the superstars were out last night in hollywood

did you see them? there was winona and dorothy, spiderman and heidi, anna nicole and bobby trendy, there were sluts and pimps, 80s chicks and 60s mods.

everyone drove their silver shifters to the lava lounge on labrea last night to take in the dulcet sounds of americas number one rock group tsar.

and no one left disappointed.

basart and my attorney and shannon and this girl who works at the beverly hills starbucks met at el compadre for flaming moes and burritos pre show, then i picked up karisa and we jetted to the show and found tsar backstage drinking krystal and complaining because their m&m’s hadn’t been sorted.

the boys looked terrific and were gracious hosts as the backstage area slowly filled with the likes of moxie, ted danson, tv’s ed bagley jr., and jeweler to the stars, my exgirl jeanine.

moxie, by the way looked radiant, dressed in black, skin so elegantly pale that her blond locks glistened in comparasion under the stars of the backstage smoking area. is there anything cooler than a single girl arriving in a porsche and tossing the keys to the valet after they have opened the door?


the lava lounge isn’t built for rock history and im sure in the future people will look back at all hallows eve and say “how on earth did the mighty Tsar play such a teensy place like this?”

if any of you are old enough to remember the classic alex cox film Repo Man, theres a scene where the Circle Jerks are squeezed on a tiny stage in a small bar. crank up the heat, put witch hats on os and ali and jeanine and paolo and you might get the gist.

the lovely simone was there in a shirt that was ripped in all the right places and i wanted to look closer but no matter what i do theres still a catholic boy stuck in me so i blushed and ordered a pair of kamikazes for karisa and i.

many men dressed as ugly women bobbed their heads to the new tunes. i even saw a guy who dressed like the white stripes but did not look as good as i will look for he did the white shirt red pants thing which is way too easy. mine will be all red.

dylan was there trying to hide behind glasses and a fake beard but disguises don’t mean nothing we know who’s inside.

tsar played old tunes fast tunes, slow tunes.

because the lava lounge isn’t used to rock shows they made the boys keep it down which was like weird. i found myself uncomfortable hearing all the lyrics. as clever as they were i wanted more guitars, more noise, more feedback. more curtain less wizard. whalen was showing all his secrets and there are so many more sonic youth notes in a dan kern solo that were trapped in the marshall half stack restrained at 2 that all we heard were the major ones, which did the trick and impressed starbucks girl but so much depends on the red rockbarrell filled with fuck for the chickens.

give me decibels or give me death.

this was nearly an mtv unplugged event but i’ll take anything i can from these fine young fellows who i am proud to call my friends.

we all left drunk and happy and satisfied but wanting.

heidi walked outside, pulled a marlboro from behind a pigtail and dug around her bag and a pudgy spiderman tapped her shoulder and lit her up and we all drifted back to our mansions and penthouse suites happy little pollywogs, warm, buzzed, and giggly.


i took down the comments yesterday

and in came a bunch of fan mail. i took them down because the service i was using was having problems and that, in turn led to my page loading very slow.

thanks for hanging in there with me.

and thanks for writing all the nice letters.

lately i have been receiving a lot of love from the college girl demographic.

one young lady likes to write me erotic emails. you know who you are, and i love you.

thank you.

thank you so much.

thank you from the bottom of my heart.

if i was the wind i would find you and kiss you.

but i am ten times your age so i will just thank you in my blog.

another 18 yr old from usc wrote me to tell me that if i got the job from the la times that she would be my intern.

i told her that the la times would never hire me and even if they did she should intern for a real writer.

she replied with a photo of a girl, who, if it is her, is a knockout, and a message telling me “i don’t want to be an intern for someone else. i want to be an intern for you.”

oddly, i could use an intern. she could fact check my ass. copy edit. go through the email. give me story ideas that i could riff from. and find me pictures of our president trying to use binoculars, which are tricky devices.

and all the old posts in the archives are missing pictures. i would love an intern to put those pictures on my server so that they’d stay up forever. or in the meantime put new pictures up in their place.

ah, luxury.

but what would an intern want from me?

my knowledge?

i interned at mtv a long time ago. i worked for chris connelly’s movie show. he was super nice. i drove him somewhere because he didnt have a drivers liscense. i still dont think he does. i did learn a lot at mtv. i learned that you work your ass off over there.

the bush picture that is above was sent to me by a young girl who’s going to OU. is that oklahoma? i think so. who knows? i cant find that picture anywhere on Reuters. i suppose thats the liberal media again, suppressing a picture of our president being a dumbass. thank you kristin.

all reuters has of that day is the picture on the left.

busblog coming through for your asses, thanks to readers like you.

i also got an email from my former editor amy.

now some people think that i cannot be edited. that is so not true. if i respect someone i actually love being edited. im not 21 any more. i appreciate a second pair of eyes. a different point of view. an educated collaborator. i enjoy the editing process. im not attatched to anything that i write.

amy has mucho experience in the newspaper biz and even worked for she says that i have what it takes and she said that i shoulda linked to the times yesterday so they could see how much traffic i get.

times, i get about 600-1,000 readers a day.

dont be impressed or not impressed by traffic. if i wrote about the middle east all day i’d have twice as many readers. if i put porn on here i’d get 6 times the readers. the first photo essay that i did of anna kournikova got more hits than all of my photo essays put together because it was a discussion of anna’s alleged nude pictures in penthouse magazine.

it was a good photo essay, as good as any of the others. but it had naked pics. so guess what. all of the horny guys from around the world linked to it on their sites and on their message boards, and blogs, and sent emails to each other linking to it.

i got 2 million hits in 2 days. 3 million in 4 days. in fact if you type in “anna kournikova nude” into google my sixth month old photo essay is currently holding steady at number four on the list.

those hits don’t mean that i was a good writer. it means that everyone wanted to see if penthouse really had nude pics of tennis’s sexiest female player.

be impressed that a blog of a guy with no money no car no girlfriend and a thankless job can get a thousand people a day to his blog despite the fact that he interviews escalators and kisses no one’s ass on the blogosphere.

im impressed by that thousand. im impressed that people will read something that isnt xrated or news-related, or scandelous, and probably not even true.

i want the times or whoever wants me to be their blogger to hire me because i write well and i have an imagination and the ability to bust a rhyme or tell a good joke in the middle of a narritive. i want them to hire me because i’m not like everyone else and because i can see this city in a different way, a positive way.

perhaps i still have a bit of the 21 year idealism in me. sue me.

amy also sent me a book yesterday called It’s Not Carpal Syndrome. i know what i have is repetitive stress. and not from writing this blog but from doing the job that i will soon be transfered away.

but whatever it is is killing me right now.

so thanks for all your cards and letters and books.

thanks for saying that you’d be part of a letter-writing campaign on my behalf.

thanks for telling me all your secrets and telling me that you’d work for me for free.

right now i just want you to be happy in your lives and keep reading my page.

i dont want to convince anyone of anything. i would prefer them to make their decisions on their own.

happy halloween,



tony pierce!

jam master jay?

yup yup.

but, aren’t you dead?

gone but not forgotten, my young brotha.

yeah, me and karisa were driving to the tsar show last night and we heard it on the news.

we all go sometimes, yesterday was my day. it’s all good.

wow, jam master jay, you’re sure taking this well.

bro, i’m cold chillin in heaven right now. i just had a tequila sunrise with jimi hendrix.

but you were in the studio making a new record!

lets keep it real. no one really cared about us after “raising hell.”

i bought “tougher than leather.”

and when was the last time you listened to it?

good point.

we were the kings of rap. then the beastie boys came up, cool j, then gangsta rap and we were through. at least we had our day in the sun, and people know who made the first crossover: dmc.

“walk this way” was brilliant.

gotta give it up to rick rubin and aerosmith for that too, you know.

some would say that that collaboration is what helped aerosmith’s comeback.

we both helped each other. we needed a big hit, we loved their records. it was a perfect match. sorta like you and this blog.

what’s heaven like, jay?

great music everywhere. you get to fly. everything’s edible. you dont have to poop. that blew me away. no pooping, unless you want to, but you dont really need to. when you do it turns into a fruit cake and sinks down to earth.


lots of good pinball machines. swimming pools. movie stars.

do they play rap up there.

okay, theres a big escalator. then you get off it and theres a big tram. then theres a ski lift. then theres a helicopter ride. then theres a flying bus. then theres a 747. and on the way up you get to meet people from lots of other worlds. planets other than earth. the whole time youre singing cuz you’re going to heaven and everyone knows it. and the weirdest thing happens. you can remember all the lyrics to all the songs you’ve ever heard. and when people recognized me, everyone started singing run-dmc tunes.

with no shoe strings in em

i did not win em

i bought em off the Ave with the tags still in em

i like to sport em

that’s why I bought em

a sucker tried to steal em

so I caught em

and I thwart em

and I walk down the street and I bop to the beat

with Lee on my legs and adidas on my feet

we’ll miss you jam master jay.

no you wont. our music will live forever.

say hi to kurt cobain for me.

he’s right here, we’re playing ms. pacman. they have cocktail angels that give you free quarters for the machines. kurt is throwing you the peace sign.

okay, well so long, jam master jay.

up here you dont say that.

what do you say?


aloha, jay.

aloha, tony.

kool keith

Jam Master Jay

Kick off shoes jump on the jock

Listen to the Jam Master as he starts to rock

His name is Jay and he’s on his way

To be the best DJ in the US of A

J a y are the letters of his name

Cutting and scratching are the aspects of his game

So check out the Master as he cuts these jams

And look at us with the mics in our hands

Then take a count 1 2 3

Jam Master Jay Run D.M.C.

He’s Jam Master Jay the big beat blaster

He gets better cause he knows he has to

In ’84 he’ll be a little faster

And only practice makes a real Jam Master

We’re live as can be but we’re not singing the blues

We got to tell all y’all the good news

The good news is that there is a crew

Not 5, not 4, not 3, just 2

2 MC’s who are claiming the fame

And all other things won’t be the same

Beacause it’s about time for a brand new group

Run-D.M.C. to put you up on the scoop

We make the fly girls scream in ecstacy

We rock the freshest rhymes at a party

We put all the fellas in a daze

It’s everyone that we amaze

And we got the master of a disco scratch

There’s not a break that he can’t catch

Jam Master Jay that is his name

And all wild DJ’s he will tame

Behind the turntables is where he stands

Then there is the movement of his hands

So when asked who’s the best, y’all should say:

“Run-D.M.C. and Jam Master Jay”

Jam Master Jay is the one in charge

It’s up to him to rock beats that are truly large

He is the master of the scratch and cut

So move your arms, so move your legs

So won’t you move your butt

We’re not talking ground, we’re not talking sky

We’re not talking low, we’re not talking high

We’re not talking big, we’re not talking small

We want all of the people on off the wall

We’re not talking night, we’re not talking day

But we’re talking bout Jam Master Jay

– originally on the self titled debut “Run-DMC”