don’t you get any bad notes or emails from people?

i say, yeah, i just delete them.

she says what about the bad things that people might say about you on other sites?

i say, theres two voices in your head at all times. theres the angel part of you that says, “you can do it. you’re so good. go for it.”

and theres the devil part that says, “you suck so bad you shouldnt even try.”

in my investigation of evil, i think that the purest evil is that little part of your brain that convinces us that we cannot accomplish our goals – as little or as big as they might get. and one way that we can stop that part from growing is to quit listening to the outside forces of negativity.

kirsten says, “so i shouldnt read any of the bad reviews that will come friday when my new movie opens?”

i say, “from losers who have made a career out of retelling plots and giving away the endings of movies? uh, no.”

kirsten says, “but what if they’re right?”

i say, “if they were so smart, they wouldnt be writing for the cleveland plain dealer or Good Morning America or whereever they get paid to comment on what Sam Raami did a year ago, they’d be making their own art. fuck the critics.”

kirsten says, “but you’re a critic.”

i say, “thats right, and when you turn 21 you will become eligible to fuck me. until then read Layne on FoxNews.com write about the anniversary of the LA Riots.”

kirsten says, “why hasn’t he told people on his site that that story is up there on Fox?”

i say, “beats me, probably drunk. or trying to get drunk. or hungover from getting drunk last night.”

kirsten says, “maybe he hasnt been able to get Internet access like what happen to the Welches.”

i say, “naw, probably drunk and snoring right now. probably hiccuping inbetween snores. probably so damn stinking drunk if you lit a match over his mouth you could use his blow hole like a pilot light. probably so smashed…”

kirsten says, “i get the point.”

but all she can do is ask me about the anna kournikova nudes in penthouse.

“are they real?” kirsten asked this morning after i sang her happy birthday. kirsten is an early riser and likes to enjoy tea on her patio and read the entire paper.

“of course they’re real,” i said, “shes barely a b-cup, how could they be fake?”

“the photos!” she said, “god!”

“oh, those, i dont know, i havent seen them yet.”

“aren’t you at all curious?” kirsten asked.

“there are many things that im curious about, but naked 20 year olds are now off my list.” i said and then consider my statement and conclude that i am a fool. it’s too late to retract them.

“what was that?” she asked.

“i said, its a bummer about the kings losing last night. i thought they could pull it off.”

“‘The photographs are so dissimilar to Miss Kournikova that anyone who knows her, when they see the photos, will immediately know that the magazine did it on purpose to exploit her and make some additional money,'” Kirsten read to me. This apparently was a statement from the tennis star’s lawyer.

“I wouldnt know anything about exploiting Anna,” I said.

“But you know what she looks like naked, right?” kirsten asked.

“That girl’s clothes leave very little to the imagination, and if you ask me clothes are way sexier, most the time, than a girl topless on the beach with a latin singer with a mole, that i think i prefer the photos that she has posed for,” i said.

“yes but are these photos real?” demanded kirsten.

“probably. she was caught topless sunbathing last year with her cousin. it’s no big deal, why are you so hung up on it?” i asked the swedish actress who has recently broken up with her leading man.

“im just scared they might do that to me one day.” she said.

“it’s just boobies.” i said. “and if you’re smart you’d tell Penthouse where you’ll be sunbathing, tell them to write you a check for a cool million, let them click away and then you look like the victim and they look like theyve got something fantastical. but basically everyone wins, including the teen boys.”

“sometimes tony,” kirsten said, stirring her tea, “i really love your mind.”

“oh, why thank you,” i said.

“and sometimes, i think you’re just a sad little twisted perv.” and thats how i started my day.

Halfway around the world in Croatia, Anna won her opening round match against Julia Vakulenko, ranked 118th in the world, in three sets.

this is the first time that anna has made it past the first round in a tournament. her next opponent in the Croatian Bol Ladies Open is Tina Pisnik of Slovenia who won the tournament two years ago.

tonypierce.com surpassed 300,000 hits this month! i think thats a lot.

the baby on the right has a tshirt from the babyhell section of tshirthell.com. they have some of the most outrageous tshirts ive ever seen. i feel guilty liking some of the shirts, they are so distasteful.

and yet they are the only ad that i place on this site.

friends of mine continue to write me, despite the fact that i dont write back. one good friend today said that he had a little extra money and he would help flow the Snoop Fund if i allowed friends to donate, but since i dont, he’ll think of another way to help me get the sweet ride from Cadillac.

well, heres two ways you can help, friends. any time you want a disgusting tshirt as a gift or for yourself, click the baby. i get $4 a tshirt. pretty nice.

and, any time you want to buy something at Amazon.com click the book or cd or dvd on the left hand column of this blog first.

i think they give me 3% or something. if you can remember, fine, if not, thats okay, im doing well.

my man kurt from hemr.net threw $5 into the Snoop Fund. Thanks, bro.

did everyone see nay’s new layout?

what about that thing on metafilter where they showed you what seats to ask for on planes for the most leg room?

the communication age, friends.

besides the newspaper, the web site will destroy the LA Times’s one too.

i forgot to tell you that at the party on friday the dude from eve 6 was there. it was a college kegger party and eve is there all tall and tattooed and his girlfriend is tall too and all i can recall is her hips were perfect for those new jeans and she wore them and they sat on the couch in front of the bigscreen, this was before one of the twins popped “Blondage 3” in the dvd.

what the LA Times needs to understand is that my kids will never have to deal with videocassettes. of all technology in my lifetime, i think that videotapes were the most loved. no one really talked about them, but for the most part, videos are reliable, reasonably priced, easy to use, easy to stack and store, and innocent of all sin.

and yet, the video tape will be replaced by a hard drive and the compact disc and/or dvd.

just like the Times will be replaced.

and if they survive, they will appear antiquated and lo-fi, charming and nostalgic.

old school and dignified.

but not good.

kitchy.

are you broken up with ashley.

i said, swear to God.

she said, you love her too much for that. plus you’ve been together for a year or some shit.

i said, why dont you just worry about Emeril.

she said, who?

i said, your boyfriend.

she said, i dont have a boyfriend.

i said, that mexican singer guy who’s dad used to–

she said, you mean Enrique?

i said, yeah, that dillweed.

she said, Enrique is not my boyfriend, and he’s sweet, shut up.

i said, ok, later.

she said, wait wait, come fly with me, lets go to tahoe.

i said, some of us work for a living.

she said, hahaha, you, work, that would be a change.

so i said, what would we do in tahoe?

she said, we’d drink.

i hand write my diary. but when i was a kid i used to write down how the cubs did at the end of each diary entry so that i could try to see if there would be a correlation between my day and the day the cubs had in our mutual quest for greatness.

so like if i was sad, id say “so…life sucks. god that teacher is a jerk. and to top it off people, cubs lost.”

one way that you know this isnt a diary is i dont compain on here. a diary is a great place to complain. great because you dont bother anyone else and you can use it for reference the next time you feel low.

one thing i loved about bukowski, he hardly ever seemed depressed. and he had a lot to be depressed about.

ok, its 335am, maybe i can fall asleep now.

layne linked to my LA Riots 10 Years after thing calling it a photo essay, but its only two pages long.

i met this guy at a party after the incredible Tsar show on friday. he said that he had read my blog and he suggested that im living a great life.

i said, i leave out all the bad parts.

and i make up a bunch of lies.

i will tell you though that at this party there was a keg, porn on the big screen that had perfect sound, and 90 per cent of the girls were really hot.

but that was friday.

today was sunday.

today the cubs lost both games of a double header.

it’s a semi secret show so only tell your closest friends.

but here’s the catch. its a super early bird special time.

apparently theres a certain record exec that wants to look the boys over before he hands them a wheelbarrow full of moola, and you know these characters, they go to bed early even though theyre in the rock and roll business, so when you go to the Dragonfly tonight, get there by 8:30 and definately not after 9pm or you’ll miss the best band in america as they play mostly new tunes.

It’s 21 and over unless you’re from Boston and you’re accompanied by your mom.

The Dragonfly is conveniently located at 6510 Santa Monica Blvd. in Hollywood.

On an entirely unrelated note, since no one bought it and since i got a bunch of emails about it, I have put Wizzy the wisdom tooth back on the auction block. Bid away DNA collectors and tooth lovers, and those looking for Lisa Lopes morgue photos in vivid color detail.

amoeba records held a sweet party of sorts, last night at 7pm, and the guest of honor was a half hour late. paul westerberg arrived fashionably late, took the stage. and when he did, he tripped and fell right on his pretty face.

and nothing had changed and all was good in the world.

amoeba was packed for the free show to launch the new westerberg double album released by Santa Monica indy label Vagrant. so packed that they had a line of people outside the cavernous record store allowing people to enter only if people left.

westerberg played an hour of material spanning his entire career from the painfully direct “unsatisfied” on 12 string acoustic, to some of his newest tunes on electric. the crowd shouted out requests and westerberg fired back self-effacing retorts.

“she’s applauding every time i hit the right chord. thank you.”

afterwards, those who chose to wait over an hour to have their cds signed and take pictures with the former Replacements front man, were treated to a very generous treat. westerberg took his time with each and every fan, taking pictures, and personally autographing whatever they placed in front of him.

i happened to have my super secret hand-written journal on me since i came to the record store right after work and i said, “would you mind signing my diary so i can put above it, ‘today i met Paul Westerberg’?” and he said, “well, what’s your name?”

and i said my name and he wrote:

Today I met Tony.

Paul Westerberg

and then i went outside and screamed like a girl.

Lisa “Left Eye” Lopes of the top selling female trio TLC was killed in a car crash in Honduras, her record company said early Friday.

Lopes, 31, was in Honduras for a vacation, Arista Records’ senior vice president of publicity Laura Swanson told The Associated Press. Lopes was reportedly among seven people in the car Thursday night and the only fatality.

“No words can possibly express the sorrow and sadness I feel for this most devastating loss,” said Arista president L.A. Reid, who helped shape the career of the popular Atlanta-based R&B group.

“Lisa was not only a gifted and talented musical inspiration, but more importantly, she was like a daughter to me. My thoughts and prayers are with Lisa’s family and friends. Her legacy will be remembered forever.”

The location of the car crash was not immediately determined.

TLC, which also includes Tionne “T-Boz” Watkins and Rozonda “Chilli” Thomas, were the Grammy-winning group behind such hits as “Waterfall,” “No Scrubs” and “Unpretty.” Their latest album was “FanMail.”

“We had all grown up together and were as close as a family,” the surviving bandmates said in a statement Friday. “Today we have truly lost our sister.”

TLC had recently been in the studio working on a new record � due to have been released this summer. Lopes had tried to release her own album last year called “Supernova” but the project was shelved.

In 1994, Lopes pleaded guilty to arson in a fire that destroyed the mansion of Altlanta Falcons receiver Andre Rison, her boyfriend. Lopes was sentenced to a halfway house and five years probation, plus a $10,000 fine.

Lopes admitted she started the fire after an argument with Rison. The mansion was valued at more than $1 million. The two said last year they planned to marry.

TLC sold millions of records since its first album debuted in 1992. But with success came turmoil. The trio declared bankruptcy a few years ago, citing poorly structured recording contracts.

Watkins was hospitalized several times, suffering from sickle cell anemia, a serious blood disease, and infighting among group members also was reported.

But in an interview with the AP in 2000, Watkins dismissed talk of a serious rift.

“With three women, you agree to disagree. I’m not always going to agree with Lisa and she’s not always going to agree with me, that’s fine,” she said.

Within in past few months, Lopes reportedly signed a solo deal with Suge Knight’s Death Row label to put out a solo project under the pseudonym, “N.I.N.A.” (New Identity Not Applicable). She also helped start the group “Blaque,” an R&B trio who had the hit “Bring It Home To Me.”

because they were – and are – totally awkward midwest genius hampered by insecutiries raw power sentiment booze drugs and genius.

they were punk when punk was dying.

they were metal without the lipstick.

they were the Strokes and the White Stripes long long long before those bands even learned their first Tom Petty chords.

they were a band that would be playing the most amazing cover song you ever heard and stop a quarter way through because they were bored, or they didnt know any more of it, or they were thirsty for another drink, or because they got pissed at each other, or because they were leaving the audience wanting more.

there is so much more that i wanted from the replacements and paul westerberg and on his new record, “stereo” we get a little more of what we loved in quite little tunes like “swinging party,” “androgynous,” and “achin to be.”

westerberg is back. it’s been a long long long time since ive gotten excited over one of his new records, but im excited about this one. so much so that i barely listen to it because i dont want to ruin it.

live, however, is a whole different story. im sure paul will bring the magic and excitement back to the stage like he did so many times even with below-average material like he had in the last years of the greatest rock band to come from minnesota – all du respect to the others.

if you are just discovering this fine musician, may i suggest starting off with “Tim” then heading over to “Let it Be” and then “Pleased To Meet Me.” and if you really love the Strokes, you will adore “Hootenanny,” lord knows the Strokes do.

and definately pick up his new cd “Stereo” that comes with a bonus cd of material from Grandpaboy, the rock music he made while going through his much publicized dark middle period.

rock and roll has some amazing stories to tell in its cold, heartless habit of creating stars and disposing of them. if i were to pick one person to write and sing those tales it would be paul westerberg and his see-through guitar.

this just in: Rivers Cuomo’s lust-interest, the only girl that i know who went to Prince’s garage sale when she covered pop music in the twin cities, yes, the chick who actually named the White Stripes the band of the year last year well before the hoopla, wrote in to add this to the PW love fiesta, her pal, and Paul’s pal, Jim Walsh, was given an exclusive interview which can be read here.

i realize it’s a dance, a game, a form of poetry, etc., but ultimately it seems to me that it’s way more about rich people staying rich or getting richer at the expense of the poor and the enviornment, but i guess that’s why they call me a liberal.

regardless, i like this picture because i’ve been emailing Saudi Crown Prince Abdullah for years to have him take a nice, kind picture and the other day he emailed me back saying that he was enjoying his visit to America and wondered if this photo was up to my standards.

yes, my friend, it is.

and i read Layne and Welch and Little Green Footballs all the time, and I know that the Prince isnt the most respected and loved by lots of those in the know, and I know that most of the Sept. 11 hijackers are Saudi, but i still like this picture. to me pictures say a million words.

if i were ever to start another website i would call it Rock Illustrated, and to the suprise of most, it would only have a few pictures of the boys and girls from my favorite genre of music, and it would have included this one.

pardon me, im still spacey as hell from the thundering pains that i experienced yesterday in my quest for pearly whites. im still slightly traumatised. so freaked that i wasnt able to put up a reasonable tribute to either of my two musical heroes Elvis Costello or Paul Westerberg.

if i had all the time in the world i would have had a great little photo essay on Westerberg today ending with this tidbit of info for all of you who reside in and around the city of angels: The former Replacements frontman will be playing tonight for free at 7pm at Ameoba Records in Hollywood.

Which should give us all enough time to run back to our homes and watch the Lakers dominate.

By the way, regardless of who ends up running Richard Riordan’s paper, they should definately call it The Daily Dick. They could have Dick of the Day, they could have Dick of the Week, Dick of the Month.

Very much in the spirit of Hustler’s “Asshole of the Month,” so i’ve been told.

My nomination for today’s Dick of the Day: the bitch ass morons who commute on my beloved Metro who, while riding the escalator, do not follow the only rule of escalating– pass on the left, ride on the right. TELL ME NO ONE EVER TAUGHT YOU THAT!

dicks.