busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Thursday, January 24, 2002

    the mailbag is bursting it’s so full, so let’s get to it. 


    Q. What do you think of Mike Tyson?

    A. If some guy with dreadlocks and a British accent was going to beat me at a fight, I would act super crazy too and try to freak him out. Mike is following the game plan perfectly. He’s still my favorite boxer of all time.

    Q. I just met this girl, we’ve been having sex a lot, now she says she always feels like she has to pee but she doesnt have to pee.

    A. Shes got a UTI – urinary tract infection. If you live near Mexico, go to Mexico and get the generic Ciporol that’s probably being sold for $2 a box now that the Anthrax scare is over. Take two pills a day for 5 days. And tell her to take care of the puddy after banging.

    Q. I’ve seen your picture, there’s no way you’re getting all those girls.

    A. I don’t understand it either. It’s starting to freak me out.

    Q. What new records are you listening to?

    A. “Glitter,” no lie. And I taped Yo Yo Ma and Emmanuel Ax opening the new opera hall in Philly and I listen to that all the time.

    Q. Why do you believe in Jesus?

    A. Cuz He writes better than me.

    Q. What was the best moment of your life?

    A. When I won the award for Best Arts & Entertainment Editor for my college paper.

    Q. Why don’t you just change your site to Ashley.com?

    A. Don’t tempt me.

    Q. Why don’t you write the way you used to?

    A. Too much Civ III.

    Q. Why don’t you write for a living?

    A. No one has offered.

    Q. How old are you, really?

    A. Old enough to know what matters.

    Q. What was the best movie of the year?

    A. “Moulin Rouge” “Lord of the Rings” and “Amelie” and “Hedwig” and “Momento”.

    Q. Why do you like Mariah so much?

    A. Cuz she pays attention to me.

    Q. Why do you like Bill Clinton, he thought with this dick.

    A. True, but his dick was usually right.

    Q. Are the Clippers for real?

    A. No, but Clipper Girl is.

  2. Wednesday, January 23, 2002

    when mariah found out that i hadn’t bought the “Glitter” cd, 

    she emailed me saying she wasnt going to talk to me until I “got my act together.”

    Little did she know that weeks previous I had signed her up under her fake name, Julie Van Maldegaim, into the BMG Music Club. You know the famous record and cd club where they give you 4 free cds, then you buy one, then they give you 5 more free cds. I chose all my cds to be Carey’s much-mailgned “Glitter”.

    When my caller-ID said, “Mariah,” last night, I knew that the package had arrived at her Manhattan apartment.

    “You’re so crazy,” she said.

    “You’re so rich,” I said. “Nice job getting that free $28 million.”

    “It wasn’t free, honey. That’s for sure.”

    “Well I’m glad you didnt listen to me when I said for you to sell out for $25 million.” I said. I was cleaning my apartment.

    “Don’t worry, I never listen to you,” she teased.

    She was making towers with $20 bills in her boudoir. Her assistant was making towers with $20s in the guest room. They were competing. Every once in awhile Mariah would yell at her girl down the hall, “I’M UP TO FORTY-FIVE GRAND!”

    “I’m sorry your record only went double platinum, Mariah.” I said.

    “Yeah, I suck,” she giggled.

    “Your career is over.” I said.

    “Uh huh, nobody ever wants to hear me sing again.”

    “I bet if you went into a mall no one would even recognize you.” I said.

    “And if I announced a concert tour, I bet it only sells out in 4 hours.” she said.

    “Real divas sell out in minutes.” I added.

    “FORTY-SIX THOUSAND!” Mariah yelled. And then she squealed. “Oh poo, my tower fell over.”

    “Ok, baby, ‘Undeclared’ is on,” I said.

    “Aw shit, I hope I Tivo’ed it. Bye sweetie.” Mariah said, and had her girl hang up the phone.

  3. Tuesday, January 22, 2002

    dear tony, 

    we know you’re bummed and we want to make you happy.

    we know you’re a big fan of our music and of j mascis and pavement and mike watt and eddie vedder and we have brought them all and many more to Westwood for a three day weekend and we want to entertain you.

    it’s $50 for one day or $100 for the whole enchelada. please come.

    we tried to get Mariah cuz we know how much she means to you, but she was busy, we tried to get AC/DC because we know how much you love them but they are recording a new record.

    we tried to get your friends, Tsar, but they would wipe the stage with us, so please accept what we have to offer, which is basically just us and some very cool bands like Cat Power and Television and that super crazy Japanese noise band The Boredoms.

    If you cant find a date, we’ll hook your skinny ass up.

    love always,

    Sonic Youth

  4. sometimes things are so fucked up that even forgetting about it doesnt help. 

    life isnt fair. that’s the way the cookie crumbles. nice guys finish last. life sucks and then you die. wait till next year. etc. etc.

    but im not like that. i dont believe any of that. i think all that stuff are quotes by losers for losers to make losers feel less like losers. but fuck losers. they are the people that you whallop before you have to take on the worthy challengers.

    i believe that when something as ridiculous and fucked up as what went down in the storybook setting of snowy foxborough happens, cooler heads should right the wrong.

    im hearing that when the season is over, the incompletion rule will be changed or reworded, or worded so that an incomplete pass looks different on paper than a second-string quarterback getting his shit handed to him in the mush ending the game and the season for the valiant patriots. and i appreciate courage so much you dont even know and what would be so courageous would be if the nfl would just say right here and now that that play was misscalled and it was to be the last play of the game and because of the miscall the wrong team won and the right team lost.

    and because i believe in fairness, i will tell you that if the Cubs won the world series on a play at the plate and if baseball had instant replay and if the replay umpire called the Cub safe, but it was obvious that he was out, i would make the official change the call to out, because that is the right thing to do.

    now theres a disturbance in the force.

    just like when George Bush took office.

    and when things get out of whack, fucked up things get in the mix and losers win and winners lose and a mess of mess is created in its foul wake.

    fuck the nfl if they dont right this wrong before next week.

    fuck them.

    what we all saw was the biggest travesty that ive ever seen in professional sports. everyone knows that the nfl and al davis dont get along. but not everyone knows that in the two playoff games that the raiders played, only one penalty was called against their opponents. do i think the referees were in on it?

    all i know is that only one penalty was called in two games.

    and i know that the raiders won their final game but an unseen face in the referee booth overruled the call on the field and gave the playoff win to the patriots who had, at that time had lost it, and everyone everywhere knew that they had lost it.

    here it is days later and i still dont know what to say.

    but of course i do.

    i hope that the NFL commisioner Paul Tagliabue gets a fast-moving cancer in his left testicle that attacks his right testicle.

    i hope Mike Pereira, the NFL’s director of officiating comes down with a terrible cold, which in fact isnt a cold at all, but a new form of lung cancer that turns your heart black and your blood green and your face grey and your eyes pink and your death immediate and your soul evaporate.

    finally i hope that all the NFL press corps, particularilly the columnists and commentators stand up and call bullshit when bullshit is dealt and quit standing behind a ruling that wouldnt have held water in a flag football game in a park, or a little league game on a field, or a college game in a stadium, and definaletly not a playoff game in front of tens of millions.

    why is it that im the only fellow on a keyboard outraged and thinking that there could be something done about this right now so that the Raiders could be playing the Steelers this weekend?

    that’s right, im also the fool who thinks that the Cubs will win it all before i die, and that this site will get me laid.

    is there anyone who covers football or who is in a position of power at the NFL or the New England Patriots themselves who have enough class to say that what went down was fucked and it shouldnt be so and that things should be different and they will make it so.

    sadly, america, there isn’t.

  5. Friday, January 18, 2002

    (1:30pm) hot-headed New England linebacker Bryan Cox 

    (former Bear) emailed me while I was at lunch with lines like “fool you better recognize game…” and all that stuff that thick fingered-asassins like Cox are apt to type. He even tried to get personal by suggesting that my old pal Ken Layne recently disrespected me by not mentioning me in his blog today when he talked about all of his supercool friends who write.

    “Brotha gave props to Axel, and everybody know Axel just a guitar player. Where’s the brothas on the wall?! I wanna see some brothas on the walls of Sal’s Famous!” wrote the ever-inflamed Cox.

    I responded with a hearty Whatever and flooded his mailbox with pictures of Jerry Rice’s rings and Tim Brown’s receiving records. I told him he better prepare for Tyrone Wheatley’s helmet being repeatedly slammed into Cox’s chest and becoming familiar with the back of Rich Gannon’s cleats.

    I know my friends love me and it’s hard to link to a guy who puts huge pictures of barely legal girls on the splash pages and floundering stars in his blog. It’s not the trendiest column, it’s not the prettiest, it doesnt talk about Cheeny and Ari and all those other liars and thieves and ne’er-do-wells. I dont link lots of people or articles or newpapers and from that I dont get lots of links back in return. Still, some bear with me, as they should, as they better.

    And my good pals like Ken and Matt and Amy and Ben do me the biggest stoke of all, they read and they dont make too much fun.

    Still, I’m jealous as hell that Matt and Ken have taken this 9/11 thing and perfectly surfed the wave into huge success. They have made it so that no serious warblog can not link to them or comment on their comments and they have accumulated much respect and many many readers. All deservedly so.

    You’d think two handsome young men with such a masterful way with words and real ideas about politics and international affairs could find themselves on the boob tube more than a lot of these old wanks that we’ve grown tired of, but I’m sure that day will come soon, too.

    In the meantime I’m just planning on waiting in the wings, typing on here during my 15 minute breaks, cursing the public transportation here in the city of Angels, and wondering how long Layne’s mail will pile up in my hollywood cabana until I call him over to pick it up.

    Some of this is from the summer!

    Come watch the Raiders with us, Ken. Bring Laura. Chris will be there. Jeanine may drop by too.

  6. tomorrow’s a big day at the beach house 

    First at 1:30pm the Bears take on the Philadelphia Eagles. Now a lot of people are starting to believe in the Bears, but if you’re a Bear fan you believe in nothing. Still, I’m going to be very excited. I do think the Bears have what it takes (freaky magic) to beat Donnovan McNabb and the Eagles, but so much depends on the the A-Train, good ole #35 Anthony Thomas. The Bears defense is mighty, but if they can establish a running game, it will be a pleasant afternoon for me and my neighbors on the malibu shore.

    at sunset we get the Raiders.

    the Raiders are the most talented team in the NFL. they’re also the most schitzo. anything can happen saturday night. if jerry rice starts to feel mortal he might catch 5 touchdowns. if he thinks he has a few more years left in him he might catch nothing but a cold in the winter wonderland of new england. it should be a beautiful game. i love big games when it’s snowing. especially next to a roaring fire in southern california.

    i dont thank God enough in this Blog, but Good Lord, thank you for this season. My two favorite teams have marched into the playoffs looking strong, looking good, looking tough and fun and powerful and mighty. and I thank you for that. and I’ll be so thankful if i get to see them play next weekend.

    amen.

    home / quick, buy me a car / dont look back

  7. Thursday, January 17, 2002

    today marks the eigth anniversary of the Northridge earthquake 

    a good reader informs me. He wrote at my heytony@hotmail.com account, which is cool. However if you want your email on the site, try mailbag @tonypierce.com. Not every letter will be put up, but this way I know which emails are meant to be read and which dont mind being posted.

    So yes, the Northridge quake. It was loud. It was crazy. I was living with Greg and Jeff and the chimney fell down and my cds fell down and a few books fell down.

    Good came out of that quake, however. We roommates formed a band called Chopper One so that we wouldnt fight due to all the nervous energy going on with the after-shocks, etc. We only played one show at our pad but it was a success and really a success a few years later when the guy who wrote Weezer’s “My Name is Jonas” stole our name to form his band. I bought their cd so I could say that I have a Chopper One cd, but I dont think i ever listened to it. I do shit like that.

    Back then I really wanted Jeanine to be my girlfriend again. Now I really want Chris to be my girlfriend again and the biggest lesson that I learned was quit looking back and appreciate all the craziness that you have in front of you.

    If I had to do it all over again, I think I would have accepted the job at the porno company, or I would have gone to Prauge when Jeff did, even though it wasnt the same any more. But now that I think of it, I’m glad I didnt do either because I would have easilly fallen in love with one of those hot porn stars and married one of them, or done the same with one of the hotter Czech girls if I had gone thataway.

    Fortunately I stayed in the States, moved to Frisco, and was turned on to the Web by one Mr. Marc Brown, esq.

  8. christina ricci lost some weight, 

    christina riccibleached her hair and put on a grass skirt and thinks that i’ll like her more, but it’s impossible. i liked her fat, skinny, middle, whatever.

    There’s something troubled in her eyes and I’m not someone who tries to fix people, i just want to have a good time.

    Anna writes and writes from Australia she says “hey! why dont you ever post my doubles scores. Martina and I won again yesterday and I bet you wont report that.”

    And it’s true, women’s doubles tennis is like female mud wrestling. Who cares about the score?

    This blog, this year, is dedicated to Anna’s quest to win a singles tourney. Her success in doubles interests me as much as her success on the dancefloor. I suppose it would matter to me if I was there, but I wasnt, so…

    Checked out Lord of the Rings the other night at my favorite movie theatre but they sorta screwed me because they dont take credit cards. Cash only.

    The theatre has leg room for days as if they took out every other row of seats. They have giant busts of Greecian women that glow as the film plays and Ashley calls it creepy but I think it’s cool. But when movies cost $18 for two tickets you really oughtta get with the program. Plus, if people want to rob some place, the best place to rob is an establishment that collects thousands of dollars in cash in a very short period of time and has kids making minimum wage and no security officers.

    So I said, “it’s cool we’ll walk over to the grocery store and get some cash…”

    And Ashley said, “There will be no we. YOU will RUN to the ATM and RUN back here.”

    Ever told a rabid dog to sit right before it tries to bite you? Sometimes it works.

    And sometimes after it realizes it has sat it gets up and bites you in the ass.

    Eye on the ball, Anna.

  9. Wednesday, January 16, 2002

    according to the BBC news, ’80s star Adam Ant is being held in a looney bin 

    after being drunk and weilding a fake gun. I have lived over 108 years and in one of my old jobs i pumped gas at a station in Beverly Hills. One night an old fashioned convertible t-bird rolled in with Adam Ant in the back seat.

    I pumped the gas and said, “hey Adam, can I get an autograph?”

    The man driving the car said, “Adam, he’s talking to you.”

    I said, “I really liked the drums when you were with the Ants.”

    He said, “yeah, drums. Yeah. me too.”

    Later I discovered that most of those drums were performed by none other than tonypierce.com 2001 Man of the Year Phil Collins!

    Anyhow, Adam, thanks for the autograph, I mailed it immediately to Sonja Melcher, the girl who turned me on to cool music in high school, bands like Duran Duran, the Sex Pistols, the Cure, U2 and Madness. Hope you get out of the nut house soon.

    Little known fact: In 1993 two nights after seeing Nirvana live at the Forum, I took Jeanine to see Duran + Villiage People + Adam Ant at the Forum on New Years Eve. All of the bands were great.

  10. Tuesday, January 15, 2002

    anna lost yesterday 6-2, 7-5 

    anna kournikovaand she called sobbing and i said hush hush, and she said tell me a story, anything. tell me about a foreign land. somewhere other than Australia.

    so i told her about the City by the Bay. i told her of San Francisco. i talked about this place and that one, and about the baths in the mission where all the ladies go and lots of lesbians. she said please anything but lesbians.

    i apologized. they’ve been beating her ass.

    so i told her about the coffee shop that got hit by the Muni bus and only one fellow lost his life. i told her how it rains there and cleans everything up.

    and then i told her about my favorite day in the whole year Throw Out Your Shit Day where you could throw whatever you wanted out on your curb.

    This excited the young Russian.

    “You say you can throw out anything? Cardboard?”

    Yes, cardboard.

    “Wood? Plywood? Two-by-fours with nails on the ends?”

    Especially wood with nails in them. But yes all sorts of woods.

    Clothes? Rags? Rusty pots and pans?”

    Anything, Anna, anything.

    I told her how the streets were lined with people’s shit, how people would browse other people’s shit and how the bums pushed their carts and made messes of the neatly stacked piles. And Anna cooed.

    She asked me if I ever picked through other people’s shit.

    Of course, my dear.

    She said, thank you for telling me of this day.

    I said, any time, now go hit balls. And she blew her nose and thanked me again and hung up the phone.