tony + mary!
busblog at gmail dot com

nothing in here is true


   Saturday, December 07, 2002  
the only thing i like better than a good bank robbery is a blonde bj with a redhead working the balls.

hi, im tony pierce and i can kick your ass in so many ways, kids, that you better watch it cuz i will. for fun.

and for profit.

right now miss newport beach 2004 is speeding north up the long beach freeway in her miata to my cranky ass, this after spending much of the day with miss redondo 2001. is the fact that i get that sort of attention make me an asshole? no. being alive is what makes me an asshole. live a little and it'll happen to you too.

yes, i have for some reason left ward entertainment off my list of links to the left. blow me. im 109. this is a blog. get a life. i have carpal tunnel, but i can, with a little help uncurl my middle finger, raise it high and shove it right through your acid washed gap baggies. and dont think i wont.

you call me a celebrity blogger? what the fuck is that. you call me the blogfather? then have some respect. how about an email? how about a comment? how about chilling out for a fucking second, dillweed. you'll get yours.

its a link.

and you wish you flowed me 120 hits a day.

you know who gets me 120 hits a day? not you. not the real blogfather the instapundit. "anna kournikova nude" gets me 120 hits a day so step off bitch.

to me blogging is a variety of things. first you must know how to write. best thing about writing is that the more you do it the better you get and unlike beating off, writing well is something that you can parlay into sex drugs money power. so practice.

when youre done practicing read the good book. when youre done reading do curls, pushups, sit ups.

one day you might find yourself in the curious position of being requested to lift a young lady up in a corner of a suite in a swanky sunset blvd hotel far above the madding crowds and let me tell you the goal isnt to get there, it's to stay there. the correct response is please dont leave me here alone tonight. call in sick tomorrow and drink mimosas with me by the pool.

fuck links on a blog, fellows.

so thats writing. the part that hollywood has all but given up on. the part that television couldnt care less about. the part that mr. miyagi would have considered both the wax on and the wax off of life. work at it work at it work at it.

writing isnt bitching. writing isnt whining. not one man has gotten doubleteamed by brazillian gogo girls because he was a whiner. want proof? who's the biggest whiner of all? thats right, drudge. and ask yourself, what sort of pussy does matt drudge have walking around his studio apartment clonking around his hardwood floors while he's trying to type his little bullshit?

zero, people.


there will never be a "cribs" crew rolling up to drudge's pad asking him to open his fridge to see if he's got gold bottles of bubbly and a stripper pole in his boom boom room.

whiners wouldnt know the first fucking thing about a boom boom room, so dry your tears and remove the back of your hand from your forehead.

writing is comedy poetry and freestyle bootycall that dips through drama and ends in a flourish of philiosphy. spread your wings and fly and make sure theres a begining middle and end.

easiest way to piss off a hack: bring up his endings.

and lie people.

the asshole who told you that your lives are interesting shouldnt be trusted. i lied in nearly every keystroke of this masterpiece.

even kids know that a good art heist beats a bank robbery any day under the sun.

lie when you write.

your boy drudge does.

then theres design. i like ward entertainment's design. i like riley dog's and illuminent's and i super love my long lost girlfriend whateverhername is from

love love love her design.

love. and i haint linked her sweet ass yet either, so back the fuck up, boys.

if i truly had interns instead of little teases who say they want to intern but dont, they'd do the upkeep on the day-to-day. im trying to lead by example, so dont make me make examples of you.

my advice?

think youre young and original?

get out before...

   Friday, December 06, 2002  

the cure

elektra records, 1992

friday im in love

i don't care if monday's blue
tuesday's grey and wednesday too
thursday I don't care about you
it's friday I'm in love

monday you can fall apart
tuesday wednesday break my heart
thursday doesn't even start
it's friday I'm in love

saturday wait
and sunday always comes too late
but friday never hesitate...

i don't care if monday's black
tuesday wednesday heart attack
thursday never looking back
it's friday I'm in love

monday you can hold your head
tuesday wednesday stay in bed
or thursday watch the walls instead
it's friday I'm in love

saturday wait
and sunday always comes too late
but friday never hesitate...

dressed up to the eyes
it's a wonderful surprise
to see your shoes and your spirits rise
throwing out your frown
and just smiling at the sound
and as sleek as a shriek
spinning round and round
always take a big bite
it's such a gorgeous sight
to see you in the middle of the night
you can never get enough
enough of this stuff
it's friday
i'm in love

winona just got back from her trial in beverly hills, and boy is she pissed.

"i can't believe you bust your ass interviewing totally young southern girls, and then getting an exclusive club review from paris hilton and you get one measly comment! this is a fucking outrage."

winona was so mad she broke the italics button.

"what does a man have to do to get a little love in the blog world? dont they know you still have carpal tunnel? dont they know you're trying to walk the path of the straight and narrow? dont they know that you are pounding the pavement up and down the mean streets of this city trying to find a copy shop or printer or publisher to knock out a few hundred copies of your Blook so you can deliver them before Christmas? Dont they know how you bust your ass for them?"

i pretty much sit on my ass, baby. its cool.

"it ISNT Cool! whats cool is after you write something if 70+ people commented. fucking Oish doesnt update for a week at a time and all her readers comment. same goes for pretty much everyone. why is it that they dont comment here? all they have to do is say 'you fucking rule, tony, god i love you.' but they dont. they take and they take and they take and they take."

shoplifter, easy.

"yes, i take too. we all take in one form or another, but i give back. i make the movies for your asses. i pose for the photos for your asses. i was on SNL - which they tried to fuck me for in the sentencing today."


"fuckbrains. and now im gonna cough up about ten large and do 420 hours of community service."

four hundred and how many?

"480. sorry. im just so pissed off. and whats the story with how people ride the bus in this town? i mean really."

what are you talking about?

"oh, they took away my drivers liscense today at the hearing."

how come?

"fuck if i know, i didnt run off in a car with their shit. i had a driver. hows a bitch supposed to work in this town without a drivers license. so i had to take the fucking bus home."

where do you live?

"santa monica."

so did you take the 4 from beverly hills down santa monica blvd?

"i got lucky and there was a 304 express."


"yeah. but this fuckwad-- full bus, okay. this old fucking bitch is in the back of the bus. she pulls the string whatever to ring the bell, she walks all the way through people to the front of the bus to exit. WHORE! what does she think the back door is for?"

please, dont tempt me.

"it's for getting off, bitch."

thats a better line than i was thinking.

"i dont know how you do it tony. you ride with all these morons, then you bust on the blog and you get no respect."

yeah. hmmm. yeah.

"i wish there was something i could do for you."

i think youve done enough.

"i'd steal you a scarf but im sorta a marked woman."

its all good.

"and i bet you'd look great in burberry."

its the thought that counts, winona. now go out there and make mr. deeds 2 for me.

"what are you doing tonight, tony?"

i have a date.

"what about tomorrow?"

im gonna watch the OU game.

"wanna watch it at my house?"


"bring your swim trunks. i have a hot tub."

i cant seem to find my trunks, winona.

"even better."


force the goose
one of the things that we here at the busblog like to do is let you in on what is happening in hollywood. the city that i live in.

when i read blogs from around the world i like to hear whats going on in those towns.

i like it when people post pictures of their towns and include stories, and for the most part we do that here.

with that said, we present you with the first of what i hope to be many more reports from the glamorous clubs of tinsletown.

this morning, ms. paris hilton writes to us. ms. hilton was in town for Motorola's annual Christmas party in west hollywood.

afterwards she went to the newest and most happening club in hollywood, Club Ivar on the incredible Hollywood Blvd.


got into the ivar.

used my girlie charms which i have put on reserve for years.

liz & i walked up to the vip line and some lady said you need to go to the other door and get bracelets. we smiled at the bouncer at the door and he said "no they don't. you girls can come right in." so we smiled and said "how bout us plus four????" and he winked and said 'sure'.

it is not all it is cracked up to be. but they were giving out free red bulls & vodka's for some crazy reason. and there were rumored to be free margaritas too.

there is a 2nd part of the club where you have to pay to get in. $20. and you cannot wink your way through that. bob saget said we could get in for free, but then they still said no. it was quite bizarre. what was bob saget doing at the ivar? he must be about 45....he looks about 26.

see what a full house will do for you.

the employees were freaking out b/c fred durst was supposed to show up. they were literally pushing people out of the way. that is when we decided to leave and went to 'the room'.

i hugged a bouncer from philly and then i puked up my red bulls & vodka in the bathroom.

i have a meeting in precisely 10 minutes.

how are you?
7. baseball blog

guess who's back? shady's back. back again. tell a friend

anna always tells me that i never tell the loyal readers of the blog when i have done a new photo essay or a new interview or done something to the web site.

so since i told her i wasnt going to do anything like that until she came back to tennis (which she did yesterday in Dublin) follwing her most recent injury... where was i?

oh yeah, i had the opportunity to chat with one of the hottest new girls of bloggerdom, lauren from

lauren is fifteen, an equestrian rider, is that how you say it? and an all-around funny chick.

my guess is she really does know how many days are in november.

her older sister kristin is in a sorority in oklahoma and will hopefully agree to an interview soon too.

people write in and ask me why i give these girls so much love. thats easy. they're funny. theyre smart. and they both hype the busblog nearly every day.

they credit this blog with the success of their blog, which has only been around for less than a month, and yet i havent made their hall of fame. interesting. perhaps there is more to the nomination process than meets the eye.

some things that did not come out in the interview: lauren is a super fast typist. its crazy. she can do three lines before im done snorting one. [ rimshot ]. thank you.

she really does like the pancake maker that was first popularized when my good pals bonnie and charlie got one for me for my birthday. see, those two kids' love has spread across this great land of ours.

is lauren taken? well thats a question that i didnt bother to ask. for all you boys still in highschool, lets just say perhaps you should ask her yourself. for all those men out of her age group, yes, shes taken and shes jailbait, so move on.

regardless, here is the interview. click the pictures to advance to the next page, and feel free to tell me how great it all was in the comments below.

5. screechin
6. what in the sam hill

   Thursday, December 05, 2002  
you know who i love? i love raymi. let me tell you why.

raymi does everything that she knows that i like.

she dresses in lots of different hot outfits, she runs around naked. she smokes. she sings karaoke. she goes to baseball games. she hangs out with assholes. she makes her own money. she writes and writes. she loves sex and talking about sex. she loves lesbo love. she loves writing about loving lesbo love. and she loves me.

but most importantly, she sends me pictures of herself.

do you know how much i love pictures?


of all the blogs and web sites in the world, how many have as many pictures as this one?

one reason might be because people have the belief that we are all still using 33.6 modems and people wont wait for the pics to load and in their desperation to get as many eyeballs as humanly possible, they dont use pictures, or they dont bother with pictures, or they dont know where to get them, etc. etc. etc.

but most of you have fast connections, or you believe that it is worth it to wait for my pics.

and the porn industry has proven years ago that you will wait for pics regardless of your connection speed.

which is why i love raymi. she understands all of this and shows me her pictures via her web page and the boys send her money and she uses that money to fly here and make gorgeous canadian love to me.

and i am thankful.

raymi is only 19 and most young girls seem to think that if you give a man what he wants either he wont respect you or he'll get bored or he'll turn on you or he'll call you a slut or all these varieties of negative things. and that might be the case for some fellas. but for others, if you give them what they want, they'll give you everything.

everything, ladies.

and i know shes busy. shes working on her masters, shes in a womens bowling league. shes demonstrating in the park to help legalize baseball. but pretty much every day she'll wake up, put the camera under her skirt and click a pic for your pal and email it off just to let me know that she still loves me.

and people, that means a lot to a dumbass like me. it means tons, actually.

i get emails from all sorts of people for all sorts of things. but the thing that rings my bell like no other is a little digital love from a cute little topless foreigner who truly doesnt give a fuck. a nibble from the north. something to get my juices going.

some girls worry that their tits arent that big or that they dont wear the right clothes or that they dont live in the right part of town. learn from raymi, gals. all that matters is your attitude, all that matters is you know what button to push.

in this case its the top one.

the one that makes the lens open for a split second.

the one that says tony i heart you.

this is me.

look at me.

want me.

have me.


take me.

do me.

love me.

lust me.


raymi is the shit
i have the greatest readers

Sent: Thursday, December 05, 2002 2:19 PM
Subject: Content Feedback

To whom it may concern:

I was shocked and dismayed to view�the Michael Jackson "Photo Essay" slideshow on your site:

I'm not sure if this is a public domain because I couldn't navigate to it in the usual way, but a friend sent it to me.� I put�"Photo Essay"�into quotes because this technique was actually stolen from a great web author who has been using this technique for awhile now and from what I know about the Internet - he originated the style.

Not to mention there was no discussion of the content being displayed and the pictures were overused Michael Jackson photos that one could find anywhere and that have been viewed a million times over.� Don't even get me started on the horrid design. Or LACK of design.

If you have any integrity you will at least credit the author who has been using this style for a long time now.� Or hey, better yet, contact him to create a masterpiece for you.�

Here is a sample of his work:

And here is a particularly brilliant one:


Mariah Carey

4. brett lamb

Paul Hardcastle

Cover to Cover: A Musical Autobiography
Push Records


In 1965 Vietnam seemed like just another foreign war,
But it wasn't.
It was different in many ways, as so were tose that did the fighting.
In World War II the average age of the combat soldier was 26...
In Vietnam he was 19.
In inininininin Vietnam he was 19.

(TV announcer's voice)
The shooting and fighting of the past two weeks continued today
25 miles west of Saigon

(Vet's Voice)
I really wasn't sure what was going on

Nininini Nineteen, 19, Ni-nineteen 19

In Vietnam the combat soldier typicaly served a twelve month tour of duty but
Was exposed to hostile fire almost everyday
Ninininininininininin 19 nininininninin 19

Hundreds of Thousands of men who saw heavy combat in Vietnam were arrested
Since discharge
Their arrest rate is almost twice that of non-veterans of the same age.
There are no accurate figures of how many of these men have been incarcerated.
But, a Veterans Administration study concludes that the greater of Vets
Exposure to combat could more likely affect his chances of being arrested or

This is one legacy of the Vietnam War

(Singing Girls)
All those who remember the war
They won't forget what they've seen..
Destruction of men in their prime
whose average was 19
War, War
Dededede-Destruction, wa-wa-War, wa-War, War
War, War

After World War II the Men came home together on troop ships, but the Vietnam
Vet often arrived home within 48 hours of jungle combat
Perhaps the most dramatic difference between World War II and VietNam was
Coming home.. .none of them received a hero's welcome
None of them received a heroes welcome, none of them, none of them
Nenene Nenene None of them, none of them, none of them
None of them received a hero's welcome
None of them received a hero's welcome

According to a Veteran's Administration study
Half of the Vietnam combat veterans suffered from what Psychiatrists call
Many vets complain of alienation, rage, or guilt
Some succumb to suicidal thoughts
Eight to Ten years after coming home almost eight-hundred-thousand men are
Still fighting the VietNam War

(Singing Girls)

Nininininininininin Nineteen, 19, Ni-nineteen 19
Nininininininininin Nineteen, 19, Ni-nineteen 19

(Soldiers Voice)
When we came back it was different.. Everybody wants to know "How'd it
Happenned to those guys over there
There's gotta be something wrong somewhere
We did what we had to do
There's gotta be something wrong somewhere
People wanted us to be ashamed of what it made us
Dad had no idea what he went to fight and he is now
All we want to do is come home
All we want to do is come home
What did we do it for
All we want to do is come home
Was it worth it?

utter wonder
christina aguilera was in town to film some vh-1 thing at the olympic auditorium in downtown LA.

when i got home from the movies i got in a little fight with ashley. around two a.m. the phone rang and i thought it was her, so i said "what!" and it was christina.

wanna try that again?

oh its you. baby.

thats better.

whats going on my little dirrty girl?

just drunk, half naked, tired, sore, thinking of you.

aw, sweetie.

i was thinking that i dont know what you want for christmas and you know how things go, i should find that out now and get it to you before i forget.


i really wanna pull an affleck and buy your momma a car, but then i realized that you dont have a car.

buy my momma one, im good.

you dont have to tell me your good. seriously, what can i get you?

you know what i really want christina aguilera, i want to see if i can get 100 new links before christmas.

you dont want to have sex with me?


our sex wasnt good?

of course it was. but i think ive had the best sex i'll ever have and so i'm not so concerned about that any more.

so you want what again?

links. i want 100 people who have never linked me to link me before christmas.

how many new links do you normally get a month.


wow. im not sure that will be do-able.

one thing you've taught me, my lil mousekateer is that anything is do-able.

good point.

what do you want for christmas, christina.

you to be my boyfriend.

ok, i'll tell you what, if i get 100 new links by christmas then i'll be your boyfriend.


yes, i promise.

and you'll forget about all these other hos?

well i cant promise that i'll forget about them, but i will be your man.

and you wont write about mariah?

if thats whats gonna make you happy.

ok, it's on. how many new links have you gotten so far, tony?


1. trueboy
2. insignificance
3. gabe anderson
hi anna, nice dress.

this is the dress i would like to elope with you in.

people dress up to elope?

sure, all the time.

do i hafta get dressed up too?

it's our elopement, i'd hope you wouldnt wear that gwar shirt.

actually anna, i would like a big huge fairytale wedding. i have a lot of friends.

i know, but weddings are a hassle. trust me. you dont want to be in the middle of it all.

you really want to marry me?


where would you want to elope?


you know why i love you, anna?

why sweetie?

when you say vegas, you dont say "vegas, baby."

why would i say that?

marry me, baby.


where shall we honeymoon?

doesnt matter. im not letting you leave the room.

can we order room service?

all day, all night.



so why do i need to dress up.

gotta give the 'ratzi some good photo love.

always thinking, sweet angel.

me and karisa drove over to the mann's chinese six to see the adam sandler animated Hanukkah musical "8 Crazy Nights".

we were a little nervous because the reviews were all "Longest 71 minutes of your life, or "...forgettable, soggy and dumb.." or "...a dark, vulgar, brooding turnoff of a movie."

i'd have a witty review for you but we walked out before the first crazy night.

after ten minutes i was thinking "can you really walk out of a movie after just ten minutes?"

then karisa groaned and we couldn't look at each other and then after three more bad jokes and the second super long belch for no good reason, we got off our asses and left.

the mann's chinese six is the new cinema behind the famous mann's chinese attached to the hollywood + highland complex. its big, beautiful, awesome sound, stadium seating, etc.

we walked into the lobby and told the usher how bad the movie was, he offered to give us our money back, but we had two big bags of popcorn, drinks, so we asked him when was the next movie starting?

he pointed to "They." but the other usher, a funny black dude, shook his head and looked down.

my brotha.

karisa asked, "have you seen harry potter?"

i said, "i haven't even seen the first one."

she said, "me neither, but ive read the books."

and we walked to the theatre and she filled me in on what happened in the first book.

there it hit me, karisa is a fox!

so all i remembered of the back story is: harry is a wizard.

being 109 years old has its advantages. i know a bunch of good jokes, i can see into the future, i can bring absolute pleasure to a woman, i don't get jealous, ive seen it all, all of my dreams have been fulfilled.

but being 109 also has its disadvantages. the worst being that if you have a few drinks with me, and maybe a smoke out in the parking lot, after a big Sprite and a huge buttered popcorn, odds are no matter what's on the screen, i will fall asleep. especially if the movie is starting at 10:30pm.

harry potter is 2 hours long. i think i managed not to sleep for 25 minutes of it.

anyways karisa is the best. after she dropped me off she wrote me an email letting me know that my local nbc tv station is "biting" my photo essay style with a really bad photo essay about the ever changing look of michael jackson

dear nbc tv, how do you make a bad photo essay about the ever changing look of michael jackson?

isn't that like the easiest thing you could ever photo essay?

ok, heres how you make it bad:

- use Times Roman typeface
- have too much unindented text
- have text that's not funny or sarcastic or interesting
- have crappy little pictures that everyone has seen
- steal from me, but forget to steal the good parts of me

my advice, hire me. if you can use AP pictures i could be the staff photo essayist and instantly bring you tons of hits and together we can start a brand new thing on the web.

p.s. i'd work from home, i'd work cheap, and i could completely beat the ass of whoever it was who made that silly lil thing.


   Wednesday, December 04, 2002  
am i being too harsh to the good people? i think so.

the other night i was with a young lady who kept saying



i would do my thing and she would say

okay now even softer.

i was all, but im barely touching.

she said youre almost there.

soon i wasnt moving.

just throbbing.

she arched her back and reached up behind my neck with both hands and said

dont move

and dragged her teeth down my side

pearly whites on the peachfuzz of my skin

not even the skin.

then lower and she said watch me be softer and her tounge led the way followed by the firehouse red lipstick and they both sank beneath the blankets

i could barely feel

the velvets vu scratchy popped now and then on the turntable. somewhere a clock ticked.

somewhere time stopped.

and just then i could feel.

the blankets moved purposely

lit only by the moonlight sliding through the slits in the venetians

after a while she emerged and attacked my mouth with hers and bit and said

thats a boy.

then she grazed her lips against my cheek

and said, thats my boy.

took her pointy finger and dragged it across the goosebumps on my back, crawled off, slipped on her satin

marched to the kitchen

returned with some props.

and suddenly i found myself involved in a pop quiz.


Beastie Boys

Check Your Head
Grand Royal Records

"Professor Booty"
(Beastie Boys/Caldato)

Well, I got more bounce to the fuckin' bump
And you want to know why?
It's 'cause I'm motherfuckin' truckin'
I'm in the pocket just like Grady Tate
I got supplies of beats so you don't have to wait
'Cause I'm the master blaster drinking up the Shasta
My voice sounds sweet 'cause it has to
So light a match to my ass 'cause I'm blown up
I'd like to thank the people for just showin' up
But now I want y'all to move it
Put your point on the floor and just prove it
And I'm smurfin' not rehearsin' gettin' live y'all
A little puffy so you now what I'm doin' right
'Cause that's the kind of mind I'm in
I got a feelin' that's back again
So don't touch me 'cause I'm electric
And if you touch me you'll get shocked!

You've got the boomin' system but it's blasting out doo-doo
You think it's chocolate milk but it's watered down yoo-hoo
I've been through many times in which I thought I might lose it
The only thing that saved me has always been music
We've got our own studio the son of the G
It's no question life's been good to me
'Cause life ain't nothing but a good groove
A good mix tape to put you in the right mood

This one goes out to my man the groove merchant
Coming through with beats for which I've been searching
Like two sealed copies of expansions
I'm like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions
The logo I sport is the face of the monkey
Union made Ben Davis quality it's no junk see
My chrome is shining just like an icicle
I ride around town on my low-rider bicycle

So many wack M.C.'s you get the T.V. bozack
Ain't even gonna call out your names 'cause you're so wack
But one big oaf whose faker than plastic
A dictionary definition of the word spastic
You should have never started something that you couldn't finish
'Cause writin' rhymes to me is like popeye to spinach
I'm bad ass move your fat ass 'cause you're wack son
Dancin' around like you think you're Janet Jackson
Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on
I'll pull the rug out from under your ass as I talk on
I'll take you out like a sniper on a roof
Like an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth
With your headphones strapped you're rockin' rewind pause
Tryin' to figure out what you can do to go for yours
But like the pencil to the paper I got more to come
One after another you can all get some
So you better take your time and meditate on your rhyme
'Cause your shit'll be stinking when I go for mine
And that's right y'all don't get uptight y'all
You can say shit because you're biting what I write y'all
And that's wrong y'all over the long haul
You can't cut the mustard when you're fronting it all

hi henry kissinger

hi tony pierce. nice to meet you. i've heard a lot about you.

hi. yes i have heard a lot about you too.

i heard that you helped the president's image.

well the checks don't bounce. haha. i heard that you sabotaged the paris negotiations to end the vietnam war in '68.

omg, why would i sabotage those negations?

it was an election year, you are accused of telling the south vietnamese that if they didn't pull out until after the election, that the republicans would be nicer to them than the dems.

total bullshit. how old were you in '68? were you even born then?

yes, i was alive then. how do you like being called Manhattan's Milosevic?

it hurts my feelings. sometimes it makes me cry because i strive to be liked by everyone, especially the village voice. i think that's why the president has chosen me to head the investigation of 9/11, so that i can prove to everyone that i really do love this country and i can go out on a positive note.

maybe the president wants you to cover up something.

what would i cover up?

the biggest fuck up in american history.

9/11 wasn't the biggest fuck up in american history.

what was then?


was that because you weren't able to cover it up all that well?

why are you being so mean to me?

did you give arms to Pakistani General Yahya Khan in '71 so he could kill hundreds of thousands of civilians and take over the democratically-elected government?

Kahn used delicacy and tact.

why did you help the CIA overthrow the democratically-elected government of Salvador Allende and install the murderous military dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet and send him fighter planes?

we were fighting communism. you don't see any communism any more do you?



Your firm, Kissinger Associates has employed several former presidents including George Bush's dad, George. And you try to broker deals between oil companies and the saudi families including the royal saudi family.


so, doesn't it concern you that 15 of the 19 terrorists behind 9/11 were saudi? as is bin laden?

why would that concern me?

because if the truth behind 9/11 is that it was financed by major people of Saudi Arabia perhaps people who you know and who the bush family have known for years, why would you kill the goldenest goose of them all, your clients and business partners? wouldn't this put you in a position of conflict of interest?

no one is going to kill any geese.

that's what we're afraid of. we're afraid that Bush knew about 9/11 before it happened. it was a Bush/GOP fuck up, and you're now going to cover it up right before our eyes.

that's insane, yo stupid. you should sleep late, man, its much easier on your constitution.

so youre going to find out everything about 9/11 and tell us all about it.


why don't i believe you?

cuz you think everything george bush does is somehow evil.

or stupid.

yeah, or stupid. but check it. if appointing me was such a bad idea, how come welch didn't write anything about it?

cuz even welch knows that bush will be allowed to get away with murder in anything that he does. it's always a free ride when it comes to anyone whose name is george bush. so i think instead of fighting or being all up in arms he'd rather fight paper tigers like the LA Times and write about sports. plus he's got a pretty wife. maybe he just wants to kiss her a bunch instead of writing about this, which is so easy that even i can write about it.

she is pretty, isn't she.


robert scheer
decided to go to koreatown to get the book printed.

everything was going well. the old man didnt know english and was smoking a pipe. the old woman didnt know english and was working the copier. the young son was probably nine years old and cocky and bored and played his game boy advance and translated without looking up.

please tell your father it will be 130 pages, color cover, perfect bound, 150 copies.

the boy worked the gizmo and said, "papa, wah wah wah-wah wah wah wah-wah."

the father replied, "wha wah wah wha."

the boy said, "two thousand dollars."

i handed over the cash and gave the old man a manilla envelope with the manuscript.

he opened it up as i waited for my receipt.

"it should be done by monday morning." the boy said, smiling after hitting pause. he took a long drag from a juicy juice juice box and went back to his game.

the old man said, "uh oh." and looked at me and called his wife over.

she said, "wah wha wah wha wah. pierce-ah?"

they looked at me and took the manuscript into the back.

soon there was a faint odor of smoke?

yes that was smoke.

then the smoke detector went off in a very annoying long high-pitched tone.

some might call it piercing.

the boy hit pause again and looked up irritatingly.

from behind the curtain there was a scuffle.

the old woman came hobbling out with a flaming garbage pail and the old man chasing her.

they ran out of the store past me and threw the entire fireball into the street scattering the pigeons.

the old man ran back and gave me back my envelope of cash.

"you go now. go!"

as i slowly left the shop i passed by the little boy who was leaning against the front door playing his game. he looked at me, put his headphones on, and went back to defending the universe.

buzz machine

   Tuesday, December 03, 2002  

Rollins Band

Do It
Texas Hotel Records (1988)

"Do It"

Don't think about it
Do it
Don't talk about it
Do it
Do it, do it
Don't lie about it
Do it
Do it, do it
Talk about your sick man, so good you got to do it,
do it
D-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-d-do it, do it
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it
Don't lie about it
Do it
Why give a fuck about it, man
Do it, do it
There's a law, but who cares
Do it, do it
Don't rip me off, man, just do it, do it, do it, do it
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it
Don't talk about it
Do it, do it
Don't lie about it
Do it, do it
It's rock n roll, and the message is
Do it , do it
Just do it,
just do it
Do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it, do it

michael jackson!

oh lord, tony pierce. please dont make fun of me.

what would i make fun of you about?

see, youre doing it already.

doing what? michael, i love you.

no you don't.

of course i do. i have said over and over that my first concert ever was the jackson 5 and im proud about that. and very happy.

where did you see us?

in indiana.


yep. i think at the circle star theatre.

okay then. what do you want?

nothing. im just here to say hi.

no youre not.

shit, michael, put a little trust in your heart.

i want to trust you, tony, really. it's just hard, you understand. dont you?

michael, look at me. we're both pretty much the same. Blacks from the midwest, now living in cali. child stars.

you were a child star?



in my living room. no one could beat me at electronic football.


you know the one?

of course! all those tour busses and lonely hotel rooms and plane trips.

you never got it on with the groupies?

nah. my brothers did, i was too young.

oh, michael. you poor kid.



youre really not going to make fun of me.


thats freaky as hell.

why should it? like i was saying, once i was super black, now im not .

skin disease?

too many white girls rubbing all up on me.

tony, have you seen sarah's new design?

yes, i'd rather not comment.

it's not good.

shhhhh. she gets sensitive about that sort of stuff.

but it used to be SOOO good. so classy. so, well, Great.

michael, dont talk about how things used to be.


you've stopped looking at the man in the mirror, havent you?

you know whose blog i love?

oh shit.

i love Barbie's blog.

thats just wrong. where did you find it?

andrew sullivan.

can i make fun of him?

no, he's my friend.

then i better go.

okay cya tony.

cya mike.
my favorite channel, E!, is premiering the newest season of "Wild On!" tonight with the new host Cindy Taylor.

if Art Mann ever gets his ankle broken, im sure i could be the goofy regular guy asking all the hoochie mamas in the exotic bars "whats the wildest thing that happens on on this island?"

actually im not so sure i could do it. ive seen other guys try to do it and they all look like dopes, except Art. Art seems to pull it off with equal parts i-can't-believe-i'm-here with i'm-gonna-bang-every-one-of-these-sloppy-hos.

maybe im just projecting again.

my arms are sore, my carpal is cilling me, my heart is broken, my bed's too big without you, my book is unpublished, my blog is a bore, my maid's eighth number is disconnected, my cubbies didnt get thome, and my hundred year old tv is about to finally go out. so how come im not bummed out?

cuz tlc has a new video out and one of the chicks has an "im a pepper" tshirt on that i sent a hot chick for her birthday and yet ive never seen her in. i think she probably gave it to her girlfriend for sweetest day.

ive been hearing some of the best lesbo stories lately.

wanna hear some?


this one girl who i barely talk to on the aol im emailed me and said she wanted to chat. so i got online and she starts telling me that she is about to graduate college and she feels bad that she has never "eaten from that side of the buffet table."

but she does have a girl in mind who she wants to give it up to and they exchanged pictures and then they exchanged topless pictures and then they exchanged full on nudes.

now maybe im over the hill but that was good enough for me as i couldnt even believe that this girl was even talking to me, let alone, telling me some pretty good dirty tales of lust among co-eds.

and then she showed me a picture of the girl in question and i nearly fell right over in my chair.

perfect. young. smooth. perfect. perky. shaved.


nay has a new layout
everything ive learned, ive learned from my friends. welch has been leading the eric neel parade for a while, and today he convinced me.

i check in on welch and layne several times a day because i trust their analysis of politics. unlike me, they're fair, educated, and write in a professional manner. that's why no paper wants them on the regular. fuckholes.

today welch points us again to neel on espn's page two and eric made me laugh. which isnt easy. especially when he starts off by saying that the nba should get rid of it's classic jerry west logo. but he does have some funny alternatives.

me, i liked the iverson version.

blogger has been a bitch this morning so i will make this quick while the time bandits window is cracked open for a brief second.

ashleys been calling me every night. she might think it's hard on her. it's doublely hard on me. see, ive been to the edge, and there i stood and looked down. i know what the future holds for me, and its definitely not super hot twenty year old blonde girls with cheerleader outfits and glitter.

so please take it easy on the temptation.

what's up with the book? just your typical drama. its been banned from kinkos. the name tony pierce is a bad name in the copy shops and respectable printing palaces in LA so i might need to bust with Sonny I. LaVista on the cover because everyone seems to think that what i have created is obscene.

i sorta wish that the original printer hadn't sat on it for three weeks because i really wanted this thing mailed out this week. #1 because i want you all to have it #2 because i want all of you to write about how great it is so that #3 all your readers would order it from me for themselves for Christmas.

looks like we'll just be happy if you get it for Christmas and any profits i'll make, if there are any, will be after the first of the year.

my mom wants to know what i want for Christmas.

i told her i want something for Hanukkah. ive never had a Hanukkah gift.

me and karisa are going to celebrate the holiday by seeing 8 Crazy Nights tomorrow.

do you know i love the Donnas.

i do.

ham fisted theatrics

   Monday, December 02, 2002  
tim reminds me that it's not only Britney's birthday today, but it's jarret house north's.

happy birthday!

i was lucky enough to see ms. spears this year. i had great seats and i was even inspired enough to come back home and do a photo essay for your ass.

i was disappointed by the lipsynching but i guess i should get over it since nothing is real anymore, it's all just a beautiful dream and as long as they keep the fluid clean in these pods of ours we can keep believing the grand lie and float around in our ignorant bliss.

im getting lots of mixed reviews about Solarass, geroge clooney's new movie.

some people think its fantasstick, some people, like karisa think its a piece of shit.

once i was walking down the street and i realized i was walking right behind mr. clooney, true story.

and he had a little bounce in his walk and he was taller than i thought and i was going to the bank and he was going to he bank.

and the teller blushed and tried not to stare at him and he just smiled and talked in that great voice of his and everyone was just so damned pleased as punch to be standing at the bank in westwood with george clooney and i'll tell you, i was pleased as punch to be standing at the bank with george clooney too.

nobody really talked to him or asked for an autograph because we don't really do that in LA which is why the stars like it here, but george seemed to be in such a great mood that he woulda signed anything you handed him, i bet. and i saw the deposit slip right there, and i had a pen, but ive lived here long enough to know that autographs are for the tourists, lets just let george enjoy his trip to the bank.

first motherfucker i ever saw who literally laughed all the way to the bank.

now, for our girl britney.

i think its about over for her.

i don't see her being able to sustain this frenzy and christina is far sluttier, and the people seem to like that, and britney cant really sing all that well, and shes not much of a dancer.

i say shes in playboy in three years.

people send me fakes of stars all the time. fakes are ok. i can live without them. but a while back when i was doing a little more nudity on these pages in order to drum up a little traffic (it worked) i did some pages like this, but i warn you theres nudity

but mostly i liked that one because it sorta looked like my old editor amy.

anyway, im a christina, anna, and mariah fan. o-dub is all about britney, and he must be in louisianna right now doing the crawl with her because his page is mysteriously barren.

oliver, where are you?

oliver willis

Teenage Fanclub

Geffen Records

"Fear of Flying"

Hey, I don't look back on all the things I've done
I've never looked for answers in a song
Ain't got no good ideas, I'm staring at the sun
Don't always look for comfort in a song

This is your one-way ticket so don't fuck it up
Your flight is boarding and you're running out of luck
Add a new vibration to the situation
Add a new vibration

I'd love to save the world like nature's only son
I've never looked for answers in a song
Don't have to paint no words the thoughts that don't belong
Don't always look for comfort in a song

This is your one-way ticket so don't fuck it up
Your flight is boarding and you're running out of luck
Add a new vibration to the situation
Add a new vibration

hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey
Add a new vibration
hey, hey, hey
to the situation
hey, hey, hey
to the situation
hey, hey, hey
to my foundation
hey, hey, hey
Add a new vibration
hey, hey, hey
Add a new vibration
hey, hey, hey
to my foundation
hey, hey, hey
Add a new vibration
hey, hey, hey
to the situation
hey, hey, hey
to the situation
hey, hey, hey
Add a new vibration
hey, hey, hey
Add a new vibration
hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey
hey, hey, hey

even though i dont even know what the chick from useless looks like or even if shes real, or even if shes a she, i still get sad a little when she leaves me alone here in america on one of her top secret treks to europe to do some of the badass nude modeling that hopefully she'll send to me for christmas.

speaking of babes, went down the hall today. super cute girl who i really like is walking down the other way, turns off. i think to myself, "maybe you should go across the street to the drugstore and get some deodorant just incase you see her again." i seemed to have forgotten to shower this morning. showered late afternoon yesterday, but, you know.

so i hop in the elevator. and guess who climbs on board? she is so damn cute. dammit! leans over to see if the correct button is pushed. im sure she got a terrible whiff.

elevator opens, i let her exit first, nice smile, maybe she has a code in her gnose. lets hope so. walks off with her nice skirt and tall boots. me? speechless.

so many things i coulda said.

hi mighta worked.

got to the store got some of the largest, most phallic bananas ever grown. then the gayest man in america wrote a check and took forever doing it.

i will drink every time somebody writes a check from now on.

quick shoutout: if my man MC Cridland is out there, thanks for the pictures! i dont have your email address!!!

the picture on the left is of the two sisters from madpony. they write about me because they think i will give them hits, i write about them because this time next year they will have four times the hits that i get and i will want that traffic.

they were bored over thanksgiving weekend and the younger one called me. my caller ID blocks calls from underaged girls but somehow they got through. damn security holes. anyhow, if you believe what they write, this is what a 15 year old girl looks like talking to me on the phone.

kristin, the older one, says that i like lauren better. its true. i like her better cuz she listens to my advice. i told them both to get a wishlist and only lauren got one and bam, first day, got something from it. somehow i need to get a cut of those profits.

kristin says that in 3 years when lauren is legal i will be the one calling her on the phone. i tell her no way am i gonna let some 18 yr old in on my social security.

see how we are?

speaking of x, kids write me all the time asking me if they should do this drug or that drug or they ask me if i really drink as much rum as i say i do, etc.

heres all you need to do in life, people: say hi to the pretty girl in the elevator. that right there will beat the hell out of any drug or mixed drink.

if you really want to go for it, ask for her number.

trust me, if i had gotten her number my heart would be beating, thered be a lite film of perspiration on my skin, and i would feel like dancing.

desert flower
had a rough night last night. it started off fine, sopranos at this little dive bar where everyone is broke and no one talks to each other. quiet. dark. pool table is silent, jukebox only has a few old school jazz cds and doesnt really work. you give the bartender a buck and he lets you play a few tracks.

its in one of the worst parts of hollywood but its a great bar because it doesnt have any of those stupid Miller Geninue Draft or Budweiser bikini posters of chicks you'll never meet. Just bottles lined up nice, peanuts, glasses, and losers.

They have a tv over the "stage". Apparently the place used to have a go go dancer back when hollywood was a little more glamorous, because go go dancers are the epitome of class, but now the stage houses the old rack stereo system. turntable on top, double cassette deck, single cd player, records warping below.

most of us watched the tv. i had a hot cider and spiced rum. its getting cold in town.

cute alternachick always likes to try to fix me when she sees me in there. she reads this. hi baby. sometimes she'll get on me about my clothes. she'll say, every pay check just buy one new thing. a shirt. a pair of pants. a sweater. before you know it you'll be dressing sharp.

i dont want to dress sharp. i want to look like i belong in a fucked up hollywood bar on a sunday night, i tell her.

she tells me i look like an immigrant from hondouras.

i look down at my bart simpson tshirt, old black cords, kmart sneakers, green flannel shirt, plastic sacks of oranges.

i tell her she looks like britney murphy's stand in for 8 mile. she smiles. her gold tooth sparkles at me.

shes not so bad. really looks more like helena bonham carter in fight club, just not as classy.

arent you tired of being broke? she asks me.

who says im broke, i pay for all your drinks dont i?

do you have a grand in the bank?


then youre broke. quit being an asshole.

truth was i was tired of being broke. i just didnt want to tell her. she was the best thing in that bar, next to the jukebox.

why dont you sell out and write like a normal human being? she asked and squeezed the lime into her wiskey sour.

why dont you sell out and become an administrative assistant.

we clinked glasses.

to keeping it real, she toasted.

we drank and she said real quiet, if you were twenty one again what would you do differently?

i said, i would go to photography school right after i got my BA.

i said what about you?

she said, i would get a boob job and become a publicist.

alison lives
happy birthday

britney spears turns twenty-one today

   Sunday, December 01, 2002  
today is world AIDS day. 40 million people have AIDS.

nobody cares.

no one really changes how they live. the rich dont think that it'll happen to them, and the poor think they have nothing to lose.

certain churches tell their parishioners not to wear condoms and those ministers should be burned at the stake.

today metafilter has completely redesigned their page and are only allowing topics that are AIDS-related.

right on, metafilter. but even youre smart enough to know that we're all doomed.

the rich white investor would much rather support breakthroughs like Viagra and Rogaine and cloning themselves than AIDS research and education and prevention like free condoms in your phone bill, etc. but i dont blame them entirely. or the republicans, or the president who seriously doesnt give a fuck even though his wild alcoholic daughters are prime targets for the kiss of death.

twenty one, drunk, loose and crazy? beware the bush twins.

shit, beware everyone. call me paranoid all you want, im not going down like that, and tell me the planet wouldnt be a better place if everyone thought like that.

on second thought, keep it to yourself, keep it all to yourself.

keep your germs and viruses and reckless behavoirs to your own self.

practice safe sex they say. practice makes perfect.

bang everyone in the residence halls if you want and use a condom every time. thats practice.

then when you have a long term relationship, still use a condom.

ashley's twenty years old. pure as the driven snow. has not been around the block. has been tested recently. still we use condoms every single time and she is a satisfied girl, let me tell you. so much so that she tells her friends.

what i wish she was telling her friends was that we've never had unsafe sex ever.

and after each practice session she lays there with goosebumps

and hair standing on end


heart beating


and safe,


havent had any rum in two weeks and all it's doing is letting the dreams seep through while im at my most vulnerable.

did i say dreams?

nightmares were more like it.

went to the printer to pick up the books. hi, tony pierce, i have an order.

when did you place the order?

about three weeks ago?

oh yes, mr. pierce. we cannot print this book. it's obscene.

pardon me?

we dont print obscenity or pornography or anti-american sentiment.

exactly what part of my book is obscene?

several parts, if i recall.

tell me which ones and i'll take it out.

mr. pierce, we are not editors, we are publishers.

youre fucking assholes is what you are! you just didnt want to do the work.

see, thats profanity.

youre out of your mind.

please exit our place of business, here is your manuscript.

so youre saying you wouldnt print the Catcher in the Rye?

of course we would.

it has lots of Fucks in it.

no it doesnt.

it certainly does!

well, thats art, its different.

next riot, im coming here and burning this place down. i dont care if im in maui. im getting on a plane and burning this place down.

good. we have plenty of insurance, and now we have a prime suspect. good bye.

then i found myself in france and they too were debating as to whether it was obscene.

oui, they kept saying.

mais oui.

friday night me and ashley went to see no doubt they were really incredible.

about an hour before the show she and i broke up for the tenth and final time. only in my world could you break up with me and then go to a concert, dance close for two hours, and then get taken home and get a nice kiss goodnight and go to sleep alone.

it was a long drive from irvine to hollywood in the wee hours and even though it was nice to borrow chris's car, i had forgotten how miserable it is to drive at night when you'd rather be sleeping.

somewhere on the 710 freeway my cell phone rang and it was anna calling.

what are you doing? she asked.

being sad, i said.

why are you sad?

cuz i probably wont be with ashley in that superclose way any more.

anna changed the subject real fast like. she hates sad stories.

she told me about this movie she saw at the art house, about how great her thanksgiving was, how much she ate, about how pretty the skies were over miami that night.

when are you going to visit me, tony?


stop that, i'll send you a plane ticket.

no thanks.

i was thinking how i might have to take a little respite from girls for a little while and just work on reading the good book, or writing some bad books, or something. 2002 i had more than my fair share of amazing women. probably more than in any other year of my life.

and here i am at the tail end of it and what have i learned?

lust is blind.

women are kind.

control is an illusion.

laughing is the best foreplay.

bodies are just bodies, the most important thing is heart.

sex is overrated.

good sex is underrated.

great sex cannot be created, it's magic sent down from above like a rainstorm when you least expect it.

likewise, true love can't be found, it creeps up on you like a theif in the night.

anna didnt want to hear any of this because in truth we had never done it.

she did a few things on the phone one night but it might have been my imagination.

ive got a pretty good imagination.

still, i think she was doing something.

that night i said, what are you doing?

she said, nothing.

i said, put the phone down there, i think youre doing something.

she said, shuttup.

last night at the show there were girls of all ages but the prettiest one, next to my date, was ms. gwen stefani who is probably the most beautiful woman to ever take the stage and rock the mic. she was gorgeous and glamorus and naughty and foul mouthed and pretty much everything you could imagine.

if it wasnt for ashley i would have just written off that band as a nothing pop band for kids, but no doubt last night at the long beach arena were intense, excellent, and sexy.

definately magic was happening on that stage.

and this afternoon as my ears were still ringing, i looked at my little polaroid of ashley and touched it and thanked her for turning me on to them.