busblog

nothing in here is true

  1. Friday, November 25, 2005

    three years ago 

    today on the busblog i was still trying to break up with a young blonde girl

    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.

    two years ago yesterday tsar played their whole album in order + gwen pics by jenny b + stag blog

  2. eighties movies have pretty much taught me everything 

    i needed to know about life.

    what i learned from the Karate Kid is you never know what you’re learning.

    wax on, wax off may have been a brilliant scheme from Mr. Miyagi to get Daniel-san to clean up around his home and wax his car,

    but in reality he was teaching the young ralph macchio, who was nothing more than a second-rate teen heartthob at the time, how to be a first-rate teen heartthrob.

    often times i have found myself either editing the closed captions of mindless television, or putting together worthless excel spreadsheets as busywork, to writing reports for a supervisor who’d never read them,

    and i said to myself, waxon waxoff tonysan, you are learning something that you dont even know youre learning.

    youre building muscles and skills from this repitition that will help you in the future, so just do it,

    theres a sensai at work whose training you oh-so subtlely.

    and sometimes i think i was right.

    pat morida, mr miyagi, and also arnold in happy days, passed away today, he was 73.

    metafilter, as always was right on the story and printed this funny exchange from the classic film –

    Daniel: Hey, what kind of belt do you have?

    Miyagi: Canvas. JC Penny. Three ninety-eight. You like? [laughs]

    Daniel: No, I meant…

    Miyagi: Daniel-san… karate here. [he taps his head]
    Miyagi: Karate here. [he taps his heart]
    Miyagi: Karate never here [points to his belt]
    Miyagi: Understand?

    suburbia 75 + hainsworth + oceanaria + undercover in japan

  3. happy day after thanksgiving 

    to all my american friends and non-american friends who i hope had a nice day yesterday anyway.

    i sat on my sisters overstuffed overly comfortable couch and watched their incredible high def plasma screen and let all that food digest and we viewed a bootleg copy of the last star wars on dvd and we played with the babies and i drank many Old Styles and i wanted to write on this here blog but sometimes the spirits whisper to take a break driver eight.

    i did read a lot of what the blogosphere had to write and most of it was nice, even some criticism that i received on another blog that complained that the busblog was turning into a marketing tool for my book and for buzznet and i can see where that person could think that, but its not the case.

    a personal blog, like this, is a reflection of ones personal life. for the first time i am able to actually write about my work. you have no idea how liberating that is for me.

    even though my specific job at E! was a nightmare, i loved pretty much everyone who i worked for, but pretty much from day one i was nervous of getting fired, so not only did i dare not write about my job but i wrote about everything but. in retrospect thats a bummer because i did some very cool things there and met stars and enjoyed some relationships that i will never forget, but i could not give my bosses an excuse to let me go because my assignment with the xbi was essential that i work at a tv network.

    similiarily as this blog got more popular and people kept trying to figure out the secret to its success, i didnt want anyone to think that because of my relationship with the entertainment industry that that was the reason that it was allegedly written well or popular, because it wasnt. i was never a writer at E! i never worked at their website. and no one from there helped knock this thing out. in fact every chance my bosses could, theyd discourage me from writing this during my government mandaded 15 minute breaks.

    perhaps it was in spite of those bad jobs and unsupportive bosses that the earlier years of the busblog were more creative, but i didnt want anyone to get the wrong idea that it was because i was an entertainment network employee that the busblog was what it was.

    i was also criticised this week for not writing about Sex as much as i used to – for turning my back on Sex Saturday, a busblog invention.

    first of all, i dont remember writing that many sex saturdays. and talk about marketing, the only reason i even started that was because my hits drop off massively on saturdays and i wanted to give people a reason to log on.

    but secondly after dating a lovely young lady this summer she put a terrible hex on me after we broke up and not only has my carnal desires been hindered almost completely but my ability to write about the fairer sex has also been cripled.

    my mojo, as they say, has been stolen.

    but i think i know how to get it back, so stay tuned.

    finally, yes i am writing a little bit about my novella Stiff a tad on this blog. im sorry if it has turned off some of you, but i am serious when i tell you how proud i am with it. so many people write on their blogs or send me emails or comment as to how great of a writer i am. thats sweet, but i certainly dont think im a great writer, however i think that Stiff is the best thing ive ever written, or will write.

    it is the best stories compiled to make one real novella. and in the end of it are all the best poems that ive ever written, and my best newpaper opinoin column from the famed daily nexus.

    i have absolutely no trust in the well of creativity or in my ability to spin a yarn and so when i saw that i could compile Stiff the way that i did, with the poems and the cool covers, i went for it and released it early so there wouldnt be the Christmas rush that happened when i released How To Blog two years ago today.

    so what would you do when you made the best thing youve ever made, and will probably ever make? you’d talk about it a little bit and tell those people who have yet to get it that if they like the busblog and the adventure tales and the sexy stuff and the wildness, then they really should send an email and make an offer cuz the shit is bananas b-a-n-a-n-a-s.

    and in summary, Buzznet is a dream job come true, and im a lucky man and tomorrow i get to meet Chicago Buzznetters and Bloggers and for a man with as little self-esteem as i have, shaking hands with my readers and seeing their smiling faces and taking pictures with them does a lot of good for my soul.

    so yes virginia im gonna write about that shit too. its not marketing, its not advertising, its not hype for the purpose to sell more widgets, its a documentation of the things that are happening in my life. dave navarro wrote about rockstar inxs and camp freddy and making out with carmen electra, tony pierce writes about buzznet and stiff and meeting canadian teenagers who want to go back to the hotel.

    not everything is gonna be sexy on this blog. im not prince. im a dopey undercover superhero who flies a dumb helicopter and steals from crooks.

    and right now im in my hometown where i spent kindegarten through highschool.

    and tomorrow im going to see wrigley field and some people who you probably read.

    i cant be all things for all people, so i will just be the dumbest ass i can be, because in the end i write this blog for me, for those very dark days. because in those moments its nice to go back in the archives and say, out out cruel demons look at what the Lord gave me that day.

    and today he woke me up with the sounds of my three year old neice playing peek a boo with my year old nephew.

    and with the dirtiest email from a college girl in winnepeg.

    oh canada, please move to hollywood.

    zulieka + the pants + cy-bervixen + etienne is backienne

  4. Thursday, November 24, 2005
  5. happy thanksgiving america 

    and canada and mexico and trinidad and australia and europe and africa the motherland and the middle east and asia and all our ships at sea.

    today as we celebrate the invasion and domination of north america it’s easy to be cynical and politically correct and genx and disrespectful… so lets go for it.

    fie on our teachers who told us the kiddie tales of pilgrims and turkey and columbus sailing the oceans blue and having us put construction paper feathers in our hair and dressing up in orange and brown and working for the clampdown.

    fie on our forefathers for being ruthless and treacherous and ignorant and fortunate.

    as kurt vonnegut so perfectly wrote in breakfast of champions:

    1492 the teachers told the children that this was when their continent was discovered by human beings. actually, millions of human beings were already living full and imaginative lives on the continent in 1492. that was simply the year in which sea pirates began to cheat and rob and kill them.

    the chief weapon of the sea pirates however, was their capacity to astonish. nobody else could believe, until it was much too late, how heartless and greedy they were.

    and thats why revisionist conservatives like the instapundit dont like kurt vonnegut and would never grow up to be a lit professor.

    which we should all be thankful for.

    so on this celebration of misery and gluttony, anti-vegitarianism, and highway accidents, a blossom has risen from the turd of shame: thanksgiving.

    instead of pretending that we are grateful for this unbelieveable land that the Lord allegedly gave to us, we do have the option to review our real blessings and share some of those with our fellow man and woman.

    i am grateful that i live in a city that is perpetually warm and dry. im grateful for the great jobs ive had and the ability to blog at them during my government mandated 15 minute breaks. im greatful that at my advanced age young women from around the world desire me sexually and men from around the globe wish to buy me drinks and shake my hand.

    im grateful that i am here with my mother and sister and loved ones who find it necessary to wake up early for a thanksgiving dinner. and here it is 11am and my mother is pacing nervously as somehow we’re “late” so i must finish this up, but im grateful for her as shes given me everything except for my receding hairline which was donated to me by her father.

    gravitas.

    im grateful to live in a country who may have been jesusland a year ago but woke up from their drunken stupor and who if they had their druthers would run the GOP out on a rail for lying to us, sending us to war for no good reason, and then lying about their lies.

    we may be a young country but we dont all love young country and we werent all born last night. or something.

    im grateful that i live in a time where i can broadcast such messages across the transom and it reach all of your homes and im thankful that you’ll probably be back tomorrow. im the luckiest man i know, i know i dont deserve it, but i will take it and before i defile your sisters i promise to wash my hands prior and thank the Good Lord afterwards.

    im grateful for rock band tsar, for all of my friends, for ac/dc, and for peer to peer technology which has given me the world on a platter. im grateful for blank media costing pennies per disc and im thankful for directv tivo and the kama sutra.

    none of this could have happened without the Lord Jesus Christ who probably winces every time He hears my name but hopefully chuckles when he hears my prayers and perhaps will see through the blackness of my heart and allow me entrance into Paradise where i will host a danceclub best known for its urinating cherubs.

    im thankful for my health and wealth and position in life. i know i could have been born anywhere at any time and as much as we kid being Americans, we are the most fortunate people on this planet, other than the scandinavians, and canadians, and trinidaddians, and hawiaans, so we should learn to help those lesser than ourselves.

    and hopefully the next election we will learn how to help ourselves.

    God bless everyone who reads this blog and links to it and talks about it and buys crap from it. i love you, i think about you always, and i hope that noone at your table chokes on a turkey bone, unless they really have it coming.

    happy thanksgiving and may this year we bring some astonishingly excellent things to those less fortunate than ourselves.

    matt welch + alecia + JaG + raymi + matt good

  6. Wednesday, November 23, 2005

    Stiff Sale til Sunday 

    my mom came home for lunch and she brought a friend of the family who is an extremely successful businessman.

    apparently when people heard that i was coming home, something i never do, everyone wanted to hang out with me, which is sweet, but secretly all i wanted to do here was hide out, do some laundry, take a few pictures, meet the Chicago buzznetters and bloggers and get the f out.

    but best laid plans… and now ive met neighbors on both sides, old neighbors in our old neighborhood, people at my moms work, and a lady who makes my moms bagel every morning – and this is only day TWO.

    so dude takes us to lunch at an ok restaurant and tells me that he reads the busblog “sporadically” because of several reasons that he will give me tips on later — uh, no thanks — and tells me that he hasnt yet purchased Stiff but will probably this week and says that he bets there are lots of potential customers that are in the same shoes that he’s in. so to speak, meaning they want it, ive got it, but theres something in the way.

    midway through my soup i politely told him that i didnt care if anyone didnt buy my book, that i wrote it so i could give one to my teachers who i dedicated it to, and to my mom who i secretly dedicated it to.

    he said, dont you want to sell a lot of copies?

    i said, of course not.

    he said, jo — my mothers name is jolene — he said jo, whats california done to little tony?

    she said hes always been like this, and added, he buys USED clothes!

    so dude says, the biggest shopping day of the year is about to happen, more sales are going to take place on Friday and Saturday than in all of the summer days combined. people will be looking for things that they want but they will also want GREAT VALUES. BARGAINS! then he asked me if i ever bought things that weren’t on sale.

    lap dances, i told him. and winked at my mom.

    but he was right, no, i barely bought anything, but never things that werent on sale unless it was a once in a lifetime situation. like a concert ticket, or bleacher seats, or a power adapter for my laptop whilest on vacation.

    so he said, tony you have to put your book on Sale but you have to do it in such a way that people will feel good about the price.

    i was all, if people are worried about price then they havent seen the value of the item so therefore price is irrelevant.

    he said, true, to a point, but you see value of certain things like plasma tvs or corvettes or – and he looked at me – good clothes, but you dont buy those things. so price does factor in.

    have i mentioned i didnt like this person?

    but then he presented his really good idea

    so what you do tony is you let your readers email you with their Best Offer, like a Priceline.com for your book. if its a ridiculous price like $6 you say no thanks, and perhaps they’ll email you back with a better offer. if you can reach some sort of agreement you send them a bill and ship it out to them.

    if you want, he said, you can even negotiate the shipping price, since i see you only ship things Priority Mail, bubba this is a book why not send it Media Mail for $1?

    and to prove that even sorta horrible people can have good ideas, thats exactly what im going to do.

    for the next 4 days only you can email me at stiff@tonypierce.com and make me an offer on my book. keep in mind that right now CafePress is offering unsigned copies for $19.08 plus shipping and im offering signed copies for $25 plus shipping. so if you want an autographed copy its a tad more.

    also during this special timeperiod you cannot specify which cover you want – if you want a certain cover you have to pay the regular price. if you want the dealio price you have to take the cover i send you.

    Also, realize i have some copies of How To Blog for sale too, so if you want both let me know and make me an offer, or if you only want HTB email me with an offer.

    i will do my best to hook up every reasonable offer, my only stipulation is to be fair, be polite, and dont tell anyone how much you paid.

    this is a four day sale only and i wont be able to ship them out till Tuesday at the earliest which is why this sale exists – and because dude had a decent idea.

    the paypal invoice i will send you can be paid by credit card, check, or paypal.

    now you cant say you dont have anything to be thankful for :)

  7. it snowed here this morning, i believe to welcome me back. 

    or to punish the fools who dared fly out today, the busiest travel day of the year.

    why do people travel on the busiest travel day of the year?

    next year im driving. actually there might not even be a next year thanksgiving in chicago. i love it and all and i must say that despite the last post, and the fact that my bag was delayed an hour, it was a mostly-pleasant experience.

    especially the hot dog.

    additionaly LAX yesterday at noon was, dare i say, nearly deserted.

    is everyone high?

    anyways, next year everything is going to be different. i wont have a book for sale during the holidays, i wont fly anywhere, i wont be in the cold.

    i woke and saw the whole Seinfeld cast pimping out their seasons 5&6 dvds. maybe whoring out is the right word. who are these people who get a million dollars a season and then find it necessary to release dvds later of shows that are on reruns three times a day on free tv?

    if you need the money so bad how about returning to television where you belong?

    kramer looked horrible.

    jerry’s hair is thinning like crazy.

    i know, takes one to know one, but im not selling 10 year old bits for top dollar.

    this Christmas im thinking about driving up through frisco and oregon and seattle and then turning back down and coasting downhill all the way back to LA.

    ive never been to seattle and id like to stay in aberdeen and take pictures of the bridge where kurt slept. some reports say that he never really had to sleep in the cold under the bridge, that his relatives and friends let them stay with him, but still, id like to see that bridge.

    ive been listening to a lot of nirvanah lately because of this book. yesterday i listened to Dumb and In The Pines from mtv unplugged like five times. i even played it for my mom as she drove me back from the airport.

    of course it all depends on if mc marc brown will let me drive through the woods for a few weeks before and after Christmas.

    which i guess depends on how successful this Chicago trip goes. which depends on how many people attend the Buzznet meetup at Uncommon Ground on Saturday.

    i know its officially a Buzznet meetup, but Bloggers you’re welcome too. in fact these meetups have been populated in good part by Bloggers who weren’t yet Buzznetters and never even considered Buzznet before they came to the meetups.

    so yes, Bloggers, even if youre not considering Buzznet, please come to the meetup on Saturday. we’re all friends. and this week we’re all Chicagoians. and i read many of you and i’d love to meet many of you. mostly the Cub fans, but if the rest of you would like to come, i suppose thats fine too.

    my mom is gonna have lunch here with me so i can drive her back to work so i can have the car and drive around and take pictures of the town that i grew up in. and hopefully i will be able to upload those pics tonight because im sure youre all omg dying to see them.

    this house is so clean. being home reminds you how much of a stank pig you are.

    maeko + iron mouth + zona boy + maizzy got stiff!

  8. its two am here in chicago 

    and for some reason im tired. i shouldnt be. i slept on the plane, something i love to do, i didnt even watch the diane lane + john cusack romantic comedy, in fact i even read a few chapters of Buzzmarketing which mc brown has been hyping since ive started at buzznet.

    and i listened to howard stern on my ipod, and of course the sound of one hand clapping.

    i fucked around in LA procrastinating so much that i nearly didnt make it on the plane.

    if you havent flown lately they have these automatic machines where you slide your credit card and its supposed to do all the necessary things to check your ass in. of course they still have people in blazers to help you out, but if you check in with fewer than 45 minutes before takeoff they freak you out and say, your bag probably wont get on the plane and they might not even let you on.

    why?

    cuz they have to check your bag out.

    why dont you check it out right here?

    thats not what we do here, we check you in here.

    and if you think i have snappy comebacks in my comments, you should see what im capable of when i see that my country is on its knees thanks to a terrorist act four freaking years ago by dudes who checked in on time, by dudes who werent wearing a cubs hat, by dudes who didnt have a suitcase filled with autographed copies of Stiff for the local libraries here in the windy, nor dvds of porn and mp3s.

    if it takes you more than 45 minutes to see that theres explosives in my bag then we’re in for some trouble, america.

    and on top of that — those fuckers didnt even use explosives! they used box cutters.

    IN THEIR CARRY-ON!

    but i just bit my lip and went to the xray portion of the obstacle course and watched a lady break down her baby stoller one-handed (the other hand held her frigging baby) as her husband sat on a chair with his shoes off getting the wand-treatment.

    and four of us waited for this woman to get everything out of the stroller including the hidden 3 yr old who didnt know wtf was happening.

    excuse me, never in the history of terrorism has a blonde haired family with a 4 month old and a 3 yr old terrorized an airplane, other than with cries and screams and whines and mommymommymommy at 45k feet.

    let the soccermom and the middle manager through!

    but i took a deep breath and thought about miniskirted teenagers who waited for me back in hollywood if i missed the flight, because the automated check in machine told me that there were no more flights if i couldnt get on this one. so i chilled and watched the dramadey and took a mental note that if i was ever blessed with doe-eyed little angels no way would i allow my wifey to have to break down her shit one handed while holding my prodgeny.

    in fact no airplane flights during the holidays for my family. clark griswold style minivan action until the kids are at least in school. an airplane is no place for beasts who cry. not because theres something defective with the childrens, but because theres far too much to cry about.

    top of the list being theres no food on these flights. even on United. or Ted as i rode today.

    one tiny bag of pretzels is what we got.

    heres my advice for the airline industry: feed us and make either big tobacco or the pharmecutical industry pay for it. if i got a nice meal that had a huge ad for Marlboro Country on the alumnium foil id be totally cool with it.

    since Mobil/Exxon made so much frickin profit last quater – let those motherfuckers put a huge ad on the napkins or on the cans of pop that they hand out. put a Shell gas pump on the dish that you serve me some chicken cordon bleu. you have a captive starving audience flying halfway across this great land of ours. we already hate you oil profiteerers and big tobbacky – feed us and we’ll call it even.

    and people are all, you should pack a sandwich. we were three across all the way to the back row. anyone with a sandwhich got farted on. i didnt want to be the object of anyones wrath or jealousy. i ate my nine pretzels like everyone else and fell asleep dreaming of a real chicago polish sausage

    which i got several hours later at 10pm at a nice little hut called McDog’s in the northwest suburbs.

    with a grilled skin so perfectly crispy i knew i was back home.

    and all was well.

    tomorrow i will go to radio shack, to get my momma wifi for her house after i demand that sbc yahoo hook her up with dsl immediately.

    this dialup business is for the birds.

    jay + pitt + dave the pa + how you should start a blog

  9. Tuesday, November 22, 2005

    i write to you this morning from sunny and warm santa monica 

    i spent the night with my old flame rene marie spurnikova. she and i have spent many many nights together over the centuries and every time theyre just as magical as the first.

    i teased in my interview with smelly danielley that she is my soul mate and that the funny thing about soul mates is you dont always end up getting naked with them every night. and its true. we felt perfectly in each others arms and all tangled and even though we didnt copulate, we didnt have to, she knew and i knew that there was love being exchanged there. a deeper love than i ever expected that first night under the bleachers, and far more than i expected when i drove over yesterday.

    she lives on the beach near the airport so she suggested that i crash with her and we ordered chinese from the china wok and you forget how good chinese can be when you eat nothing but bad chinese in hollywood.

    we gorged and watched the first two episodes of the office on dvd, a gift i received from my buddy chris and his wife hillary.

    so in a few hours im going to get on a jet plane and leave this unbelievably perfect weather for not so perfect and totally believable thanksgiving weather in chicago.

    i know why i dont like going back home during the holidays. its very emotional for me, its very uncomfortable for me. its nice to see my family and everything but so much has changed since i was a lad. i fucked up and announced that the Buzznet meetup would be in Wrigleyville, but i dont want to see the bleachers being renovated or torn up.

    if i was half the man i should have been, i would have studied harder in school and gotten a law degree at some ivy league college so i could run for mayor of chicago so things like lights at wrigley or bleacher reconstruction wouldnt even be an option.

    and once i put a moretorium upon fucking with the greatest temple to sports of all time, id have retired at an early age to isla vista where i would have incorporated that fair village and been mayor of the 93117.

    but alas i slacked and all i have to offer you is this blog. pah rump a rump rump.

    i have a short layover in las vegas where the daisy princess works part time at the cinnabun and i will deliver her a signed copy of Stiff.

    then i’ll be on my way to the windy for only the second time in like eight years.

    i will miss you sunny california. i will miss you perfect blue skies.

    i will miss you cheerleaders who tap at my door and giggle and apologize for waking me.

    i will miss you midnight tacos open all night

    i will miss you scientologists who probably hated the latest episode of south park but hopefully secretly found it genius, which it was.

    i will miss you clear skies and green mountains and fires in ventura and crackheads on the blvd.

    i will miss you hollywood starlets in your low cut finery.

    i will miss you parade of new cars and fake baked men who drive them.

    i will miss you kids who skateboard down anything they can find and have no idea how great they have it here.

    until theyre somewhere else.

    or fixin to leave.

    osm is back to being pajama media + german + billy the kid + mostly meat

  10. Monday, November 21, 2005

    tsar 

    juliette and the licksw/juliette lewis & the licks
    troubador
    west hollywood
    11/20/05

    tsar is the hottest band in america. hands down. thats not even in debate.

    the question is why arent they getting any radio play outside of tinsel town.

    the quartet fresh from touring canada and the pacific northwest took a two by four to the immaculate preconceptions of the lovely lesbians waiting to adore their juliette and turned half of them straight

    in tiny puddles of glee.

    mixing classic cuts with should-be hits from band girls money, jeff whalen and his posse took the stage precisely at 9:30pm and literally stopped time.

    it was like the matrix except with better music

    instead of bullets musical notes sped across the frozen audience and instead of the world rotating, all that moved were the camera angles until the universe nearly imploded and dan mashed his foot on the effect pedal

    and then POW

    atoms were split, lions layed down with lambs, good and evil frenched kissed in the vip section of the whosit and juliettes nipples hardened in her dressing room

    a new child was borned named emmaunelle

    this one minus the kidney problems

    he sprouted wings collected his arrow and took aim up westhollywood accompanied only with the devil winds from santa ana

    drunk with power and might and the promise of a few days off Tsar took no prisoners assualting our senses with rock slash roll, with generous doses of the former and a smidge of the latter.

    the chick from the sopranos who died in the show and ended up in the hell called “joey” nearly spilt her drink.

    jeff koganuts koga front and center wore a flack jacket and ducked under the flame of majesty as he snapped pictures of the event and late late last night posted his findings on blogging.la but left out the part where his hair had turned white and his rod had lenghtened and curled.

    caterpillars evolved into elephants

    moths turned into midgets

    and the dreams and wishes of rock fans everywhere came to fruition on a stage once rocked by the doors, kiss, the eagles, and spinal tap; who it turned out, played there only as an preminition to what was to be the tsar show that you missed last night in los angeles.

    some have taken me up on my invitation to witness the revolution and they came out believers in the Truth

    some have chosen to continue to waltz to the dance of the dead

    all i can do skywrite across the stratosphere

    i cant make a horse drink.

    but trust me when i tell you that theres a reason why karisa j left her hottub on the wesssside and why the lipsticked lesbians of hollywood left temple early and lined up on santa monica blvd to bathe in the holy spirt of rock

    yes it was to see juliette lewis jump into the crowd not once but twice during her encore

    but it was to find out what the fuck that crazy sound was, that buzz, that unchained melody, that careless whisper, that silent scream

    its name is tsar

    and they kiss girls too.

    meet me in chicago on saturday night + hi gwen’s nipple + the doo dah was hot