am i being too harsh to the good people?

i think so.

the other night i was with a young lady who kept saying



i would do my thing and she would say

okay now even softer.

i was all, but im barely touching.

she said youre almost there.

soon i wasnt moving.

just throbbing.

she arched her back and reached up behind my neck with both hands and said

dont move

and dragged her teeth down my side

pearly whites on the peachfuzz of my skin

not even the skin.

then lower and she said watch me be softer and her tounge led the way followed by the firehouse red lipstick and they both sank beneath the blankets

i could barely feel

the velvets vu scratchy popped now and then on the turntable. somewhere a clock ticked.

somewhere time stopped.

and just then i could feel.

the blankets moved purposely

lit only by the moonlight sliding through the slits in the venetians

after a while she emerged and attacked my mouth with hers and bit and said

thats a boy.

then she grazed her lips against my cheek

and said, thats my boy.

took her pointy finger and dragged it across the goosebumps on my back, crawled off, slipped on her satin

marched to the kitchen

returned with some props.

and suddenly i found myself involved in a pop quiz.


“Professor Booty”

(Beastie Boys/Caldato)

Well, I got more bounce to the fuckin’ bump

And you want to know why?

It’s ’cause I’m motherfuckin’ truckin’

I’m in the pocket just like Grady Tate

I got supplies of beats so you don’t have to wait

‘Cause I’m the master blaster drinking up the Shasta

My voice sounds sweet ’cause it has to

So light a match to my ass ’cause I’m blown up

I’d like to thank the people for just showin’ up

But now I want y’all to move it

Put your point on the floor and just prove it

And I’m smurfin’ not rehearsin’ gettin’ live y’all

A little puffy so you now what I’m doin’ right

‘Cause that’s the kind of mind I’m in

I got a feelin’ that’s back again

So don’t touch me ’cause I’m electric

And if you touch me you’ll get shocked!

You’ve got the boomin’ system but it’s blasting out doo-doo

You think it’s chocolate milk but it’s watered down yoo-hoo

I’ve been through many times in which I thought I might lose it

The only thing that saved me has always been music

We’ve got our own studio the son of the G

It’s no question life’s been good to me

‘Cause life ain’t nothing but a good groove

A good mix tape to put you in the right mood

This one goes out to my man the groove merchant

Coming through with beats for which I’ve been searching

Like two sealed copies of expansions

I’m like Tom Vu with yachts and mansions

The logo I sport is the face of the monkey

Union made Ben Davis quality it’s no junk see

My chrome is shining just like an icicle

I ride around town on my low-rider bicycle

So many wack M.C.’s you get the T.V. bozack

Ain’t even gonna call out your names ’cause you’re so wack

But one big oaf whose faker than plastic

A dictionary definition of the word spastic

You should have never started something that you couldn’t finish

‘Cause writin’ rhymes to me is like popeye to spinach

I’m bad ass move your fat ass ’cause you’re wack son

Dancin’ around like you think you’re Janet Jackson

Thought you could walk on me to get some ground to walk on

I’ll pull the rug out from under your ass as I talk on

I’ll take you out like a sniper on a roof

Like an M.C. at the fever in the D.J. booth

With your headphones strapped you’re rockin’ rewind pause

Tryin’ to figure out what you can do to go for yours

But like the pencil to the paper I got more to come

One after another you can all get some

So you better take your time and meditate on your rhyme

‘Cause your shit’ll be stinking when I go for mine

And that’s right y’all don’t get uptight y’all

You can say shit because you’re biting what I write y’all

And that’s wrong y’all over the long haul

You can’t cut the mustard when you’re fronting it all


hi henry kissinger

hi tony pierce. nice to meet you. i’ve heard a lot about you.

hi. yes i have heard a lot about you too.

i heard that you helped the president’s image.

well the checks don’t bounce. haha. i heard that you sabotaged the paris negotiations to end the vietnam war in ’68.

omg, why would i sabotage those negations?

it was an election year, you are accused of telling the south vietnamese that if they didn’t pull out until after the election, that the republicans would be nicer to them than the dems.

total bullshit. how old were you in ’68? were you even born then?

yes, i was alive then. how do you like being called Manhattan’s Milosevic?

it hurts my feelings. sometimes it makes me cry because i strive to be liked by everyone, especially the village voice. i think that’s why the president has chosen me to head the investigation of 9/11, so that i can prove to everyone that i really do love this country and i can go out on a positive note.

maybe the president wants you to cover up something.

what would i cover up?

the biggest fuck up in american history.

9/11 wasn’t the biggest fuck up in american history.

what was then?


was that because you weren’t able to cover it up all that well?

why are you being so mean to me?

did you give arms to Pakistani General Yahya Khan in ’71 so he could kill hundreds of thousands of civilians and take over the democratically-elected government?

Kahn used delicacy and tact.

why did you help the CIA overthrow the democratically-elected government of Salvador Allende and install the murderous military dictatorship of Augusto Pinochet and send him fighter planes?

we were fighting communism. you don’t see any communism any more do you?



Your firm, Kissinger Associates has employed several former presidents including George Bush’s dad, George. And you try to broker deals between oil companies and the saudi families including the royal saudi family.


so, doesn’t it concern you that 15 of the 19 terrorists behind 9/11 were saudi? as is bin laden?

why would that concern me?

because if the truth behind 9/11 is that it was financed by major people of Saudi Arabia perhaps people who you know and who the bush family have known for years, why would you kill the goldenest goose of them all, your clients and business partners? wouldn’t this put you in a position of conflict of interest?

no one is going to kill any geese.

that’s what we’re afraid of. we’re afraid that Bush knew about 9/11 before it happened. it was a Bush/GOP fuck up, and you’re now going to cover it up right before our eyes.

that’s insane, yo stupid. you should sleep late, man, its much easier on your constitution.

so youre going to find out everything about 9/11 and tell us all about it.


why don’t i believe you?

cuz you think everything george bush does is somehow evil.

or stupid.

yeah, or stupid. but check it. if appointing me was such a bad idea, how come welch didn’t write anything about it?

cuz even welch knows that bush will be allowed to get away with murder in anything that he does. it’s always a free ride when it comes to anyone whose name is george bush. so i think instead of fighting or being all up in arms he’d rather fight paper tigers like the LA Times and write about sports. plus he’s got a pretty wife. maybe he just wants to kiss her a bunch instead of writing about this, which is so easy that even i can write about it.

she is pretty, isn’t she.


robert scheer

decided to go to koreatown to get the book printed

everything was going well. the old man didnt know english and was smoking a pipe. the old woman didnt know english and was working the copier. the young son was probably nine years old and cocky and bored and played his game boy advance and translated without looking up.

please tell your father it will be 130 pages, color cover, perfect bound, 150 copies.

the boy worked the gizmo and said, “papa, wah wah wah-wah wah wah wah-wah.”

the father replied, “wha wah wah wha.”

the boy said, “two thousand dollars.”

i handed over the cash and gave the old man a manilla envelope with the manuscript.

he opened it up as i waited for my receipt.

“it should be done by monday morning.” the boy said, smiling after hitting pause. he took a long drag from a juicy juice juice box and went back to his game.

the old man said, “uh oh.” and looked at me and called his wife over.

she said, “wah wha wah wha wah. pierce-ah?”

they looked at me and took the manuscript into the back.

soon there was a faint odor of smoke?

yes that was smoke.

then the smoke detector went off in a very annoying long high-pitched tone.

some might call it piercing.

the boy hit pause again and looked up irritatingly.

from behind the curtain there was a scuffle.

the old woman came hobbling out with a flaming garbage pail and the old man chasing her.

they ran out of the store past me and threw the entire fireball into the street scattering the pigeons.

the old man ran back and gave me back my envelope of cash.

“you go now. go!”

as i slowly left the shop i passed by the little boy who was leaning against the front door playing his game. he looked at me, put his headphones on, and went back to defending the universe.

buzz machine