ive heard some of the mumblings from the peanut gallery about this and that and ive even read some of it in a few of your blogs.
let me allow myself to take a few minutes tonight to address some of those things and then we can get this year started with everyone being on the same page.
first of all i dont owe you shit.
you dont owe me shit i dont owe you shit.
some of you i might owe something and if so you should email me. but most of you have received whatever it was that you paid for and the transaction is over.
you got your autographed copy of stiff or your box of hair or your weekend of ecstasy and we’re good.
true i have had a good following on this blog. may i say, a great one. better than i deserve, id even add. the fact that young men have given me money or younger women have given me their bodies is far more than i ever expected when i first logged onto blogger.com in august 2001 and got this party started.
but let me tell you something about what i was doing before august 2001. before august 2001 i was writing on a website, and getting girls, and getting hella hits. before that i was writing on tabloid.net and before that lick and before that buzznet and before that the greatest newspaper any college has ever seen, the daily nexus.
and i was getting laid and paid off that shit too.
may i add, before some of my biggest complainers were even born.
and even before that while in high school and junior high school i would write little stories on the back of our homework and pass them to the girls i knew so that they would fall in love with me.
did it work?
what do you think.
so when i hear juveniles pose such grand statements as tony we made you who you are or tony we put you where you are all it makes me wonder is who put me where i was when you werent around?
when that redhead was sitting crossarmed and crosslegged on the furthest corner of my couch, who originally got her into to my house and who eventually got her to reach down my pants?
you? oh but if only you had.
you didnt write any of these posts, you didnt pick any of the pictures, you didnt fight off the trolls, you didnt deal with the carpal, you didnt live the stories first, and you didnt have to bang the shit out of the hottest chicks youll never meet to live the dream and begin the beguine.
you clicked a hyperlink.
this is my personal blog.
in any other time this would be in a sprial notebook or on the back of a piece of homework.
the busblog is its best when it feels like a secret journal when it feels real when its written honestly and without conscious to the fucked up complexities of whats outside of this url.
do i love my readers? of course. every one. the ones who read every day the ones who read every week the ones who subscribe through rss the ones who pop in every now and then the ones who hate and the ones who continue to send me nudes even after i said to stop because no way could those tits be real.
but the writing process is a personal one and shrouded in mystery, and one needs to look no further than television to see what happens when you try to appease a crowd.
other than myself there is only one other person im trying to appease in any post i write here: the next girl who wants to show me her cans. thats it.
if anyone actually deserves to be able to say that i owe them something its my mother. she brought me into this world, she raised me basically alone, she worked all day and all night to put me and my sister through school, and she has been the best role model ive ever had.
like you, she too reads the busblog regularly, and winces through most of it, and would love to have a say in whats written on here but as great as she is she doesnt get a fucking vote on this shit either.
i am professional blogger on a site on which i edit, which is to say, i run the show there. which is also to say that im responsible if it fucks up.
when i was in high school i learned what it was like to give 100% at something. i was a senior and i tried out for our world class marching band. i was given the largest bass drum and the most intense band director of all time.
the first words he ever said to us the summer of my senior year, at band camp was this: you are to wear black socks at performances. brown is not black, blue is not black. you will wear black socks.
that year we won almost every competition we entered because our band director was totally insane and we wanted to be that insane about something too.
when i stepped in the daily nexus office i met more insane people and we won pretty much every award ever for as long as we were together. and even after we graduated we somehow always found ourselves near each other because in part its rare to find other people who understand what it means to rock.
at the nexus we had no advisers no journalism classes no adult supervision to fuck up the beautiful shit we cranked out every. fucking. day. and because there was no collegiate competition we competed with the pros as often as possible but usually we competed with each other.
even though i won best college arts and entertainment editor in califonia in 1990 when some of you were still shitting your beds, the award that i keep closer to my heart and to my keyboard was winning most outstanding arts & entertainment writer on the daily nexus. because to win that one i had far tougher competition from the whalen brothers and dougie gyro and mr welch and several others who i still look up to this day.
and who also read this blog regularly.
if i owe anyone other than my mother anything i owe them and if they want to edit this blog and steer its course theyd be welcomed to because theyd take it to a place where you couldnt even imagine.
but because they have far better things to do like edit major newspapers or write for emmy award winning satirical news shows or record groundbreaking and overlooked masterpieces, youre stuck with me, the king of the world, the dark knight, the oldest man of the blogosphere,
the missing page of wikipedia.
i will write on here what i want to write on here, when i want to write on here, and for as long as it continues to get me laid.
i will write about the job that i love, i will write about the things that take place in my life, i will sometimes repost memories of my past not just because its my blog but because my blog is better than your blog because of the things that i do
and one of the things that i do is ignore every negative voice in the universe
or use it for fuel
exactly like how manure is utilized.
as rich and as famous and as popular and as powerful as the instapundit is and many at his level are, most do not have comments. and if they do, most do not allow for 99.9% of whats in those comments to get posted without registration or moderation or even an email address.
the professor says he doesnt have them because he claims that the comments can have a way of influencing the blogger in a negative way and it could turn the blog into something that the blogger isnt interested in.
may i suggest that a black sock wearing daily nexus undercover superhero of the xbi can handle any comment placed on his blog,
but only if he’s being 100% real in that blog.
which is a very longwinded way of saying that if i bowed to the whims of others about what i posted on my personal blog it would cease to be mine any more and it would definitely cease to rock.
my job is to make that trend on that graph above to continue to soar at ridiculous angles for LAist.
my hobby on the busblog is to write whatever the fuck i want to write whenever i feel like it doesnt get in the way of my job.
in the comments a few weeks ago someone asked in this blog what i was trying to prove over at LAist and why couldnt i spend a little more time writing the busblog and less time concerned about LAist. and it was a good question despite coming from one of our quasi competitors.
if i lose some of you as readers so be it, this blog has never ever tried to get the most readers. if i lose some ad dollars in the long run so be it i never wanted ads on here in the first place. and if i miss out on some pussy because im spending too much time on the j.o.b. so be it theres so much pussy in la that the only single men who arent getting laid are the ones who arent asking for the sale.
and let me be the first to tell you that if you write a good enough blog you dont even have to ask for it half the time.
happy nude year,