i will not make fun of the polish army.

i will not make fun of the polish army. i will not make fun of the polish army.

hi. my name is tony.

sorry if everything has been dark and unpretty and loud and gross and something found inside hieronymus bosch’s junk drawer, but it has been my practice to excorcise any demons that might be haunting ones soul and the best way to do that is to shine a light on them real bright and name them and identify them and watch them shrink up and blow away like dust.

at least thats the story i tell myself.

pssst. i just got a call from the isla vista university press. the books are done. this might be a good time for those of you who havent bought one to buy one. after family and friends are taken care of there will probably only be 15 left so if you order one today or tomorrow i can guarantee that you will be getting them before Christmas.

click the picture of anna on the left.

ok, todays public service brought to you by the polish army.

friends. i love you so much. i hope you know that. and sometimes i look at who has linked me and i will go to your site and sometimes i will see who youre linking. and sometimes i will go to their site and i will suddenly find myself very intersted in the person writing and designing and taking pics of themselves, etc. and i want to find out more about that person but they dont have any info of themselves on their page and im inpatient cause im so damn old, but if they have a url that has their name or something that they registered, i will go to Register.com and i will type in their URL and i will click where it says “Taken” and that will give me all sorts of information.

more information than you probably want lurkers on the web to know. things like your home address and your phone number… and your zip code!

so heres how to get that stuff removed, go to Verisign, who bought network solutions, who probably owns your url. when you sign up with them they own the url, not you. quit signing up with them.

tell them to remove your personal info from the Whois. they may ask you for a different address. give them anything. the only time people use those addresses are when strangers want to buy your URL (which happens never) or when Verisign wants to tell you that your url is about to expire.

mark on your calander when its about to expire. put in a fake address. spammers and stalkers are the only ones who will properly use your info. get rid of it.

the address that i use? just some little apartment behind a sushi place that jeanine once lived near.

os, my “technical contact,” is using the 7-11 where he used to grow up in kentucky.

okay thats tony’s tip for the day.



meesh is back, and she has pictures

When Will They Shoot?

(Ice Cube)

[Brother J]

“Stalkin.. walkin in my big black boots” [repeat 2X]

[Ice Cube]

God damn, another fuckin payback with a twist

Them motherfuckers shot but the punks missed

Ice Cube is out-gunned, what is the outcome?

Will they do me like Malcolm?

Cause I bust styles, new styles, standin – strong!

While, others Run a Hundred Miles

But I never run, never will

Deal with the devil with my motherfuckin steel – BOOM!

Media try to do me

But I was a BoyN the Hood before the movie

Call me nigga, bigger than a spook,

But you the one that voted for Duke,


White man, is somethin I tried to study

But I got my hands bloody.

They said I could sing like a Jaybird

But nigga, don’t say the J-word

I thought they was buggin

cause to us Uncle Sam is Hitler without an oven

Burnin our black skin

Buy my neighborhood – then push the crack in

Doin us wrong from the first day

And don’t understand why a nigga got an AK

Callin me an African-American

like everything is fair again,


Devil, you got to get the shit right I’m black

Blacker than a trillion midnights

Don’t Believe the Hype was said in ’88

by the great Chuck D, now they’re tryin to fuck me

“.. with No Vaseline

Just a match and a little bit of gasoline..” – HUH!

It’s a great day for genocide (What’s that?)

That’s the day all the niggaz died

They killed JFK in ’63

So what the fuck you think they’ll do to me?

But I’m the O.G. and I bust back (boom boom)

Bust back (Boom boom!) peel a cap (BOOM BOOM!)

Gimme room in the fire of the sun

Here the mack come, here the black come,

watch Jack run!

Motherfuckers can’t gank me

Fuck a devil, fuck a rebel, and a yankee

Overrun and put the Presidency

After needin that, I’m down wit O.P.P.

I met Farrakhan and had dinner

And you ask if I’m a five-percenter, well…

No, but I go where the brothers go

Down with Compton Mosque # 54

Made a little dough, still got a sister on my elbow.

Did Ice Cube sell out? You say, “Hell no!”

A black woman is my manager, not in the kitchen

So could you please stop bitchin?

[Brother J]

“Stalkin.. walkin in my big black boots”


Yeah, yeah..

“But when will they shoot?”

[Brother J]

“Stalkin.. walkin in my big black boots”

[Cube] Yeah, yeah..

“But when will they shoot?”

[automatic gunfire]

You missed, and didn’t hit Da Lench Mob either

“Guerillas in the Mist..” without Jungle Fever

But I got the fever for the flava of a cracker

Not a Pringle, bust the single, here’s my new jingle

“Stalkin.. walkin in my big black boots”

The KKK has got three-piece suits

Using niggaz like turkey shoots

My motto is Treat ‘Em Like a Prostitute

Now if I say no violence, devil, you won’t respect mine

Fuck the dumb shit – and get my Tec-9

And if they approach us

A-ight, a-ight – I bury those cockroaches

And if you can’t deal with my Kill at Will

Here’s a new gift to get – try my Death Certificate

Amerikkka’s Most, Amerikkka’s burnt – it’s like toast

Like Jordan, I’m goin coast to coast

Dribblin the funk here comes the nigga

with the motherfuckin monster dunk, get off me punk!

“Jordan.. watch Jordan,

aiyyo yo watch Jordan .. YES!”


“You better eat your Wheaties”

[Brother J]

“Stalkin.. walkin in my big black boots”

[Cube] Yeah, yeah..

“But when will they shoot?”

Darryl Gates got the studio surrounded

Cause he don’t like the niggaz that I’m down with

Motherfucker wanna do us

Cause I like Nat, Huey, Malcolm, and Louis

Most got done by a black man’s bullet

Give a trigger to a nigga and watch him pull it

Negro assass-in

I’ma dig a ditch, bitch, and throw yo’ ass in

When they shoot, no, it won’t be a cracker

They use somebody much blacker

What I do? I called up the Geto Boys crew

Cause My Mind’s Playing Tricks On Me too

Never died, surround my crib

and F.O.I. makin sure nobody creep when I sleep

Keep a 9 millimeter in my Jeep – PEEP!

When I roll, I gots to roll deep

Ain’t goin out cheap

Met the MADD Circle on Cypress Hill cause it’s so steep

They’ll never get me, they’ll never hit me

Motherfuck that shit JD

Now I’m relaxed

Grab the St. Ide’s brew so I can max

Sittin by the window cause it’s so fuckin hot

and then I heard a shot


kool keith

on the los angeles subway there is one transfer spot.

it’s at the intersection of wilshire and vermont. by the way, i love each of you and i hope youre having a pleasant day.

if you are taking a train south and you want to go west you get off at wilshire and go down the stairs and within a few minutes, if the timing is as it should be, the train going west will arrive.

sometimes the train gets there just as youre hitting the bottom stair. thats like a sweet little kiss on the cheek from the one you love.

because there is only this one transfer spot in the entire los angeles subway system (there are a few others but they dont count) if the train downstairs is a little fast and the conductor can see a whole group of people running down the stairs, he will wait, as that is not only polite, but professional and reasonable, because after two stops the westbound train takes a 10 minute break and turns around and goes east.

so waiting 1 minute for the commuters to catch their last train at 8:40am isnt much of a big deal.

unless, of course, you are the wastoid who decided to watch us decend the staircase waving our arms and pull away as we hit the platform.

hi train driver.

im gonna get you.

im gonna go to heaven and the angel on duty is going to give me a tour of the place and once we’ve completed the gauntlet of blowjobs from playmates around the galaxy, and after we sled down the chocolate chip cookie dough ice cream mountain and after we soak in the hot tub of love and make out with every nfl cheerleader one at a time in their former bodies and after we’re given our superbodies and golden afros and assigned our flying skateboards and ac/dc bottle openers i know, i know someone is going to whisper in my ear, “who do you want us to fuck up, royally.”

and i will pick you, subway man.

and trust me when i tell you that i had some extra time this morning to think of what i would like to do to you. and i have a pretty good relationship with my imagination, if you havent noticed.

so as youre being given papercuts forced to watch your mother get it from the entire cook county correctional community with baking soda falling from the sky like snow, know that thats just the appitizer of this miniseries of miseries that i will oversee happening to your person.

because then your daughter will appear.

and she will walk up to you.

and she will bend down on all fours.

and the lights will dim and the spotlights will hit and then twirl around in a frenzy and the smoke machine and the confetti and the midgets and the midget clowns and the big band and the stuido audience will all be revealed from behind the curtain, and two high fashion models will make their way to a mystery curtain.

they will look at the camera and make hand gestures and the curtain will part and out will come a nice big hairy buffalo.

and from that curtain to your daughter will be a very narrow walkway.

and tied to the papercut chair will be you.

and while you watch your daughter get mounted doggystyle, thanks to the help of the beautiful fashion models who lead the willing buffalo with ease, she will look up at you with equal parts pleasure and horrfying pain.

the buffalo, reknowned for being infected with an unusually large amount of hiv, has recently aquired mad cow disease, and snorts phlem with each thrust which drips and hangs and finally lands on stringly tendrils atop your daughter’s bowtied ponytail.

then comes the rhino.

so your daughter flips over, spreads her legs, and throws her head back so you can see her eyes, covered in spit snot and buffalo drool. nipples pointed at the sky, audience cheering, baking soda falling, paper cuts slicing, rats gnawing, paranah tank lowering, trapeze girls swinging, you might let out a scream of mercy.


your job, the thing that you get paid to do, metro operator, the thing that buys your little girl those barrettes, and those skirts, and those little socks, and her book bag, and powers the lights that wrap your christmas tree, is to pick up people in the subway and drop them off at their stop.

simplest job in america and you get paid at least $60k and work just 4 days a week.

and your daughter will help the rhino in. theres no lube in hell. and she will say

wow this one is hairier than the last one.

and a light will shine from behind the curtain and you will see every animal from noahs ark

two by two

patiently waiting their turn.

full of hate