santa.

# | |

anna's cute, but she doesnt know too much about the web.

she called me last night before i got to bed. it was noon in russia. she was upset that she had confused myelin's blogging ecosphere with the truth laid bear's blogosphere ecosphere. i told her it was cool. she said no, that she was really really sorry and wanted to make it up to me.

i told her that we all make mistakes. i told her to work on her backhand.

she said, but the NZ Bear has got NZ in it and the other guy has NZ in his url.

i said, chill, ruskie. then she started crying. then she told me it might be her pms.

i said i hope it was pms. we had a little close call with a romp that led to a condom being broken.

she said she was sure she wasnt pregnant.

i asked, how can you tell?

she said, if i had a little tony baby in me, i would know right away.

i told her that i was flipping through Redbook and i leaned all these great things about the new IUDs out there. and one you dont have to fuss with for FIVE years.

she asked me to change the subject.

so i told her that i watched the new Real World and it's my favorite porn series ever.

then she said she loved me.

it was the first time she'd ever said that. other than when we were fighting.

i said, i love ya too.

she said, ya?

then i got a beep on my call waiting. and she said, never mind. i gotta go.

which was great cuz i was sleeeep - eeee.

# | |

aruba, island of mystery. history as strong as the tradewinds that cool off the tourists as they bake. once known as the alcatraz of the carribian and the home of the largest prison in south america, local legend has it that if you trap one of the adult iguanas you'll get three wishes if you agree to let it go...

i'll give you three wishes if you let me go.

no one is imprisoning you.

i know, but you look like a nice fellow.

no, thanks, my life is fine, i said. and went back to reading white oleander. damn good book.

anything you want. do do do. no strings attached.

move along, reptile. im on vacation. no talking to things that dont really talk right now.

i used to be a prisoner on this island. i can talk.

i want the cubs to win the world series. i want president bush to resign. i want tsar to play on my birthday.

first of all, the cubs arent even in the playoffs. secondly, i cannot influence world politics. and thirdly, tsar is in the studio making a new record for your ass. pick three new ones.

lousy lizard.

come on. most people think this is fun.

i would like some more girth in my manhood.

no you dont.

sure i do.

size doesnt matter. ask for something else.

i would like you to leave me alone.

i will after you wish for two more things.

you're taking a wish away from me?

i'm not taking. im granting. two more now, tony

you know my name?

of course. just cuz im an iguana doesnt mean im a dumb schmoe.

for a magic talking iguana, you're sorta boring.

come on, dont you want a new job or anything?

ok, yes, i'd like a new job. something creative. where i'm loved by millions and i dont have to carry a gun any more.

great. before christmas you'll have a new job.

really.

yup.

wow.

yep. now ask for another.

i want a bunch of girls to tell me im a great writer and then kiss me.

what if some of them used to be men?

no, thank you.

what if some of them have little moustashes?

whatever.

what if some of them have little beards

now youre pushing it. what about some pretty girls?

okay tony. your wishes have been granted. now kiss me and they'll come true.

and i kissed the iguana and he turned into a mermaid and jumped in the sea and swam off into the sunset.

# | |

anna kournikova returned to her winning ways today in moscow, putting away Switzerland's Marie-Gaianah Mikaelian 6-4, 6-3 as easy as knocking back a shot of vodka.

the russian beauty advanced in the Kremlin Cup to rousing applause and bouquets of flowers.

"tennis smennish," the 21-year-old hearthrob said in her post-match press conference. "all i want to know is what the fuck is Adam Curry doing at #34 in the Truth Laid Bear's blogosphere, when my sweet lovable tony is lost in the pack at #108!"

the sensuous athlete known for her provacative outfits was complaining about the informal rankings of web blogs put together by N.Z. Bear who lists sites by how many other sites on the list link each other. sources say it's very complicated.

"it's not complicated at all!" kournikova complained, dabbing a glistening rivulet of perspiration from her brow with her baby blue Adidas hand towel. "i would like to see this happen. i would like to see all the people on the blogosphere who are not linking the busblog begin linking immediately. im sure tony will return the favor."

the tennis star reeled off a short list of sites that she said she would like very much to have links to pierce's site. and with each name she pounded her fist on the table.

"first, i think there should be a link from Uppity Negro, obviously. and Tonecluster!

the star went on, and on and was dragged from the conference shouting. "Compete with Curry!"

# | |

hi tony

hi carpal tunnel in my hands and arms.

how was your vacation?

great, how was yours?

it was cool. even dibilitating illnesses like breaks. i'm glad youre back and writing and working again, though.

i bet.

can i ask you a few questions?

shoot.

what's up with your Hotmail address?

im not looking at the heytony@hotmail.com one any more, im only looking at the xxxtonyxxx at hotmail one.

too much spam?

i used to drink a shot of rum every time i got a penis enlargement email, my liver is forcing me to quit that game.

ah, okay. now, anna is having a hard time getting Tsar to play for your birthday. i might be able to get some Dylan tickets at the Wiltern, wanna go?

nah, i think i'd rather see Tsar.

i thought you loved Bob Dylan!

i do, but if given the choice, i'd rather see Tsar.

you're crazy, man. Dylan at the newly renovated Wiltern? Thats gonna be a great gig.

what part of Tsar is my favorite band dont you understand?

why dont you hit up the skinny model chick for some tickets to the Stones at Staples on Halloween?

i love her blog, but i would rather see Tsar. i think she'd rather see them too.

but she's so connected! i bet she could get you backstage. maybe even meet Mick.

yeah. that would be nice. but i would rather hang out with my friends at Spaceland, and hear the new tunes, and the old tunes of the best band in America. maybe they would wear costumes or something.

like afros?

no, like real costumes. maybe if they all wore dresses like the stones did on that one album where they all looked like ugly women.

Some Girls?

yeah.

i hate to break it to you, tone dog, but i think it's over for Tsar. you can't even get their cds at Amazon any more.

f amazon. people should buy cds at independent record stores, not huge online conglomerates.

whatever you say, hippie.

ok, im gonna go finish my danish and get to work now.

great, i'll be here rooting you on.

thanks, carpal tunnel. who's gonna win this Angels game tonight?

shit, that's tonight?

five o'clock.

the angels own the yankees. i say they win by 4.

i'm with you.

au contraire, im with you, senior.

uh huh, yeah. whatever.

# | |

what do you want for your birthday, tony?

just you, anna.

i know, but i cant be there, im sorry.

teenage runaway catholic girl skirted twins, then.

but i got you that last year.

whoops. forgot. how about world peace?

ha ha! not likely, gandhi

ok, then i would like Tsar to play, please.

hmmm. i dont know if i can get that together.

i trust you, i think you can.

people didnt even notice that i didnt play any tennis while you were on vacation with your "family."

crazy. you'd think that people would pay more attention to things like that.

i guess they're too caught up in their own lives.

is that why the so-called liberal media lets Bush get away with our economy plummeting, and the terrorists winning, and corporate fraud, and ...

look at your comments, tony, people don't come here to hear you be right about politics.

oh.

they come here for the song lyrics.

no they don't.

i know. so why do you post them, then?

so you'd know what to sing to me as i fall asleep.

put some beastie boys up there then.

ok. maybe later in the week.

are you glad to be back at work?

im glad to be fighting crime again. sure. it's nice to feel needed.

i noticed something today that i thought was funny. this is the last month that you'll be 108 years old, and lookit, youre #108 on the blogging ecosystem.

ok, for my birthday i would like to be a little more popular than that.

thats not so easy. you'll have to kiss a lot of asses. and write better too.

guess im shit outta luck.

look at the company you're in with though, kausfiles is sponsored by MSN/Slate, Jarvis created Entertainment Weekly. you havent done squat compared to those guys.

adam curry is #34, anna.

thats fucked up, love.

tell me about it.

i had a nice week with you, tony.

shhhhhhhhh.

i mean, i missed you while you were away, tony

i missed you too anna. i thought about you every day. and every single lonesome night.

# | |

Tsar
Tsar
Hollywood Records

"Teen Wizards"

Teen wizards on your street,
the grown ups get so high.
They chain their children�s hearts into the sky.
Let�s jam the jukebox, babe,
the fuckers will shine on�.
oh, hi.
and everybody everywhere,
is shooting off their air-to-air.
To release the silent prisoner.

Teen Wizards
of tomorrow,
Rock city
on the radio.
Everybody�s gonna follow,
When the sun is burning on and on,
For your will...
Do what you wanna do,
right now
little angels, pretty girls
on and on,
having sex
on the sun.
the air is calling you.

Super, super, Super child�.
Hey yo, superfried.
Got the juice
and don't ever lose it,
a time to control,
your rotton soul.

Yeah!
Stand up and face the sun.
You ain�t the only one.
No, you ain�t the only one.
Oh,
Teen Wizards of tomorrow,
Rock city
on the radio.
Everybody�s gonna follow,
then when the Earth is turning on and on,
to your will.
Yeah!�����..Yeah!
Teen Wizards of tomorrow,
Rock city on the radio.
Everybody�s gonna follow,
When the skin is burning in the sun,
The silence will load the gun,
the violence is the future son.
And it�s you,
I feel it�s true
When I see you,
I get shot through!

# | |

you'd think that with all this fuss about the fact that Bush knew and the FBI knew about 9/11 before 9/11, and with enron and global crossings, and martha stewart, and allen greenspan getting knighted by the queen of england despite the fact that the economy lost several trillion dollars under his watch, that Bill O'Reilly would have bigger fish to fry than to get his panites in a bunch over hip hop artists trying to make them ends; but surprise, the rich, white conservative talk show host wants to try to put Snoop Dogg and Ludacris out of work because companies like Pepsi and the Muppets think their brands would benefit from a relationship with the rappers, than, say, with the racist behind the "Factor."

click over to G. Beato on Soundbitten who defends the d-o double g and ludacris the way o'reilly wish he could have approached it: with intelligence, facts, history and a tad less hysteria.

o'reilly's rant lost ludacris a gig, and im sure snoop dogg wont be getting a seasame street walk-on spot now that the nervous nellies who jump when the Factor tells them how high have been tounge-lashed, but my question is, wouldnt bill rather have these men employed? guys like him always bitch when they see a Black man getting a welfare check, or caught on "Cops" with his shirt off getting cuffed on his front porch as a pit bull barks and a baby cries. are ratings really worth the fact that perfectly good entertainers are losing gigs because o'reilly would rather walk in the predictable shoes of Pat Buchannan and bitch every time a rapper gets paid by someone other than a white suburban teen?

is it really that outrageous to think that Pepsi would want to seem a little cooler than Coke by hiring Ludacris? or is it more outrageous to think that our government knew full well that Bin Laden did have a history of fucking with planes, and had a hard-on for the world trade center, and liked to target civilian locales, and the fbi got an email from an agent months before the attack which pondered why so many young saudis were learning how to fly airplanes in america.

do the polls work yet in florida, o'reilly? are snoop dogg's part time acting roles more important to you than the idea of americans going to the polls but not having their votes count? how do you feel about the fact that you can buy a share of stock of Sun Micro for less than $3 a share? dont you think that that is more troubling than a movie starring the muppets?

the priorities of the Factor are mighty transparent. keep the brothers down. defend the right wing no matter how Huge they fuck up. ignore the real financial, political, and cultural disasters. focus on rappers with funny names and lyrics that you've never really listened to other than to scan for obscenities.

The O'Reilly Factor: the #1 primetime cable news show. nice. fucking. job. america.

# | |

i was cutting my filet mignon in first class jetting from miami to LAX thinking about how red meat doesn't agree with me any more. thinking about how i don't like hugh grant and i really don't like him when he's really good in really good movies like "about a boy." i was doing my best to resist the luxury the rich have become used to. i was trying to keep it real.

the blonde stewardess had a bottle of red in one hand and a bottle of white in the other. i was chewing on a mouthful of spinach salad and buttering my warm sourdough roll and i nodded towards the red.

i wasn't keeping shit real.

i did have surfer shorts on, an ac/dc tshirt, marilyn manson on the mp3 cd player that my good buddy got me off my wishlist last year. but i was laughing at a film produced by the makers of bridget jones diary and about to dive back into a novel i was totally loving from the oprah book club.

i knew things were really bad when i couldn't keep my eyes off the clouds.

they were amazing. i wasn't on drugs. i wasn't in love. i wasn't emotional in any way, i was entranced by them. they were like rockstars up there, i couldn't keep my eyes off of them and i couldn't believe i was so close to them. i was in the front row, i was backstage, i was on stage.

they were great flying over texas, they were great over new mexico. there weren't any in palm springs but they were creeping that way and they covered the entire LA basin and as we made our descent they were like snow that had been skied over by thousands of vacationers. they were still. they were stoic. they had stories to tell about their creation. they were going somewhere. they were covering a news story. they were peeking at our lives.

over miami they stole the sun and sifted the rays. in la they were the sunscreen. spf 75. in aruba they simply provided sunshowers, tears from the gods who had no beachtowels.

it made me want to be a pilot. but only on cloudy days.

this is the busblog and i wouldn't be totally honest if i didn't reveal that when i changed trains today at wilshire and vermont i took the wrong train for the first time in over a year. i took the train that wasn't going to take me to work, but take me back home, where the gorgeous twenty year old was snoozing in my bed, hopefully dreaming of nice things instead of allowing the demons to whisper silly lies in her dreams.

i don't deserve any of the good that comes my way. for the record. i don't deserve the incredibly delicious wine flavored au jus on my steak or the leather recliner or blonde stewardesses or the island girls, or the vacations, or the attentions, or the friends who pick me up at the airport, or the ones who call me upon arrival, or the raiders kicking ass, or you, or this, or that.

but i will take it and i will appreciate it.

and i will do my best not to lie so much the rest of this year.

i stole an LA Times today from a machine and i don't feel the slightest bit guilty.

# | |