if you only knew who reads these pixels.

it would scare the holy crap out of you.

typically i get about a thousand hits a day to the site and the blog. lately its gone down a little. whatev.

in a perfect world you would think that as the popularity of blogging grows, so, therefore, my hits would steadilly increase. but that doesnt make sense. because with more blogs comes more choice, therefore less hits.

regardless, that southern gentleman, the Instapundit gets 100 times the hits i get and the growth of the web seems to only build his readerbase. but he and i are playing different games.

im trying to make something out of nothing. people come here and they have absolultely no clue what theyre going to get. mostly because the author has no idea what he’s going to give.

instapundit is going to tell you all the things you wish your newspaper and cnn would give you: news, politics, law, and current events in a trustworthy, intelligent, concise manner.

busblog is going to probably just break a few hundred rules of grammar and spelling in a roundabout way of talking about Self.

thus 1/100 of the popularity.

for some reason i consider Instapundit a peer. which is like a mite considering a crocodile a peer. sure they walk the same grounds, feel the same sun, and God loves them in the same way, but theyre not damn peers. one is an incredible super creature. the other is a fucking mite.

this mite is very comfortable believing that the thousand points of light are really a hundred, but more like ten: chris, karisa, azarock, madpony, basart, and my little brother who rips my shit off and puts it in collegehangover dot com.

i dont look at myself that way out of any sense of humbleness, although i am incredibly humbled by the talent and popularity of other bloggers in the blogosphere, but i guess in a way i dont even really think that the thousand people who read this are real readers and some are loyal readers and some are famous and some work in super cool places, and some might even work in places that i might even talk about.

with that said, Google, i love you.

Blogger, i love you even more.

im sorry if i made you think otherwise.

i am so loyal you dont even know, and all i wanted to do last night was let my man Bunsen get his props on the left hand tally.

im doing a weird little thing where im asking perfect strangers to give me, a perfect stranger, ten bucks for a car.

you know how ridiculous a concept that is?

its a science fair art project that if the Instapundit wanted to abuse his power he could be a millionaire in a week.

100,000 times $10 = InstaMillionaire.

i dont want to be a millionaire, i just want a car.

if i was a millionaire i would think all these babes were after me just for my fat wallet.

wait up.

where was i?

totally spaced out.

san dimas highschool football rules!

blogger + google + paypal + new photo spread

when someone new online asks me what i look like

i normally say roy jones jr.

except i have a little more toned belly.

i do love the internet.

hi internet.

hi tony, baby.

ive gotten so much from you.

youve given so much.

concert tickets, mp3s, smut, driving directions, pizza, pharmaceuticals from canada, admirers, fashion tips, dates.

chopper one is rigged with the internet and i don’t know how they do it but they do. i don’t ask many questions, i just fly the damn thing and press the right buttons.

my favorite button, and i think ive discussed this before, is the low frequency destablizer.

it was improved this weekend and today we got to give it a real-life test.

these bad guys were hiding in a garage, we could see where they were thanks to their body heat. so we aimed the destablizer in their general direction and sent out beams of super low frequency sound waves.

imagine sudden sea-sickness.

imagine wanting to vomit, needing air. needing anything other than what you are having right now.

fuckers ran out retching within seconds, right into the waiting hands of the ground agents who allowed them to finish losing their breakfast jacks and then took them away to our holding cell of misery.

thing about the xbi is because we’re not really even supposed to exist, its not like you can take the rest of the afternoon off thinking that you just had a good day. at any point one of the criminals can come at you, or the cops, or the fbi, or the cia, or anyone.

so its not cool to say to someone, damn, im having the best day.

they’re afraid if you say that you’ll jinx it.

i don’t believe in jinxes.

i just believe in you.

someone asked me last night when i was going to move to moveable type.

which is a helluva question because the only reason i was staying true to blogger was cuz i felt that Ev deserved the loyalty until he got rich.

and if he isnt on his way to getting rich after getting gobbled by google, then i certainly cant help him.

ive enjoyed my time with blogger. it’s a good system that allowed me to talk to all of you, and for that im grateful. and it has certainly given me what ive paid for.

there are parts of moveable type that i think i will like better.

as you know from my homepage (tonypierce.com), i dont rely on blogger for hosting. my man os supplies that wonderfully.

speaking of which, he and i have been deluged with requests for people who want tonypierce.com email addresses.

why do you people want those things?




me and os figured it out that if people are serious about these things that they can email me at stokeme@tonypierce.com and this is what you need to write in your note:

1. the email address that all the @tonypierce.com mail wil get forwarded to.

2. the prefix that you would like to request.

3. your full name.

what will happen is we will send you a PayPal invoice for $6.66 which will give you that email address for one full year. you can change where that @tonypierce.com address will get forwarded to once for free.

all proceeds — all proceeds will go to my man Os who has hosted this three-ring circus even before it existed, which is a tough trick, let me tell you.

back to Blogger. this blog is serious business. when my left-hand column is unable to be updated the way it is today, people write me mean(ish) emails. i need software that doesnt have these sorts of bugs. or i need to be a fulltime employee of bloggergoogle blogging while traveling the world.

or i need to move over to moveable type.

we’re through the looking glass, people.

i went to sleep at three am last night and i feel like a damn king this morning.

thank you, nasty girl, who left me the best email this morning.

layne + welch + owens + weekend box office charts in full on detail

soon as i got home

i had all these messages. ignored em. turned on e!, they were having the golden hanger awards.

i dont care what any of you say, i like joan rivers. shes a classic.

made a pot of rice. i have this little pot. heats up the rice fast. im not cooking for eight.

saturday i george formaned six chicken breasts, and ive been eating them like crazy. i put the rice in a bowl, then a hunk of chicken on top, microwave it for two minutes.

heat up some peas.

eat, repeat, eat, repeat.

ive been eating like a damn pig.

got ten bucks from bunsen today. i was a little nervous cuz there was no flow for a week.

didnt help that i hadnt talked about it for a week.

you know this thing is going to work, dont you.

47. bunsen

i think i have rounded down the choices to a mini cooper or a saturn.

ive had ridiculously good luck in saturns.

anyhow, to celebrate the flow from my man bunsen, heres another picture of meesh.

she just told me the greatest story.

her story.

i have heard some pretty interesting tales from some truly interesting women, good people.

strange and beautiful stories, my friends.

starring hot girls and the men… and women… who lusted them.

after i ate my chicken and rice i got on the instant messenger and this young girl. legal, but obscenely young.

she said things to me, even after seeing my picture.

i sent her two just incase.

big ones.

she sent me some pictures of herself and typed the most perfect pleas.

it took everything to resist stealing a car and driving all night.

i was distracted by lisa marie presley being interviewed by howard stern.

are all the women in the world perfect today?

howard: [regarding michael jackson first kissing her] did he tounge you?

lisa marie: did he do what?

howard: did he give you the tounge?

lisa marie: will you… stop it?

howard: yes.

lisa marie: thank you. {pause} i married the m-f, so…

howard: did he spank you?

lisa marie: no.

howard: did nicolas cage spank you?

lisa marie: i dont want to talk about it.

howard.: he did. i knew it. i would tie you up and spank you.

lisa marie: really?

howard. yeah.

lisa marie: good.

howard: absolutely.

lisa marie: good.

howard: you wouldnt even know what hit you. right, robin?

robin: thats right. but can you even tell us… were you sexually satisfied by michael jackson?

lisa marie: um, you know… uh… see…

howard: the answer is either yes or no.

lisa maire: the answer would be, would i have married someone that i wasnt.

saturn + mini cooper