problem is, she knows when its too late.

its one twenty five am and its too late. long legs. smooth. maybe a little too smooth. not a blemish, not a mark. he seriously thought to himself, she might be an android. then remembered that she had made that joke about putting on a strapon and effing him. so this is what they meant by anal probe.

her eyes were closed. he couldnt stop kissing her belly and telling her how good looking she looked. hed kiss and say, see, now thats good shit. search for a new target a few inches away and kiss and say, yep.

the white stipes were on in the living room speakers. something about jolene jolene jolene jo-lene…

but neither of them noticed. jesus candle blowing from the open sliding glass door which should be closed he thought cuz shes sorta loud and went back to not thinking and aiming at better parts and slowly moving down to the perfect perfect skin perfect from years of soaking in a tub waiting for a good man but tonight she settled again.

this shit is worth something he told her, seemingly genuine for once, but completely inappropriate considering the situation. she smiled. had to.

kissed over there and said fifty cents right there.

kissed over here and said probably about a good fourty cents depending on the supply and

kissed the neck and said buck, buck fiddy.

closer to the ear, two bucks.

ear, twenty

ears arent cheap

kissed around the hair line, inhaled deeply



kissed her forehead




kissed her nose

and then top smiling lip

twelve fiddy





three hundred

three hundred

three hundred


amy + sutter + noah

why today’s new york times mention

makes me pissed off at the Instapundit. by tony pierce, 110.

as you are well aware, today the paper of record, the epitome of high class american journalism, printed part of an interview with me, and linked this very blog on from its website.

the approximate amount of traffic that i will get from that link from the nyt will be around 3,000 hits today. not bad when you consider that i average about 1,000 hits a day.

however, earlier this month, my new best friend atrios linked me and i got 7,000 hits, more than twice the number of the highly respected and deservedly so new york times.

atrois’s numbers still pale in comparison to the Instapundit who could easilly bring in 3, 4, or 5 times the amount of traffic to the fortunate blog who is lucky enough to find himself on the other end of a link when Indy decides to take a break from blogging, as he did yesterday as he is away travelling.

glenn’s site, averages over 120,000 hits a day, according to his site meter.

this hour alone he got more hits (4,765) from the blogosphere than i will get all day from the new york times.

my hope is that my man would actually do something interesting with those hits other than just be a drudgeclone.

and although i am not implying that he is intentionally abusing his influence by linking solely to news articles and bloggers and blogs who echo is political bent, i would like to invite him to broaden his scope and share the love a little more than he has done in recent months, particularilly in regards to non-partisan news stories like the involvement of Riggs Bank and their record-breaking fine of $25 million for aiding the Saudi’s to money launder and fund at least two of the 19 terrorists responsible for the tragedies on 9/11.

the reason mr. reynolds gets so many hits a day is because he is generally believed to be a reliable news filter. as a law professor he apparently has enough free time in his day to read scores of newspapers and websites and as a free service to the web he links to many of those current event stories and news blurbs and provides insightful and reasonable commentary in short, readable chunks.

however when he refuses to do things like discuss the testimony that donald rumsfeld gave earlier this month, seriously discuss the accusations that pulitzer winning investigative reporter seymour hersh levvied against the defense secretary saying that the cia said that rumsfeld expanded a highly secretive operation originally intended to find Al Qaeda to include the aggressive and sexual interrogation of prisoners in Iraq, or even mention Riggs Bank and its relationship to President Bush’s uncle Jonathan (an executive of Riggs Investment), the illusion of impartiality is diminished.

Riggs Bank is the infamous Washington DC establishment best know as the being where Saudi Princess Haifa Al-Faisal, wife of Saudi Ambassador Prince Bandar allegedly sent nearly a half million dollars to the saudi “student” Omar al-Bayoumi who then gave some of the money to Khalid al-Mihdhar and Nawaf al-Hazmi.

Khalid al-Mihdhar and Nawaf al-Hazmi, pictured, of course are two of the nineteen 9/11 hijackers, 15 of whom were Saudi, like osama bin ladin.

The ties between the bush family and the prince and princess go far beyond banking, which might be one reason why the President censored 28 pages of a 9/11 congressional report that dealt with the Saudi’s role in the terrorist attacks.

“My judgment is 95 percent of that information could be declassified, become uncensored so the American people would know,” Sen. Richard Shelby (R-Ala.), former vice chairman of the Senate Intelligence Committee, said last July on “Meet the Press”.

Shelby who said that he had read all 28 pages that had been redacted, speculated that the reason that the Bush Administration is keeping those pages from the American public is because of politics.

“I think it might be embarrassing to international relations,” he said.

So is the Instapundit also concerned about embarrasing international relations between the USA and Saudi Arabia? is that why he refuses to even blog the words “Riggs Bank” who was fined last month for doing things like not even mentioning approximately $30 million in transactions between the Saudis and “charities” that they donate to, some who have members of al-queda on their board.

I would think that any serious political blogger would be interested in this, which might be the juiciest political story of the year. The uncle of the president, Jonathan Bush, who is the brother of the former president, turning the other way so that the saudi crown can fund the terrorists behind 9/11?

wouldnt that make Jonathan Bush the biggest traitor since benedict arnold?

i know uncle bush probably didnt physically do anything, but he turned his back so that those attrocities could happen.

and isnt that just as bad?

and isnt anyone who turns their backs on attrocities specifically surrounding 9/11 a traitor in these, the days of the Patriot Act?

i wouldnt know. i just get 1,000 hits a day.

but if i had the luxury of 15 times that, i think i would want to use my superpowers to continue the discussions that are nearest and dearest to america’s heart.

like little things like 9/11 and those who were part of the problem.

even if it means, for example, including the president and his uncle, and the bank that was central to letting it happen.

verbungle + doc searls + jim gilliam

sharp-eyed reader rick rock

was correct in noticing that the paper of record didnt mention my age in today’s article on bloggers.

did they ask me my age? yes.

did they ask several times over several phone calls? yes.

did i ever give them my actual age? hell no.

if i havent told you, my dear readers, why would i tell strangers just because theyre being persistant?

i dont give my age on the blog for lots of reasons, and I told the NY Times, who i respect and admire.

the first being that age is rarely relevant in any discussion that doesnt have to do with statutory rape, bilking social security, or underage drinking.

but mostly i am interested in having my stories and my writings judged solely on the tales and the storytelling.

age only allows for generalizations and discriminations that arent necessarilly the truth. when i say that im 110 years old, im saying that im old. isnt that enough?

we live in a time where youth is foolishly glamourized and idealized and allowed special treatment despite the fact that even though some kids are incredible, most are dumbassed twits who look good in miniskirts because they’re, well, young.

for example, if youre a marginal singer and youre 16 years old, you can be the runner-up for American Idol. but if youre a dynamite singer and over 25 you cant even audition. thats fucked up, particuliarly because i just saw Prince, who is no longer a teenager, kick everyones ass, of any age, several times over.

why cant the media figure out a way to get him in front of 50 million tv viewers?

because the media has a hardon for the “next big thing” and they turn their backs on established stars the minute they drop out of the top 40.

the media’s obsession with youth is no different than other forms of agism that i have to battle on the daily.

for example, if a young woman wants to make out with a 110 year old blogger suddenly everyone claims that shes being taken advantage of, and the blogger is branded as some sexcrazed cradlerobber– even if the dirty old man is far cooler and takes better care of her than some pimplefaced freak with a slipknot tshirt, herpes, and a permanant boner.

my stupid age in relation to a fluff peice about obsessive blogging has absolutely nothing to do with the story, and the exclusion of my age subracted zero from the tale being spun.

the habit that the NYT and other papers and magazines have of including ages in the descriptions of their subjects is lazy journalism that distorts the story in more cases than adding to them.

who cares that “joe schmoe, 57, owner of Local Icecream Shop” who got robbed tuesday is 57 years old? it’s only useful information if joe was 157 or 15, because then it would possibly be the cause of the robbery. and thats why i call the blanket use of ages lazy journalism.

i have great respect for the new york times. but not everything they do is perfect.

i dont have a girlfriend. i never said to the reporter that i had a girlfriend. i told a perfect antedote about how my obsessive blogging lead to strife with a girl who had spent the night at my house.

i said that she heard me wake up at 6am, and asked me to wake her up at 7:30am so we could be on time for work.

what happened was i blogged until 8:10am and woke her up after i was done and that led us to being late which re-started a long going little arguement that she has with me that i should spend the night more often at her house, so that we wouldnt be so late in the mornings.

but because i dont like her setup as it irritates the carpel tunnel that i fight with BECAUSE of my obsessive blogging, and because i dont like using iMacs, oftentimes she spends the night at my house.

but in this world where writers want everything to fit in a perfect box of “girlfriends” “age 111” and “scheduler” you miss out on the fine details of human experience, and in this case, in an interesting tale.

for the record i didnt even bother to tell them that i was an undercover agent in the xbi and i told them the one lie that i tell all reporters, that i am a scheduler for a large entertainment company.

to which they say cool and go back to trying to get me to reveal my age.

which matters less than where i work and what astrological sign i am.

and yes, this might be the last interview that i grant the press because these things never turn out the way i hope they will. which is “Fucking A: Tony Pierce the Man!”

but at least today my mom will be proud that her son is in a fancy ass paper for mostly good reasons.

and im very suprised and grateful that they linked me directly in their electronic version.

grateful because no i can invite the thousands of hits that they sent me to one of my all-time favorite “obsessive” bloggers, jay mccarthy, whose home burned down the other day and is now feeling gulity that his blog-reading is falling behind. thats the sort of guy he is.

jay’s site,, is the epitome of a good blogger who appreciates the blogs and spends a great amount of time reading and writing about the whole whateverthisis.


staples center
los angeles

dearly beloved,

if u ever want 2 get through this thing called life, make sure u go 2 a prince show at least once.

and if you go once, you’ll be back.

prince popped up through the center of his stage last night at the sold-out staples center dressed in white. pure of any sin. and the definition of sexy.

an x marked the spot on the center of the arena. his gold microphone awaited him. his 8 peice band including horn section featuring james brown’s legendary sax man maceo parker and blonde bombshell candy dulfer waited for him. and the screaming LA crowd who were amazingly on-time waited for him on this, the second night of an unprecidented five-night stand of los angeles’s premier concert and sports venue.

home of the lakers, the grammys, the kings, and last night, of prince.

he owned it. he rocked it. he was it.

as a witness of hundreds of concerts, ive seen the best: the stones, springsteen, u2, miles davis, the jackson 5, eric clapton, van halen, tom waits, elvis costello, tsar, jane’s addiction, and the beastie boys. but never have i seen one man seemingly never make a mistake, a wasted motion, or spin and twirl and pirrorette and be equal parts show-off and showman like that freaky little dude from minnesota.

and the fucker did it in heels.

he played his guitar like a kid would play a broomstick. it was an air guitar to him.

a total maestro he would throw his hand down and the drummer would accent the beat and stop.

a master controller he would tell the lighting man to bring up the lights and bring them down and the lights went up or down immediately.

when he grew tired of his guitar a well-dressed man would come out and take it from him and he pranced over to a couch on the stage and his keyboard player gave him a pillow for his feet and a blanket.

then he played bass. then he played bass with the bass player.

then he danced.

fuck did he dance.

all while throwing out classic r&b numbers like chinese stars, all written, produced, and performed by himself throughout the years.

upon entering the show the ushers handed out free copies of his new cd, musicology and one guy said to his buddy, “mick jagger never gave me anything for free.”

and as much as i love mick, mick never played the guitar or wrote these sorts of songs, alone, or this sexy, or with this much funk.

what we got to be a part of last night kept us on our feet dancing for over two hours, and when he concluded with an extended encore of the title track of his best known album, purple rain no one wanted to leave.

except for the yuppies who wanted to somehow “beat” traffic. which, sadly was half the arena.

but whatever, prince had pummelled them. he had pummelled all of us.

if elvis had actually known a thing about showmanship and songwriting and guitar playing and dancing, the king would have been prince.

in my 110 years, this was the best arena concert ive ever seen.

i smiled the entire time.

anti + simpleton + xero 79