tony pierce.com + mary!
busblog at gmail dot com

nothing in here is true

 


   Saturday, June 08, 2002  
i dont think youre ready, for this jelly.

beyonce called me and i said, where do all of you girls get my number?

she was upset because the photos had come out and they revealed a much larger singer of the girl group.

"no one will ever love me," she cried.

true, beyonce, but they'll love your money.

"but i dont want them to love me for my money!"

sorry, baby, im probably the only man who will love you for who you are.

"even if im not a skinny girl any more?"

beyonce, it's just a matter of time until any of our bodies start changing. yours just came today. it's cool. i still love you.

"be my boyfriend."

no.

"but..."

shhhh shhhh shhhh. i thought you wanted to be an independent woman?

"i do. on your living room floor."

its messy there.

"after your maid comes."

now, thats kinky.

"what is?"

ok, gotta go beyonce. cant wait for the solo record.

"but, wait. did a. beam get it right? are you really going to stop the busblog?"

yes. july 7.

"noooooo. why?"

all blogs should end after a year. its the only way to keep things fresh.

"but your blog is constantly fresh."

but nobody cares.

"EVERYONE CARES. didnt you get like three million hits last month?"

yes, but i cheated. i put nudity on my site. thats not love.

"so like if like 100 sites that dont link you now, if they link you, will you keep the blog?"

maybe.

"say yes."

ok, yes.

   Friday, June 07, 2002  
did i say theyd win by twenty?




i guess i should have said by 23.

 
kool keith asks:

"did Sammy Davis Jr. "conk" his hair his whole life? Has he gotten shit for this? I ask cuz I'm reading malcom x's autobiography and I just read the part where he goes off about what sellouts blacks that conked their hair were.

well, keith, Frank may have sung it, but Sammy lived it. if there was one person who did it his way, it was the little Black one eyed nappy haired jew who had a penchant for tall scandanavian blondes in an era when mixed-marriages were illegal in more than half of the states here in America.

sammy alluded to the fact that he lost his left eye possibly due to racism when driving from Vegas to Hollywood in a cadillac that was just given to him by the owner of the Sands. sammy was dating a nice young blonde girl and was driving to LA to buy a house in the ultra-white hollywood hills. all of this was just too much for some, and as he was driving suddenly he saw a car completely stopped on the highway just in front of him for no reason at all. sammy swerved to avoid the mysterious car and hit his head on the decorative cone in the center of his steering wheel and lost his eye.

things simmered when he took the advice of his friends and immediately married his first wife, a pretty black chorus girl on the strip who he barely knew.

the marriage didnt last long, and soon he was seen with the whitest women he could find.

and in 1960 right after his friend JFK won the presidency, due in part to sammy's getting out the Black vote for kennedy, he married may brit despite the fact that 31 states still considered such a practice illegal and immoral.

when JFK retracted SDJ's invite to his inaugural ball because of his sammy's controversial marriage, the candy man's feelings were hurt so much that years later when Richard Nixon called on Sammy to help with his coolness quotient, sammy-- to the utter disbelief of the african-american community-- accepted the invitation and became friendly with the republican.

sammy also did lots of cocaine which caused a huge rift between he and old Blue Eyes that lasted years, he also didnt pay his taxes that caused him serious financial injury with Uncle Sam, and he dabbled in satanism which drew ire from The Man Upstairs.

sammy answered only to sammy.

so, to answer your question, yes, keith, sammy did sport a 'fro for a short period of time. when i find the pictures i will post them.

but he didnt wear his hair a certain way to bow to popular convention or to appease a certain racial group, he did it because either he wanted it, or because he thought it could score him more chicks. to hell with malcom x or being called a sellout.

sammy was a tap dancing black jew who hung with tricky dick.

"sellout" only begins the list of slurs that other blacks would hurl at him and he didnt give a damn.

and now you've heard the best of the story.

p.s. his relationship with nixon earned him the interesting opportunity to be the first Black to sleep in the Lincoln bedroom. he took it.
 
today is dean martin's birthday he would have been 36 today.

made a big mistake at the baja fresh this afternoon, ordered the Totally Baja Burrito or some shit and i never order burritos there cuz for $6 a burrito should blow you. the correct price for a good burrito is between $2.50 and $4.50.

but i was starving, and ive been eating their taquitos with a side of beans and that hasnt been filling me up, so i went for it and said "no onions" they said, but it comes in the pico gigante sauce so i said fine. not knowing that pico gigante means hunks of tomatoes and onions and cilantro.

so now my fingers smell of baja which is a smell you cannot cleanse yourself of even after several scrubbings.

lately ive discovered that my olfactory glands are working better than ever. i used to think that one sense only gets stronger if another sense starts to fade.

so maybe i can smell things better because my memory is so wacked.

or cuz my hair is thinning like mad.

anyway i was over at this young lady's house the other day and it was weird how the smells of her country home totally brought back old memories and made me trust her in a powerful and odd way.

it made me want to wear cologne, but then if i did i wouldnt be able to smell the rest of the world cuz i would have this barrier of eau between me and it.

baja fresh recently switched from Coke to Pepsi to increase their profit margin, then they sold out to Wendys.

dear Wendy's please switch back over to Coke.

gracias,

antonio
 
"don't be so predictable," ashley warned in the wee hours last night as she discoverd that i was going to do a little photo essay on the other twenty year old princess, britney spears.

me, predictable?

"sure, first anna, now britney. i just dont want people to think that you're not cool."

but im not cool.

"oh, youre very cool."

even after seeing britney like a dillweed?

"yes. you'll make it a cool thing."

so why are you worried?

"i dont know, just am. you know how you can make your thing a hundred times cooler?"

start writing about how Bush Knew about 9/11 and didnt do shit?

"uh, no. have more pictures of me on there."

what about more indepth laker coverage?

"no, more me."

what about telling the kids that Tsar is going to be playing tonight at the Dragonfly with the Bad Apples?

"that's ok, but more me will make it way better."

what about shining on anna, and dedicating my blog to the Williams Sisters who are now number one and two in the world?

"ok, nerd, that would be dumb."

War Emblem is about to win the triple crown.

"what does that have to do with me?"

ok, i'll have more pictures of you.

"DO YOU MEAN IT?"

yes. i just made one last night.

"ahhhh! really? which one did you use?"

the one of you trying to look like Tinkerbell.

"AAAAHHHH. ok, tell me when you use it."

ok, will do.

   Thursday, June 06, 2002  
last night i realized that my first favorite nba star was a Net.

that's right, the good doctor, Julius Erving, only played three seasons with the ABA's new york nets, but managed to average a double-double or some shit.

but dont ask me, apparently my sports memories are as fuzzy as my 'fro since i f'ed up on the may 17 cubs/phillies 23-22 game, as pointed out, very politely by baseball news (scroll down to yesterday's deal.)

all i know is dr. j was a favorite of mine back when jason kidd was just a kid.

lakers in three.
 
today is michele's 25th birthday! happy birthday sweet naturegirl from malibu.

people ask me all the time how all my old girlfriends seem so young and never age. and i dont know how to answer that, cuz its a mystery to me too.

perhaps it's because the Good Lord is sad for me that i cant find a regular girlfriend so he sends down angels to hang out with me so i dont walk around all lonely and depressed all the time.

michele called me a few months back and we talked for a little while. it was the first time we had talked in a long long time, and it was nice, and she told me that she had kids and was teaching and living in the woods with her husband and she was writing childrens books.

i wanted to tell her that childrens books have completely influenced my photo essays, but she would never believe it.

it took a lot for her to believe that she had inspired me to not only write poetry but to get into journalism, two things that she kicked ass at way before i even considered trying myself.

the other day i was driving through malibu with a dear friend and i asked if we could wander off the pch and see the house where michele grew up at, and she obliged and i found the house no problem even though much of zuma has developed.

i will never forget the three years that i was with that girl, it was an adventure of the mind, spirit, and soul. trust me. we listened to records. we hung out with her brothers and her mom and their dogs, we just hung out.

i dont know how to explain it to you, other than to say that when i think about being 20 years old, i think of being with this wildly idealistic punk rock hippie blue eyed irish native southern californian who was equal parts everything.

absolute gemini.

one of several angels that the lord graciously pitied me with.
 
last night was beautiful. finally summer has come to los angeles, finally i could open up the french doors in the sitting room and let the cool breeze from the veranda ease into the master bedroom.

woke up at sunrise and soaked in the tub listening to the green album, sampling the new flavor of cap'n crunch (chocolate donuts) and read the new playboy.

strolled down to the subway station, rode it to wilshire vermont and the connecting train wasnt there so i walked the stairs up to the surface to see my newly restored escalator and there it was working right, all happy. strangely all the other escalators were stopped. at the bottom of each escalator there is a latch that has a key hole which i assume can only be opened with a key, but the latches from all the stopped escalators were opened-- something seems fishy.

if the mta is trying to save money by intentionally stopping escalators, they should find new ways for revenue, because at 8am, many of the people who are using these escalators are not as fit as me, and im 108 years old.

and i could kick your ass.

shaq kicked some ass last night, and it looks like my predicted sweep will come easier than originally stated. the nets looked like a bunch of ugly girls out there. the lakers looked like a bunch of guys who had just climbed mt. everest and were now snowboarding down the other side.

did i see slava medvedenko getting in on the action last night?

yeah, the nets are history.

i guess the real finals were held in sacto last week.

so i take the bus down wilshire and there seems to be a lot of traffic on wilshire this morning and i wondered why all the cars dont go around the traffic by using side streets but then i remember that people are idiots in the morning which is why Rick Dees has been able to be gainfully employed for the last quarter century.

as we approach the offending traffic clogger, we see that its because there is a convoy of dump trucks in the far right lane. the lane that is supposed to be clear during rush hour traffic hours of 7-9 and 4-6. but someone has greased the palm of a city big wig and the dump trucks cause enough troubles that traffic is damn near stopped for a good two miles on the wilshire corridor just east of koreatown.

its a dump truck parade.

its a dump truck convention.

its a bunch of burley mexican guys in their dump trucks with their radios on listening to that ridiculous banda "music" drinking their coffee wondering which cowboy hat theyre going to wear to the taqueria after work.

already picked out which belt buckle.

   Wednesday, June 05, 2002  
honey, the baby is eating bullets again

i cant wait to have kids. the san leandro superior court says i already have one, but my dna swab says different.

if i had a little baby right now, id put the little buggar on my knee and id say, watch shaq play.

the baby would probably coo "ko-be... ko-be."

but i'd say, no, little baby, shaq, watch shaq.

then id put the infant down, run to the nursery and return with a shaq jersey and put it on the child.

yes, i think shaq's underrated. how many big men have made it through the nba and have fallen to injury or the double team or personality crisis or sex scandal or whathave you and had their careers fizzle after a season or two?

plenty.

shaq didnt have a lot of things going for him when he made it to the nba: his father was MIA, he went to a second-rate college, got drafted #1 by a second-rate team, got mixed up in the music and movie business, fathered a bunch of children out of wedlock, and never seemed to get along with his point guard, Penny Hardaway. His rookie card was going for $350 on the street, and where do you go from there? only place is down.

there was a lot of expectations on the 7'1" 315 youngster when he was stolen away by the Lakers a few years ago. and some of that pressure, no doubt, led to his public feud with Kobe.

to pile on, Don Nelson created Hack-a-Shaq, a defense where he would just foul the big guy and make him earn his points from the charity stripe.

and for a while this technique was effective, eerilly so.

but as we now know, this is no longer the case, and Don Nelson is on a golf course in Hawaii and Shaq is in a whirlpool in downtown LA preparing for Game 1 of the NBA Finals.

dont let the fanfare of the hype daze you into thinking that this isnt a big even just because Michael Jordan isnt on the court: Shaquille O'Neal is now poised to win his third championship ring in a row. What NBA center do you know that's done that in the last 20-30 years?

not anyone i remember seeing, and dont say Will Perdue.

anyway, im glad i dont have any little kids right now cuz if i did i would have to explain to them the genius of Phil Jackson and Tex Winter, i'd have to diagram the triangle offense, make them understand how if a few key lakers can master taking a charge they can get Kidd in foul trouble easy.

and theres nothing worse than a mother coming through the door after a hard days work as the father is running over a kid yelling, "dont move your feet. HOLD YOUR DAMN POSITION!" as little hands and feet go flying across the hardwood floors into a fern as the dog barks and the front door slams.

lakers in four, kidds, id mumble, and id place the ball in the mother's hands, kiss her cheek and retreat to the fridge for another cold frosty one.
 
people ask why im going to see britney spears tomorrow night at staples.

i have several reasons, the first being i havent seen a good stripper, in person, in years.

outside of my living room.

secondly, i have great seats.

but ultimately, i love music, i love the music scene, and i love pop music and pop culture, and for whatever reason, with britney and christina, and anna and ashley and beyonce, the universe has thrown heaps of twenty year old girls at me and i dont know why.

and sometimes its dumb to ask why.

sometimes its just your job to experience the experience.

a few rows from the stage.

up, just a little bit.

and see if that dirty little girl can put on a show.

for those of you who live in LA and are as curious as i am about ms. spears's talents, i have been keeping a keen eye on the ticket situation here and i will tell you that you shouldnt be surprised if you brought $20 to the downtown arena and found yourself possessing an $80 seat near where i'll be sitting.

even the most popular teen phenom has a hard time selling out two nights at Staples and her record hasnt exploded the way people expected and this is pretty much just a rehash tour of the one she broadcasted on HBO and how many teenagers do you know have $80 to check out a chick lip sync?

but for $20, i'll check out some cutesie karaoke.

what the hell else am i gonna do, wait for her big comeback tour when shes 26?
 
when i wake up in the morning i have a million ideas, same goes for when im riding the bus home.

but then i get in front of the computer and i begin to write to you and all my great ideas are thrown right out of the window.

this morning i was going to go through a run-down of the new jersey nets and let you know about the mad skills of jason kidd, the crazy underreported talents of Keith Van Horn, the sweet young hops of kenyon martin, and the magnificent defensive prowess of kerry kittles.

i was going to tell you that you shouldnt be surprised if big gangly todd macculoch blocked a few of kobe's drives to the lane tonight even though todd looks like a giraffe wearing rolling skates most of the time.

but then i flipped on the local news and they were showing a junior high in east LA and all the kids were holding a huge sign across the football field that said "go lakers" and i realised the futility of my public service.

they stuck a microphone in the sweet little face of a 13 year old girl wearing a kobe jersey and a bow in her hair and they asked her why she thought that the lakers would win and with an angelic smile she casually said, "because the nets suck."

all my years of schooling and i couldnt have said it better myself.

indeed rosa martinez, the nets do suck.

they suck because they dont have shaq, they dont have kobe, they dont have phil, they dont have tex, they dont have staples center, they dont have two rings, they dont have the laker girls, they dont have jack, they dont have chick.

they dont have shit.

and they dont have you, rosa,

and they'll never have me.

fuck them.

f the nets, f byron scott for even bringing his team over here, f the freaky looking nets, and f marv albert for getting away with wearing womens lingerie and being able to bite ladies in the back and only have to take a year off work and then be able to come back to broadcast this, the world series of basketball, and make more money in one night than i'll make all year.

for saying "yes!"

no!

this series is going to be a great one because in my opinion Shaq gets very little respect. and this will be the finals where everyone will finally have to give it up to him.

byron scott, the nets coach is a former laker point guard from the Showtime era of Magic, Cooper, Worthy and Kareem.

he knows the way to stop the lakers is to run shaq into the ground and theres no better fast-break general than jason kidd who can push the ball, stop, pop, or pass.

give to the lakers what is the lakers.

and the lakers, before they got the big fella, were flash. flash in a way that shaq dresses off the court.

on the court, the way for the lakers to win is with muscle.

derek fisher may have shown up a tad in gave seven in sacto, but im not counting on him.

and kobe doesnt seem like hes wanting to take over a game the way that jason kidd feels responsible to.

and since shaq somehow can sink these free throws, the lakers have no other choice than to ride his coattails to a three peat.

still, rosa, it is fun to say that the nets suck in public isnt it?

but, for me, its funner to say fuck.

fuck the nets.

fuck em.

   Tuesday, June 04, 2002  
ashley hates being ignored. hates hates.

nearly as much as soccer fans hate it when someone who does know soccer puts it into its place.

she floods my inbox with pictures and letters and notes and whines and pleas and loves and hates.

she says this cuban embargo of pictures on my blog but none of her is ridiculous and some may agree with her. im still undecided.

ashley went to the beach yesterday and got a little suntan and came home and took pictures of herself for me and sent them and said, tony, if you love me you will put these on your page.

and i said, ashley, a man can love things and not put them on his blog. its just a blog.

she said, tony. i said, ashley. she said, i mean it. i said, i dont care what you mean. she said, please. i said, nope. she said pretty please.

and we went on and on, but im a sucker for pretty pleases.

sara's dreaming about me again. this time instead of dreaming about getting down my pants shes going deeper. dreaming about my innards.

she says that she remembers me writing about the kidney stones that i passed but didnt get around to linking to any of the tales, which is sad, because i liked this recollection the best. defiance is my favorite trait, which is one reason i like anna and ashley so much.

for those of you who have given up on the Rabbit, thinking that she has escaped the cage or been skinned and fileted, turns out she was just on a long weekend in vegas complaining of hangovers and being overweight. i havent seen her in a while, but it would take more than a few trips through the buffet line for her to pinch an inch.

speaking of the sexiest female blogger, i have been propositioned by many in competition for this title, and i must say the women are playing this game for keeps.

because one of the contestants is my former newspaper editor, and another is married to a fella that i just saw at lunch, and since another is married to a guy who has skyrocketed to the top of the blogodome nearly overnight-- and since all of them are married, i voted for Rabbit cuz she was single and probably could use the virtual pat on the ass.

i vote for Presidents with equal logic.

 
my good pal, amy sends me this story of interest because she knows the only tshirts i sell through this site are those from tshirthell, cuz they rock (and cuz they flow me $4 a shirt, so buy up, cheapskates):

Online T-Shirt Seller Sues the Osbournes for $15 Million VentureReporter.net Tuesday, June 04, 2002, 10:27 AM ET

An online t-shirt seller has filed a $15 million dollar trademark infringement lawsuit against Ozzy Osbourne, accusing him of swiping a T-shirt slogan for use in the hit MTV show, "The Osbournes."

The Alley-based T-shirt seller Tshirthell.com has also named Ozzy's wife Sharon Osbourne, Sony Music and Epic Records as part of the lawsuit.

The suit alleges that the company T-shirt which reads "Fuck My Family, I'm Moving in with the Osbournes!" began selling online on its website back in March. Soon after, the suit alleges, Ozzy Osbourne's record label, Epic records, purchased $500 worth of the shirts from Tshirthell.com's website for promotional purposes.

Then two months after the sale, the Osbournes started selling a shirt with "nearly the exact same slogan" as the original Tshirthell.com shirt, according to the lawsuit.

The Osbournes released two versions of their shirt in retail and online stores worldwide, a censored version which reads: "*$@# My Family. I'm Moving in with the...Osbourne Family" and an uncensored version with the same slogan.

The lawsuit seeks to stop the Osbournes from selling their shirt, and have all profits from the offending shirt turned over to Tshirthell.com, besides the $15 million dollars in damages.

More on Tshirthell.com press release announcing the lawsuit.
 
i guess i have my share of readers, i might have your share too.

so when one of my favorite readers gets all worked up about his cousin scoring a gooooooooooooooooooooooal in the silliest sport in sports, i figure what the hell, lets throw bro a bone.

im american, through and through.

that means i couldnt give two shits about soccer and i couldnt even give one shit about the world cup.

it's nice to see people get all excited about their favorite sport, and its nice to see nationalistic pride, which is good for all the puny little places that arent the usa.

but i thought we covered that with the miss universe pageant? no?

anyhow, i like the riots, and the face paintings, and the big flags and the fights in the stands, and how everyone watches tv together and sings songs and drinks beer and stumbles home drunk with paint smeared down their sweaty cheeks with chants still echoing down the alleyways.

but fuck the world cup.

learn how to play baseball if you wanna impress me.

or football, or even basketball.

everyone wants to take on the world champs, and thats who WE are so dont go running around thinking youve done something cuz you beat Brazil or Camaroon.

i mean, come on. lets get serious.

take your little balls and your nets and your flags... and learn how to play baseball, an acutal sport.

most of you know how to play it, so play it. play it with the objective that you want to compete with America in an arena that no one has proven that they can defeat us in.

you cheat when you play us at Little League, thats cool.

in fact its a good start.

anyway, this might be the last world cup post you see here. and now you know why.

but if i do find myself waking up from a drunken stupor and i hear a mob of freaks screaming at the tv, i will root for korea because of my man Noah.
 
good morning, good morning sitting at the subway station waiting for the train, this guy behind me is clipping his finger nails.

if theres one sound i dont like its that one.

perhaps the issue i have with that sound is that when people clip their nails in public, rarely do they tidy up after themselves, so whats left behind is a small pile of --- ugh its too sick to even think about.

so i wanted to tell this guy off so i turn around and he looks like he just got out of jail, and i look at his wrist and theres a wristband there that says he DID just get out of jail but you know what, sometimes there is a little bit of courage that just spills out and i look at him and his clippers and the sick little pile at his feet and i gave him such a dirty look.

and the fucker stopped.

later i realized the guy was probably on probation and didnt want to get thrown back in the hole over something so dumb, but he tried to intimidate me and it didnt work.

got on the train and over the PA i heard the pleasant voice of my favorite black conductor who almost sings his greeting, "hello hello what a great day today is going to be..."

i think ive told you about this guy before.

"it's Tuesday and thats Our Day, so dont forget to treat yourselves like kings and queens."

its hard not to smile when you ride on this guy's train.

made me forget about all of my problems.

made me forget that i spent most of the evening trudging through "The Hamptons"

made me forget about my poor Cubs's record.

"a day like today just makes me want to feel the energy pop from the doors. treat yourselves right today people. wilshire and vermont."

and for some reason i wanted to see how my old broken down escalator was doing, so instead of switching trains, i got out of the subway and chose to ride the bus down wilshire and before i got to the bus, i saw that the escalator that we all know so well was now fixed.

it only took a year and a half, but it was fixed and it was taking all the kings and queens from the metro station to vermont avenue.

and maybe tonight i'll go bowling.

   Monday, June 03, 2002  
calling all nexites, my name is tony. i am applying for a writing gig after many years out of college. i could use your help.

i am without any reasonable clip whatsoever, and my bound editions are MIA.

if, by chance, you would even have one article with my name on it that you think would be worthy to show a prospective employer could you please send it to me? i will make a copy of it and send it back to you.

your loviness will be returned upon you sevenfold.

just so that you know that i dont have a big head and thats why i think i could score this gig, here's three girls fifteen years old who already kick my ass.


nay
emily
leah


lucky for me im cuter.

this chick's sixteen. he's seventeen. she's eighteen. she's nineteen.

im tony

someone sent me these two links and asked me if i believed after looking at the sites if i still believed that a plane crashed into the pentagon.

and my answer is, thank you for the links, i would much rather think that my dirty government was lying to me than think that a handful of yahoos could knock out a chunk of the pentagon while knocking down the twin towers.

but what would be the motive for the government to blow up one of their own buildings and look like a bunch of girls with their skirts down around their ankles?

maybe planes are made of materials strong enough to carry lots of weight, and light enough to fly, but crappy enough to explode into bits when crashing into a thick ass building at high speeds.

but what the hell do i know, i voted for nader.

but i do know three gay guys trying to make friends with four straight guys in the rain at comiskey park. and ladies, when we say that we dont want to work out or shave or shave our chests or shave our heads or get tanner cuz it'll make us look gay, that is what we're talking about. thanks fellas.

and by the way, dont say that the reason to turn all pretty is cuz the girls will fall all over you. its not true. what is true is that all those dudes are getting laid. and the real winner is the one who can do all that while being true to himself.

however, nobody cool hangs out with gay guys in the rain, topless

at comiskey park.
 
easiest bet ive ever made the illuminated donkey called me out and i showed no fear.

Hey California! After tonight's battle to see which team will be the next to fall to the unstoppable juggernaut that is the Nets, perhaps one of you would care to make a little...wager on the outcome of the finals. You know, like the mayors do. I can put up some local, representative goodies, like black-and-white cookies, saltwater taffy, and culture, while you folks could put up whatever the hell you people have out there (perhaps a nice shipment of El Pollo Loco).

I'm personally rooting for the Lakers, since victory will be that much sweeter against the defending champs, plus I personally can never get enough endless whining about officiating. - ill. donkey, june 2, 2002


to which i replied in his comment box:

i will be happy to overnight delivery you something tastier than El Pollo Loco. Beck immortalized Zankou Chicken in his slow jam "Debra".

if the lakers somehow lose to the nets, i will overnight two whole Zankou chickens, slow roasted, a nice tub of garlic spread, and a dozen or so pitas.

since all the best parts of jersey have moved away: Springsteen, Martha Stewart, organized crime... you can go find the house that Springsteen grew up in and take a picture, frame it and send it to me.

get ready for another three-peat.

to which the illuminated one wrote back via email:

Mr. Pierce:

I accept your proposed wager. Go Nets! (The latest odds are something like 9-1 in favor of the Lakers, btw, as you may know.)

It should definitely be noted, though, that despite being temporarily tempted away by the California siren song of sunny days and models, Mr. Springsteen did quickly return to the Garden State, to marry himself a lovely Jersey Girl with sweet red hair. I tried the same thing, but instead of LA it was Seattle, and instead of marrying the redhead we broke up after a year.

But anyway.

Congratulations to your sister and family on the new addition. She has great initials.

Kenneth J. Goldstein
 
the best part about blogs is not the fact that lots of strangers get to read your stuff and tell you that they think it's good, it's that you get to read their good stuff and learn from them.

bunny foo foo from Pan Trogs Blog links to an informative page describing How To Diaper A Monkey.

David from floor pie has a sweet little photo essay on going camping in the redwoods. if only i could find someone to do that with... sigh.

oliver willis has a petition that he'd like you to sign so that he could become Maxim's Blogger. Me, i'd rather be Maxim's photo editor.

for lunch the fellas took me to the Farmer's Market and i had a dozen crawfish and a side of jumbalaya.

if anyone ever says that LA doesnt have it all, they have never lived here.

or theyre so dilluted they even think that the Nets could take the Lakers.

either way, i pity the fools.

tonight's monday and i have nothing to do and i have nowhere to be and i really wish that there was monday night football on tonight but it's the summer so maybe i can take an old friend to a cool bowling alley right down my street that has been in movies and junk but for some reason i havent been to yet.

oh look, the LA Examiner is reporting that the LA Unified School District wants to emminent domain the sweet alley.

What?

drive around my neighborhood and you'll see lots of places where the LAUSD could build classrooms, why would they want to fuck with a bowling alley?

i see a photo essay happening soon.

Marc Weisblott has seen the future of television, and has reviewed it.

just for you.

yes, you.
 
my mom is a grandma, and of course she will make a wonderful grandma, shes the best mom in the world, after all.

over the years my mom has taught my sister how to be the best mom in the world so i have nothing but good feelings for my little neice.

rarely am i one to talk about me losing to my sister, but heres a good one that im sure you'll enjoy.

in our junior high, they had this thing where if you made the honor roll you'd get to go on a field trip with all the other honor roll kids to a Cubs game.

my sister made it no problem, me, i missed it by a point or two. it was tragic.

tragic because we didnt live very close to the friendly confines of wrigley field, so every visit was special.

one day a lot of the kids werent in school and i asked someone why and he said, "oh, all the honor roll kids are at the cubs game."

i was all, "that sucks, i only missed it by a point or two!"

he said, "i know, me too."

so he and i arranged for a bunch of kids to ditch the last few classes of school and walk over to the sod farm and we played baseball, out of protest.

some rich kid brought a radio and we listened to the game as we played ours.

the day was may seventeenth.

why do i know this date? because it haunts me like a ghost.

only 14,952 went to this afternoon game between the last place Cubs and the second to last place Phillies, starring my favorite opposing player at the time, Larry Bowa, and my two favorite Cubbies, Dave Kingman and Bruce Sutter-- but those who attended will never forget it.

and neither will i.

The wind was blowing out and the Cubs jumped to a 7�0 lead in the 1st and lead 15�6 after three innings.

When the score had errupted to 21�9 going into the bottom of the 6th, we ran to Scott Fennesy's house to watch it on tv.

Big mistake.

The Cubs gave up 12 runs in three innings like only the cubs could. they were experts at self destruction. they gave up just enough runs to send this wild game into extra innings, entering the tenth inning tied 22-22.

dave kingman had hit three home runs in this game, larry bowa went 5 for 5.

it may be the most vivid recollection that i have of all of junior high.

it may have helped that it happened all day.

mike schmidt broke the tie in the tenth by hitting a wind-aided homer (barely) over the left field wall off of bruce sutter, the best reliever in baseball, at that time.

and my sister was there.

and when she came home she tossed me the stub.


   Sunday, June 02, 2002  
how the lakers can win this overtime



give the ball to this fella,
every time.

 
how the lakers can win this game



give the ball to this fella,
every chance you can.

 
no need to protest my employers, sean some of the bad review was just. i havent given 110% in anything that ive done lately.

it's not their fault.

they provide a valuable service to society and that is why i work for them.

i blame allen greenspan.

and this isnt a debate because im not interested in hearing from a bunch of blowhards like economists, or stock market wanks, or the educated or anyone, because they werent there and i was.

i was right in the middle of the ground zero of the eMiracle and i benefitted from it and i suffered because of it and i have no fear pointing the finger and when i do i aim it right at the empty space that should be his heart and i judge.

and a few weels ago i was judged.

and i nearly wept.

the difference between me and allen is that when im judged and i think about giving up, i dont have a mansion and a driver waiting for me.

i have two.

and ive got a dick that works.

but in truth, i have been half assing. im even half assing on this beautiful site.

how terrible must you be when you procrastinate on your main form of procrastination?

this thing could be so beautiful and outrageous and inspirational and sexy and spell checked, but im still moping and some of you cant tell, weirdly, but this is far from spectacular.

people speculate, but people, im not even chasing girls, im running from them. tell me, how crazy is that?

i havent written a poem in forever.

i have no novels to show for all this rum i drink.

no cable access tv talk show called "bloggers" taking the country by storm.

ive been slacking so bad that when three million hits smacked this site last month, did i do anything special to keep them coming back here?

nope.

below average.

underperforming.

baseball blog quitter.

right handed pinch hitter.

i dont even steal half the shit that i should off grokster.

and when i do i ignore it and dont burn it.

super athletic exotic funny smart big titted girl from somewhere hinted that she wanted me to take her to an adults only prom and i want a picture of her ass because it is flawless and perfect and guess how many times she asked and guess how many times i said no.

the answer equals my iq

and allen, i still pray against you.