my tivo's fucked. but unlike the pope, it will be back and better than ever once i take it to my dude.

wanna cry over something faltering, cry over my tivo. how'm i supposed to watch the final four without my tivo/directv?

meanwhile these "pilgrims" crying outside the vatican has got to be the worst advertisement for catholicism since 4,450 priests got caught fucking kids.

HEY PILGRIMS, THE POPE IS 84 YEARS OLD. EVEN HIS PISS IS TRYING TO KILL HIM. FUCKING GET OVER IT, YOUR FIGUREHEAD, YOUR FAKE PUPPET, YOUR STUBBORN MULE IS ABOUT TO BE TAKEN BEHIND THE BARN AND OFFED. DEAL FUCKERS DEAL!

sheesh. sometimes i think people need a reason to gather outside a building and hold a candle in a paper cup.

i can give you some reasons to weep other than the inevitable happenning to some sexist, homophobic, clueless old man's ass, lets start with darfur whose death toll is close to 300,000 who have died due to starvation, murder, and disease. thats like 120 9/11s. just sayin.

but if we didnt give a shit about the 800,000 rwandans killed over 100 days, why would we even blink over less than half of that in darfur? fuck black people in america, so double if not triple fuck black people in africa. if they want our attention get some freaking oil or start dating angelina jolie.

but you wont get our tears, or our candlelight vigils unless youve got a feeding tube hanging out your mouth, unless youre a little cuban boy, or unless youre an 84 year old pope who still wont tell his overpopulating masses that condom use actually might be a sensible idea after all.

wheres everyones grief over the 100,000 iraqi civilians who have died in this war over oil and missing wmds?

wheres everyones grief over the fact that the cubs are stumbling into this season without sammy, without moises, with wood and prior hurtin, and with no closer.

where are the pilgrams outside the michaelangelo designed gates of mtv headquarters protesting the fact that they havent shown a decent video since 1991?

how about the outrage that i still cant get a beer in the bleachers at dodger stadium?

wheres the grief over the fact that we might not have barry bonds to kick around anymore?

shit i'll give you something to cry about.

like who fired mariah carey's personal trainer?

oh wait, this just in, the pope is dead.

good, now can we go back to ignoring religion until we want to hide behind a reason to vote republican and dick over the gays?

k thanx.

zulieka explains "why i fucked all those people" + anti and tanky make waffles, a film + radiohumper

# | |

yes my wife lets me date. its one of the many reasons i married her.

she doesnt even mind if i date on our anniversary.

last night i had a few hours to kill before i picked up our lil moxie at LAX so i did something i never do: i networked.

as you know i have started freelancing at the LA Weekly, one of the greatest free weekly newspapers of all time, and luckily for me, it's local. so when they invited me to a little mixer to celebrate their annual Style supplement i said to myself, you know, i hate going out in public but i really truly love the Weekly, ive read almost every issue since i moved here 20 years ago

and i can get a hot date

and i can hang out with my hot editor, one ms kate sullivan

and since its being held at chinese/thai Kung Pao Kitty on my favorite street hollywood blvd in beautiful downtown hollywood and since they promise chinese hor d'oerves, i will go.

and i did go, and it was fun, and there were models there and writers and free food and chinese beer and lo there was famous author luke ford and brit blogger jackie danicki who we got into such an engrossing conversation that i didnt even get a chance to either network nor hang with my editor.

but its cool. i would have liked to get the sxsw rundown from ms sullivan but instead i was entertained by the tipsy mr ford and the totally tapped into the blogosphere ms danicki.

she told me hella things off the record which are pretty interesting.

and she blogged a bunch about the party, as did luke, who said this about my date who was a lot like my last girlfriend, except last nights was korean, which i agree with luke, are so supernice.

My whole night lit up like Korean fireworks when I ran into Tony Pierce and his beautiful 24-year old Korean date (doesn't drink, doesn't smoke, doesn't lend herself to other blokes).

Tony always has the hottest chicks (he brought Karisa to my book party). How does he do it? He doesn't even own a car.

I fear that once they've gone black, they'll never go back. How can you keep them on the farm once they've seen Paris. Tony is very Paris.

We both want to cross the DMZ and invade Helen's Korean peninsula which juts so provocatively into the Pacific Ocean, just sticking out there, all tempting like, driving wild a warlike people like Tony and I.

For the next two hours, I talked nonstop, trying to test how far I could go with offensive positive generalizations about Asians (smart, polite, courteous, cute, eager to please) before I offend the born-again Christian.

Nothing I said seemed to throw her. She laughed at all my jokes. She must have a great sense of humor and be highly discerning.

Koreans are the best. They are far better looking than the Japanese and they don't rape whole countries. My whole dorm floor at UCLA was filled with Koreans and they had broad friendly faces. I was so grateful that somebody was studying math and science so that I could receive quality medical care in my old age.

and then my date dropped me off at the airport and i met moxie at baggage claim, we got her porsche out of long term parking, and we drove to her place for some monkey business.

i dont know how i do it either luke.

i think it has something to do with something that starts with L and rhymes with fuck.

luke + jackie documenting how when i get drunk my left eye starts to close + oliver willis + negro please

# | |

the week in rock in la

tonight 4/1
motorhead, wiltern
aquabats, vault 350
the groovy rednecks, cole's
blowfly, alex's bar
phranc, highways
u2, the pond
warren g, universal
hellride, 14 below

tomorrow 4/2

mastodon, troubador
u2, the pond
soundtrack of our lives, avalon
the roots, usc mccarthy quad
the platters, kodak theatre
soccer mom, the cat club
explogasm, knitting factory

sunday 4/3
ozomalti, farnsworth park
radiators, cafe fais do do
peter himmelman, borders (westwood) (free)
the filthy thieving bastards

monday 4/4
jimmy chamberlin combo, troubador
holy ghost, spaceland
hello fever, the echo

tuesday 4/5
u2, staples
drive-by truckers, ameoba (free)
doc martin, viper room
bastard noise, the smell
bodeans, roxy
dizee rascal, el rey

wednesday 4/6
my life with the thrill kill kult, vault 350
u2, staples
trick daddy, house of blues
the cave sluts, 14 below
the best story book ever, genghis cohen
black sativa, whisky

thursday 4/7
morris day and the time, vault 350
jimmy buffet, the pond
heartless bastards, spaceland
hot hot heat, amoeba (free)
the fucking champs, the echo

funny ass photo essay about saving a fish + via amy + superjux + fc bearded

# | |

apparently i am a white guy who runs a porn magazine

from Laura Kovacs blog:

Tony Pierce's blog has gotten really interesting to me. I actually think he's in charge of a porn magazine or something like that (he talks about Lick a lot, I think that's the name), but he has some interesting posts. I found him through Peter, who found his how to blog post that has gotten a lot of attention. He posts like 5 times a day or more, so if there is something not too interesting (like Motley Crue right now), I just move on to the next entry. Of all the blogs I have on Bloglines, his is the most interesting and thought out I think. And I am trying to follow his laws of how to blog, at least some of the time. It's hard to post every day when all you do is go to work, come home and watch tv, then sleep.

from downtown alleys:

anyway, let me start by saying i dont read many blogs. there are a few, which i'll list for you below, in a very generous fashion, but usually i dont really give a fuckin rats ass about a single thing most bloggers have to say. like there is this guy. who everyone seems to be freakin about. like, all my homies [in cyberland, which in of itself is kinda strange] is on his tip. and these are people i respect! they all think he is, how do you zey in de american, zey "bomb?" so i inevitably went to check him out and he just seemed to be some white dude in LA. i mean, he didnt come off as offensive or stupid, he could actually be a pretty swell guy. i just didnt care. see, being a heterosexual male from san francisco, and now living in brooklyn, by rule, i just dont care for white guys in LA. i dont even put enough energy into it to NOT LIKE them. i just dont care. and when i read his shit i got that same feeling i get whenever someone mentions a white guy from LA. meh. but he seems to be the ruler of bloggerverse and all the shorties wanna lick his dick. whatever.

and he is the only one i culd think of off the top of my head [bravo white guy from LA. you stood above the rest. i guess, in the end, you win. and that was TOTALLY in a gay way], so im just gonna say that most blogs i have read are people whining about feelings they wish they had. they are just bored and looking for attention [kinda like me] and want someone to say "yes i understand." there is nothing wrong with this, im just not tryin to waste my time reading it. hell, id rather write crap than read it. i thought that was the way it was supposed to be done. apparently, there is a whole other art to blogging. and its one i trust. see, its best if you write something that people might want to READ.

gossipger + flagrant + ms. wheelchair wisconsin stripped of title for standing up (h/t mefi)

# | |

a year ago yesterday

well, it was bound to happen one day. and moxie pleaded with me to announce this yesterday like she did so people would acutally believe us, but i put Lick up so it would be on time. then we got it on for the sixth time and because im olde i passed out in a happy little heap in the last bachelor pad that i will ever have.

the first person who knew was my landlord. I told him two weeks ago that I was going to propose and if she said yes I would like to get of my lease. Because I pay so little rent you could see his smile through the phone. He's been trying to get me out of that apartment for years. The place on the left and the right are now renting for twice my rent and my place is bigger and better than both of them.

then i had to tell my college girlfriend Jeanine who picked out the ring and put in a bigger and better diamond. Moxie is a classy girl, so we decided a vintage ring was the way to go.

i also told karisa because of all the girls i know, for some weird reason i thought i would eventually marry her. she and i get along perfectly, and we share a lot of similar beliefs, but shes the wrong sign and we've never gotten past that. and now that she has a man who is all the things that i will never be: tall, rich, hung, i knew we'd only be Just Friends.

if only we woulda had one night in the sack, i know she woulda come around... oh well. a man needs friends. im told.

the last person i told was my "true love". she knew how close moxie and i have been over this year, but i wanted to make sure that there was no way in hell that she wanted to get back with me. chris was clear. she said there was no way in hell. i was all what if hell froze over. she said even if hell froze over i wouldnt be getting back up in that shit.

i didnt tell my mom, cuz she woulda wanted to come to the ceremony, i didnt tell my friends cuz they woulda wanted to come, she didnt tell her friends or family cuz they probably woulda said, "youre marrying a black liberal?"

many funny things about this relationship and our blogs. even though i say that nothing in here is true, the belief out there is that i have a turnstyle to my apartment where all the hot young ladies of la just come in and out. so not true. shit, look at me!

then moxie has been sobbing over these totally ridiculous boring NOT HANDSOME bros and people totally believe it. have none of her readers ever met her or looked at her? the girl is fucking on fire. and smart. and funny! and totally parties.

who on earth would believe the crap that she has been writing over there?

apparentely everyone.

so we went with it. i wrote about dating cheerleaders (which i was doing up until about a year ago) and she wrote about being all bummed out with her love life (which was the furthest from the truth).

this valentines we had a super romantic day, and she tried to give her readers hints that she wasnt going out with a long haired pretty boy bush lover. tell me that illustration isnt the epitome of me and my new wife.

and lately, if youve noticed, ive been putting up lots of pictures up of my favorite family, the cobains. moxie has always wanted to tie me down, and ive always said that theres no way i could marry a republican with no ass. her arguement was that kurt got married in his twenties to a woman who might not have been the most stable person for him, but they made a beautiful baby who will probably save rock and roll.

she said our children would save america, and thus the world.

so i was in.

it didnt hurt that she f's like a beast. 4 times a day is rare. normally we go 6-7. she claims thats what normal people do when theyre in love. apparently ive only been in love a few times cuz i dont remember that sort of action.

because we never talk about politics, ever, we never fight. if Bush does something stupid and we're watching tv we will change the channel. i will laugh to myself quietly, but i wont bring it up. if i do she tells me she wont put on the little slinky thing she knows i like, so i shut my trap and say something like, ooh, look at the new beyonce video.

i will reserve talking about the special day that i proposed and we eloped cuz some things should remain private. both of our lives are generally public, to a point, but some things are extremely personal, and thats why we got hitched the way we did. shes a deeply personal person and i couldnt care less what people think one way or the other, so it was cool with me to keep the affair, proposal, and nuptials just between her me and the lord above.

feel free to meet us for drinks at Marie Callendar's on Wilshire on Monday after 6pm, which is a few hours before the Tsar show at the El Rey.

we love all of you and we plan on celebrating with everyone on Monday and later this month.

mox's announcement + the first time we met + more pics from that day

# | |

each quarter the busblog star chamber meets to discuss the accomplishments and failures of the worlds most well spellchecked blog.

this quarter we met at the world famous pump room in chicago where we went over the chart to your left.

one man stood up and said, as you can see, the hits of the busblog have tripled since last year.

another man stood up and said, yes, but last year he was only getting 1,000 hits on average per day, which really isnt very much.

a woman rose and said that 1,000 hits a day was actually pretty good last year.

a giraffe craned its neck and belched. it sounded like he was saying bullshit.

an important looking old man did not stand up but looked at me and asked if i can explain the record-setting month that i have just experienced?

i said that like in many quarters i have no clue why more and more people are coming to my blog.

then a very nice looking woman stood up and via a powerpoint presentation showed us that this month, despite taking a week off to enjoy sxsw, due to heavy traffic induced links (and a subsequent victory) at the bloggie awards, a trio quartet of singaporian powerhouses, canadian rock star matthew good, a flattering photo essay by the inventors of blogger and audblog, and the enduring popularity of the "how to blog" post, the busblog eclipsed 100,000 page views for the first month ever.

at which point i stood up and said, i also think it has something to do with the hundreds of much much smaller blogs who link to me every day.

the giraffe sneezed, but i said, no im serious, yes its nice to have those spikes from cute chicks across the sea and from award programs and for being mentioned in big sites, but if you have a consistant and growing base of real bloggers and readers then the spikes only add to an already nice head-start.

people were falling asleep so i farted and everyone laughed.

and then i looked at the camera and i said, from the bottom of all of our hearts we here at the busblog are so grateful to everyone who has linked to this blog and everyone who has ever visited here.

thank you. thank you. and thank you.

morland + simpleton + wunderdog

# | |

motley crue
the forum
inglewood, ca
3/23/05

the first time i saw motley crue was at the aragon ballroom in downtown chicago on 5/11/84, i remember because it was my buddy keef's birthday and he was the one who got me into the crue.

shout at the devil had been out for a few months and it was instantly one of my favorite albums. maybe it was the ominious black cover with raised devil star promising some sort of occultish mystery, maybe it was the hot babes in the video, maybe it was the newfangled semi-kiss makeup and teased hair.

but it was probably the heavy guitar mixing some of the best of malcom young, judas priest, and the parade of hair metal bands that were popping up on the sunset strip like so many palm trees.

alot has changed with the crue since their debut Too Fast For Love in '83. theyve gone from being just another poison + warrant + tesla + cinderella + ratt peer to being legit rock stars who have lived the life harder faster and livelier than pretty much any group.

teetering between laughably forgetably and atypical to downright catchy and lasting, motley crue has somehow kept it hard for all these years which is certainly saying something considering the long strange trip that theyve been on.

and so when i got the email asking if i wanted to go to the show That Night and cover it for my favorite local weekly i thought about it for a total of one second and quickly looked at my gmail to see when the email had been sent. ah four minutes! i hope they hadnt already found someone. so i wrote back with a hell yes and got a quick reply telling me that my tickets would be waiting for me at the forum club. i had made the big time. fucking a.

back in the day the forum was it, and the forum club was the little bar that only the v of the v.i.p.s would party in before and after laker games, concerts, boxing matches, etc.

all the great acts have played at the forum. hendrix, zep, nirvana, ac/dc, prince... everyone. the former home of the lakers and gretzkey's kings is now owned by a church but every once in a while they lease it out for a rock show and that night it was the return to LA by one of their own, Motely Crue who somehow had sold out the 20,000 seat arena despite ticket prices hovering around (and above) triple digits.

we arrived, paid our $20 for parking and got into the show after some confusion and security people pointing us in the right way. strangely it was the swedish virgin who found out how we were supposed to get into the forum club as me in my iron maiden longsleeve looking like a venezualian thug wasnt getting us the right answers, but fortunately her sweet disposition and ability to overhear other journalists got us where we needed to be

and soon we were eight rows up and to the side of the stage. pretty much a perfect view of what was happening which was rock had returned to the fabulous forum. the micro miniskirts had also returned, the devil horns had returned, the leather pants and long hair and chicks in lingerie. everything had come back with a vengence and there were all those classic tunes again and everyone was smiling. the band just as much as the fans. it was a lite metal love fest. it was great.

and when we drove home the swedish girl said thanks for taking me to my first rock show, what will you write? and i said kiss me and i'll tell you. she said i cant im driving.

and when we stopped at a red light she said why are you smiling and i said cuz im about to kiss you. watch out. here it comes. she said but the lights about to change. i said shhhh. kissed her, and this is what i told her.

mr miyagi keeps the sexiness coming + paul jones admits defeat to me wastes me in googlefighting + fil represents

# | |

shes the hottest girl in america. and today is her 22nd birthday.

by america i mean south america, central america, north america and canada america, of course.

raymi writes exactly the sort of blog that id make if i was a chain smoking karaoke singing topless cussing rock star from toronto.

she had me at pffft.

people say why dont you just marry her already but im not worthy of a raymi le minx. what would i do but disappoint her. she deserves so much more than me. she deserves like the '97-98 chicago bulls.

i dont know how her man fil does it. whats it like to stare into the sun all day. whats it like to hear symphonic music every time she opens her mouth. whats it like to see the mona lisa every time she strikes a pose.

raymi came over to my house once a very long time ago. not even the stars knew what to do so they all fell all at the same time and night was turned to day. the world kept spinning but the earth locked up and raymi got off and straightened its axis cuz it looked "gay" all crooked like that.

soon there was a knock at the door and there was a pizza boy there with beer and smokes and weed and funyuns. he would not accept our money when he saw who everything was for and raymi said thats right bitch and kicked his ass as he left. it was a love tap but after she slammed the door she pulled out the yellow bag and said who the hell ordered the funyuns.

i never admitted that it was me who ordered the funyuns. until now.

the pizza dude had left behind an ice cold two litre of coke which raymi drank straight from the bottle. i was happy to drink from it right after she did and i didnt even wipe it off. if there were such things as raymi germs i wanted them. who wouldnt.

i think she drank a lot more than i did because soon she was bouncing off the walls, getting terrifically bored with everything the minute she looked at it. it was awesome. here i was mr. entertainment and i had my blogging idol in my domicile and the game was "dont bore raymi". so i turned on the tivo and she worked through that super fast, so i turned on my vcr and she tore through my 55 years of tape recordings, then i clicked some bill monroe on my winamp and we square danced right there in the living room accidentally knocking over bongs and water pipes and hookahs and midgets.

i wondered if she was going to get naked for me but she didnt and i was sorta relieved becuase i didnt want all my hair to turn white and i didnt want to pass out right there infront of her, which i woulda done. no seriously, i woulda.

we had a little semi battle of wills when she started ordering me around, which she seemingly likes to do. i dont mind being of service, but in america im the king of the jungle. and by america i mean my house. and theres only so many things a man can do at once. do you want the tortilla chips or do you want your crust removed from your slice. make up your mind. do you want me to find the liquid e or do you want me to dig up the new j-lo video. i only have two hands.

but raymi was great. she wanted all of it. she was very much like the lizard king, she even whispered it: we want the world and we want it

now.

so happy birthday queen of everything, princess of persia, goddess of the underground, ruler of all things considered. even though you may not know it you've influenced every blog ever made including this one. every day.

in a perfect world our two countries would buy us a motorhome and let us drive around the globe telling people how to do everything from line dancing to building spice racks.

we'd be bigger than howard stern

and we'd never go disco.

raymi + the + minx

# | |

a year ago, today

people ask me if i miss bunny, i do. she was a sweet girl. but now shes gone and shes dead to me. until i see sweet pictures of her calling me on the phone so as to reminice about her spring break in hollywood.

ah memories.

i like bunny because shes not full of shit. you have no idea how many people who are entirely full of shit that i have to deal with here in la and online.

it's getting regoddamneddiculous.

for example, over at jeff jarvis's buzzmachine, a place that used to be a haven of intelligent discourse, theres a few knuckleheads who proudly claim that they dont listen to howard stern - judging him.

sorry kids, you cant have it both ways. go back to burning books.

who has the gall to talk about shit, let alone judge shit that they claim not to listen to?

not bunny mcintosh.

which is why i like her.

the other day i was hanging with my girl moxie who is a devout republican, so obviously we have our differences, but whats nice about her is she doesnt try to puke those beliefs all over those who dont share her ideals.

see, thats reasonable.

she also sticks to talking about things that she actually knows about. i realize thats a radical idea for some, but... whatev.

me and miss montreal watched our gov'nur in Pumping Iron last night. id never seen it. what a great documentary. arnold hasnt changed much. he was both charming and obnoxious, cocky and confident, big and bigger, dumb and dumber.

for lunch the fellas went to versailles and had it waiting for me when i landed. very few pleasant suprises better than that. food and sex is the way to a man's heart, america. and if you cant give the one, definately have the other waiting. especially if its roast pork and rice and plantaines.

id tell you how me and miss montreal made beautiful lust last night while listening to dj noodle's mix of jay-z's the black album and nirvana's unplugged in new york but larry flynt told me not to sixty nine and tell.

ken layne + raspil + gaping void + hampton 23

# | |

Goodbye

Now I recognize
it was always me
like a camera
set to expose

itself to a picture
or a pipe
through which the water
might run

or a chicken
dead for dinner
or a plan
inside the head

of a dead man.
Nothing so wrong
when one considered
how it all began.

It was Zukofsky's
"Born very young into a world
already very old..."
The century was well along

when I came in
and now that it's ending,
I realize it won't
be long.

But couldn't it all have been
a little nicer,
as my mother'd say. Did it
have to kill everything in sight,

did right always have to be so wrong?
I know this body is impatient.
I know I constitute only a meager voice and mind.
Yet I loved, I love.

I want no sentimentality.
I want no more than home.

- Robert Creeley (1927 - 2005)

metafilter thread + doc searls sez that in Google Fight i beat the instapundit! + brett lamb + accordian guy

# | |

the one thing that i dont understand about the oj trial is the motive.

why would oj simpson want to kill nicole, and thus kill any future that he might have?

back in those days black men werent getting off for murdering their xwives, even if they were innocent. so one would think that if oj was gonna kill her he would be just as well off taking a gun and killing her and then killing himself.

why would he use a knife, hide the bloody weapon, and his bloody clothes? black men dont get away with murder, why even try. especially in light of the previous domestic abuse situation?

but again, why would oj want to kill nicole? was it that passionate of a relationship? nope. they both called it rocky. he had been in a failed relationship once before. why didnt he kill that woman, why nicole? because she was a hot blonde? oj could walk down the street the night before the murders and would be able to pull any hot blonde he wanted.

the problem with the accusation of Crime of Passion is you have to somehow show that OJ was sooooo broken up with his divorce over nicole that he was willing to throw his whole life away and murder her, and it would help if you could somehow prove that the way that she was murdered was more in line with the slaying at the hands of an emotionally distraight spurned lover than from a professional killer.

the way that ron and nicole were killed, unfortunately for those who want to blame simpson, included cuts made by someone who not only knew where to cut, but were so deep and strong that they seemed not only professional but expert.

to me a crime of passion involves screaming and tears and slashes to non-fatal parts of the body like the nipples or vagina or eyes or mouth. none of that was ever presented in the grisley testimony. there were many stab wounds but most, on both victims, were intentional and logical. and these were done without any neighbors seeing or hearing shit.

keep in mind that early in the trial two of her neighbors admitted to calling the cops on OJ when he first visited Nicole. they noticed a large black man waiting around her front door and looking up into the window. nicole lived on a busy street in a townhouse type building where many families and couples lived right up next to each other. if neighbors saw OJ just hanging out there years ago, they certainly would have noticed him killing two people. and yet there were no witnesses alleging that either.

so again, why would oj want to kill nicole? the truth is, he wouldnt want to kill her.

after the 911 call all of the parties were interviewed by the police. nicole was asked if OJ had hit her, she said no. they asked if he had ever hit her. she said once. that was the one famous time we all know about on new years eve 89 because of the pictures, etc. but two years later they were divorced and she was never attacked by oj again.

not even the day of the 911 call when he found out that his kids were surrounded by drug dealers and hookers. he freaked out, yes. any good parent would. but there was no violence. there was only yelling, as there should be, and when the police took his statement they understood the commotion and let him go.

now, there are the drugs.

after oj and nicole divorced she became closer to her friend faye resnick than ever before. faye was someone so involved in drugs that she had been to rehab several times before, including the day before the murder. some say Resnick went to rehab that last time to hide out after working out a deal with officials to help them nab 386 kilos of cocaine in santa ana the day before the slayings.

but thats no reason to assume anything especially when so many people from Brentwood's Mezzaluna were also dying for odd reasons. Nearly a year before Ron Goldman was stabbed to death his friend, Brett Cantor, was also killed in an oddly similar manner. meanwhile, fellow mezzaluna waiter Michael Nigg was shot in the head and killed, while yet another mezzaluna waiter barely survived a car bombing. yes a car bombing in LA.

all of this is spiraling around Nicole. why? was it her dirty best friend? was it her ties to Ron and Mezzaluna's dead bodies? or was it her sister Denise Brown and her alleged relationship with exMafia turned FBI stoolie Tony “The Animal” Fiato who, although they may or may not have dated, were seen together on several occasions.

therefore, is it more likely that Nicole was professionally killed by someone in these violent circles of mafia figures, liars, drug dealers, thieves, and stool pigeons,

or is it more likely that a man who was banging a playmate suddenly realized that his heart was with his second ex-wife and because he could "never" have her back, he killed her?

its my opinion that OJ knew of these dark clouds surrounding his exwife which is why he always acts guilty and he knew of their threats and he knew he could have helped her pay the debts but made a stand and did not pay off that last debt, if indeed it was a murder over a debt.

some say it was Ron that the drug dealers were after, who followed him to Nicole's house and it was Nicole who was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

problem is, because the LAPD only suspected OJ and because they only followed that line of prosecution, we wont ever really know about ALL of the shadowy characters surrounding this tragic situation.

some may wonder where is all the negative energy surrounding Robert Blake's aquittal. maybe its out retrieving its gun.

ash tree + hewhocannotbenamed + stranger in a strange land

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im still illin, so lets return to a year ago today when we lost a great one.

the finest lawyer to ever put on a ski cap in court died today of an apparent brain tumor.

johnny cochrane was sixty eight years old and not nearly respected as he should have been for his defense of oj simpson.

some claimed that it was the jury, or the bungling by the defense, but in this age of CourtTV rarely a trial goes by where there arent big mistakes made on both sides, but even with so many cooks in the kitchen can one find much fault with Cochrane's defense of the Juice.

so to give the best tribute i can, i give you something i posted here last summer

top ten reasons why oj is not guilty

number ten: the columbian necktie.

it was no secret that over the last 6-8 months of her life, Nicole Brown Simpson spent more time with friends like Faye Resnick and others who were involved in the typical LA nightlife scene.

Some of those "friends" included drug dealers and hookers. Those associations, OJ claims was what led to the final 911 calls. He says he faught with Nicole because he didn't want those type of people around his children.

Most of the stab wounds on both nicole brown and ron goldman were in and around the neck.

"Ms. Simpson's head then was pulled back, perhaps by her blond hair, as the attacker slashed her throat from left to right. The neck position at the point of the cut can be determined by the fact that no blood flowed into her windpipe.

"The cut was vicious. The knife sliced through both carotid arteries - which provide blood to the brain - nearly cut through one jugular vein and left the second jugular vein dangling by a thread.

The cut was clean." (USA Today, 10/18/96)

This is very similar to what the defense brought up to being the trademark fatal stab wound that is found on some victims of drug-related crimes. Specifically those where the victim owed money to a drug dealer.

The idea of the Columbian Necktie or Columbian Necklace came up several times in the OJ trial.

Mark Furhman was asked by F. Lee Bailey if he had ever heard of the Columbian Necktie

Q: NO. HAVE YOU EVER HEARD OF A COLOMBIAN NECKLACE?

A: NO.

Q: YOU ARE HEARING THAT WORD FOR THE FIRST TIME TODAY?

A: NO. I KNOW WHAT A COLOMBIAN NECKTIE IS.

Q: COLOMBIAN NECKTIE. WHAT IS A COLOMBIAN NECKTIE, DETECTIVE FUHRMAN?

A: CUTTING SOMEBODY'S THROAT.

Q: DID YOU EVER HEAR IT CALLED A NECKLACE?

A: NO.

Q: THAT INCLUDES CUTTING THE THROAT SO SEVERELY THAT BOTH THE CAROTID ARTERIES ARE SEVERED, CORRECT?

A: I DON'T KNOW ABOUT THAT, BUT I JUST HEARD THE TERM.

Q: WHAT HAPPENS WHEN THEY ARE SEVERED? DO YOU KNOW FROM YOUR TRAINING?

A: WELL, THE PERSON WILL BLEED PROFUSELY AND DIE.

Q: THE BLOOD PRESSURE DROPS TO ZERO AND DEATH OCCURS ALMOST IMMEDIATELY; ISN'T THAT SO?

A: I WOULD ASSUME SO.

Q: IF YOUR THROAT IS CUT THAT SEVERELY WHILE YOU ARE STANDING AND SOMEBODY IS HOLDING YOUR HEAD, YOU WOULD BE DEAD BEFORE YOU HIT THE GROUND, WOULDN'T YOU?

A: (NO AUDIBLE RESPONSE.)

Q: IF YOU KNOW?

A: I WOULD HAVE TO SPECULATE. I COULDN'T TELL YOU THAT, SIR.

read the rest here

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my living will.

heres how you know when you can shut down my feeding tube: when i can no longer blog.

ive been blogging in one way or another since i was a lad. we just didnt know that it was blogging, but it was.

when i got into school i would rarely pay attention.

i would write little stories for the ladies in the house to read and tell me how clever i was.

i would draw pictures next to my stories.

i would integrate current events into the fiction,

and of course it would end in a perfectly iambic couplet.

all the girlies said ho

ho ho

and now nothings any different except i dont have to draw crazy pictures and i dont have to fold my stories into little squares and pass them along.

so if the day ever comes when im hooked up to some crazy machinery and i cant type or i cant tell little tall tales then accidentally trip over my juice.

dont listen to the born-agains. if anything remind them that good Christians go to the promised land. the better place. the world of milk and honey (even though im not all that crazy about honey).

if they try to cockblock you remind them that i hated most born agains for being phony and for trying to use their faith as power when it should only be a reminder that we're Loved and there is hope for us.

period.

believing in a higher being doesnt mean that you Know more than the next person, or that you are better than anyone, all it should mean is that you're buying this stuff about the man upstairs.

and if the man upstairs looks down on this big blue marble and doesnt see tony pierce writing little procrastination pieces for the lovelies then something is definately wrong in denmark.

and thats when my brief candle should be blown out out

and bury my dirty bones in isla vista
so that i may hear the rattle of skateboards
and smell the smoke of burnt couches
and so i can hear frustrated students
slam down their beers and yell
fuck iambic couplets

does every canadian girl rule completely?

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only got three hours of sleep last night. which isnt all that rare. and the other night i got like ten hours of sleep so youd think itd even up, but it didnt.

usually i can totally rally and pull it off but this three hours was fuct cuz it should have been four hours but this week ive got the xbi cell phone which means if there are any disturbances in the area i get my ass woken up and even though its warm right now last night was super windy and it was nice to set my electric blanket at 3:30a as i was brushing my teeth and as i was saying my prayers i could hear the thermostat click meaning it was toasty. and it twas.

not as toasty as if there were twin runaway catholic girl runaways in my queen sized waterbed, but it was toasty nevertheless and all of the comforter was as mick jagger sang mine all mine.

the downside is the cell phone was mine all mine this morning. it rang three times before the cock crowed. and within a half hour i had the shit handled but then it was too late. a man cant just lay in bed for a half hour switching from npr to howard stern and not be extremely pissed off.

i remembered the good old days where if this had happened and i was entertaining, the young lady would do things to me that i would never dare repeat in this blog. and when she was done she would ask me if i felt better and i would say something witty and offer to make her some coffee.

but these arent the good old days these are the last days of the awkward middle period. the reason i was up all night is the same reason i went to sleep early on sunday. im in the midst of the begining of writing a book. an adult book. an xxx novel, of which ive been commissioned. easiest thing ever, no? no.

the demons are holding a convention in my head. its the craziest thing ever. man do they go off in there telling me things like,

you know theyre just gonna turn this into a porno, or several pornos, you know youre going to burn in hell for this, you know this isnt the reason that the Lord gave you whatever weirdo talents that you have. you realize that noone is going to treat this novel as anything more than pulp for old men and kids to yank off to, you know this isnt going to lead anywhere, you know you'll get thrown right out of grad school if you get into grad school and they find out about this.

you know sonny i. lavista is the worst pen name of all.

they tag each other when they run out of bullshit to say and another demon takes over.

you know everyone knows your style. your fake ee bukowski holden caufield gobbley goop.

you know you'll never get laid again if every woman thinks that she might just get written into your next xxx novel.

you know you cant write a novel, youve got ADD, you can barely write a blog post without being distracted in six different ways.

tag

you know that not even bukowksi wrote a xxx novel, he only wrote xxx stories and those he destroyed when he became famous.

which is a lie

the novel is set in southern illinios right around the civil war. an escaped slave thinks hes made it to canada but he got lost and has been running around in circles and finds a nice young woman whose father and brother have been fighting for the north. she gives the slave shelter and assures him that he is not in canada but he doesnt believe her because hes been lied by The Man his whole life.

she explains that she is not the man and from the sillohutte of the candlelight behind him she sees that it is he who is the man. oh yes. it is he.

he doesnt understand so they switch places in the log cabin and stands where he was standing and there he can see that thanks to the candle and her thin night gown that he can see that indeed she is very much a woman. and then realizes that she could see that he ... well...

and then theres much loving. much forbidden loving. until theres a knock at the door. its the pizza man. the slave has never seen pizza before and assumes that it is the native dish of canada and as he eats the pie, the pizza boy accepts his tip from the young woman, who

you call yourself a writer? the demons yell.

its a bad deal. yes its a bad novel. nothing good will come of it. except for the money. the barrels of money. so instead of writing it i click around the web and see what everyone else is up to. but so few are up to anything, so i look at my stats, i play blogshares, i play fantasy hoops which im in the playoffs in all but one of my eight leagues, i make trades in my fantasy baseball, i answer some very nice emails and some very suggestive emails and i thank my lucky stars

and last night i did that so late at night that if i had written one page per hour i would have had a chapter done. but instead i had watched the bachelor and accomplished very little.

and now im groggy and hungry and hankering for a slice of extra cheese.

im going to the post office later today, if you want to order How To Blog, it's $18 + $5 s/h, just email me and i will send you an invoice

lori + is you is + r&r nigga + 10:51am

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the bachelor
abc
mondays

i seriously dont believe it.

the bachelor doesnt suck this year.

after years of wondering why men dont want to watch pretty boys get their way with hoards of hot women on a tv gameshow, this season they gave america charlie o'connell, b-list nobody jerry o'connell's brother.

who is charlie o'connell? fuck if i know. but hes not jerry o'connell's better looking or smarter brother, thats for damn sure.

and thats why this year it doesnt suck.

sure hes tall and vaguely resembles his brother, but hes got a big deep goofy voice and hes easilly distracted by cheerleaders, fake tits, and blondes, and its obvious.

so obvious that right in the middle of a date, one of the women said seacrest out and split.

it doesnt take a rocket scientist to understand that handsome rocket scientists getting swooned over isnt fun for non rocket scientist non male models to watch

and these millionaire dudes arent being good to these bachlorettes either. so why not charlie o'donnell who is better than average looking, bastard, but isnt getting nba cheerleader strange, or getting faught over by models.

yes, these women are falling in love and then fighting over him.

its awesome.

theyre cheating, theyre snapping at each other, theyre dissing each other while holding roses.

for a dude who lives in his brothers house.

everyone knows that porn features some of the fugliest men that help you focus on the women

this years bachelor makes it very easy to focus on the ladies

which is great,

cuz all those bitches crazy.

its hot.

bunny suicides + via rhodester + perfect pear

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people ask me lots of questions as if i have some pipeline into the future or into God or into television and record programming.

well i do have a pipeline into the future but i try not to reveal it because i value my safety and i wouldnt want to be kidnapped by hoodlums who would sit me infront of the big screens at the sports book at caesars and tell them which ponies to bet on across the country.

yes, britney spears is pregnant. duh.

look at the size of that bun in the oven!

and while we're at it, big deal.

why is that so important to you?

each day i give you at least one or two real issues to chew on: my love life, my career plans, my concerns about the blogosphere, the cubs, religion, my lack of a sex life, the downfall of america at the hands of the right, kids kicking ass on the interweb, and tsar's incredibly slow rise up the pop charts.

women get knocked up all the time, why is pimply faced, slack jawed, no talent britney spears womb of such concern, particularily in light of who has been fertilzing that empty space?

i think britney is pregnant for several reasons at the top of the list being that shes eating like a damn pig. i eat like a damn pig too so i actually like that shes gorging herself because people should live their lives and not worry about dumb things like fitting into size 2 jeans, but most of us arent popstars whose uniforms include bellyshirts and etc.

i also think britney is pregnant because her bazooms are balossoming like nobodies bazisiness. i remember not long ago when she was doing a pepsi commercial and they were doing a behind the scenes about it and they said that her boobs were looking really big and she was all, pushup bra im sure.

compare and contrast these pictures of her in a bikini with exhibit d.

all of this would also explain her somewhat frantic rush to get married last year, her willingness to rush together a greatest hits package and lack of any plans to tour any time soon.

personally im glad shes pregnant. if shes lucky maybe she will look as hot as zulieka.

cityrag + moon over pittsburgh + stereogum + gm blog

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why are anonymous negative commentors so repulsive?

let me count the ways.

first they're cowards. anyone can snipe from the hills from a blind and spew out falsities and lies and bullshit and malarkey. anyone. remember when that kid did it from the trunk of an old car in washington dc? he was pathetic. a pathetic mess. i dont want to believe that there is something about my blog that attracts pathetic cowards to my shit, so thats one reason i hate anonymous negative commentors.

second they're usually wrong. when youre right you sign your name to things like john hancock. you sign it like you mean it. youre saying fuck yeah tony im into this just like my name is _____ ______. when people dont put their name next to their bullshit they're almost admitting that they're wrong and full of shit. so why bother us with your trifles? the busblog deserves better. the web deserves better. america deserves better.

thirdly, they're probably hiding something. you think im kidding about working for the xbi? every person who clicks this page leaves behind a traceable identifying piece of information that outs them. very very very few of you block where youre coming from and those who leave comments have very little means to cloak their (and their computer's) identity. these fools know that, but they still play the kiddy cat and mouse game and make me click one button to find out who they are. and when i find out i say, oh no wonder that person isnt being transparent, that person is never transparent. perhaps when these people are being transparent i will want their comments, but not until then. so f off. lying liars are for right wing talk radio, not the busblog.

fourthly, they usually cant write for shit. youd think having a mask and hood would pump them up with a fearlessness where they could write from the heart and blow us away with their newfound quasicourage, but no. sadly they never could write in the first place and therefore have no practice in busting decently even without the burden of their regrettable family name. so they now bore us with whines and belches without reading what they're so outraged about. who are they to judge when nothing they have done is admirable?

ultimately they have brought loads of negative attention onto themselves and proven nothing about their point other than they are too chicken shit to figuratively stand behind it, therefore they admit to not fully believing in what they wrote and yet still they ask us to consider it.

as if.

either roll back up into the cowardly ball of smegma that you obviously find yourself in most of your life, or suck it up and be a man once in your life and put your worthless name and worthless email address and or blog address on your bullshit the next time you dare question hewhoridesthebus.

angelina + large american penis wishes us a happy dingus day + ciavarro

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Dodgers Boot 86 Year-old Man from his Front Row Seats

Bill Plachke, LA Times

Aisle 25, first row, seats 1, 2, 3, 4.

Numbers to anyone else, but a life's work for Irving Zeiger, who has had the best seats in the house for as long as there has been a house.

Zeiger mailed his initial deposit for Dodger season tickets while the team was still in Brooklyn, reportedly the first check Walter O'Malley received.

When O'Malley built Dodger Stadium, he rewarded Zeiger by renting him the cornerstone.

His seats were in the first row directly above the Dodger dugout. He was so close he could smell the resin and spot the tobacco stains. He wore a glove not for souvenirs, but protection.

For 43 years he has sat there, placing his diet soda on the dugout roof and autograph-seeking kids at his feet and embracing this town's last bit of unchanging real estate.

"It may sound funny, but to enjoy these seats with my family, to share them with others, I really had an emotional feeling about them," said Zeiger, 86.

Then, this winter, he received a phone call.

It was a strange woman from this strange new organization known as, well, the Dodgers.

The voice was cheery. The news sounded good.

The Dodgers had moved the dugout closer to the field and installed four new rows of seats behind it. But Zeiger need not worry, he could retain his four stadium-best seats directly above the new dugout.

It would cost him only $120,000.

You read that right.

It would cost him only $120,000.

Irv Zeiger has cheered for Koufax, screamed for Gibson, pumped his fist for Piazza.

But no Dodger has ever blown him away like that woman on the phone.

"I thought she was joking," he said. "She wanted $120,000 from me to keep those seats I've had for half my life?"

Zeiger was scheduled to pay $20,000 for his four seats, so the new figure constituted a 500% increase.

To move up four rows.

To watch a team that has won one playoff game in 16 years.

To support an owner who spent the winter breaking up a division champion while slashing the payroll.

read the rest

h/t bloggin.la + free cat + welch on fire

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if these motherfuckers wanna ban shit all the time, why dont they keep their filthy paws off the ten commandments statues in the courthouse which noone pays any attention to

and instead focus on the easter bunny, eggs, candies, fake grass, bonnets and peeps

all of whom are blatantly offensive to this country's national religion, one where Easter is supposed to be the highest of holy days, the celebration of the final miracle, and the ultimate proof that Jesus was God, the Resurrection.

and as Christian Conservatives, you sit on your hands as they allow a upright bunny with a bowtie pass out jelly beans and hard boiled chicken eggs?

lets go to isreal and see how theyd treat us if we started decorating our house posts with the Hannakuh Hippo who shits out brightly colored watermellons for all the children to induldge in. dont forget to save the seeds!

many people said that the last election slid in favor of bush because we had turned into a moral and Christian nation but that was obviously a load of crap, and with every jelly bean sold at wal*mart it becomes more and more apparent that religion is merely a convenient blind to hide behind when one wants to be homophobic, or controlling, or ignorant

allowing candies to replace scripture on the holiests of days and literally feeding it to our children, the same children who we allegedly do all the things we do to protect.

i cant have titties on tv because of the children.

i cant hear people speak like adults on the radio because of the children.

marijuana is not legal because of the children.

people cant walk around wearing nothing except for what the Lord gave them because of the children.

records are labeled with a sticker claiming explicit language so that parents wont accidentally buy the wrong thing for their children.

and yet one of the few holidays where you actually give something to your children you give them high fructose corn syrup in the shape of a chicken?

germanic heathens gave their children eggs and danced around in the spring time, since when are you interested in having your messiah play second-fiddle in your child's eyes to the cartoonish and spiritless ignorances of second century fools?

and you call yourselves moral.

a womans breast on television is nothing compared to the easter bunny on the holiest day for even a child knows the purpose of breasts, what, red state Christians, is the easter bunny's purpose on this holy day.

i call you out for being the worst sort of hypocrite so called conservative christians. one who uses the holy bible to push your personal politics of control, hatred, fear, and intolerance. for throughout the few holy holidays that you celebrate, at every turn you allow the bastardization of your so-called faith to seep into the collective conciousness of your most prized possessions. you dont have a problem protesting the end of a brain dead life or an abortion, but when someone wants to replace religion with wrapping paper and pastels you roll right over and stick your ass up and beg for it.

and some of you may say oh but its so hard to take the story of good friday and easter and make it fun for kids and to you i say you havent even tried.

children are precisely the ones who believe your bullshit about santa claus huffing it down every chimney in the world with gifts, a filthy lie full of far more fantasies than the concept of john 3:16 or the resurrection

running around squawking about the sanctity of life and then blindly ignoring the magic of life after death?

and dare i say that the creativity involved in attempting to grasp God's Love, or rebirth, or the nature of sin are where one should want children's minds to be pushed

instead you sell out your offspring by pretending that they couldnt understand the greatest story ever told

and instead you feed them sticky sweet lies which promise nothing but cavities.

and you think you deserve a part of heaven after your time here on earth

keep dreaming.

anti has been making films like mad + vortexia + zulieka (pictured, bottom)

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