leaky worse than the oroville dam

they say that people don’t trust the media right now and i say thats fake news.

people know that fox news and breitbart and bill oreilly and rush limbaugh and all that is bullshit.

they just like to be stroked every now and then.

it must be seriously hard to be told every day that you support a racist lying fascist not-really billionaire and you were an imbecile for voting for him.

so instead you watch the fiction station like it was pro wrestling and after a while you get into it.

whats weird about living right now is i only know of one tv station that isn’t demolishing the president of the united states at every chance possible.

bush cheney was a fucking nightmare but they weren’t barraged like whats happening to trump.

for some reason the press held back to their nonsense. they lied right to our faces like we’re being lied to now, but maybe it’s the frequency of todays bullshit that made the press say oh hell no.

maybe its the fact that they were shocked that they didn’t predict his popularity. no one likes to feel dumb. not even the press. how could this walking Id just waltz into the most cherished position in the world and wipe his ass with it without nary a one member of the critical press shouting MALARKEY from the highest rooftop?

but now they are shouting. and shit is starting to crumble. and it is beautiful. and the fake news can hit its audience over the head with a folding chair but the jig is up. the white house is in bed with the russians and the first traitor was outted today. weirdly not because he was a dirty lying bastard, but because he omg embarrassed the vice president.

its like the mafia. they were never busted for murder or gambling or rum running, it was always for not paying taxes on their ill begotten gains.

todays double agents will be canned for making the  former talk show host who as governor believed in electrocuting gay people LOOK BAD

the vp would be smart to keep the prying eyes of the press away from his dirty laundry because something tells me theres something in there so funky, and it’s the reason the GOP hand picked him to be an impeachment away from the oval, and it isn’t his genius ideas about taxes.

hello from the other side

i ran into some racism growing up in the sticks outside of Chicago but thats not why i flew to LA the day after high school graduation.

i came here for the weather and the pretty girls and a fresh start.

they say you are capable of completely changing every seven years and they say that lots of people do it.

even though i was popular in school and had lots of good friends, i knew from visiting california in the summers that there was something here that was me that would be very difficult to fulfill in the midwest.

there is a drive here. a spirit of creativity, acceptance, freedom.

now 33 years removed it shocks me sometimes to read the things i do on facebook from the people i went to high school with.

the racism is out of control, not to mention the fear and hate and absolute close mindedness.

where did it come from? why does it fester?

we see it so clearly in and around St Louis and gradually now in Wisconsin and Indiana but Sweet Home Chicago?

and why isn’t it here? i know in the 70s and 80s the gangs in South Central were serious business, all based on race

but maybe that was just a totally different thing.

of course theres racism here too but it’s more “i will Not buy a house in Inglewood, Mandy.”

not “omg please don’t ask me to take yoga from Jamaal again.”

i think the secret might be in the stirring of the pot.

in the midwest everyone pretty much stays in the same neighborhoods and area codes.

in the west people are moving in, moving out, swirling and mixing.

especially when you’re young, if you meet a group of people and you call women “girls” or “gals” or “bitches” thinking you’re funny you will get pushback reminding you that you are not funny and if you wish to be funny, make some, you know jokes. real jokes.

but if you grew up with a crowd and you say dumb shit, they’ll let it slide because thats how the tribe survives – you can’t eat your own, you adapt TO THEM not to the whole wide world.

but in the swirling pot of the west you have to adapt to the whole wide world because you want to get along with your neighbor, your boss, your new friends, and that hot babe across the table from you who is from a totally different country entirely.

and so you learn that certain words are unacceptable, but better, that certain ways of thought will stop you from getting laid.

rightfully.

if you wanna be some narrowminded racist sexist modern day archie bunker AND get laid, you might be able to find a small portion of hot babes who will tolerate that sort of nonsense but the world will not be your oyster.

because the world, in general, does know the deal.

and the deal is racism and being a fucking dumbshit is for another time

and another place.

namely the past and not here.

here is the place where new ideas sprout up and solve old problems.

here is the place where i want to swirl the best of what ive got

with the best of what youve got and i dont mean surfacey bullshit things

but things pertaining to the soul

as a starting point.

when i get depressed it is when i start thinking that i have not lived up to the great potential that i dove into when i moved here

and im not living up to what i am capable of.

i know i am no longer slacker from the sticks.

and it’s liberating to know there is nothing here to hold me back

but it’s also frightening because then why are you still back.

why arent you front.

why am i not front.

leading the way.

or even close to the light.

and thats when i appreciate the supportive words of the enlightened who say

your concepts about front back darkness and light

are old

and wrong.

do better.

which is what i almost always need to hear.

today i tried some slow cooking

i bought a whole chicken

some baby carrots, celery, potatoes, peas, everything you need.

i put it in the pot.

jeanine had left behind some slo cook junk-in-a-bag

poured that in.

all night i stirred and tasted it.

it needed salt. so much salt.

was thinking about putting some bacon in there. but i eat so much bacon anyways.

this morning i woke up and voila

it had turned into cupcakes.

chewy, delicious, rocky road cupcakes.

i fucking love them.

long live cooking.

now i see what all the fuss is about.

my only problem is i didnt have any real containers to put them in because i had made soooooo many.

so i got a garbage bag and dumped them in there.

and now i have two bags full.

i will go to this spot under the freeway where the homeless are.

i will hand them to the poor.

as we all should.

and i will share.

thanks cooking!

this pretty girl was all omg i would love you so hard if you let me

and i was all listen

if you knew me even a little youd know that the only reason anyone is even slightly interested in busblog is because this entire thing is an illusion

palm trees in winter

warm winds before the oscars

fantasy island baby da plane da plane

im here for one reason and one reason only and its not to be married five kids ranch home in the valley mini van key party

panic room

i am here to take you to the rock show once in a blue moon and

watch shooting stars in the back seat maybe

May

be.

the first fifty years was about saving the world

the next fifty is about writing books.

this was always the plan.

bukowski didnt hit till after 50 and even then he wasn’t super happy. he was pretty happy but not super happy and unlike him i wanna be super happy. i know im not as handsome as he was or as tough or even as talented but im not a drunk im not wild

and best of all im black so i dont crack.

she was not happy with this response.

i could tell because this morning she returned the cheerleader outfit, hot pants, and headdress.

strangely she kept the shoes.

 

took an uber to see the doctor yesterday

i didnt drive cuz i was all dopey on all the Benadryl and rum i was using to make my cough and headache STFU

when the driver found himself in a little traffic i noticed that i was gonna be about 10 minutes tardy so i called the doctors office to alert them

“oh tony no one called you?”

called me?

“yes the doctor had to go to home around lunchtime.”

apparently he was sick too.

“we can reschedule you for friday if you like.”

this is the thing about the xbi. they dont want you to get well. and for sure they dont want you using non-xbi doctors.

the REASON you’re sick is because either they poisoned you

or they are experimenting with sound waves or mites

or food allergies or lsd microdoses.

will they tell you they are using you as a guinea pig?

no.

will they apologize? or send you a remedy via sexy delivery service?

ha!

they make YOU figure it out. they make YOU suffer. they give you the worst headaches youve ever had in your life. because it is their belief that if you think you are going to die, you, their pride and joy, YOU will find the cure and when you do they will in turn benefit.

so theres one of two things you can do: die or fight.

ive seen agents just give up and jump off the rocks into the mexican riviera. and all the xbi will ever say is well he proved he was no longer worth our time and effort.

and then theres morons like me who curl up with blankets and capt morgan and let the poison do its magic which those bastards love because they can see and they can learn and they can scribble their notes and even though I havent been one of theirs for years suddenly i am working for them in this capacity and its disgusting.

but i do know some things that they dont like. they dont like me fat. which is why i only eat at drive thrus and never work out. they dont like me single, which is why i havent dated seriously in a long time. and they dont like me writing about them which is why the busblog is my favorite f you.

who will have the last laugh?

mcdonalds, probs.

until then i hope my doc recovers because hes a good man and doesnt deserve this.

i get it, no one wants to have their good thing taken away

everyone likes to stroll into the Super Walmart with their sweetie all duded up on a Saturday night

everyone likes to think, i could buy whatever i want and not have to look at my account balance first

everyone likes to know the milk wont be sour and the avocados will be nearly ripe

and the people who are working there are

acceptable

to me an my friends.

america isnt that different than most places. we get comfortable in our little routines and after a while we resist change.

i hate that the record stores have left Westwood, it ticks me off when rock clubs shut down, and if theres one thing that makes me crazy it’s not knowing any of the fucking bands i see on the marquee of the Wiltern. so i can understand why others dont like it when their neighborhoods “change”.

but no matter what the world famous busblog thinks or wants, those marquees keep moving. names i aint never heard of end up on there and sometimes they play for omg three four nights in a row.

sting can barely sell out the palladium but some dipshit dj can sell it out all week and you know what, the answer isnt to fuck up their shit, it’s on me to adjust.

i thought i was good at this hockey game ive been playing for the last little while so i got cocky and went online to play against some stranger, knowing full well it would be some little kid and sure enough the little kid whipped my ass.

sometimes we need our ass whipped. sometimes we need to know that our neighbors dont want hope and change they want fear and rewind. sometimes we need to get sick so we can vomit up all the dank resin in our dangly bits.

it’s just weird that we’re all sick after just 12 days of this shit.

every day i write the book

today i woke up sicker than the day before.

i didnt wanna be on the computer. i didnt wanna lay down. i didnt wanna fight crime. i didnt wanna walk in the rain.

i wanted to clean. i felt gross. i am gross. im fat and hairy and disgusting.

my phone battery wont charge all the way. its these chords. these cheap cords.

my back hurts. i have a broom stick i use to play air guitar sometimes. i put it behind my back and roll it on my back and it works for a few minutes. i shower. i scrub

i was listening to lena dunam get interviewed by howard stern while i scrubbed my dull dough and i blew my nose like farmers do. like football players. like mountain men.

and i started bleeding.

the maroon blood drops mixed with my grimey shower water and i thought i could die right here and people would think i was a coke head

let the record state that i dont even like cocaine. i did crystal once at ucsb to stay up to read moby dick before a final and even then i was all wtf this is stupid. so if you do cut me up on my death bed and theres coke in my system it was Putin!

one of the best things about my mom is she studied russian in college to show off. she knows about things.

i was super sad when i realized i was not gonna be able to make it to the Nominees Luncheon today

and at the bottom of the sadness i checked my mail and my mom had sent me a calendar of the Cubs.

made everything better.

turns out my whole work is sick too.

if i have to host the Oscars get ready for some unbelieveable ratings.