nothing in here is true

  1. Friday, August 19, 2016

    it’s very important to have the right music going when you pick up ppl 

    lou reed

    got a ping in westwood, which was fine. normally im taking consultants from the hotels near UCLA to LAX on thursdays.

    yesterday, no such luck. a bunch of short and medium trips around beverly hills and westwood, which is actually better because im trying to lose a few pounds so zulieka will love my nude snapchat pics and any time i drop someone off at LAX late on a thursday i always make a run to in n out for my long drive home because there really isnt much business around there.

    so i got the call. the name sounded arabic. usually i’ll put on old school jazz like wes montgomery or miles or art or thelonious. but this place was south of wilshire so i threw on some solo lou reed. a nice little mix i made. you know.

    couple appear. they apologize for being late to the car. say they had problems putting their kids to sleep.

    i was all, say no more. (as if i knew what that was like) (i would let them cry. LIFE ISNT ALL THREE WAYS AND ICE CREAM ORGIES, KIDS, CRY ME A RIVER) and they giggled. then i made the worst mistake of all, i asked them how old their little darlings are.

    they said, “fine.” and then started bickering with each other about how they need to be tougher on their kids. then they argued about moving one of the kids from one class to another because he had no friends (this is day three of the school year) and none of the kids are persian and the teacher might be great but the class is too big.

    sometimes theyd argue in english but as i turned Sweet Jane up they started fighting in persian.

    it was very uncomfortable.

    finally they asked me if i had any kids.

    i said, the people i drive are my pride and joy and i hope they feel safe and loved on our trips.

    calmed them right the hell down.

  2. do i know whats going on with anything? 


    do i even pretend i know whats happening?


    is that why i believe in God?


    is that why i believe in luck?


    is that why i believe you should just practice, be cool, work hard, read, pray, be a gentleman, and when the shit gets crazy

    know that craziness only lasts a short time

    which is also just a theory

    because deep down i dont know shit.

    unless its whispered to me on a summer night

    beneath a shooting star

    or was it a plane

  3. Thursday, August 18, 2016

    another news site who never cared about its commenters kills comments 

    NPR commentsmy kingdom for a news outlet who would just own up to the fact that they fucking hate their commenters and thats why they are going to do the absolute worst thing to their website and kill the comments section.

    once upon a time if you wanted to express yourself to your news outlet you had to write a letter, put it in an envelope and mail it in. only the very few would see their complaint or compliment published in the newspaper or read aloud on tv.

    but then the Great Equalizer, the Internet, reared its ugly head and OMG teh Trollz pounced on ridiculous news stories and blog posts and ruined EVERYTHING.

    did the newspapers, magazines, and radio stations pay money to Community Managers who knew how to “engage” the readers and steer conversations and referee and ban people and lift people up?

    not really.

    did the newspaper implement the worst commenting systems they could possibly create or buy – systems clearly written by teenage Russians for pennies on the dollar?

    oh you’ve seen Tronc’s commenting system circa 2016?

    did NPR, who probably has the smartest, brightest, most college educated audience in all of history hire anyone to show them exactly HOW they could take that priceless audience and figure out what Digg, Reddit, Metafilter, Gothamist, Reason, every serious sports blog and gads Gawker learned long ago: that sometimes the comments are the best part.


    all of these comment quitters took their cues from their high school crush, the New York Times, who never wanted online comments to exist in the first place and were quick to remove comments from delicate articles which would attract the most heated discussions. so today they figure if the Gray Lady could do it, then they could – and should – as well. but thats even more bullshit because, again, who is more educated than the regular reader of the Paper of Record?

    the catch is: who has a thinner skin than the editors and writers of the NYT who FOR SURE do not want hoards of unwashed desk jockeys telling them that they suck in between bababooeys right beneath their six month feature about the unrest in the Middle East.

    too bad, journalists. too fucking bad.

    do you think Magic Johnson looked forward to being booed in Boston and NY and Detroit and Chicago after running up and down basketball courts in those tight shorts? After years of working out and watching tape and figuring out defensive schemes? After hours of practice and conditioning, fighting through injuries and mother fucking HIV?

    the answer is YES!

    Magic Johnson absorbed the boos of tens of thousands at the Garden because Magic Johnson is a G.D professional and he knows that those people are the ones who paid for his many mansions and the best way to shut them up is to fucking rule.

    Or in the case of the ultra sensitive journalists: don’t read the damn comments.

    Or in the case of the fuckit we didnt want it anyway editors of web sites: learn how to turn those lemons into champagne.

    Reddit’s entire world is comments, why can’t you figure it the fuck out?

    Answer: because you are lazy and Web 0.2 and hate your commenters and all you really want to do is talk AT your audience, not with them, and you should really just admit it and quit being lying liars.

  4. dear tony, what the hell is this Cub fan doing? 

    cub fan

    the reason the Lord loves us is unknown, but one thing that’s evident is this world is filled with mysteries.

    without surprises and oddities we would be so bored with life that we would not find any pleasure in growing old.

    goldfish often drown themselves out of boredom.

    little known fact.

    my role as a blogger is to entertain, inform and delight.

    which, curiously, is the same job as a Cub fan’s right hand.

    even when surrounded by a couple of dozen of young Asian ladies trying to figure out how they can get on the world famous busblog.

    mystery is one of the things i like the most in life because i get so easily bored.

    so i will not research this too hard.

    i will just let it slide.

    though i will acknowledge it and interesting.

    and then, just leave it there.

  5. Wednesday, August 17, 2016











    gym tan laundry

  7. i had to do a thing and for months and months and months i didnt do it 


    and i have no idea why i didnt do the thing but every night i would come home and think about it

    and every friday i would say to myself, this weekend im gonna do it, but i never did.

    i never even got close to doing it.

    then the other day, your east cost fairy princess blogger from somewhere

    told me, just try harder, and if its crappy its crappy, but push

    and yesterday after work i really wanted to uber but i promised myself

    that i would come home and do it.

    but first i need to watch the end of the cubs game

    and then i had to read every page on the internet

    and then i had to play with my cats. both of them.

    and then i had to open the window. and then i had to pee.

    and then i had to close one window at a time on my laptop.

    and then i started.

    and it was good.

    and then it was halfway done.

    and it wasnt so good.

    so i made it good.

    and then it was done.

    and i nearly had a heart attack.

    i had to stand up.

    i wanted to walk to the park and play pokemon but it was 12:30am and you really shouldnt be roaming around hollywood that late

    after you just figured something out majorly.

    you should stay inside and blog.

  8. Tuesday, August 16, 2016

    today is charles bukowski’s birthday, he’s 24 

    charles bukowski let it kill youborn in a rowboat in Lake Los Angeles during the stock market crash, charles bukowski, americas greatest poet, never saw riches until he was in his 50s and never cared about them once he had them.

    what he loved he did, be he broke or wealthy: the drink, the dance, the fight, the fuck.

    he had a higher voice than youd expect and he sang when he spoke.

    how do you doooooo, he’d say as his horse rounded the home stretch with the lead.

    he loved to gamble on the ponies so much that he’d often drop off his wife at the huntington library in pasadena even if the horses were running in hollywood park. afterwards he would pick her up. was he drunk? probably. did he ever get a DUI?

    did mark twain?

    did hemingway?

    did Moses?

    if you were talking to Tom Petty right now would you ask him such a question?

    Charles “Henry” Bukowski loved cats and classical music. he didnt care for your questions unless you were a pretty girl at a poetry reading at a college where he was invited to speak. and then he would just watch their lips move and eyes crinkle and hair gently flow.

    did he ever cheat on any of his girlfriends or wives? WHERE DID YOU GET THESE QUESTIONS? DID ROOSEVELT? DID MONROE? DID LASORDA?

    he smoked when he drank and drank when he wrote and wrote in a rocking chair in front of a typewriter until the year 19 hundred and 90, the year punk broke when he switched over to an Apple Quadra. the step brother of the Mac. a very young Steve Jobs himself  poured sand in Bukowski’s keyboard so the clicking sounds would be louder.

    once Jobs offered Bukowski LSD but the poet didn’t want any of that nonsense. he wasn’t a Beat! he’d bellow. give that hippie crap to Ferlinghetti or Proust or Philben! he just wanted a cold bottle of something bubbly

    and your undying love.

    you, the one with the ruby red lip colors

    you with the barrette

    you with the notepad half filled with scribbles.

    hop into my rowboat.

  9. howard stern says he sees a shrink 3-4 times a week 

    LAand you know i love howard but im not sure his shrink is working.

    howard has one of the greatest jobs in the world, he gets to talk to people. on the radio. for millions of dollars a year. tens of millions.

    but howard hates his job so much that he only goes in three times a week and then has to take a week off.

    it’s sort of a dream job in that sense but he swears he’s tortured. he swears he hates going outside. he swears he hates traveling during his vacations. he just wants to sit around and paint or play chess or watch tv.

    im not sure that shrink is working because im pretty sure thats not what we as humans are supposed to enjoy the most.

    especially humans who have met hundreds of humans over a lifetime and gotten them to talk about the most fascinating parts of their lives.

    i bring up shrinks because i have had writers block on something for the last few months that i cannot unblock. i told beautiful zulieka about it and she advised that i should just write it and if it comes out bad, fine, just rewrite it but it will be easier the second time.

    i agree.

    but what if what i want to write is a proposal to change everything. what if what i am writing is my essay for why i should go to mars and die there. what if what i am afraid of is the same thing howard is avoiding which is if we put it all out there then we are lost then we are not us. we will have no control. we will be forever changed.

    when howard holds back from his audience he may not be thrilled with the results but at least he knows he affected something. that weird sad element of control has been enabled and he can see it.

    likewise when i dont do something i can see the lack of growth and i know i did it. i know. i know.

    its a small, dumb, foolish game. and all i have to do is say to myself, no i wont uber tonight, i will drive straight home after work and i will write the thing that will only take two hours to write and i will send it to nasa and that will be that and then they will read it and say duh of course why didnt we think of that and i can go on my merry way and my life will be forever changed.

    but best of all, i will have helped others. which, howard, i think is the point of us being on this planet.

    and we should stop being selfish with our crazy magic.

  10. Monday, August 15, 2016

    the phone rang, it was zulieka 

    zuliekabut it wasnt the phone, it was the text messenger.

    tony, i am in LA, lets make love.

    but thats not at all what it said. but thats what i read.

    thats what i read every time she writes anything.

    for twelve years i have been following every word americas favorite half japanese half naughty nurse has written in americas favorite mommy blog.

    and surprise surprise she was in LA and was wanting to hang out. with who? with me?

    so i switched over to speaker phone and dialed her up. i was in malibu. deep in malibu. but no matter where she said she was, i was ready to go there.

    hi tony! im in a car. its a convertible. so i cant hear very well. can i call you back tonight?

    of course!

    she called me back. that night. she was in santa monica at the home of a famous writer director. we made plans to meet the next afternoon for a late lunch. when i arrived she was playing the french horn so i took a picture. i learned in our high school marching band that if a girl enjoyed sticking her hand up a french horn she probably liked lots of things. so i said zulieka, how are you prettier than the last time i saw you many years ago. two children ago?

    it was no line. she was prettier and somehow shorter and lovelier. her dress was a size small but still not tight enough for LA standards, nor short enough. but the truth was written all over her face. she loved me. and missed me and was happy to see me. and likewise. im sure.

    the writer director was a wonderful man. zulieka has good tastes as you can imagine. we talked about LA punk rock, lone justice, X, elvis, tom waits. then i took your girl to sushi and she was all, im half japanese youre gonna have to do a whole lot better than this.

    so i said, americas sweetheart heather “the rabbit” havrilesky is having a party far far up in her mountain retreat. lets all go in the writer director producers porsche. and we did. and they were both loved by our friends. it was a joyous night. new friends were made and new schemes were plotted.

    i tried to convince your girl that if she really loved LA she should move from mass, a place she doesnt love. FOR THE KIDS. i told her that children need to learn at an early age that if they dont like somewhere or someone that time is short. life is precious. and fleeting! vamoose! turn the page bob seger! she said but money?! i said it grows on trees. look at it growing over there.

    she said tony. i said fine, i’ll marry you and pay for everything. she said but i want another child. i said i’ll go on youtube and learn how they are made. she said but the children love their father. i said who doesnt love their father? who doesnt want somewhere fun to spend their summer vacations while their new father gets some alone time with his wife?

    she said you have everything figured out. i said i do. she said yes you do. i said i do.

    then she said did you ever put that left over lobster in your fridge?

    i said, see how desperately i need a thoughtful wife?