busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Monday, November 25, 2002

    email exchange number one 

    from: superfamous girl

    to: me

    subj: what will you name your kids

    tony,

    ive always wondered, what will you name your kids?

    and what are your goals for next year?

    from: me

    to: superfamous girl

    subj: re: what will you name your kids

    angus, merle, hank, buster, lefty, kobe — only for a girl, and whitey

    next year i will:

    have a car, quit the blog, not work here, have a gf, be so old, not be so bored

    from: superfamous girl

    to: me

    subj: re: re: what will you name your kids

    i went to school with with a kid named john. his brothers were mark & luke.

    i thought that was a riot.

    he sells coke now.

    and is a dirtbag.

    i lived upstairs from a kid named whitey in college. he lived with brian rad. i used to drop heavy objects on the floor to drive them mad. they had forks on their ceiling and full bottles of robitussin at all times. i kissed them both. but not at the same time. whitey was a poker who gave me a gigantic hickey.

    one time, i passed out on halloween on a beanbag in their room while dressed like a dead cheerleader. i woke up and my face was stuck to the beanbag.

    i ended up being late for work at the mental institution.

    i also got tide in my eye trying to write on the ceiling so that we could see it with the blacklight on. it hurt so bad that i thought i was going to go blind. i even called the school nurse.

    uppity negro

  2. no doubt is in town so you’d think ashley would be happy 

    but shes not happy unless im with her.

    and sometimes i look in the mirror and when i do i dont see anyone who you’d be depressed not to be around.

    ashley loves attention and normally i dont mind letting our favorite twenty year old princess steal my eyes away from you, beloved computer screen, but this weekend i had to work on some projects and root on the bears and the raiders, who both won, and clean my apartment, and fight crime, and be stinky, and not shave, and read the good book, and read some bad books, and water the plants, and, you know, be a dude.

    im 109 years old and i have never had to tell a girl i needed my space, but this weekend i did. it felt weird. not as weird as telling this one supermodel that i didnt care if we didnt have sex because i cherished our friendship so much, but weird nevertheless.

    men are not programmed to say no to good lovin from hot young girls who like to fulfill fantasies, but my plants had the right answer.

    they said, tony, if you watered us every day, we would die. we love the water, but it would drown us.

    the flowers said, and some of us only bloom when we think we’re going to die, the day to day look of many flowering plants do not include the beautiful colors that we know them for being.

    the flowers dont know english too well, please excuse them.

    still, i got the point.

    but ashley didnt.

    she called crying and sobbing and left the saddest messages on my phone. please dont leave any more sad messages on my phone, dear angels of the moonlight.

    im a stubbly olde man who walks with a cane who has carpal tunnel and types with a pencil scotched taped to the center of my reading glasses.

    my hips are about to go out, my breath is foul, my words are foul, my ways are foul, i lie in my blog, and worst of all, i dont respect the president of the united states of america. i think he’s gross.

    surely there must be a handsome young man in orange county who could take care of the daisy princess in ways that she deserves.

    but strangely there isnt.

    and shes not the only one.

    i work with some of the hottest women in showbusiness. educated, intelligent, totally together, gorgeous young women who definately know how to please a man, i am sure, and yet they go out into the wild and come back empty-handed and unsatisfied.

    and i think about all of the supercool single men who i would fix them up with, and i think, i dont know any supercool single men to fix them up with.

    i mean i do, but these women are looking for different types of men.

    perfect ones.

    im a good job, two inches, and a vette away from being perfect, but ashley doesnt care. she also doesnt care that im old enough to be her dirty neighbor across the street. she loves me for who i am and tells me all the nice things i want to hear but the only thing i can tell her in return is youre far too good for me. go to the skatepark with a big pizza and a mini skirt.

    she only says i dont want to go to any skate park, i want you!

    and i want her too, america. of course i do.

    but i also want to save the world first. and i want to do the right thing. and i want to figure out how im supposed to have thanksgiving with a vegitarian poolside in orange county and not consider myself a sellout.

    these are the biggest dillemas i have this week.

    dont ever let me bitch about shit.

    azarok

  3. so the french are pounding their chests 

    because theres a new report that says that they have more sex than anyone in the world.

    the study was conducted by a condom company which explains why france has so many citizens.

    still, these results are troubling, and ladies of america, i think you have finally seen what your coyness has resulted in, defeat.

    now i have done my best to help our numbers. in july i ordered 60 condoms off ebay. i already had about 30 in reserve and now i only have about 5 left. that means ive used 85 in three and a half months, approximately. at that pace i’d be over 200, which should be our target goal, america.

    but ladies, we need your help.

    200 means sex every two out of three days.

    if you miss a day you’re going to have to double up the next day.

    now please, pay attention, this is very important.

    i dont mind so much that america is ranked #15 in the world in education of our children.

    but to lose to not just france France (167 times a year), the Netherlands (158), Denmark (152), Canada (150) and the uptight Brits (149), it’s downright upsetting to come in at a disappointing 6th place with a measly 138 times a year.

    once again, our president has failed us.

    see what happens when theres no boobies on tv, and when you win this war on drugs?

    all the top placed countries have lax drug and alcohol laws, generous amounts of sex on the small screen, and four of the five have royals to dress up as when their citizens get down.

    200 a year, people.

    with your help, we can do this.

    i know one american who is messing up our average…

    moxie

  4. everyone got to kiss someone this weekend but me 

    i just sat around the house and the phone didnt ring once.

    no one told me they loved me, no one told them they missed me, no one told me they had a secret feeling toward me, no one bought a book from me, no one left any comments except raymi who is my new girlfriend, no one called me crying saying they yearned for my loins, no one said they had any dreams about me.

    but i did get interviewed by Modern Black Webmaster and they asked me some really good questions.

    mbw: who’s your audience?

    me: me.

    mbw: when do you do your best writing?

    me: right before my morning jog.

    mbw: what advice to you have to other young webmasters of color?

    me: kiss more white girls.

    mbw: are you always this sarcastic?

    me: who’s being sarcastic?

    mbw: what sort of computer do you use?

    me: i have a 400mhz windows 2k box, underclocked to 375

    mbw: thats insane.

    me: i know, but it’s never let me down. im loyal.

    mbw: whens the book coming out?

    me: the printer says i should get it back from them around thanksgiving.

    mbw: thats this week!

    me: yep, but im not getting my hopes up. if i get it by 12/1 i’ll be happy.

    mbw: how were sales?

    me: insane.

    mbw: will there be photo essays?

    me: thats hard to do because those arent my pictures and i dont want Reuters asking for half my gross.

    mbw: full color pictures of ashley.

    me: dont count on it.

    mbw: whats up with her, is she your girl?

    me: depends on who you ask.

    mbw: why are you playing with her heart?

    me: hey, im the victim here.

    mbw: if you could date one girl, who would it be?

    me: anna kournikova. we’re the right signs.

    mbw: whats the best movie youve seen this year?

    me: 8 mile

    mbw: whats the best cd youve heard?

    me: jay z, blue print 2

    mbw: have you seen “friday after next”?

    me: hopefully i will this weekend.

    mbw: who will you take?

    me: probably ashley.

    mbw: does she like ice cube?

    me: no, but she likes me.

    mbw: wanna make a shout out?

    me: of course.

    i have the hottest lawyer!

  5. subj: my adoring fan 

    date: 94-06-09 19:39:12 EDT

    from: jenny677

    to: gauchotony

    hi boy. philly is the worst. but your letter was uplifting. the shonen knife thing was pretty cool for such a baaaaad band. sorry but i must dissent. i wish i had that huge beasties poster you do. i would style if i did. i spent 10 dollars on roach shit today– not cool. i still cant believe how not cool and not attractive marcus is. i intimidate him. i love it.

    i saw a cute boy today, twice at two different places like 2 hours apart. must be fate. your letter was weird. why do you think i wouldnt like you if i saw you? that only happens with people who are uptight and stuffy like my ol pal marcus so how does that bulletin board thing here work? would you send me the # again? im absent minded.

    still no word on the whereabouts of renee for the weekend and she isnt a bitch. shes just like me, only she is in med school. i wish you lived here. i would always go to your house cos mine has roaches.

    i think its good for you to regulate with your giiiirls. most suck anyhow. why waste testosterone or whatever that is you have that makes you a man. i painted my nails now im feminine, but i did it while listening to rage because i never wanna be a girily. the singer for rage is sexxxeeeeeee.

    everyone here is rich. too bad they all suck bad. how funny that money cant make you cooler. me i am wicked cool but no one gets to know me because there is like a 3 week trial period where i am impossible just cos i am and lots dont get past that. i think you did.

    my stomach hurts. roach shit no doubt. my long distance bill is carazy and im gonna get in trouble when poppa gets a hold of it. god stomach hurts. my stomach is so cute. a little pudgy but i like it like that.

    how can you love me when your ex and i are opposites? thats weird little boy. your gettin old you know that? me im young. i want to rock right now. i wanna boy so bad it gives me a headache. a tall boy with big clothes and big hands and nice breath. i feel icky. gotta lye.

    bye boy who theoretically should be my soulmate.

    miss tiffany

  6. Sunday, November 24, 2002

    hi tony, it’s me george bush. 

    you remember me, your president. ahahahahah god i love saying that.

    yes, tony, despite what you want to believe, i am the president of the united states. no i didnt get the popular vote. no, not all the votes were counted. and yes, my brother and the supreme court helped suppress the counting of all the votes, tough shit little man, its time for you to get over it.

    here i am with kristin and lauren from mad pony for the annual lithiuanian parade that they have each year here in oklahoma. wish you were here, motherfucker.

    would you feel better if, as your public servant, i provided a service to your public?

    okay, well, best thing that happened this week was miss resha came back. her site is beautiful as ever and the disturbance in the force has been rectified. reesha is my girl and im so glad to see my girl back where she belongs, showing us all how it’s done. and can you believe thats just a temporary layout? damn.

    shes the brains behind kthnxbi, im sure you know.

    anhywho, how come you havent updated listen missy’s link? we bug your house, you’re not that busy.

    here… listenmissy.com …is that so hard?

    by the way, why arent you more like this guy?

    im sure if a nice girl like sarah was writing about you all the time, he would talk about her more. whats wrong with you?

    you dont talk about ashley, you dont talk about anna, you dont talk about mariah, you dont talk about karisa or chris or jeanine or tsar. shit man all you seem to talk about is yourself.

    i may be a complete failure as a human being, but i know a thing or two about giving the people what they want, and i dont mean referencing kinks records.

    we intercept your emails. how come you dont write any dirty stuff? why dont you write hper romantic stuff?

    why arent you telling everyone to read welch‘s sweet peice in the national post about v�clav havel? dont you think your readers are educated?

    a bunch of hot shot bloggers were invited to my alma matter yale last week. since you didnt write about it why dont you lead people to the buzz machine? scroll drown and read all of his great notes on the blogger conference hosted by the law school. clean up your act, asswipe, and maybe you’ll get invited to one of those shindigs one day.

    but dont count on it.

    ahahahahaha.

    there were some cool insights noted from that conference. among lots of things, henry copeland reports that slate said that they are pretending that linking to something libelous could be argued as being libelous itself.

    as if microsoft gives a shit about laws!

    omg, that was the funniest thing ive ever seen.

    how come you dont use blog ads?

    why arent you writing for blogcritics?

    you dont make art on your site, you dont really improve your blog much, even the production of your photo essays are slowing down. that busblog book of yours better be worth all of this.

    okay well i gotta get some free food and get a nice tour of oklahoma from the gals.

    thanks for spending all your energy giving me shit.

    any time im on your site it just gives me more credibility.

    love ya!

    gw

  7. Friday, November 22, 2002

    hi tony 

    hi morrissey.

    say hi to chloe the turkey.

    hi, food.

    hmmm. whats up, mate, i hear youre down in the dumps.

    nope, not me.

    shouldnt be, TGIF, right old man?

    yep, TGIF morrissey

    well i dont know what crawled up your bum but you are being talked about and honored everywhere on the internet.

    big whoop.

    but it’s approval, son, approval! people are telling you that they love you and they want to be like you and they love what you do.

    all i do is help the deaf and the hearing impared, it’s not as glamorous as they think.

    well far be it for me to tell anyone to come on and get happy, but i think you should appreciate this while you have it. this doesnt happen to everyone and it is sort of disrespectful when you toss it into the dustbin like it aint no thing.

    it aint no thing, morrissey, you know that.

    no, i certainly do not know that. what i do i do for the people. i do it to make them happy. i do it–

    you sing sad songs, completely depressing sad songs to make them happy?

    yes, yes i do.

    i dont believe you.

    i dont care if you believe me, i dont believe you. hows that? i dont believe that youre living a dream and you are chosing to find displeasure in it. i dont believe that tony pierce, king of the optimists would take a vacation from happiness for no apparent reason what so ever right when everything is coming up roses.

    nothing is coming up roses, you limey wank. a few nice people link me on their page. thats very nice. and they should. the web is full of pages and they found mine and they like what i wrote, swell. where are the millionaires with their bags of cash? where are the job offers? where are the bras being thrown at me. talk about someone who doesnt appreciate what they get, mr. bigmouth–

    dont go there.

    give me your turkey and i will be happy.

    chloe?

    yes. let me take your turkey home to be my thanksgiving dinner and i will be happy.

    but this is the PETA turkey.

    exactly.

    you have really lost your mind.

    lost it years ago, hand over the bird.

    never.

    then f you, morrissey. you never sang in tune anyway.

    you bastard!

    you call that a punch? omg that was the silliest thing ive ever seen. it felt like you were removing a shred of lint from my brow. do that again. holy shit, morrisey who taught you to fight, mother teresa?

    fine, tony pierce, you have humilated me enough. if eating this proud bird will make you happy then here. have her. ENJOY YOUR THANKSGIVING!

    thank you morrissey. not only will this turkey bring a smile to my face but she will bring nurishment to my body, and many sandwiches for weeks to follow.

    hurry up and get out of here before bob barker sees you.

    will do, later bro.

    hbo3

  8. ten million people watched the victoria secret fashion show the other night 

    and three hundred people complained that it was too sexy so now the fcc wants to change the indecency standard.

    only in america would it be considered indecent to have a bunch of supermodels stroll around in panties, but it’s perfectly okay to have kids watch a man get down on his knee and propose to a woman that he doesnt know. the bachelor beat the pants off the victoria secret infomercial and where are the nervous ninnies who think it’s morally corrupt to let children watch a man make out with dozens of women and then propose to “the winner”?

    speaking of which, f the kids.

    the kids are alright.

    im so sick of people hiding beind this idea that kids are going to turn out fucked up if they watch programs like victoria secrets fashion show.

    cain slew able.

    what the hell was on tv back then?

    85% of american homes have cable. that means most of the kids in this country watch christina aguelera sing about being “dirrty” or they can watch all the filth on the discovery channel where one animal eats another animal, or they can watch the totally gross lies that come from the news, things like gw being our president.

    AOL is the biggest isp in america and i would like to see what percentage of kids saw their first form of beastiality from one of the hundreds of bits of spam AOL allows to seep into each email account. thats straight up porn in the dirtiest form, one click away, and dont tell me that those splash pages that require no credit card to access wouldnt have twisted you when you were 11.

    that shit twists me and im nearly 111.

    all of this is just so predictable and exactly what you get when you vote republican.

    they’ll stop vic’s from showing their show on one of the big four networks, as if that really matters, but they’ll let the spammers send every kid who enters a chat room porn after porn afer porn after porn.

    porn doesnt even turn me on that much any more. it makes me sad that so many others are getting naked and rich and not me.

    one thing that does make me happy is when i see people talking to themselves on the web.

    talk about twisted.

    jim treacher

  9. sometimes they try to double team you 

    and the ref calls a “t” on you for throwing elbows and taunting and talking about peoples mothers.

    and you dont know what language theyre speaking. and the cheerleaders might be cheering for you but youre not sure and then you hear your name but its not for the right reasons.

    and you look up at the scoreboard and you threw down 30 points and grabbed 11 boards and everything should be so great.

    should be.

    ll cool j was in the office yesterday and he asked for me so i came out and he shook my hand.

    he’s bigger than you think and his entourage is even bigger.

    all fly skimmies were trying to feel the beat drop

    and he said damn dog i have so much to ask you

    i said tell me about working out, youve got a wife, four kids, a childrens book, a movie, a cd, so why are you working out?

    and he said, when you’re building your muscles they tear slightly and they repair themselves and they grow. and to me thats symbolic of the spiritual climb that you write about so much, tony.

    the girls cooed and held out cds to sign.

    and, ll said, the results of that struggle arent so bad.

    hopped into chopper one, totally forgetting to ask for a cd, turned off the radio took off my helmet and flew across the city of angels just doing laps around the wessside.

    wishing i was anywhere else.

    anyone else.

    and not so alone.

    youre breaking my heart the feminine voice of chopper one said sarcastically.

    i tried to ignore it but how do you ignore a sarcastic computer?

    the lights flashed in unison and then in trippy patterns and the steering column retracted into the control deck and the secret black copter had taken over.

    she warned me that pussies were for the sunlit windowsills of lonely old ladies and nosedived straight down towards zuma trying to make me sick

    then she pulled up flying up into the sun.

    and then sharply to the east back at malibu

    and then down into the canyon and then back up

    up

    up

    above anything bad she told me.

    only thing bad up here is us.

    and we’re bad

    ass.

    so shape up motherfucker else i get some fratboy to fly me.

    and the steering column unlocked and extended into my lap

    and the lights went back to normal

    so i put on my helmet, turned on the radio

    and made my way back to headquarters who are starting to see that every day is going to be a new day.

    as it should.

    the comedian

  10. Thursday, November 21, 2002

    Work It 

    (Elliott/Mosley)

    Chorus:

    Is it worth it, let me work it

    I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it

    {*”I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it” – backwards 2X*}

    If you got a big [elephant sound], let me search ya

    To find out how hard I gotta work ya

    {*”I put my thing down, flip it and reverse it” – backwards 2X*}

    I’d like to get to know ya so I could show ya

    Put the pussy on ya like I told ya

    Gimme all your numbers so I could phone ya

    Your girl actin’ stank then call me over

    Not on the bed, lay me on your sofa

    Phone before you come, I need to shave my chocha

    You do or you don’t or you will or won’t ya

    Go downtown and eat it like a vulture

    See my hips and my tips, don’t ya

    See my ass and my lips, don’t ya

    Lost a few pounds in my waist for ya

    This be the beat that goes ba ta ta

    ba ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta ta

    Sex me so good I say blah-blah-blah

    Work it, I need a glass of water

    Boy, oh, boy, it’s good to know ya

    Chorus

    If you a fly gal get your nails done

    Get a pedicure, get your hair did

    Boy, lift it up, let’s make a toast-a

    Let’s get drunk, that’s gon’ bring us closer

    Don’t I look like a Halle Berry poster

    See the Belvedere playin’ tricks on ya

    Girlfriend wanna be like me, never

    You won’t find a bitch that’s even better

    I make you hot as Las Vegas weather

    Listen up close while I take it backwards

    (Watch the way Missy like to take it backwards) [backwards]

    I’m not a prostitute, but I could give you what you want

    I love your braids and your mouth full of floss

    Love the way my ass go bum-bum-bum-bum

    Keep your eyes on my bum-bum-bum-bum-bum

    And think you can handle this gadong-a-dong-dong

    Take my thong off and my ass go vroom

    Cut the lights off so you see what I could do

    Chorus

    Boys, boys, all type of boys

    Black, white, Puerto Rican, Chinese boys

    Why-thai,-thai-o-toy-o-thai-thai

    Rock-thai,-thai-o-toy-o-thai-thai

    Girl, girl, get that cash

    If it’s 9 to 5 or shakin’ your ass

    Ain’t no shame, ladies do your thang

    Just make sure you ahead of the game

    Just ’cause I got a lot of fame supa

    Prince couldn’t get me change my name papa

    Kunta Kinte a slave again, no sir

    Picture black sayin’, “Oh, yes a master”

    Picture Lil’ Kim dating a pastor

    Minnie Me and Big Ren can out last ya

    Who is the best, I don’t have to ask ya

    When I come out you won’t even matter

    Why you act dumb like “Uh, duh”

    So you act dumb like “Uh, duh”

    As the drummer boy go ba-rom-pop-pom-pom

    Give you some-some-some of this Cinnabun

    Chorus

    To my fellas, ooooh

    Good God, I like the way you work that

    {*scratching: “Peter Piper” featuring Jam Master Jay*}

    To my ladies, woo

    You sure know how to work that, good God

    the new mad pony photo essay