busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Tuesday, June 25, 2002

    next assignment, peace in the middle east 

    my korean christian bro points us into the direction of the following story from the BBC. pk was very upset at the prospect that i was going to have to be pissed at Italy for the rest of my days. fortunately they backed down from my viscious threats.

    Perugia president Luciano Gaucci has had a change of heart and decided not to sack Ahn Jung-Hwan for scoring the goal that knocked Italy out of the World Cup.

    Gaucci had told Ahn he was not welcome back at the club after his golden goal knocked Italy out in the second round last week.

    But the outspoken president has backed down and taken up the option of permanently signing the striker from K-League club Busan.

    The Serie are now reportedly lining up a move for Japan’s star player Junichi Inamoto.

    Perugia spokesman Paolo Giovagnoni said Gaucci’s decision to sack Ahn had been spur of the moment.

    “It was an emotional reaction, a provocation,” Giovagnoni said.

    Perugia had already bought “one half” of the player and their option to complete his transfer was due to expire at the end of the month.

    Ahn has been with the Italian side since the start of 2000/ 2001, spending most of his time there on the bench.

    His header lifted South Korea to a surprise 2-1 victory over Italy.

    Gaucci responded by proclaiming: “I am not going to pay the salary of a guy who has been the ruin of Italian soccer.”

    Gaucci’s words drew criticism from around the world and the Asian Football Confederation threatened to tell all Asian players to stay away from Perugia.

    once again, busblog to the rescue. keeping korean soccer players employed since 2002.

  2. she said, what i find interesting 

    about this photograph is what the passerbys–“

    the pedestrians?

    “yes, the pedestrians, the motorists, those riding on bikes, QUIT INTERRUPTING ME–“

    the skateboardists?

    “the rollerbladers, the people sitting having lunch. all of them. i wonder what they think of a photographer taking a picture of a camera crew caputuring a tee vee image of martha stewart?”

    i love it when you stimulate my mind, do you know that?

    “no, seriously,” she said. as if being serious ever stopped me from cracking jokes, “how weird must that look from across the street or emerging from the subway.”

    do you know that youre the only girl i ever think about?

    “i bet you say that to all the girls.”

    yes, but i only mean it with you.

    “you dont think about the others when youre with them?”

    yes.

    “you dont say nice things to them?”

    no, not really.

    “and they put up with that?”

    yeah, they seem to want to do things to make me say nice things.

    “fools.”

    and you, i say nice things, and you ignore them and toss me aside like a peice of errant string that you discover on your skirt.

    “is that why you like me?”

    i like you because i can see whats deep down, and i can see the layers, and i can see the wall, and i can see all the crazy energy all around it, and its mezmorizing.

    “thats not how you spell that.”

    dont change the subject.

    “did that chick really blow you off to see ‘scooby doo’?”

    yep.

    “dont you feel like a chump?”

    i always feel like a chump.

    “say something else nice to me.”

    your eyes are like fireflies…

    56. hemingway

    57. we are full of shit

    58. ny dreams

  3. what some of my friends are writing about this morning: 

    “There aren’t many places that are as moody as San Francisco. Not in the same way, at least.

    “To quote a character from a story I threw out a while back: You spend your time on the same couple of tired blocks and you think that’s all there is to the city, until it sneaks up on you and you see what Tony Bennett was talking about.

    “San Francisco is the ex-girlfriend you can’t shake: she’s kind of shallow, and you never really got along, but then you catch a glimpse of her somewhere and it just about kills you.

    “And you have to be nice because you’ve got the same friends.” – sksmith

    “Let Tony Go

    “Tony Pierce, who writes a great blog, announced a couple weeks ago that he’s going to stop writing it. His loyal readers have been up in arms, and there’s been different contests to see if Tony’s fans can persuade him to keep up the good work.

    “But maybe Tony should stop. He’s an incredibly smart and creative guy with loads of writing talent. If Tony stops the blog, it won’t be long before he comes up with something completely new and provoking.

    “There was much sadness in the land when Ken Layne pulled the plug on Tabloid.net in 1999, but now he’s working on his second novel and doing other interesting things.

    “So give Tony a chance.” – amy langfield

    “Hire My Rocker Friend!: A longtime friend and ex-bandmate, who is a sweet & smart chap with extensive web-designing, set-building and coffee-pouring experience, recently sent along this group e-mail:

    Hey, does anyone know of any job type situations for an out of work musician?

    Anything will help. Thanks.

    “If any of you L.A. readers have spare jobs dangling from your sleeves, please let me know.” – matt welch

    “Pas de posts pendant quelques jours. Je pars en reportage dans l’Arizona couvrir les feux de for’t.” – emmanuelle

    54. Eminent Brain

    55. Dave Tepper

  4. people write in all the time 

    and ask me what my real job is.

    i perform a public service. most of you could take advantage of the service that i provide, if you only knew to look for it, but if i told you, it would ruin your impression of me.

    this morning, however, im groggy from only getting a few hours sleep, my wrist is sore from hours of being on the computer, and my heart is broken after the girl who id been sorta reaching out to penciled me in for “minority report” only to cell phone me at the last minute to tell me that she was stepping into a different theatre to screen “scooby doo” with her roommate.

    win some, lose some.

    i’ll be losing her shortly.

    since i had so much time on my hands, i procrastinated and then around midnight decided to make a new photo essay dealio. big mistake. they may look simple, but they take at least 3-4 hours. this one only took three. lucky me.

    my arm hurt like crazy last night and i truly was in a movie-watching mood, so i finally changed the channel to HBO and took in “Cast Away” which was ok. but you should know something is definately wrong when im watching Tom Hanks movies. terribly wrong.

    my arm still hurts. early stages of carpel tunnel, im sure. so im going to not post anything else today and just go back to blowing leaves and making the bossman money.

    “dot.con”, by the way is spectacular. im up to page 88. if you read one book this summer read the Bible. if you read two read “dot.con” and then the Bible. im not kidding. its that good. super super funny too. and action-packed!

    who knew layne could write so well?

    51. just another pane in the glass

    52. live from los(t) angeles

    53. Now Is The Time For Pants

  5. Monday, June 24, 2002
  6. jeanine came over 

    jeanine came over yesterday to suntan in my courtyard and it’s always good to see my good friend.

    i dont know how she does it (yes i do), but she’s skinnier than the twenty year old, and her belly is perfect for bouncing quarters off of, which i did a few times as she snoozed beneath the velvety rays of the southern california sun.

    she threatened to move to new york with her retired parents who promised to set her up in whatever sprawling peice of real estate they are sure to snatch up if the Big Apple does end up to be their new home.

    her visit, as always was far too short, she did rid me of a few stray Bud Lights that found their way into my fridge and thanked me for always remembering to put pictures of monkeys on this page whenever i stumbled across one of them. this image reminded me of how she used to say that if she didnt wear a bra her boobies would turn into pancakes stretching to the ground.

    i would argue, “you’re 21 years old, im topless, you should be topless too, we’re in the comfort of our own home!”

    she would fire back, “i will compromise with you, i’ll take off my stove pipe hat but nothing more.”

    Jeff and Dawn and Eric and Shira have their hearts in the right place, but they have it all wrong, but i appreciate it.

    From what I understand, you don’t have to put my name on your site and link to it to influence Google, alls you have to do is go to Google’s page, put in the word “tony” and then scroll down to where you see that it’s my page and click on it.

    It’s like how the Republicans vote. By cheating, i mean by grassroots networking and insightful, intelligent social planning based in human potential, realistic economics, and courageous… ok, it’s cheating.

    but come on, everyone, make me the president of the united tony’s, i promise to legalize fun and toplessness.

    This just in, I am now #12 with a bullet! Thanks to you I’ve passed Anthony Robbins, Tony Roma’s, Tony Brown’s Journal, and Tony Bennet. Step aside, old men.

    49. N.Z. Bear

  7. anna rang me on my cell phone 

    it seems like everyone knows that i have a cell phone now, and not only knows, but knows my number.

    my mom called the house this weekend and asked me for the number and i had to call Ashley to find out what it was because i couldnt figure out how to make the phone tell me.

    anyhow Anna called me from England.

    “why are you writing about the Internet crash– still!?” she asked in a huff.

    it wasnt about the Internet, it was about Baseball. i told her.

    “but shit man, why arent you writing about me?” she demanded.

    anna, you lost in your opening round in Wimbeldon. 6-1, 4-6, 6-4

    “yeah, but i almost won.”

    ok, never thought about that. are you, you know, happy over there? i asked

    “dude man, i feel awesome. i swear i almost beat her in that last set. im feeling better and stronger and i think you will see me win some more games very very soon.

    wow, anna, ive never seen you so upbeat.

    “i just emailed you a picture that my friend took of me whispering the chick who beat me. i told her that im going to wipe her punkass all over the court next time so watchit.”

    anna kournikova!

    “yeah. i gotta go. remember that tournament that Martina Navritolova came back out of retirement to play in?”

    yeah, the Eastborne, right? the grass court tune-up there in England?

    “yeah, this African American girl won and shes my doubles partner and we’re going to turn some heads here in Wimbledon.”

    the chick who looks like Tiger Woods? hey, what happen to Hingis?

    “who? oh yeah, her, she had surgery last month”

    ok, anna, well, keep your spirits up, it’s great to hear you happy again.

    “i think it’s just the weather, i love it when it’s warm. kisses, smookums”

    and she thought she hung up the phone but she didnt and i could hear her giggling and singing very nice, Very nice things about me.

    and that made me super happy.

  8. people will talk shit about dot.coms forever 

    but most of them weren’t there and dont know and wont know and dont care, but i think thats a big mistake because there were so many lessons to be learned from that era.

    one of the lessons that you should know is the Pets.com sock puppet was not a failure. it was classic. it was perfect. it was good. and in no way did it have a negative effect on the failed website.

    but advertisers act as if it did. how do i know this? because i havent seen very many good commercials, and im sure it has to do with the dot com crash.

    people will talk trash about my former industry, but what they should be doing is paying more attention to Major League Baseball, who spends more money friviously, is run by senior citizens who should know better, and has a product that could be marketed in so many different ways it’s ridiculous.

    Baseball claims that it barely makes a profit and makes believe that they’re the victims of something other than their own incompetence.

    Our national pasttime has a deal with the government that allows it to not have to follow the rules that most businesses or even sports have to abide by, and for some reason that allows it to even lie about how much money each team earns.

    If you want to see something explode in its face, something beautiful that has a real history, a real story to tell, a huge worldwide potential, and an emminent doom poised right over the horizon, look no further than the Grand Old Game and pay attention to such telling signs as a Saturday afternoon game between the first place Los Angeles Dodgers and the 1/2 game out of first place Boston Red Sox that took place a few days ago under ideal conditions in Southern California.

    It was 70 degrees, not a cloud in the sky, no basketball, hockey, college sports to compete against, no holidays to flood the freeways, and still only about 35,000 showed up to take advantage of the much ballyhooed Interleague weekend, manufactured to fill the stadiums and inject the game with a heretofore missing spark of life.

    Personally I hope baseball crashes like a russian submarine.

    I hope half of the teams go bankrupt and be forced to sell their teams to young millionaires. I’m fucking sick of huge corporations like Tribune and Fox and Disney spending millions on stars one year and then the next year saying that it’s too hard to survive in such an enviornment where salaries are out of control.

    MLB commisioner Bud Selig is asking for a salary cap for the players. But why should the actual workers be forced with a cap if the owners arent asked to put a limit on their income. I mean, really.

    Isn’t this America?

    Yes, and because it is, Baseball should have to play by the same rules as every other business. Its sweetheart deal with the US Government should be revoked, I should be able to see Every Fucking Baseball Game when I order the Season Ticket on Directv. They should abolish the bullshit girlie rule of the DH. They should rip down the lights from Wrigley Field. And the American voter should elect the Commisioner of Baseball every four years.

    In the meantime, you can do your part by voting for only Minnesota Twins and Montreal Expos for the All Star Game. You only have until Wednesday to stuff the ballot box. But the purpose is to vote for players from the two teams that Selig is trying to kick out of baseball. This year the game will be held in Milwaukee. Because it would be against Baseball’s rules for a commisioner to own a club, when the owners put Selig in office, he signed over the team to his Daughter.

    In order to “save” baseball, Selig recently organized a way to “contract” two teams– disolve them into the league. He picked the Twins and the Expos. Those teams are playing very well this year, and even though the good people of Montreal seem to have better things to do than root on Vlad Guererro, there should be baseball in Quebec, mais oui.

    Therefore, there would be nothing more sick for Selig than if most of the field was filled with Twins and Expos on the All Star game on his– I mean his daughter’s brand new baseball stadium.

    That’s today’s punk rock anarchism, stay tuned tomorrow when we show you how to rig a Presidential Election in Florida.

    this time for the Libertarians.

    46. In the Court of the Crisco Bandit

    47. sassafrass

  9. Sunday, June 23, 2002

    beyonce called again. doesnt that girl ever work? 

    “i want to renegotiate our deal,” she said.

    what deal?

    she said, “the deal about you shutting down your site unless you get permanently linked to 100 sites before july 9.”

    oh, that deal, i said. no, i like that deal. randy, the only dude who consistantly beats my ass at fantasy sports linked me to day. he has one of those ultra-jewish sites. funny thing about this conflict in the middle east–

    “baby baby, sshhhh. i have a new agreement that i think you might like,” she said.

    “do you remember when a.beam was saying a few months back that you were #27 of google results for the word “tony“?

    yes, i remember that. by the way, i found out today who a.beam was.

    “how did you do that?”

    well, her real site matched up with her fake site which bisected something on her interview with dawn.

    “why do you keep calling a.beam ‘her’?”

    cuz he’s a she, im telling you, i figured it out today and im bummed. i wish they had never done that interview. i liked it better when i thought he was jason ross.

    “shit, i always thought he was ken basart,” beyonce said.

    nah, basart’s too busy sitting in that hot tub up in the hollywood hills reading the Economist like a spazz.

    “oh, now listen, tony, focus up. in the last 8 weeks your have climbed into the Tony Top Twenty. right now you’re #19 with a bullet.”

    so?

    “so?! so youre on the front page, just scroll all the way down to the bottom.”

    who cares about Google? what does this mean? how does this affect our deal?

    “what i would like to propose is, what if everyone goes to google and types in “tony”, scrolls all the way down and clicks your name, and what if you get in the top ten before july 9?”

    i know what you’re saying, and no. i like the deal and i dont wanna be the top ten of anything. especially lame-ass search engine results!

    “but lets be reasonable,” beyonce pleaded, “do you really think you’re more popular than Tony Hawk, or Tony Stone graphics, or The Tony Awards?”

    Beyonce, i dont care. of course im not more popular than Tony Hawk or the others, im just saying that if you want to change the deal then, i will only accept it if i am the number one Google search result by 7/9, which, by the way is my favorite day of the year, the All-Star Game.

    beyonce said, “you suck, but yes, i will try to get people to click you to the top. i guess if Layne can be the number one Ken, you can be the number one Tony.”

    and i said, and if i dont get 100 links and im not the number one tony, then i wont feel bad at all for quitting on top, even though i wouldnt really be on top, based on those results.

    and then she told me about how short mike myers was and i asked her if she got me a keepsake from the movie to give to Chris and she said that she forgot and i called her a bad name.

    45. How Appealing