i dont even know why we pretend theres even a chance of it being fair. live in LA for 15 minutes and you will see the disparity between absolute wealth and poverty and you’ll get it that fairness isnt part of this so-called life.

the other day i woke up with my hands on the perfect breasts of a young lady and i thought to myself how did this happen and i said because life isnt fair. the next day i was flying to amsterdam for free and i asked myself how did i get this and i said because life isnt fair. and then i got back to LA and went on with life and throughout the day i asked myself how the fuck did i end up in this or that situation and i knew the answer. it was clear.

buck o’neil is 94 years old and so full of life its not fair. he was born Black in America at a time when Blacks weren’t allowed to play in the “major leagues” so he played in the negro leagues, which many say, at the time, was the better league.

buck o’neil was so good that even though he was batting .355 against the best Black pitchers in the negro leagues, the owner named him to be manager of the team. so he had to play and manage. but Buck didnt care. he knew life wasnt fair. and he knew it wasnt fair that some people had to work in factories or on farms and there he was “having” to play baseball and “manage” freewheelers like Satchel Paige and Josh Gibson.

because life isnt fair Major League Baseball decided to form a committe to vote on 39 negro league players coaches and owners for acceptance into the Hall of Fame. it was a simple yes or no vote for all 39, meaning all 39 could get in if enough people voted yes for each of them.

17 were voted in but because life isnt fair Buck O’Neil wasnt one of them, despite being one of the top 10 negro league players of all time, despite being major league baseball’s first Black coach, despite being one of the most talented scouts in baseball helping the Cubs discover and sign hall of famers Ernie Banks, Billy Williams, and even Sammy Sosa.

Buck O’Neil is so intertwined with the Negro Leagues that he helped build the Negro League Baseball Museum in Kansas City where he delivered these words on Monday when it was announced that he would not be placed in the Hall.

“God’s been good to me, You can see that, can’t you? It didn’t happen. They didn’t think Buck was good enough to be in the Hall of Fame. That’s the way they thought about it and that’s the way it is, so we’re going to live with that. Now, if I’m a hall-of-famer for you, that’s all right with me. Just keep loving old Buck.

“Don’t shed any tears ’cause I’m not going to the Hall of Fame.

“You think about this. Here I am, the grandson of a slave. And here the whole world was excited about whether I was going into the Hall of Fame or not. We’ve come a long ways. Before, we never even thought about anything like that. America, you’ve really grown and you’re still growing.”

baseball historian Matt Welch calls O’Neil a saint and I couldnt think of a better word. in a week where the Sex Pistols told the rock n roll Hall of Fame that it was a piss stain unworthy of the punk band, O’Neil is the polar opposite. hes the gold standard of class.

Cuban infielder for the crosstown White Sox, Minnie Minosa, the only other living Negro League hopeful also didn’t get enough votes to get in the hall, despite being a 7-time mlb all-star and the only major leaguer to play in five decades. Orlando Cepeda once wrote “Minnie is to Latin players what Jackie Robinson is to black players.”

So which gold standard people of color made it into the Hall instead of Buck and Minnie? Well, among the 17 who were ushered in during this special election to honor negro league stars to make up for life not being fair – were two whites!

Keith Oberman described it perfectly in his blog:

Snubbing Minoso and O’Neill — apparently for all time — is extraordinary enough. But only baseball could make it worse. In honoring the Negro Leagues — it managed to exclude O’Neill and Minoso — but did elect two white people.

James Leslie Wilkinson was the founder of those Kansas City Monarchs — Jackie Robinson’s team before he broke the color barrier with the Brooklyn Dodgers. Wilkinson was a white businessman. And today’s election also made a Hall of Famer out of Effa Manley… She was the owner of the Newark Eagles of the Negro American League. It sounds almost impossible to believe — but she too was white — married to a black man — and she pretended to be — as the term was, then, “passed” — as a light-skinned black.

Most of the 17 electees yesterday were entirely deserving. Such legendary figures as Sol White and Biz Mackey and Jose Mendez will achieve in death and in the Hall of Fame something they were denied in life. Just to twist the knife a little further into Buck O’Neil, the special committee elected Alex Pompez, owner of the New York Cubans team… Also an organized crime figure… Part of the mob of the infamous ’30s gangster Dutch Schultz… Indicted in this country and Mexico for racketeering.

so crime pays, faking being Black pays, but truly being Black and truly carrying the flag for negro league baseball gets you diddly in regards to the baseball hall of fame, which still refuses to allow even a vote to see if the game’s greatest hitter can be inducted.

its starting to look like theres another piss stain next to the rock n roll hall of fame, it’s called Cooperstown.

tony quickly before black history month ends one legitmate question/comment:

Do you think acknowledging Jackie Robinson’s inclusion into MLB downgrades the real afro-american that broke the colour line: Jack Johnson?

When JJ won the Heavy weight title boxing was a WORLD sport and widely recognised as the most important prize in sport (I still believe it is today given it’s indivdual effort)- more importantly he faced greater resistance and the win litterally sparked riots across the country.

SO before we wrap up this month I’d like to toss my useless hat into the ring and contest that JJ broke the colour line – not the very honourable, but overblown accomplishment, of JR.

Dear Pitt,

i understand where you’re coming from. however, Black men have been beating the fuck out of white men from day one. it’s one reason racists dont want equality between the races, because in a fair competition, like that of two men in the square circle, the Black man will usually prevail.

so is a boxing match between a Black man and a white man where the Black wins some sort of tipping point? hell no. especially in comparison to Jackie Robinson’s acheivement.

Jackie wasnt allowed to fight back. he wasnt allowed to even talk shit back to all the naysayers and racists who were hating on him.

he had to suck it up, take it, and prove it on the field, in the basepaths, and at the plate.

and he had to do this year after year after year.

give most Black men 12 three-minute rounds with their worst adversary and they’d gladly beat the shit out of the figurative and literal epitome of their torment for an hour and call it a night.

jackie robinson went years as an all-star on the field before he was allowed by Branch Rickey to tell a heckler, an opposing player, or a racist repoter to go fuck himself.

to me that restraint superceeds athleticism or even courage, and ascends into heroism because it was unparrelled in the history of sport.

no disrespect to jack johnson but on any given day im sure they could have rounded up any number of Black men who could have beaten the crap out of whatever great white hope was being paraded around as the champion of the world, but there are very few men of any race who could have done what jackie robinson did which is why his number was rightfully retired from every team in major league baseball, not just the dodgers.

pitt + neil + ureshiidesu + chad

Hey Tony,

I know you’re not dear Abby or anything but as a sexy guy who tells it like it is (within the guise of ‘everything here is untrue’) I’m hoping you could help a girl out…

My friend with benefits is into the nurse fantasy thing. I wanna surprise him with sexy things to say / do without asking him what he’d like. Besides examining him and maybe asking him to say ‘aww’ or strapping him to the bed with rubbber tubing I’m sort of at a loss of things to do besides our regular hot sex stuff. Does this nurse thing do anything for ya? And what would you want if it was you being surprised?

Feel free to ignore this/delete this comment if you’re put off by my request. And sorry if that is the case. I promise I won’t ask anything like this again.

PS: Love the blog & welcome back from Europe

– Suddenly a tad more shy

Dear Suddenly,

you’re right im not dear abby, shes got a deeper voice.

yes the nurse thing works for me. men are visual beasts so pretty much any costume or outfit will do the trick as long as its accompanied by stockings + lingerie + uncomfortable shoes.

so make sure you have all of those and the hat and the gloves and the accessories. but also know that there are other senses that men will respond to.

while in amsterdam i got to spend a little time with a woman who was a runner up for miss holland. to kid her i called her miss amsterdam. she didnt win the contest because she was a little too punk rock. meaning she loved to dye her hair different colors, she had some well hidden but superhot tattoos, and she liked to practice lets say alternative hobbies.

but what i will always remember the most is the smell of her hair. as silly as that is. something about the dye in her locks was totally different than the au natural hippie chicks ive been getting down with here in LA. maybe she had just had it done, maybe they didnt wash it out right, whatever it was i will always remember it.

which isnt to say that sweet aromas wont work, of course they will. perfumes, lotions, fragrances of all sorts will stay in your mans mind if you do it right.

then theres our ears. music is the food of the gods so rock on. have something new on the jukebox. something smooth, but something that you can move to. in the seduction theres a rhythm, a beat. when you have a beat you can improvise on it, you can hold the note for two beats, you can move quicker along the page, you can pause a beat. people talk shit about eurodisco but miss amsterdam kept that shit on the beat, till she got flipped over.

yes nurses do it for me but im more into the plaid skirt outfit or stewardess or upperclass bitch or cheerleader vibe. nurses make me nervous because where theres a nurse being sweet to me theres a doctor around the corner waiting to shove his finger up my ass. your boy doesnt seem to have these issues, but if he did you might want to introduce a second nurse to calm his nerves.

back to the ears. what to say? say everything. but when you say it whisper it. dont try to say things sexy. just say it. say it a little pissed off if you want.

“sick again, huh?”

even with a friend with benefits, when youre in bed you need to practice communicating. so say whats in your mind. say whats in your heart. say whats in the dirty part of your heart. and dont forget to lie and tell him how big it is.

once upon a time i dated a famous tennis star. she loved the nurse thing because she was always injured and the only way she could deal with the endless time in the hospital was to fantasize. and let me tell you, this girl loved to role play.

one day i came home and she was waiting for me. she was sitting on my chair. my fucking chair. but as soon as i got in she hopped up and said “mr pierce you werent supposed to leave your room! im so glad you came back! please lets get you undressed so i can see if your fever has grown worse!”

and she undressed me and she put me in a hospital gown (which are super easy to find) and laid me in my bed. because she was rich and had lots of time on her hands she had the greatest accessories. first she took my temperature. i thought it was gay but it turned her on. if i touched her she slapped my hand away and said mr pierce! the fun is to see how long you can not touch each other. dont ever forget that.

so she reached into her bag and she said your temperature is very bad, we might have to operate. fantasies dont need to make sense. she said i will give you the anestesia. and she dipped into her bag and pulled out a can of whipped cream, put the top in my mouth and pressed gently on the tip so as to only let the nitrous escape.

then she licked some of the cream off the top while looking at me.

on the beat.

then she put her hand on my head and said i was still burning up, that i needed some more anestesia. because she was slightly insane i was totally expecting a shot of demorol or something bizzarre but she rolled me a joint as we had just passed the medical marijuana bill here in cali. this actually did mellow me out and she was ready to prepare me for the operation.

which began with a striptease and ended with her wearing only garters shoes and her little hat.

at which point i jumped her, knocked over the stereo, and rewarded her for her creativity and generosity.

shyness is nice, but shyness can stop you from doing all the things in life you want to

thought mechanics pieces + yesterday’s buzzblog + wil in exile + top photo via laist

you really need to stop ignoring me.

like don knotts im a zillion years old and i dont have that many dance moves left in me but the ones ive got are far better than what i know youre holding out for and you might ask how i know and trust me, i know.

ive been around the block a few times baby and the last time i was around the block you were there and if memory serves you were the one who was all shit its tony pierce and correct me if im wrong but i lived up to the hype.

im not going to be around forever and im not going to be sending you emails every 7-10 days and im not going to write blog posts all the time to your ass and im not going to sit here and watch the wheels go round and round waiting for you to realize that your boy is humming good charlotte and im whispering the ghost in you, and if you think im gonna do this forever you need to get it that angels

fall

like rain.

miss amsterdam was an angel, just a girl is an angel, miss amsterdams roommate is a devil and thats fun sometimes and the worst thing a boy can do is say hes not too proud to beg and the second worst thing is to look like hes beggin. i aint beggin. im looking at this situation and im trying to make the best of it. in a past life i was a doctor in the xbi. and sometimes if a bullet hits a superagent and he walks around with it like a stud and it gets infected what you have to do is cut the crap around it, clean the wound and allow nature to run its course.

ignoring me is fighting nature and fighting nature is pretending that theres nothing eating away in you, pretending that theres nothing unclean in you, faking that there isnt a better way other than the same old same old.

i wrote you an email and you didnt respond and i hate that. we had a beautiful time at boardwalk in venice beach and you know it. i promised not to take pictures or write about it so your brother wouldnt find out and if this is how you repay a man who’s lived up to his side of the bargain, well, thats not really acting like the angel i know you can be.

im getting bored even thinking about it.

write me back or return my hat cuz i know you have it.

even if i barfed in it, even if i sexxed in it, even if didnt do anything but take a load off and watched tv in it.

every room has a personality and a quirk and even though right now its sharing new memories with its new guest, i hope it remembers some of the things that i brought to it while i stayed there.

sometimes when i travel i want to travel forever. the success of walking around a large semi circle and then back to the hotel brings a cocky confidence that makes me believe i could do this anywhere. but then trying to say a square’s name to the tram conductor brings me right back to earth as i remember that i can barely speak english, im no world traveller.

and then i pop out of the LAX baggage claim and im hit with the mild temperatures of the city of angels and i drive my car and i wonder who has turned the heat up but the heat isnt on, im wearing a flannel and a jacket and then i remember im not in europe any more, im back in lala land where a man only needs one or the other in the winter, a jacket or a flannel, but not both.

and then i take that first long shower. hot shower. hot shower with a mix cd spinning for a girl who doesnt even wanna think about you. and i think about all the dead ends in this town and i wonder why i just dont try to figure out a way to just keep on moving and traveling and writing and taking some pictures. there are far worse people who get paid for that sort of thing.

and then i turn on my tivo and i say im so comfortable here, how can i leave. and the phone rings and the door bells and the emails pour in, and people know im back and its nice. its really nice. its like they noticed i wasnt here. its like they could tell that my third favorite city was handed to me on a silver platter and i ate it all up and licked the thing clean.

people took pictures of me in compromising positions. people wrote blog posts about how nice it was to meet me. people wrote emails with even more private photos and even though the detroit free press thinks that blogs have reached their peak lemme tell you something, i just got treated like a fucking rockstar because of blogging and im talking about more than just an airplane trip and a room, and my alexa number isnt worth shit, as if alexa means shit.

if andy warhol had been around during blogging he would have upped his number regarding fame by at least a half hour because you dont ever have to get on tv to have people laugh at your dumb jokes and thats not really the definition of fame but its what we’ll work with right now because my jokes are not always funny but on the road everyone laughs.

and the girls on the road are always better than you dream about. paige wrote last week that she thinks about sex when shes bored and when i was in college i never thought id meet miss amsterdam let alone touch her. and i never thought any black girls would get on an hour long train ride to meet me, let alone a young man who looks like tom cruise’s brother.

a dude wrote me from england saying that he was going to spend the night across channel so he could meet me and i told him to save his money, that i wasnt worth it. but people dont leave disappointed.

it sorta makes me wish id barfed on a boat for them so they could have had something to tell their friends about.

but dont worry pallies. tony pierce will be back in your town again. and he will try to kiss as many pretty girls as you throw in front of him. and he will drink down all your beers and dance at your bad music. but please dont take offense if he dont smoke your weed mixed with xyz. which doesnt mean he might not get sick next to your canal. it just might be at 3am instead of 2am.

i dont understand this life that i have. it isnt bad. its very weird. its like after years of saying, why is that asshole able to go off and do that instead of me, suddenly im the asshole. which is why i never forget how it used to be, which is why i try so much harder to earn whatever this is that im getting.

bad cops in FLA + so sweet it made me weep + me and JaG’s chest

and especially in europe. everyones got a country code. you never know if you need a zero or a one to begin the thing. so if a pretty girl says she’ll join you on a stroll down the red light district but gives you a phone number with an icelandic country code, you shouldnt be surprised if it takes you a while to get through to her.

but because this has been the strangest month ive ever had, i did get through to her and we did stroll down the red light district last night at not two am but closer to three am.

heres the problem with the red light district and why you shouldnt go there late at night. its not that youre going to get robbed. its youre going to be tempted.

im an old man. thats been established. so it takes a little more to get my intrests peaked, so to speak. fuckin thing about the red light district is they have that little extra to get you going.

in the daytime you can sorta pretend that youre just taking a shortcut through that little walkway on your way home but at night, late at night, who you kidding.

so these girls are from everywhere. they all look totally different. they all look hot. and theyre right on the other side of the glass. lord knows who this icelandic chick is, and you have enough money in your pocket for whatever goes down and some drinks afterwards.

and it was damn cold out there so when this long haired tomboy knocked on her window with a handcuff looking like avril lavigne’s twin sister i do have to say that i was tempted.

clearly she needed someone to help her remove that handcuff.

tonight if you havent heard we’re having a Buzznet Meetup so if youre in town, come on down to ‘t Arendsnest

‘t Arendsnest is at Herengracht 90, 1015BS, Amsterdam.

8pm which is 20:00 oclock if youre scoring at home

but if youre scoring at home i guess i wont see you at the bar.

photo by bicycle mark

and the rijksmuseum and i learned a few things

namely van gogh never wanted to be known as van gogh he wanted to be known as vincent

he never signed anything van gogh and yet thats how we refer to him thats how we know him,

thats even what they named the definitive museum in his honor.

all i gotta say is, if when i die you want to call me

van gogh

go right ahead.

i also learned that the crazier you are the better your art.

i looked at van goghs paintings and i was all, who wouldnt of bought that?

were the prices too high?

then over at the rijksmuseum i learned that rembrant ended up broke even though he was painting the night watch to get those ends.

i also learned about a wacky dude who was doing some worthy stuff was Caravaggio.

in one that i remember this young woman who looks awfully just like scarlett johannson is cutting the head off a sleeping man while an old woman looks on happilly in the apparently very cold room.

they had that dudes work right up next to rembrant and it was a very nice comparison, lemme tell you. worth the extra 10 euro to get in there.

afterwards brain flemming, john americablog, bicyclemark and i had a nice drink at the swanky american hotel. i saw two beautiful young ladies there having a cute little drink and i kept looking over and as we were about to leave i asked

do you ladies have any dinner plans this evening?

they blushed and said yes.

and i was all cancel em.

i was all, how you say reschedule in dutch? como see deecay.

i wonder if they would have really gone dutch on our dutch date?

i should have told them id pay, being american, clearly american since there we all were in the american cafe at the american hotel.

tomorrow i get to meet Just A Girl everyones favorite black bisexual dutch blogger, who doesnt show her face on her blog.

in a few of her buzznet pics you get to see her face but maybe im just imagining that, who knows. here in amsterdam things get fuzzy. have i mentioned that its buttcold? yeah. fortunately there was a hot chick convention at the van gogh that warmed everyones spirits so much so that i ate a hot dog outside before my little bike ride over to led zeppelin square.

then we ate thai which was really good and then i rode my girls bike home (pictured, above) and passed out.

now its two am and im wondering if i should head down the block which is the start of the red light district and tell you what the red light district is like at 2am on a friday night.

lookin as pretty as me.

todays pictures

i hope im not boring you.

today i woke up early (11am) to go to museums.

two hours later im still in my room. i did this when i was in maui too.