right around dinnertime the girls wanted to change outfits

so i floated downstairs and saw that kurt was onstage singing tsar tunes for the crowd. everyone was loving it.

when he was done he sat next to me at my little table. i was sipping cuban rum. there was a nice tall glass of coke with a cherry in it that i was playing with.

boy thats fun. kurt said.

dont you get to play much in heaven?

so many good players up there, sometimes i just like to listen.

then we started talking about led zeppelin. kurt plays with bonham and hendrix all the time in elvis’s punk rock band, if you can believe it.

the king loves punk. loves it. says it’ “liberating”.

i dont know what to say to something like that so i asked him, if you could only have one cd, would it be zeppelin one or zeppelin two.

well i like the long, drawn out zep the best. and even though i wouldn’t like to turn my back on “whole lotta love,” i’d have to pick zep one. youve got “dazed and confused” with that creeping, gnarly, ominious bass line. you got “babe, im gonna leave you” where robert plant really gets off. and then you’ve got my favorite zep tune of all “your time is gonna come.” it’s like an anthem hiding in a whisper.

and with that we clicked glasses and each took an end from the giant hookah and inhaled

held it

held it




aaaaaaaaaaah and then exhaled.

coughed out a bunch of smoke and then laughed and laughed and cleared out the lungs with some guinness.

followed by a jello shot.

followed by a rum shot.

washed down with a nice pull from the cherry coke.

i really do love your blog. you do things that no one else does.

ah, kurt youre way too kind.

do any of the letters you get… are any of them real?

actually, yes, some are real. lots are real, actually. just the other day i got an email from a very sweet girl who gave me her picture once and then never again. i dont know why. i told her to send more so she should have understood that that meant that i wanted to see more of her. we even set up a night to meet at the Rustic, but she never showed. anyhow the day before i was killed she sent me this great story. a Christmas miracle, really. if they had the internet here i would show it to you.

kurt pointed to the table and there appeared inside the table, sunken like inside in another dimension a laptop computer, i put my hands inside the table and brought it out.

i stopped the waitress with the jello shots and took two more, handed one to kurt and logged into my hotmail.

ah yes, here it is, my man.

dear tony,

boy have i got a story for you,

you’ll never believe this one…

sunday night, my roommate and i had all of our girlfriends over for a holiday party/gift exchange. my girlfriend roxie was smoking on the balcony, and started shouting for me to come and look at something… so i go out on the balcony, and she says, “isn’t that your truck?”… (by the way, my truck was stolen 3 weeks ago). so anyway, i’m looking at it, but this truck had one of those tool shed thingys on the back of it. but i decided to run downstairs anyway. when i got downstairs, the truck seemed to have stalled or something… so i calmly walked over to the truck, snuck a peek at the license plate, and almost fainted… it was my truck! a weird rush of insanity came over me… and i walked right up to the driver side window. the guy rolled down the window, and i calmly said… “i just want to let you know i already called the cops… this is my truck, it was stolen 3 weeks ago.” there were 2! guys, and a girl… they all looked at each other, then at me… like i was crazy, and they had no idea what i was talking about. so, i then said, ” look, i don’t have time for this shit, it was stolen from merle’s auto shop 3 weeks ago. get the fuck out of my truck.” simultainesly, the 3 perps jump out of my truck and start running down the street. i couldn’t believe it. the next thing you know, i’m sitting in my recovered truck, not knowing how to turn it off, cause it was hotwired. by this time, there are about 10 drunk girls on the corner yelling and screaming… cause i got my truck back, and no one could believe how freaking weird it was. all of the sudden, my friend katy yells, “oh shit, thats them in that white truck over there!” so, seeing as we were all drunk at this point, (about 11:00pm), we all had a serious dose of liquid courage… Then i hear my roommate yell, “get the license plate number!”. We all l! ooked at eachother, and the next thing you know… there go 10 girls, in heels, chasing a car down the street. needless to say, the perps weren’t very happy about that, so they started throwing stuff at us. my friend brandy got hit with a bottle. anyway, we successfully got the plate #. and i got my truck back, along with a tool shed thingy full of tools, a drill press, with the bit, two spare tires, and a new sound system that they had installed in my truck. oh, it gets better… the idiot left his day planner in the truck… so when the cops arrived, they opened it…and what was on the first page? IF LOST PLEASE RETURN TO… thats right, total fucking idiot. so, right now, my truck is at the police impound yard, being dusted for finger prints. Can you believe that shit? to tell you the truth, i’m stoked i got my truck back and all, but… that shit freaked me out. how is my stolen truck gonna stall out, righ! t in front of my own house? bizarre.

kurt asked, was that from ashley?

i said, nah, ashley drives a cute little car, not a truck.

ashley is hot.

all the girls in cali are hot, buddy.

and we clinked our glasses again and before we could slam our glasses down a man in an apron held out the big triangle and struck it with a drumstick and said, “soup’s on mothafuckas!”

and everyone kicked over their chairs and ran to the buffet room.

anne + kitty bukkake + danielle has a new layout

i was dead.

i was somewhere outside death valley california in a whorehouse.

kurt cobain was downstairs watching a cockfight.

i had just played the a pinball machine that allowed me to tie up loose ends via some esp bullshit that allowed angels to read my mind and do whatever dirty deeds i hadn’t been able to complete before my untimely demise.

upon completion i got a high five from kurt, which i believe might just had been his very first high five ever, and i was escorted upstairs by

twin japanese catholic school runaways

with tattoos and wicked smiles on their faces.

the room we entered was perfumed and pink and soft and in the center was a round bed that rotated ever so slowly. mirrors everywhere, disco ball, disco music, fog machine, bubble machine, porn on twenty thirteen-inch tvs and shag carpet on the walls on the floors on the ceilings.

only rugs in the place, if you know what i mean.

the twins spoke simultaneously. one stroked my fro the other rubbed my feet. i reclined on the bed as they disrobed me and complimented my dull dough.

we like little bellies.

ooooo we like hairy chests.

ooooooooooh we really like scars. that’s right you were in the xbi.

they were dripping. they were visually excited. cheeks flushed, nipples poking out from sheer nasty brasseries. they had garters with bows, chokers with leashes, thigh high boots, glitter, lip gloss, lust.

i was floating inches above the bed as were they so they strapped me down. and told me this.

this is the bonus round. welcome to the bonus round. here is the question, a question that you should know the answer to, and for each correct response, from out of that door will enter a woman, one more beautiful than the next, one more sultry and intelligent and wild and soothing. trust us when we tell you that you will love every moment with every woman and you will be able to have each of them all at the same time.

all we need to know from you is for you to name each of the ten commandments. for each one you get right, a woman will join us.

ah heaven, i said.

the one above fed me grapes. on earth i never liked grapes. in this room i loved them, the juices dripped down my cheek.

thou shalt not steal, i said.

a redhead with long legs, red all over, black stockings, high heels entered.

thall shalt not take the Lord’s name in vain.

blonde, blonde, white stockings, pink trim, white shoes, perky boobs, baby doll tshirt that said busblog preshrunk so as to allow her bellybutton to peek under.

was that a diamond in her belly pierce? of course it was.

honor your mother and father, keep the sabbath holy.

two punk rock girls crawled in like cats. one had dyed pink hair, the other dyed red. they made out with each other. their stockings were torn, their leather miniskirts shined in the flashing lights. they rolled around. they bit. they drew blood. they licked the blood and looked at me. i said hi. they growled.

don’t lust after your neighbor.

the twins looked at each other. a bell rang. the judges had accepted the answer.

a woman who looked just like lindsey lohan but not really walked through the door. she had on a long white fur. full length. diamond choker. she opened her coat. nearly blinded us all. whitest woman around. looked like a statue. gorgeous.

thou shalt not kill.

skaterchick with ripped jeans and a tight baseball shirt ollied over the writhing punkers and told me she read my blog every damn day.

have no other gods than the Lord

a lightskinned black woman who looked like a young mariah carey entered in a pink bikini. she sang like an angel. she told me that she would lick my entire body. i thanked her for the offer and said,

thou shalt not commit adultery.

and a woman who looked like a black Princess Diana appeared. sounded like her too. quite.

i counted nine girls. what could the tenth be?

the asian princesses told me that if i got this one right that i could spend the entire day with all of the women and unlike on earth there would be no “down time” and gazed down at “little tone” which had never looked so majestic and wonderful.

the women who had lined up for me couldn’t stand still. they all wanted me so badly. they whispered some of the poems i had written and touched themselves. some touched each other.

for the life of me i couldn’t remember the last one.

and then, i said,

do not bear false witness upon your neighbor.

and they came charging at me, and trailing the pack, was a woman who looked just like marilyn monroe, who, when she entered floated slowly past the others and landed next to me and kissed me right on the forehead.

and unlatched my restraints.

p. 68-70 from how to blog

from a regular busblog reader

Amazing, Tony.

Just as sure as the DUI always staggers off the straight
line on an episode of COPS, as sure as Kirstie Alley has crumbs in the
folds of her dress and certainly as sure as Hugh Hewitt slathers his
hair with lard, the “world’s greatest blogger™ has done it again. As
Tom (Soon to be “The Slammer”) Delay now finds that instead of helping
him into the boat, his “pals” are swinging machetes at him in the
shark-filled waters, the nutty perfesser has decided to devote
considerable blog real estate to…yep, lovely digital snapshots from
around ye olde campus.

It’s so f*cking obvious—he seems to only pull
his manure and chaw-stained Weegee impersonation whenever the sh*t
hits the fan for the folks he swears he’s never taken a check from–ever.
Even the straw-hatted diva Drudge has opted to go along with the
obviously Rove-approved takedown of this potential ’06 albatross.

The NY Times and WaPost are leading tomorrow [today] with heavily sourced–read: folks who’ve gotten the okay from a snake higher up the chain than the “Bugman”–articles detailing DeLay’s taking money and
trips from shady-ass russian capitilaists and claiming the perks were from
some non-profit and how he hooked up his family into a slush-fund paid for
by more well-CONnected “friends”.

It’s THE news story of the day, maybe of the next few weeks and
what does GR do? Make like he’s a hard-workin’ photographer
for “Jet” magazine, just a click-click-clickin’ away at the passing co-eds.

A couple of times when it happens, I’m willing to forgive as co-inky-dink.
It’s a blatant pattern now, bellow-bellied and utterly unforgivable.


A Fan Who Knows You’re Probably Too Busy To Care

UPDATE: A second reader writes in:


Instapundit ripped off the idea from Prof Althouse who apparently a big fan of gratuitous ass and crotch shots?

check it out: