i had my gun aimed up through the floorboards. it was suprisingly cool under the million dollar home.

million dollar homes in west hollywood arent rare. infact i overheard a report that the average house in west hollywood was going for $1.4 million.

someone was about to die in the house and i was pretty sure it wasnt going to be me, but the things about the xbi is you never know. xpect the unxpected.

he was pacing and yelling on his cordless. his people were telling him that we were on to him and we would probably be knocking down his door any minute. he kept walking over to the window, parting the curtain back and saying that he didnt see anything out there. his person kept saying get away from the window. get away from the flipping window.

their entire conversation was being tapped and fed into my earpeice in my left ear.

my people were giving me instruction in my earpeice in my right ear.

all i was waiting for was for him to stand over the hole for one second next to the fireplace.

like em said, sometimes you have one shot

i noticed the shells of some hermit crabs next to my head. i wondered where they had moved on to.

the earth was soft below me. powdery. and as i said, cool. it was the first day of summer but being so early in the morning everything was cool.

everything except the man who was about to die from a bullet from the floor that was about to be shot up and between his legs.

my partner asked me a funny question in my right ear.

why are you still at the xbi, agent?

i tapped morse code on my pocket transmitter. all thats needed is a finger on the contact button. i tapped:

f-o-r

t-h-e

h-e-a-l-t-h

b-e-n-e-f-i-t-s

and a shadow fell over the little hole above me, i squeezed the trigger slowly

and the man fell right down as blood poured down to the soft dust next to me staining the shells of crustaceons long since gone.

that not so fresh feeling + that not so fresh feeling + that not so fresh feeling

two girls were feeding each other french fries at the fairfax blvd carls jr about three blocks from beverly hills.

danielle and i were having lunch and she had never been to a carls jr which i believe in the south theyre called hardee’s.

basically a notch nicer burger king where you order and someone brings it out to you on a plastic tray at your seat.

i like the western bacon cheeseburger because they put an onion ring under the meat patty.

danielle got the chicken strips and kept saying things like do you know how much fat is probably in this.

i was all, but its chicken.

she said, cuz its fried.

i was like, chinese people eat shrimp fried rice all the damn time, and tempura, and theyre not fat.

she squinted her eyes and said what about buddah.

the couple across from us were ellllllllderly. and dude didnt get the concept at all. a lady was sweeping up and he was all are you a waitress are you a waitress. she was no waitress but she helped the couple and smiled cuz its all good.

danielle ate a fry and then another and then told me to get them away from her.

a lady in a nice blouse tucked into some smooth slacks sat alone behind me and across the aisle.

danielles eyes got big and she said omg that womans fly is down.

i was all shhhh

she said what should i do i have to tell her and i said no you dont.

and just then she got up and walked past us on cue and she got a newspaper and came back and danielle said did you see that.

and i did.

still i wouldnt let her say anything and she said should i write her a little note.

and i was all pdq

and she said what

i said pdq xyz, didnt you ever say that at school.

and she laughed at me right there in the almost beverly hills carls jr.

and i was all seriously and she said what on earth would that mean and i said i cant believe you didnt say this it meant pretty darn quick examine your zipper

she said, you lie.

and i said fine then, go up to her and say pdq xyz and wink

but instead of winking she pointed and totally ruined the perfect science experiment. again.

allison + it was jays birthday yesterday + random complaints

i seriously dont know why some people dont like you, but i like you.

i sorta love you.

i think your movies are terrific.

but deeper than that, i love how you make people yearn for 100% absolute truth.

people call you a liar in a way that you’d think that everyone else is completely honest.

they say things like, “im not going to see his movie about Iraq because he’s full of shit and makes up numbers, and stretches the truth and cherry-picks facts for his own agenda.”

as if you’re the only person in the world who does things like that.

and these are democrats!

the way i see it, in this movie thats coming out tomorrow, Farenheight 9/11, you’re in a dog fight. its you against the the neo-conservatives who have taken over this country. and you’re the Liberal dog.

the way i see it the Conservative dog, ken starr, bit and barked and pissed and cheated, and yes, lied, while doing everything it could to distract and ruin and take down Clinton for the entirety of the 8 years that he was successfully running the country. and still you’re more vilified and hated by democrats, and of course republicans, than he is.

you’re despised more than the republicans who sicked the ken starr dog on the president and had him jumping on the sliding glass door of the white house barking things like whitewater, travelgate, arkansas troopers, hillary’s gay, and finally when linda tripp barked monica they patted ken on the head and said good boy and let him pee in congress with the other yapping bitches.

so now youre the Liberal dog. and you’re in a dog fight against an administration that’s back to its old tricks of cutting taxes for the rich, dp’ing the economy, and whipping the country into a frenzy of fear. but they also did some new tricks like redeacting 28 pages of the first 9/11 report so as to protect the Saudis and how they funneled monies through Riggs Bank to fund the terrorists, watching oil prices soar, giving non-competitive contracts to Haliburton, and invading a country that had nothing to do with 9/11.

this is a dog fight against a pack of conservative dogs that started cheating before day one. remember the hanging chads? remember how thousands of votes were not counted, and other votes were disqualified, and other votes were ultimately blocked from being counted properly?

and we’re supposed to be all pissed off that you may have slightly edited your film in such a way that it’s not 100% accurate?

when was the last time anyone held any other film up to that sort of scrutiny?

Passion of the Christ made it seem like during the moment that Jesus’s soul left his body there was an earthquake in Jerusalem when any good Christian knows that there were four versions of Jesus’s crucifixion in the Bible, and only one version said that there was an earthquake on that day.

bitching that you, Michael Moore, aren’t 100% accurate in this movie is like complaining that there’s no way that scores of storm troopers couldnt pick off Luke, Princess Leia, Chewbacca, Han, C3-PO or R2D2 as they made their way to the Millenium Falcon during that first Star Wars movie.

youre a dog in a dirty fight. the other dog is definately deceitful and mistrustful, and ugly, and selfish, and solely interested in its own agenda. the other dog told the nation that there were definately weapons of mass destruction in iraq and that those weapons needed to be removed in order to protect america. and yet some liberals are trying to pretend that that dog’s inaccuraccy is on the same level as yours.

we just buried a dog who funded osama bin ladin AND saddam, who secretly gave guns to the contras AND traded arms for hostages, and not only do people not consider him a dog but seriously want his face on money AND on mt. rushmore AND call him the Great Communicator.

but you’re a way better communicator than that dog, and your “lies” arent nearly as destructive as his.

your innaccuracies aren’t even on par with their Mission Accomplished inaccuracy.

and Lord knows that your “mistakes” in this film aren’t even close to being on par with the mistake that their dog made when it was given the CIA briefing on August 6, 2001 entitled “Bin Ladin Determined To Strike US“.

me, i think youre funny. i think you’re a big fat movie director who has somehow revolutionized documentaries. and done so in such a way that Roger & Me was critically acclaimed, and Bowling For Columbine won an Oscar, and your new movie won Cannes and will probably be the first doc to gross over $100 million.

i think theres a reason why people stood up and gave Farenheight 9/11 a twenty minute standing ovation in Cannes.

and i think it’s because finally theres a dog in this fight worth rooting for.

and it’s you, you slobbering old lunk.

i just cant wait for you to take on Ticketmaster.

and i totally can’t wait till tomorrow.

you my dog,

tony

the bambinos curse + now i wanna be your blog + buzzmachine

theyd find something other than a blowjob to bash Clinton over, but nah.

and you’d think that Christopher Hitchens wouldn’t come across as such a rabid bitch in his whiny slate peice, but some people think thats the only way to get attention.

whatev.

although it is sorta funny seeing hitchens so incredibly pissed off that michael moore even had the gall to make a movie about what most of america believes to be a pisspoor handling of the 9/11 tragedies and our president’s insistence to invade iraq even though bin laden had no ties to iraq.

here are some excerpts from todays 4,300+ word movie review in Slate:

*To describe this film as dishonest and demagogic would almost be to promote those terms to the level of respectability.

*To describe this film as a piece of crap would be to run the risk of a discourse that would never again rise above the excremental.

*I never quite know whether Moore is as ignorant as he looks, or even if that would be humanly possible.

* How dumb or thuggish do you have to be in order to counter one form of stupidity and cowardice with another?

And those are the nice parts.

Before Hitchens dared Moore to a debate, one that would be only slightly more interesting if rush limbaugh officiated it, or it was held in a steel cage, he reached so far as to defend president bush in the clip that is now being used in the farenheight 9/11 trailer.

“The president is also captured in a well-worn TV news clip, on a golf course, making a boilerplate response to a question on terrorism and then asking the reporters to watch his drive. Well, that’s what you get if you catch the president on a golf course. If Eisenhower had done this, as he often did, it would have been presented as calm statesmanship. If Clinton had done it, as he often did, it would have shown his charm.”

and then he fell for the red herring of trying to prove moore wrong about saddam’s importance and the war in iraq, when all along everyone at this point knows that iraq has nothing to do with 9/11 other than in bush’s mind.

either way i hope hitchens stops being jealous that moore kicked his ass by making a trifecta of documentaries that are the three biggest docs ever released in the history of film.

meanwhile hitchens has made 5-6 docs that no one has ever seen.

keep writing for slate, bro. i hope it gets you far.

ed smirk + matt welch + gonzo lives

it’s the longest drought ive had in years. i had a good thing going with ms. kournikova but i think i fucked it up somehow. not sure how. but i think i had something to do with it.

last time we had it she wept it was so good. it reminded me of that movie strickly ballroom. two people who really knew how to whip each other around with precision and passion and controlled violence.

for a while i was nervous that the neighbors were going to think that i was killing her but then i stopped worrying about the neighbors. in the morning the girls always skipped home singing little songs or they drove me to work or they said bye to me a dozen times on my porch. nobody was being killed.

being 110 has its advantages. if i had experienced this sort of drought in my 20s i’d be chomping at the bit at this point. plus back then i didnt have the internet to distract me. plus back then i was bubbling over with testosterone. thats been drained sucked fucked beaten and syphoned out of me.

i also think the man had something to do with it too.

damn the man.

regardless, im happy that its down to a more manageable level. the testosterone. not the action.

one of the problems i have with the “older” bloggers out there that they hardly ever talk about their sex lives. so boring. plus theres a lot that they can tell the college kids. particularilly the boys. but they never do. they just go on and on about how michael moore is a big dumb idiot.

so boys, the best thing about getting older is you get better in the sack. not only can you last longer, but you can last as long as you want. the bad news is youre old and sometimes the ladies dont want you. the good news is you dont give a shit and they suddenly become intrigued and want you.

right now i dont give a shit but i know this feeling will pass soon. its still annoying because i know enrique isnt any good in the sack. anna knows it too. and admits it. but she likes his money power fame freedom. and i cant really compete with that. but i can bring it. and i bring it consistantly. its not luck. its practice concentration relaxation breathing and rock-zen.

by zen i mean an outerbody nothingness emptiness meditation freakyshit. and rock meaning you transform yourself into a heavilly tattooed beast running from the law taking a break only to be with the girl under you. your girlfriend. your lovah. your partner in crime. your fellowbeast. your date for the evening.

one reason to write every day is so that when the time comes you can say sexy things in your girl’s ear as you bring it.

i know for damn sure enrique isnt whispering threatening taunting promising shit in annas ear.

not like me.

i predict this drought wont last two and a half more weeks.

danielle + sk smith + daily pundit

this time with a weird ending

dozens of monkeys of all sorts are in a smoke-filled room. as usual. some smoking cigarettes, some with cigars. some circled around hookahs.

some just typing at olde fashioned typers.

you know the ones that ding and you gotta pull the thing over.

a chimp ripped the page out of his old machine pushed his reading glasses up the bride of his nose crossed his legs and inhaled from his cigarrette and exhaled out the corner of his mouth. laughed like monkeys do and without looking reached for his bottle of xxx and took a good swig and kept reading his little masterwork.

“what do you see?” an orangutan asked me and held up a white peice of paper that appeared to have a perfectly symmetrical coffee stain on it.

i see a coffee stain.

the orangutan held up another white peice of paper that appeared to have a different symetrical coffee stain on it.

i see a slightly different coffee stain, this one with an afro.

the orangutan wrote down some notes on his clipboard and held up another peice of stained paper.

what do you see here?

i see a hairy pussy.

he wrote down hairy pussy on his notepad, picked up a cigarette out of a dirty ashtray filled with cigarette butts, inhaled, ashed, and flicked his butt nowhere in particular.

in the distance i heard an ape scream, a bottle shatter and mayhem try to break out until an elephant barked.

now what do you see, the orangutan asked me.

i see the some guy with an afro going down on a hairy pussy.

the orangutan looked at the picture, wrote down some notes while looking at me.

several monkeys had formed a circle around me. one monkey groomed another, but both of their attentions were on my little session.

now what do you see, the orangutan asked me. somehow i didnt notice that he had a stethoscope and a mirror headband thing from the olden times.

he peeled a bananna while he waited for my answer.

i see a sad hairy bush.

he wrote down some notes, handed it to a little spider monkey who jumped to the ceiling and used the pipes above us as monkeybars and hauled ass out of the huge smokey room.

tony, youre sick, the orangutan told me.

really?

yes, you hate president bush. he said.

he was writing a prescription for me.

well, the president is a fucking dumbshit, doc.

doesnt matter, hes the president, and hes a republican.

so? i challenged.

he stopped writing, his mouth wide open. banana peel stuck to some of his chin hair.

so? he asked. earnestly.

yeah, who the fuck cares what political party he says he is. hes a fucking more-anne. hes a faker. hes a fuckup. hes an idiot. hes full of shit. he lies. he cant get anything done right. people leave him and write books saying how bad he sucks and nobody cares. he started a war we didnt need to fight and everyone is all at least hes not getting head in the oval office. he lied about weapons of mass destruction and people are all but at least we dont have saddam. hes a dope and people are all he means well. he bankrupted three of his own companies, and now hes bankrupting the nation and people are all but i’m not bankrupt, i can still afford cable. he makes the world point at america and laugh, and we say, fuck the world, which i agree with, but still… and the gas prices are out of control and people just fill up, top off their super big gulps of coffee and putt away in their explorers as if the president, the oilman president, who is chummy enough with the sauds that he got all the bin ladins out of america on 9/13 and turned his back on Riggs Bank cant get them to do anyting about opec.

my doctor wrote down new notes furiously on the ass of a snoring swine.

for starters, i added.

finally he stopped writing, pushed his glasses up, and said

but he’s republican.

then handed me a prescription on the smooshy side of a bananna peel and pointed to the door.

the prescription said keep your mouth shut, fuckbrain, and vote for kerry like all of us are going to, but do it quietly.

and as i left i saw him shit on his hand, look around, and throw it towards me, only to knock the american flag off its little flag holder.

which, when the room witnessed what happened, stopped for a second, only to errupt back into monkey caccophony accented with strains of the latest teen whore on the hot hits radio station being piped through the crackely intercom system.

dick shagwell + i cant wait to vote + classless warfare

Thursday, January 22, 2004

hi innernet

hi tony.

whatcha doin?

growing.

yeah.

what cha doing?

trying to think of something to write.

why dont you tell us how great it is to live in hollywood california

nah

youre a nice young single man. healthy. smart. funny. rich. brave. handsome. hung. im sure you have some stories to tell.

god i love you Internet.

come on, tell us how warm it is there today!

i did wear a flannel. but yeah, i guess it was warm.

see! now tell us about something fun that happened there today. in hollywood. land of celebrities and rock stars.

hmmm.

surely something fantastically glamorous happened that you would want to share with the blogosphere. come now.

stars.. hmm. i dont want to say nothing happened great. maybe it did. i have a terrible memory…

you’re letting me down, bro.

i almost got hit by a jaguar this morning.

see, thats good! what year?

it was new. dealers plates.

oh… the ones that look like tauruses?

no no, this was from beverly hills jaguar, it was big and fancy.

Perfect tony Perfect!

yeah.

although, maybe you should have let him hit you.

it was a woman driving.

whatever, you woulda gotten rich!

dont they just pay for your broken legs or whatever?

pain and suffering, bro. pain and suffering!

shit.

i know!

shit.

i know

my fortune today said you will be rich and famous. fucker. pretty girl smiled at me. work was hard. lunch was fast. barely had any time even to take one fifteen minute break and i have this thing in my head that says that if i cant finish the work that somehow it was my fault. people have capacities too. dont we? you cant put a gallon and a half of milk into a gallon jug. and if you do you dont blame the jug.

sick thing is i love the fact that this job is so impossibly hard, so thankless, and so low paying.

i love it because the whole time my fro is as big as it can be, im wearing my corvids tshirt, im getting smiled at by the pretty girls, and my savings account just gets larger and larger, slowly, and the people who dont want me happy can only shrug while under their breath call me a fucking dumbass.

they watch me climb on the bus and i whisper who’s the dumbass now and i show the driver my monthly pass.

and old death is whistling at me from down a super long dark hallway with his come hither finger saying youre only getting older when are you going to grow up sellout and be mine and the oriental rugged floor sprinkled with opened condom wrappers athletic socks and newspapers says was someone speaking i swear i coulda heard someone say something ridiculously ignorant

lets change the world says the lamp

on the maxims

next to the greasy

knocked over

bucket

of extra crispy kfc

chickens

sk smith + melting dolls + ultrablognetic

are you fucking kidding me?

i pride myself for having no advertisments on my blog. the only exception are the links that i provide to your company when i’m talking about specific cds that im reviewing, or books that im reading, or books that america is reading.

strangely, this provides ammo for the naysayers of the busblog to call me a sellout.

the way i figure it is, if a shit ton of people are going to run off and buy a book or a cd, and if some of those people come to my site on a daily basis, then maybe it would be nice if they clicked my amazon link before they got the merch from you.

maybe they do it, maybe they dont, but the way it looks is in the last quarter i gave you 500 potential customers and 5 of them bought something.

and you seriously think that giving me a whole DOLLAR is an even trade?

are you out of your fucking mind dot com?

i know im giving you more traffic than the average guy, and probably more than your numbers are reporting, which means other blogs are getting LESS than a buck a quarter?

ponderous!

and dont bother me with these trifles that my traffic doesnt generate hard sales that in turn generate me my commisions.

this is what i know: if you put an ad in the paper hoping that 500 people would enter your store, the paper would charge you far more than a dollar, and you would be soooooooo stoked to have the chance to turn 500 sales.

if you couldnt close those sales that would be your fault, not the advertisee.

dont be suprised if i end this relationship soon and go back to my hippy ways of not advertising anyone’s goods or services because im being taken to the cleaners on this deal and its not cool to anyone.

the thing is, i am the furthest thing from a money-grubber. but i could literally make 10 times the amount of “revenue” if i simply set up a BlogAd and sold out like most of the Top 100 of the blogosphere does. but i dont want to. i want to have a stupid ad on the left of what im reading and what america is reading. thats it. and every now and then i want to hype a cd. and when people go to Amazon, i want a proper kickback since i am generating them sales and potential sales.

the only solution i see to this is a pay-per-click deal. or an upfront deal. but this one is wack. and if you think that i havent thought about stealing your pics and bandwidth and leading people to ebay, you have sorely underestimated your enemy. which i am slowly becoming.

your little bitch,

tony

souptree + jack d ripper + the sketch factor

Death Pool? i’m at a +7 thanks to the passing of our 40th President.

1. The Pope

2. Barbara Walters

3. Andy Dick

*4. Ronald Reagan

5. Tiger Woods

6. Beetlejuice

7. Lorne Michaels

8. Michael J. Fox

9. Robert Downey, Jr.

10. Scott Weiland (pictured)

What book(s) have you read lately? I’m currently reading Mooch by Dan Fante. Funny, sad, dirty, funny. Very LA.

What film have you seen lately? Went to the movies yesterday and saw Napolean Dynamite which was suprisingly good. Last night I saw Bruce Almighty on HBO which was suprisingly bad.

What film are you dying to see? Farenheight 9/11. The French are wrong about so many things, but theyre so right about art, food, wine, women, and Michael Moore movies.

Who was the person you had the last conversation with? Danielle, who said that I

What’s the best magazine cover you have stumbled lately? Drew on the cover of Jane.

What’s the most irritating magazine headline have you stumbled lately? That J.Lo is pregnant.

What’s the best newspaper report you have read lately? That Bush will probably lose in a landslide.

What’s currently the best thing on the telly? my directv/tivo receiver box.

What’s the best food you ate lately? pf changs pepper shrimp, combo fried rice, and lettuce wraps.

What was the best convesration you had lately? with my true love about her trip to mexico.

Which character are you currently studying? Comic Book Store Guy. he’s very passionate about his trade. i appreciate that, and i think we all have a lot to learn from him.

What’s the BEST thing that have happened lately? i got 6 more Gmail invites which I was able to send off to my friends.

more please + jarret house north + sean bonner

and everyone but you

i writer everyday

and ask her to come back

but i do not send em

i think about younger girls

or bigger girls or wilder

girls arent what im lookin for now

but you know that

and its not super, man, thinking about

all of whatever happened

that added up to this

which is me alone at 2am

suckin on a pen

thinking of how i write and write and nothings

you drive through the desert

and you see two things

oilrigs pumping and windmills spinning

motion and no movement

spirit, no action.

whirling and whirling

typing and hopeing and praying

and thinking

im gonna die without her

thinking im so stupid to even be thinking

everyone gets over theirs

i got over mines

whats so damn perfect about this little flatchest grrl

with her perfect hair and lips

we’d kiss and cry and lie all night

slept in so many rooms

all over california mexico and foreign lands like

gretna and maui

whats the good lord got saved for me

do bums in the street with heaps of dirty clothes used as sheets

snoozing away in a doorway think about what the lords gonna bring em

and who am i to ask when theyve got real dreams

i just want my little girl.

clouds pass by overhead silent in the nightsky

theyre going to where clouds die

and theyve seen her why dont they tell me hows it really.

the rain, it rains, and it pours on a little pink girls bike

half falling down no kickstand

im damned why wont he say it

in a holding cell not hell but close someone in the cloud has a rope

but theyre scared id use it the cheater way and youd see dangling converses

in the morning with milk but i got better plans dear fans

i just want my little girl.

and they bowl as the rain pours tears from sobbing saints twentyfour hours it flashes

semis blow past spray mud on the corn and i wish sometimes i wasnt born

you dont need me what role am i bukowski kicks the shit outta this guy

dont fuck good anymore and i cant hit a curve

i teach fools how to sell im the king of the nerds

so whys he got me breathing still aint i paid all my bills

maybe thats it.

shit.

i still want my little girl.

bunnie + zulieka + listen missy