Universal Music Group, 9/18/2001

Izzo

(Carter/Gordy/Mizell/Perren/Richards/West)

Ladies and gentlemen, put your hands together for the astonishing…

H to the izz-O…V to the izz-A…

Welcome ladies and gentlemen to the 8th wonder of the world

The flow o’ the century…oh it’s timeless…HOVE!

Thanks for comin’ out tonight

You coulda been anywhere in the world, but you’re here with me

I appreciate that…uuunnnh…

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

Fo’ shizzle my nizzle used to dribble down in VA

Was herbin’ em in the home o’ the terrapins

Got it dirt cheap for them

Plus if they was short wit’ cheese I would work wit’ them

Boy and we…got rid of that dirt for them

Wasn’t born hustlers I was burpin’ em

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

Fo’ sheezy my neezy keep my arms so greasy

Can’t leave rap alone the game needs me

Haters want me clapped and chromed it ain’t easy

Cops wanna knock me, D.A. wanna box me in

But somehow, I beat them charges like Rocky

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

Not guilty, he who does not feel me is not real to me

Therefore he doesn’t exist

So poof…vamoose son of a bitch

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

Fo’ shizzle my nizzle used to dribble down in VA

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

That’s the anthem get’cha damn hands up

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

Not guilty ya’ll got-ta feel me

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

That’s the anthem get’cha damn hands UP!

Holla at me…

I do this for my culture

To let ’em know what a nigga look like…when a nigga in a roaster

Show ’em how to move in a room full ‘o vultures

Industry shady it need to be taken over

Label owners hate me I’m raisin’ the status quo up

I’m overchargin’ niggaz for what they did to the Cold Crush

Pay us like you owe us for all the years that you hold us

We can talk, but money talks so talk mo’ bucks

Yeah…

Hove is back, life stories told through rap

Niggaz actin’ like I sold you crack

Like I told you sell drugs…no…

Hove did that so hopefully you won’t have to go through that

I was raised in the pro-jects, roaches and rats

Smokers out back, sellin’ they mama’s sofa

Lookouts on the corner, focused on the ave

Ladies in the window, focused on the kinfolk

Me under a lamp post, why I got my hand closed?

Cracks in my palm, watchin’ the long arm o’ the law

So you know I seen it all before

I seen hoop dreams deflate like a true fiend’s weight

To try and to fail, the two things I hate

Succeed in this rap game, the two things is great

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A

What else can I say about dude, I gets bizzay

H to the izz-O, V to the izz-A…

useless

thats cuz my new girlfriend linked me. she pointed to the nirvana photo essay. whats her name? hmmm. well it’s either Kalle or Halle. or maybe neither of those. is it really that important to know your girlfriends name in this modern world?

i wish she didnt live in orange county and i wish she didnt like no doubt and i wish she wasnt so damn talented. but i love her art and i love that her site is called youfuckedupmylife.net

i heart gurls with issues.

im not the only one, as it looks like she already has a fan club.

where the hell’s my fan club?

chicks get everything i swear. so do you think she likes older guys? like super older guys? shes 22, im 109. do you think she likes guys with a slight belly?

the xbi softball playoffs are tonight. do you think she likes power hitting shortstops with a little speed?

shes a gemini. thank you lord. and latin? i think so. ive been with a latin girl once. it was muy caliente.

would she be impressed that i sold 62 books in not two weeks like i thought yesterday, but in 8 days? and today i got promisory notes from people who want to buy books on friday and are curious as to if they can get the super discounted rate.

what would halle do?

often im inspired on the bus. and whereas its not really fair to the 62 who got it together and ordered the book when they were supposed to, i came up with this plan that might help the slackers.

buy two or more books at regular price, free shipping.

joe cocker is on regis singing an inxs song.

life is beautiful.

im gonna go four for four tonight. our team is gonna go to the xbi world series.

i wonder if halle likes a guy in baseball pants?

okay, now today’s fun link comes to us via my buddy robert at viralplanet, it’s a fun toboggan flash game. sick and fun. for more funny videos and games go to viral planet!

doomed dog?

yep it’s me.

but, but i thought you were toast.

nope.

but how did you escape?

turns out you got your accounting wrong, and someone from the xbi showed up and paid for the 60th book in person.

but i heard that you were killed.

where did you hear that smart guy?

uh, uh, drudge.

Drudge? since when has that guy ever been right?

i dont know, 9 years ago.

exactly, in dog years thats like 100 years ago.

well, im glad youre alive, little puppy, you look good.

food and water will do wonders.

okay well, i wish you luck. thanks for helping me sell all those books.

dont i get a cut?

a cut? at ten bones im barely covering cost.

what are you printing them on silk? hand over my share.

look, if i wanted to give people a cut of the earnings, i would get a real publisher.

good point.

sixty books in two weeks. thats kind of amazing dude. i gotta tell you. what bookstore sells that many books of an unpublished author for a book that isnt even named?

beats me. but then, im just a stray dog probably about to drown in this surf. hey how many did you sell to friends?

about nine.

i dont know what you’ve got, mr. man. but it sure is something.

you know im starting to think you’re right, mr. dog. remember those sorority girls from oklahoma?

cant say i do.

well theres these beautiful young girls who have a very nice blog theyve just got started up. if you go to their links page where do you see my name?

holy shit. right underneath “days.”

thats respect, dog. and they bought a book.

maybe you should put together a book tour and meet your fans.

nah, once they met me they wouldnt like me no more.

yeah. probably not. and it probably isnt even worth trying.

no.

yeah, you probably wouldnt want to rent a van and get welch and layne and moxie in there and rake in the green.

nah, wouldnt want that.

woof.

well, okay fella. heres my roast beef sandwich from lunch. no hard feelings?

nah. no hard feelings. thanks for making me sorta famous for a few days.

bye lil fella enjoy the surf

woof woof!

topless bukkake

but i have good news and bad news. bad news is the little dog died. hit by a train. then he got hit by another train that dragged him a few miles until the children just wouldn’t shut up.

then the birds pecked at him. then the rats. then the ants. then the lice.

good news is all of them are full now and enjoying little naps all along the woods near the train tracks.

other good news is you still have the rest of today to buy your busblog books. just about half price. since tomorrow they’ll be flying off the shelves at the much more reasonable $19.

do you know i love you all for buying this thing? you don’t even know what it looks like. its not even named. it doesn’t even have a cover to judge it by and still you order em up like my ass was stephen king or some shit.

you know how many books ive written?

zip.

ah, those poetry chapbooks in college don’t count. maybe one counts since it got me laid, but they don’t really count.

when i was young and impressionable i would send those to publishing houses and to bob guccione each christmas with secret hopes that they’d fall for me and hire me up.

i appreciate all that you have done for me, dear readers, to get me hired on at the la times, but it looks that my path will be much like my boy bukowski and we’ll only be globally loved and paid in full when we’re old and fat and bald and near death.

so its cool.

i would much rather be like him than say joyce carol oates who is loved by all but couldn’t bust with the freestyle if you put a gun to her head. true story, in college i was an usher for arts and lectures and joyce carol did a reading from one of her silly books and people left and i asked my boss what’s the big deal about her and she said shes a genius and then two weeks later that scientist guy in the wheel chair showed up and didn’t say a word with his lips and captivated the crowd and made us laugh and laugh and laugh and ive done some public speaking in my day, make em laugh without moving your lips and you are a genius, son.

broham asks me to italicize when i interview people and dogs and fireplugs.

i appreciate his request i do and i understand how it all might seem like fingers on the blackboard, some of you can handle the lack of capital letters but grammar bad and make your imagination figure it all out and its just too much.

little do any of you know the classic works of another one of my unpaid idols, one mr. ronald sukenick, author of 98.6, Up, and my favorite Out which is out of print but for a limited time available to read on the Internet.

here’s a fun game, read Out and drink every time i rip off sukenick. then read buk and drink every time i rip him off. then read vonnegut, like karisa did and drink everytime i rip his ass off.

little known fact, i once sent Sukenick one of my poetry books and he sent me Vurt to review and i was so blown away that he even responded that i read the book in a week and then was so blown away by that book that i couldn’t write a word. i was typeless.

read Vurt and drink every time you see italics and see me rip his ass off too.

jd salinger, i rip him off just for fun. true story, i was at santa monica college for two years. at the end of the second year i got a C in history and i asked the lady if she could give me a B minus and she said you cannot write an essay to save your life. i said please i wont be able to transfer to ucsb unless i get a B in this class and she said i cannot in good conscious send you to a UC school with you being as bad of a writer as you are.

she meant it. that old bag. she looked back down at her papers and the discussion was over.

i started crying. i don’t cry. i didn’t cry much then. but i started crying. i cried to the library. all my best laid plans were gone. i would have to go back to the electronics store a failure, i had already given them my two weeks notice. i would have to spend six more months selling tvs just so i could retake history and get a better grade. i cried on my way to the library. i passed people who saw me crying and i didn’t care. got to the library and just roamed the stacks like i would do all through college. and i found myself in front of jd salinger, my hero at the time and i cracked open nine stories, perfect day for bananafish and i read it and i thought, if this is how you write, shes right, im really not a writer.

took the money i saved for college, flew to europe, turned twenty-one in florence kissed a girl at octoberfest and realized that i might not be a writer or a good student but by the way, what was i talking about?

oh yeah, i have been getting some foul emails from people who read ashley’s diary. let me say this once, kids. not everything that i write in here is true, and that can be said for your little friend over there too. when i last left her she said a lot of things that she didn’t feel necessary to say over there. and i think shes either lying to me or you. and until she sets the record straight shes lying to both of us.

no where in her tale does she say that she has any regrets, meanwhile that’s all she said to me. so before you judge me, which none of you could, get the entire story told to you, the entire story. and then ask yourself if i had done what she did and then crawled into her bed, what names would you call me then?

unimaginative children doomed to repeat the failures of your family and friends believing the pouts of a princess permanently tied to an idiot young dumb and full of sound and fury signifying nothing.

frankenzilla

backpack stuffed with bread, brie, two bottles of champagne, one brut one extra dry, he could never remember which one was better. he rides his bike to the subway. no one rides the subway at ten fourty pee em.

the elevator smells like industrial orange cleanser. suddenly orange is the scent of freshness. some one has urinated against the glass wall. someone has scratched the name jed below the button that says mezzanine. some one is watching him.

three people wait for the northbound train. one old man who looks at the tunnel hole willing it. not knowing that there is a wind that comes minutes before the subway, then a sound, then a light. theres nothing to look at. has the boy brought a condom? no. they’re just friends.

friends.

the thought sat like a lump in his breast. only good that word ever did him was in a heated scrabble game. seven letter triple score bitch. plus it would take about four bottles to blur the line of friendship. friends. the old man looked down in the tunnel and he’s old enough to remember la when this wasn’t the only rail in town what’s he looking for, salvation?

a mexican made it four waiting for the train and he knew about the wind and sat down. its all about astrology he thought. gemini and aquarius. just like clue. parker brothers had taught him everything. if he knew it wasn’t in the library why did he keep going there.

the train arrived he rode to her house. it was a tough ride since she lives on the top of a very high hill. it smelled like isla vista up there. eucalyptus and dynamite. gasoline and burned leaves. he put it in first gear. this was great exercise he thought and it would be fun to speed down late that night. which he did. two twenty a-em. drunk buzzed really santa anas warm, warmest night of the fall for sure. must be seventy. must be going fifty. no need to worry about rabbits darting in the road or acorns or potholes he was being guided by voices.

her hair was soft and her lips were familiar. moreso than he remembered. every night felt like a dream so he traced her outline as she laid on him pressed down on her skin until he felt bone. eighth of an inch here. sixteenth there. he wasn’t much of a romantic. he said if we had to eat you after a plane crash we wouldn’t get much meat. she said the meat is the muscle and put his hand on, muscle.

must have been going sixty near the bottom of the mountain. hollywood hills meets hollywood blvd. night crew mopping the popeyes. people buying magazines. people leaving bars. people dressed real nice. he had his gangsta flannel flapping behind him no lights no brakes, a game he played since a little kid called lets see how far we can coast. the lazy mans game of human curling.

pink floyd plays in his ninety nine cents store fm radio. no dial just two buttons. one scanned in the stations, one you push for the next station. is anyone out there. the wall. when he was an ice cream man he would play dark side and animals to drown out the ice cream truck tings and tangs but it bled through mixing like strawberry twirl and carmel. she had silky hair that smelled of a fresh shower. velvet pajama pants and pale skin. he wanted to touch everything like in an x dream and she didn’t care. only he was scared. she felt so comfortable with him she said often and is that failure asked his head.

thirty five whispered the wind as he turned left on sunset. go east old man. ameoba records says hi. archlight movies says hi. give us your money says the dennys the dirtiest dennys of all. now the game is called count the hookers. okay one two. three. no shes not one. oops, yes he is. four five. two people are fighting on a fire escape while one watches. not fight fighting fist fighting is one a girl don’t look keep going. hi ninety nine cents store hi tulips strip joint. i wonder if its open i wonder what the cop car is doing empty not too close to the door but not tooooo far away. i wonder what it looks like in there in seedy hollywood on a monday night at two something a-em.

donuts. okay we’ll stop here. don’t get off the bike. three russians parked sitting on their hoods talking russian. laughing. plotting. planning. hating. hi russians with your blue eyes and short hair. everyone is welcome here. donut man asks if i want coffee. do you have eclairs with creme? of course. sixty five cents. thanks keep the change. tip everyone the brain says. over tip those you should tip and tip the ones you shouldn’t. later he’d be robbed.

again.

nine, ten, eleven. that one has a shelf butt. how does she do that? that shelf is out so far its about to fall out.

two bums playing throw the screwdriver at the palm tree. hi.

hi trash making its way home. hi fallen leaves. hi everything. hi.

tony making his way home down the hill next to the church coasting feeling like a kid again as he normally does with his very good friend who asked him to call her when he made it through the jungle back home 2.6 miles all downhill all one big thrill and when he does his phone rings and its another friend who had a date and wanted to let him know how it went.

hi three am. and he wonders who had a better night than he

meesh

hi tony, please save me.

poochie, the stars were out last night did you see them?

any time i saw a light i pissed on my tail scared that it was a train. they come so close.

the stars were bright last night, cleansed by the rains that removed all the gunk of the stratosphere, blow dried by the santa anas, polished with the truth of the season, no longer disguised by the resin of halloween, twinkling where they belonged, where they should be, reliable as if they were anchored in their places. places everyone places. its not da plane, it’s the stars.

please untie me from this track tony. im hungry.

not until we have 60 pre-orders, puppy.

woof those pre-orders.

you lick your balls with that mouth, fluffy? we only have nine more to sell to get to sixty.

51 people have bought books? thats incredible.

i think 43 people bought books, a few people bought more than one so they can take advantage of the low price and give them as gifts.

please save me, tony.

a deal is a deal doggie. like the good stars i will always be there for you.

what if im bad?

are you a bad doggie?

no.

then you have nothing to be worried about. stars are never bad. theyre there for you every night through thick and thin. you can pray on them, you can wish on them. they dont need the cover of darkness to shine, indeed they love the night which is much different than darkness. they dont hide, they glitter.

im going to die, arent i tony.

we’re all going to die. but its how you go out.

i dont want to die like a dog.

then dont. live.

i saw the stars last night, tony. i saw how a few of them together made something bigger.

did you see how some made two big dips?

please untie me. i’ll be your best friend.

this is the last day to get the busblog book at the low low price of $10 + s/h, we have a deal my little one. what would i be if i backed out of a deal?

a welch.

who taught you that? thats not nice. bad doggie! matt is our friend.

a friend tied me to these tracks. left me to die. left me to get hit by a train. only wanted me around when there was nothing else to do, but whenever there was excitement around, ignored me. dissed me. turned their back on me while hiding their shame.

every dog has its day.

dumbmonkey

and both have been robbed by the patriots in the last year.

i know i better watch my mouth because for some odd reason i have a lot of readers from the Massachusetts area. a lot as in a lot. like i might have more red sox, celtics, pats fans reading my page than any other non-californian group combined.

with that said, i hope that if they watched yesterday’s spectacular comeback, they can understand why i hope tom brady slips in the shower or gets a hold of a bad can of beans.

karisa’s favorite number is twelve and im sure she thinks brady is wicked cute.

what i think would be cute is if he got run over by a snowplow.

i swear.

last year, as we all know, my adopted team, my second team, the raiders, were this close to returning to glory in the super bowl. the silver and black were back.

but no, the refs in the skyboxes looked at the replay and ruled that the collapsing little brady was somehow throwing a pass instead of fumbling under the might of the raidahs. and instead of it being first and ten for oakland, it was a second life for the patriots.

the rest is history as brady and that freak vinatieri combined for one of the most classic comebacks in playoff history.

less emotional types would have been able to look at that game for the beauty that it was, a spectacular battle of wills in the ankle high snowy tundra as a nor’easter blew and the football gods worked their magic. but im completely emotional when it comes to football. in a freaky scary way. ive had amazing sex in my day and barely made a sound. but ten seconds into a football game and im cursing like a sailor and praying to the lord and throwing pretzels at the screen in disgust.

even though i was perched in front of my 35″ mitsubishi for that game last december, i also had the vcr taping it so i could soak it all in throughout the week and during off season. who doesnt love to watch football in the snow?

that tape was erased this summer because even when i saw the label i cringed and kicked the wall and yelled “it was a fumble!” because of course it was a fumble. of course it was. of course it was.

so my real team, the hapless bears played the pats yesterday in the college town of champagne urbana where most of my high school friends went to college.

the patriots this year have had their ups and downs but they are the defending champs and definitely a team to be nervous about when they come to your town.

the bears on the other hand are the bears of old. shitty. lucky on occasion. just enough brilliance to get your hopes up only to dash them when you start to believe.

the bears were kicking ass yesterday, people. and im sorry to talk sports with you today, something i try to avoid because i know how learned you are and so above the petty pace of the national football league, but ive got to get this out.

anthony thomas, the a train, was making the patriots defense look retarded, the hobbled bears quarterback jim miller started to look less like a crane operator and more like a real nfl quarterback. the bears defense was on fire led by the ghost of dick butkus, middle linebacker brian urlacher.

and even though the patiots who were down by 21 points in the third quarter seemed to be coming back there was just no way that they were going to be able to score three touchdowns in the final quarter.

until of course they did.

and if you weren’t watching you missed out because once again the patriots were blessed by the soothing kiss of instant replay. once again from a replay official up in the sky who didn’t even need to be summoned because the play in question happened within the last two minutes of the game.

americas sweetheart tom brady threw a pass that didn’t even go two feet before bears lineman bryan robinson apparently intercepted it with under a minute to play and the bears up by four.

but after further review…

so the pats had a second chance. a chance they didn’t deserve. after last year they shouldn’t even be allowed to benefit any more from instant replay without having to sacrifice their first born male children, but life isn’t fair and neither was the drive they put together capped by one of the finest twenty yard touch passes and graceful catches that you’ll ever get your heart broken over.

it was over.

tom brady had done it again.

drew who? the new englanders continue to ask themselves and boo hoo weep the bears fans.

this one didn’t hurt me as much cuz ive seen it all before. in the nightmares that i have.

some mornings i find that i have inadvertently left the front door unlocked but it doesn’t worry me. there has been a thief that has stolen my dreams in the night and he wears number twelve.

bush is the president, weed still isn’t legal, they don’t show titties on tv, and tom brady continues to snatch illicit victory at the hands of my heroes.

my mother who is a bigger bears fan than i normally calls me after each game.

she didn’t call last night.

im sure she threw her phone through her big screen.

or hung herself.

or worse.

me, i dug through old boxes of yesteryear. memories that normally haunt me stained with dust that makes me sneeze but nothing could be worse than that i had to watch last night.

this time i didn’t have to erase the tape because now i know better. some one upstairs likes me.

but they like tom brady a ton more.

next sunday the raiders return to new england and i can only hope that brady used all his magic yesterday evening, but im not going to bet against him.

boston globe sports blog

hi tony, american superhero. wont you please help me?

no can do, little pup, i gotta sell 20 more busblog books before i can really concentrate on anything else.

wow, thats ashame, how many have you sold so far?

44.

so once you sell 20 more will you shut the hell up about this book and untie me from this rail?

yes, little puppy, yes i will. i’ll shut up and i’ll stop hawking it like a mad man.

i see doc searls wrote in his blog that he’s gonna buy one.

yeah, funny thing about that, doomed doggie, even when the likes of instapundit and the buzz machine and doc and welch get behind it, their readers come over and look around but they don’t buy. only my regular readers are the ones buying. maybe one or two who dont know me go for it, but… hey whats that sound

it’s a train coming.

how many lives are you up to, poochie?

lives? dogs only have one life. youre thinking about cats.

why do cats get 7 lives?

cats get 9 lives, college grad, and i dont know why. seems pretty unfair.

is that rope long?

kinda but it’s tangled.

okay my little pal, i’ll see if i get 20 sold today and if i do i’ll untie you.

thanks tone. today is the last day to get it at the discounted rate, right?

well, its supposed to be, but since it’s veterans day i figured i’d extend it till tuesday just to make sure anyone who had today off would be able to grab it tomorrow before the price went up.

youre so kind.

yep. thats me.

see you later lil fella.

hope so!

layne is back from his bender

looking for the classic “the day charles bukowski met ernest hemingway” i found everything i have ever written except for the desired short story.

one of the best things that i came across was a series of correspondences that i had with the coolest girl ive never met, which, fortunately i printed out and never lost.

am i sentimental? intensely. is it possible to fall in love through email? with her it was.

a while ago she popped an email in my box. we wrote a tad and she says she lurks my site. so thats nice. hi. i asked her if i could run some of the emails that we wrote some 8 1/2 yrs ago and she said sure.

subj: his circle and hers meet

94-05-27 16:36:11 EDT

from: jenny677

to: gauchotony

if i didn’t think, i’d be much happier. if i didn’t have any sex organs, i woudn’t be on the verge of nervous emotion and tears all the time.

and with that i say hello. i am very pleased to hear that you have regained consciousness my deer boy because life is but a trist. so when we run away, i’ll bring bel canto, the sisters of mercy, concrete blonde and smashing pumpkins. you ffigure out the rest. i feel very ugly today. must be from zei, you know, residualness. i never had long hair my sweet insipid wonder. i did last summer, but no more. i dig my bangs and i am so white that in high school there was a rumour that i had the pigment sucked out of my skin via hypedermic needle style to be more gothic. really its in my dna. if you kissed me would you touch my face? so you want to know everything? excerpt, the journal of miss jenni, july 23 1992: when will my confusion stop. it wats me up. how is it possible that i became so lost. if i was disfigured, id know. im still very religious on my own terms ; wait for it. and why do i continually allow myself to be taken in by those who are much too experienced and worldly. and i am also so large. so manipulative. so coy. what a funny game i play you got to me and i never even loved you. you don’t remember i won’t let you forget. how could i bleed when there were no cuts.

ta da. i am melodramatic and special. i cry for kali poulton the little girl abducted. i cry for those for in spite of their vision can’t see where what they feel may take them. i am so lucky. i have it all. brains, money, wit, charm, compassion, friends, power and yet i feel very empty somedays. if it is a boy that creates my void i may have to wither up. last night my hormones fucking raged at zei. i wanted it. no one was there, mentally. i think id rather have a persons mind than their physical being. i want to trap boys under glasses and pick at their brains until they cry. i also want to run away and get married and have lots of children and fix the human race. but right now i just want to exercise my right to abuse boys. this boy has talked to me for two weeks now and i know hes lame and gay. i try and play, but hes like, duh cat. sucks. did you dump the shit lovely? did i tell you i think about you more than i probably should? well now you know. yo slick. blow.

take care. of me.

jennifer louise elizabeth marie

yfuml

when i’m not beating everyone’s ass on the links, or hanging out with my swedish girlfriend, or lighting cigars made of $20 bills with $100 bills, i surf the web.

theres lots of web sites i like to visit. theres welch and moxie and reverse cowgirl and doc searls and my bro the vodkapundit. i like to read layne too but he seems to be on an extended drunken vacation or writing in invisible ink.

but probably my favorie “blog” is that of tony pierce.

he calls it the busblog.

he calls it that because he has been riding the bus and subways in LA to go to work for the last year and a half now and he sees how pathetic and funny it is.

at least i think he does.

anyway, right now he is in the process of putting together a book of the best posts from his first year as a blogger.

you might know tony from his well-received photo esays or his famous interviews with inanimate objects and celebrities who he hasnt really met.

none of the photo essays will be in the book, but there will be xbi stories, searing poetry, unreleased photographs, and like i said, classic posts from the past including tales of his life as a single man in los angeles and his adventures with many of the hotties therein. (like ashley).

this is your chance to catch up and get the scoop at the backstory about the daisy princess, the lust affair with anna kournikova, and all the secrets of the xbi. where else are you gonna find that?

if you order now, you will get the soon-to-be titled book for an insanely low $10 + s/h. after tuesday the book will go for a more reasonable $19 + s/h so the way i figure it now is the time to buy.

being a celebrity, i like to keep the privacies of other stars sacred. but since the blogfather of southern fried rock Glenn Reynolds has recently admitted to purchasing the book, as has entertainment weekly creator jeff jarvis, and so has prognosis co-founder and reason contributor matt welch. in fact in little under a week 40 books have been preordered including two from newly engaged aj by azarok bought two.

so what are you waiting for? join in on the fun, america.

you too, canada.

heck everyone in the world, i invite you to take part in this historic event. the first known greatest hits of blog posts in one easy-to-carry book.

you’ll be glad you did.

but most importantly tony’s mom will be glad you did.

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