he was born on this day in 1842 in ohio.

here are some selections from his famous Devil’s Dictionary. these are from the P’s:

PESSIMISM, n.
A philosophy forced upon the convictions of the observer by the disheartening prevalence of the optimist with his scarecrow hope and his unsightly smile.

PHILANTHROPIST, n.
A rich (and usually bald) old gentleman who has trained himself to grin while his conscience is picking his pocket.

PHILISTINE, n.
One whose mind is the creature of its environment, following the fashion in thought, feeling and sentiment. He is sometimes learned, frequently prosperous, commonly clean and always solemn.

PHILOSOPHY, n.
A route of many roads leading from nowhere to nothing.

PHOENIX, n.
The classical prototype of the modern “small hot bird.”

PHONOGRAPH, n.
An irritating toy that restores life to dead noises.

PHOTOGRAPH, n.
A picture painted by the sun without instruction in art. It is a little better than the work of an Apache, but not quite so good as that of a Cheyenne.

PHRENOLOGY, n.
The science of picking the pocket through the scalp. It consists in locating and exploiting the organ that one is a dupe with.

PIE, n.
An advance agent of the reaper whose name is Indigestion.
Cold pie was highly esteemed by the remains.
Rev. Dr. Mucker
(in a funeral sermon over a British nobleman)

Cold pie is a detestable
American comestible.
That’s why I’m done — or undone —
So far from that dear London.
(from the headstone of a British nobleman in Kalamazoo)

PIGMY, n.
One of a tribe of very small men found by ancient travelers in many parts of the world, but by modern in Central Africa only. The Pigmies are so called to distinguish them from the bulkier Caucasians — who are Hogmies.

PLAN, v.t.
To bother about the best method of accomplishing an accidental result.

PLATONIC, adj.
Pertaining to the philosophy of Socrates. Platonic Love is a fool’s name for the affection between a disability and a frost.

PLOW, n.
An implement that cries aloud for hands accustomed to the pen.

POETRY, n.
A form of expression peculiar to the Land beyond the Magazines.

POKER, n.
A game said to be played with cards for some purpose to this lexicographer unknown.

POLITENESS, n.
The most acceptable hypocrisy.

POLITICS, n.
A strife of interests masquerading as a contest of principles. The conduct of public affairs for private advantage.

POLITICIAN, n.
An eel in the fundamental mud upon which the superstructure of organized society is reared. When we wriggles he mistakes the agitation of his tail for the trembling of the edifice. As compared with the statesman, he suffers the disadvantage of being alive.

POSITIVE, adj.
Mistaken at the top of one’s voice.

PRESIDENCY, n.
The greased pig in the field game of American politics.

PRICE, n.
Value, plus a reasonable sum for the wear and tear of conscience in demanding it.

PRIMATE, n.
The head of a church, especially a State church supported by involuntary contributions. The Primate of England is the Archbishop of Canterbury, an amiable old gentleman, who occupies Lambeth Palace when living and Westminster Abbey when dead. He is commonly dead.

PROOF, n.
Evidence having a shade more of plausibility than of unlikelihood. The testimony of two credible witnesses as opposed to that of only one.

PROOF-READER, n.
A malefactor who atones for making your writing nonsense by permitting the compositor to make it unintelligible.

PROVIDENTIAL, adj.
Unexpectedly and conspicuously beneficial to the person so describing it.

PRUDE, n.
A bawd hiding behind the back of her demeanor.

PUBLISH, n.
In literary affairs, to become the fundamental element in a cone of critics.

from Biercefile:

Ambrose Gwinett Bierce came into this world on June 24, 1842 in Meigs County, Ohio, son of Marcus Aurelius and Laura Sherwood Bierce. He was the youngest of a large brood of children, whom Marcus, for reasons unknown, anointed with names beginning with “A.”

Details on his childhood are sketchy. He left his family in 1857 to live in Indiana, working as a “printer’s devil” for an abolitionist newspaper. He eventually came to live with uncle Lucius Verus in Ohio, then attended the Kentucky Military Institute for a year before dropping out. Bierce wasn’t the first in his family to have interest in the military. His grandfather fought in the American Revolution, and Lucius Verus supplied radical abolitionist John Brown with the weapons for his failed uprising, as well as personally leading a people’s army to “liberate” Canada from the British.

Ambrose worked odd jobs until the outbreak of the U.S. Civil War in 1860, when he enlisted with the 9th Indiana volunteers. The Civil War would prove to be the defining episode of his life. Bierce worked primarily as a topographical engineer, where his excellent and valiant performance allowed him to rise through the ranks. He fought in several key battles in the war, including Shiloh, Chickamauga, Missionary Ridge, and Kennesaw Mountain. During his distinguished career, he was seriously wounded in the head at Kennesaw Mountain and escaped from capture in Gaylesville, Alabama.

What he saw and experienced in the war had the most profound effect on Bierce. In addition to the harsh realities of war, Bierce’s engagement to childhood sweetheart Bernice (“Fatima”) Wright was broken off during the war, adding to his disillusionment. All his experiences in the war are commonly seen as the source of his cynical realism.

Bierce landed in San Francisco in 1867, where he got a job working at the mint. It was then he decided on a career in journalism. Self-taught, he got a regular job as the “Town Crier” in the San Francisco News Letter by the end of the next year. Bierce’s acid wit quickly gained him great local fame and a burgeoning national notoriety. In 1871, he courted and wed Mary Ellen (“Mollie”) Day, a San Franciscan socialite of one of the best families of the city.

A wedding gift took them to England, where Bierce would spend one of the happiest periods of his life. He earned his way working for Tom Hood’s Fun and continuing his “Town Crier” column in Figaro. During his time in England, Mollie gave birth to his first two children, Day (1872) and Leigh (1874), and he wrote his first three books: Nuggets and Dust (1872), The Fiend’s Delight (1873), and Cobwebs from an Empty Skull (1874).

In early 1875, Mollie returned to San Francisco with their young family. Bierce reluctantly followed later that year, just before the birth of the couple’s third child, Helen. In 1877, Bierce became the editor of The Argonaut, gaining notoriety for his “Prattle” column. After a brief period where Bierce pursued a failed venture with the Black Hills Placer Mining Company in South Dakota, Bierce returned to San Francisco and joined the Wasp in 1881, where he picked up his “Prattle” column.

In 1887, Bierce began his famous (and tumultuous) relationship with publishing baron William Randolph Hearst, joining the staff for the San Francisco Examiner. It was at this time that Bierce’s personal life would begin being fraught with tragedies. In 1888, he separated from Mollie when he found “improper” letters to her from a European admirer, and in 1889, Bierce’s pride and joy, Day, was slain in a sordid duel over a woman.

While continuing his newspaper work, Bierce began producing books in America. Between 1891-3, Bierce wrote and published The Monk and the Hangman’s Daughter (with G.A. Danziger, 1892), Tales of Soldiers and Civilians (1892), Black Beetles In Amber (1892), and Can Such Things Be? (1893).

A lifelong opponent of the railroad interests that literally owned the California politics of his day, Bierce was one of the few journalists brave enough to oppose them. In 1896, Bierce won his greatest victory against Collis P. Huntington, one the biggest “railrogues” in the state. Huntington was in the process of quietly slipping through legislation that would effectively excuse him from repaying his debt to the federal government until after his death. With Hearst’s backing and space in the Examiner and New York Journal, Bierce single-handedly brought such public opinion and scrutiny against the bill that it was struck down, the first major defeat to the railroad interests. Most people mark this the first crack in the railroad industry’s dam of political power which eventually led to its downfall.

Perhaps the most intriguing aspect of Ambrose Bierce’s life was its end. After a tour of the Civil War battlefields of his youth, the septuagenarian Bierce crossed the border into revolutionary Mexico and was never heard from again. Although there should technically be a question mark at the end of the title to this section, we can safely assume Bierce’s death since he would be over 150 years old if he were alive. (Although, as you’ll see below, there are some theories that overcome even this.) Ambrose Bierce’s date of death is usually placed in 1914.

The facts of the matter are this. The build-up to Bierce’s disappearance began in letters that expressed an interest in going to war-torn Mexico to cheat a lingering old age, perhaps even hooking up with rebel leader Pancho Villa. Before a long visit to Civil War battlefields, Bierce made a series of arrangements for the control of his various interests that can be seen as either preparation for a lengthy trip or an ordering of someone’s final affairs. After the battlefield visits, Bierce crossed into Mexico, sent out a final letter, and vanished. Bierce’s daughter Helen, alarmed by the disappearance, petitioned the United States government to help find her father. An official inquiry by the government failed to turn up anything.

The “traditional,” or at the least the most widely believed theory, holds that he did go to Mexico. Although the specific details of the death vary, the most common story is that after crossing into Mexico, Bierce was killed during the fighting of the war. In different tellings, he was executed by rebels, federal troops, or Villa himself — or died in a battle before or after joining up with Villa’s forces. One story even tells of an old gringo advisor in Villa’s camp who constantly mocked the rebel leader. Although various people claimed to see Bierce or his grave after December 26, there is no definitive contact with Bierce after that last letter.

Perhaps the most convincing of the Mexico stories is that of soldier-of-fortune Edward “Tex” O’Reilly in his Born To Raise Hell. He claims to have been contacted by Bierce in El Passo and then in Chihauhua City — but never met with him. O’Reilly says that several months later, he heard that an American had been killed in a nearby mining camp of Sierra Mojada. He investigated and heard how an old American, speaking broken Spanish, was executed by Federal Troops when they found out he was searching for Villa’s troops. The locals told how he kept laughing, even after the first volley of his execution.

coop + im reading jamies book + oak park mastermind + spastic lethargy

then you dont deserve it. fuckin i set fire to my dumpster at ucsb if we won a coin flip.

once me and solomon were covering the near riot in iv after we beat the #2 rebels of unlv and people started a couch on fire and people started throwing shit onto the couch to get the fire taller and some blond shirtless surfer dude started dancing around it and then someone gave him a beer and he shotgunned it and jumped over the flaming couch and everyone cheered.

then someasshole with a full beer whipped it at the couch but it soared over it and nearly hit solomon in the head and i grabbed it as it spun behind us and whipped it back fuckers. yeah we were the press but we were also seniors. we had to set the tone.

solomon is getting married next month and the other day he asked me very politely if i could dj the reception. typically the dj is dougie gyro who will be in california next month but is headed back to the czech republic three days before the ceremony.

jeff was so happy that i was saying yes that he offered to pay for my airfare or some shit but i was all, are you crazy, not only do i know exactly what i will play, but youve fixed my computers for free over the years, i would do anything for you.

except play coldplay.

do that shit on my break.

at my disposal will be two ipods a cd player and a mixer. one of the ipods will be mine which will include so many incredible dance songs that we may dance till october.

its three thirty three am and i have two things to do tomorrow and im done. i have to move my fucking car before noon and i have to go to the post office to mail peter from palm springs his copy of how to blog. if i really want to go for it i can go over to the aaa and show them that i got my smog certificate which means that now i truly have registered the car to me.

its a very good car. theres a lot of corrosion on the battery wire. the smog check guy said just a little water and baking soda. but i dont know. how can baking soda be my saving grace in the spring when i got a bee sting and now with this car battery?

i will probably not be unemployed for very long at all, so i am savoring each day that i dont have to wake up or think about anything.

as you can see it hasnt made me terribly productive or insighful, if anything its made me testy and ownery if thats how you spell it.

when i started at the xbi they had us get used to drugs so they fed me all these things id never heard of and id wig out and then theyd write down what i told them happened and at the same time my roommate just had to smoke weed every day.

totally not fair.

he, however wanted to do all the wild shit and was bored, but one thing i noticed was for the first six months he sneezed alot. the smoke was irritating his nose. but then he got used to it.

being in unemployment limbo is a lot like my roommates experience, i imagine. it looks fun but its boring and it never produces the inspiration that you think it will. you just get fat and grow a beard.

and now being close to having a job has inspired me less. when i thought i was going to starve if i didnt do something inventive, i thought of the idea of putting together Stiff and selling it online, a painless process that would get me a few grand probably. but now that i know that theres light at the end of the tunnel, i dont want that thing out there.

but i do work on it every night. pretty much.

and it is good.

and about an hour ago this crazy guy who screams about his great audio video deals showed a 42″ plasma tv for $2,000.

and i thought, it wouldnt suck to have a tv in the bedroom for once. or a laptop. or both. or a damn trip to europe when nobodys lookin. or canada before it gets cold as shit. matt good says that it isnt all that cold but maybe thats cuz hes got a heater. i dont have a heater. i do but i dont use it.

my car is a good car i just need a knob for the volume. when i worked at federated group home of fred rated i sold car stereos and i never knew why sometimes random knobs would be missing… until now.

the deputy outs me as straightedge + dick shagwell + karen got the tsar record early

that i dont often do. i went outside.

i didnt make it out there until 3:45p but i made it. i nearly turned around when i realized id still be in hollywood at 4pm which is really when the traffic starts getting thick but i took a left down la brea and it was smooth sailing till pico where i turned west toward the beach.

i called karisa and hung out with her for 12 minutes. twelve minutes because thats all the change i had for the meter. i took some pictures of her blackberry and kept rolling. i went to venice beach, walked around, talked to people including the daughter of the owner of a storefront on the boardwalk who complained that she works 70 hours a week and i almost asked if i could cover the weekends for her until she asked me first.

i was buying three tshirts for $15. a Rolling Stones ’72, a black sabbath, and a led zep. all black. all old looking. all on sale because locals know that if you go during the week its cheaper. i also bought sun glasses and this dude started talking to me about the lakers.

i have no problem talking about the lakers and what was nice is los angelinos havent had much to say about the lakers other than fuck kobe so when phil jackson returned everyone wanted to talk about the lakers again.

and then we were rudely interrupted by some visiting texans who asked us how on earth we could stand there in the hot sun eating pizza and talking about the lakers for 20 minutes when we were all headed to a game seven of the nba finals and no one had said shit about the san antonio spurs who were widely predicted at the begining of the season to win the west, which they did, or the pistons, the current nba champs who beat the lakers last year thanks to the refs who allowed the bad boys from the motor city to tie down the big fella as kobe kept missing from outside.

but they were right.

i was in 10 nba fantasy leagues this year which means that every day of the season i looked at everyones stats and knew who was in the IL who was hot who was sick and who was not available due to a death in the family

last year the busblog covered nearly every game in the finals. this year i dont think ive mentioned the playoffs even once.

the truth is i was so shocked by the tragic collapse of the lakers who went from the prospect of payton malone shaq and kobe to a team who wasnt even the best nba club in la. and even though kobe’s rape trial went his way, no longer was a laker game at staples a classy cool fun place to go. it had turned overnight into the pretty boy’s vanity team.

when shaq played here he was loved by the kids and the mexicans and thats it. fucker was mvp and people called him fat. he rapped while getting his third ring and people called him crosseyed and lazy. even sammy sosa was loved before he was unfairly booted out of chicago, but i dont remember any true love for diesel other than his first year.

and now, even though they still might not admit it, los angeles misses its big aristotle and would trade kobe to the heat for shaq in a second.

but the texas tourists were right, i havent talked about san antone or the pistons or these finals for the simple reason that it doesnt interest me. ginobli and duncan have no heart and even dennis rodman could play defense so detroit has still yet to earn my respect especially when they as the defending champs cant win at home which is the biggest diss ive ever seen hit motown, the most unfortunate of american cities.

i’ll probably go see batman.

xtx + leah is the girl below + flagrant

yes this is the tony pierce that you saw on Envoyé Spécial (which I understand will be rebroadcast on Friday at 2:15a so set your Le Tivo).

i am typing you from the closet that i was interviewed in. i am wearing pajamas but a different set of pajamas.

when i was interviewed by those very nice men of the award winning French tv show i was gainfully employed. today i am unemployed. so what i do is i wake up at noon, have a croissant, click around the web for twenty minutes, and then write for twenty minutes nonstop.

one of the places that i clicked today during the first twenty minutes was my stats.

when i saw that i had 250 visitors last hour, and many had come from http://fr.search.yahoo.com i scratched my bald head and said wtf which translated means Who let The French out.

my first guess was i had insulted you in some way and there was a campaign to attack me and leave nasty comments on my blog.

but then i remembered the camera crew that was out here so long ago who promised that the show would be broadcast in May. once may came and went i assumed that i was not exciting enough for the French tv audience and i was edited out of the presentation.

this is one of my fondest memories from that interview:

in television production there are shots that they call B-Roll, its like when you see someone walking down the street talking with the interviewer as the narrator speaks in the background. since i was being interviewed about blogging they said Antoine, would you please pretend that you are blogging and we will shoot b roll of you from a variety of angles.

i said, must i pretend? I would love to actually blog since I havent been able to do so all night?

They said, fine, blog. And sure enough they put the camera far away from me and filmed me from way back over there, they put the camera under my legs and filmed me from down there. they got on a chair above me, they flooded my livingroom and shot me underwater, they rented a blimp, they even pretended to take a break and filmed me to catch me “unawares”.

i didnt care, i had shit to blog. or merde a bloggue as you say.

ah france, i love ya. ive been there three times. once as a 20 year old boy, alone. i sailed in from Dover to Calais, then i took a train in the morning to Paris. I was headed for Octoberfest but i delayed my plans when i saw your beautiful city. i know not all of you are from paris, but lets pretend. oh paris, oh france. of course i met some americans on the rain to paris which isnt hard because we’re the ones trying to be as loud as the australians. we roamed the streets hungry looking for bread and wine and cheese and a grassy area in which to picnic. thankfully paris is freaking bursting with such places and just as the tourbook warned, we were greeted with hat-tipping smiling parisians wishing us “bonne appitite”. fucking class. god i love you.

i returned a few weeks later and spent an entire week with a very rich family who couldnt have been more hospitible. if i could speak better french i would move there and open up a taco stand. i couldnt find many good fish taco stands there and i have a feeling that youd really like a true ensenada-style spicy fish taco after a long night of dancing instead of one of those fatting crepes.

i would also open a store called Cold Sodas. i know that you know how we love our coke, sprite, and pepsi cold but you refuse to acknowledge our preferences. i think thats fine. youve done everything else right. perfect in fact. and as a tourist i would be suspicious of a cold soda from a real frenchman, so allow me, the american, to cater to the silly needs of my people. and yes i will overcharge them and wear a beret.

the second time i went to france was for matt and emmanuelle’s wedding. we were in Joncy where em’s father is the mayor of the town. we stayed up all night and drank all the wine in france and danced and looked at the stars and sang to the stars and sang to the white cows who were mooing to us in french which sounded like singing but em told us later was not singing at all, they were saying, she informed us, that they were going to wait until we fell asleep and they were going to eat our shoes. but theres nothing like walking barefoot through a 500 year old town in the summertime in france. so i love you, je t’aime, bonne anniversarrie.

le ding.

emmanuelle + France 2 + Buzznet evidence of the French invasion in Feb

six days. six days my friends. remember how everyone took pictures of themselves when they bought “how to blog” and i put those pictures on the busblog? yeah me neither, but someone reminded me that i did it so i will do that for the new tsar record too. whattya think of that.

now let me ask you a question. did i ask anything of you people when i was laid off?

did i beg for money or put out a little book of old posts for big bucks. even when you said youd buy it? no.

i appreciate the relationship we have, you and i. i throw lies up here on the web and you pretend its real and i pretend its real too. and everyone loves each other

and its beautiful.

i am not asking you to buy this record when it comes out. im pyschicaly willing you to do it. i am using all my esp power that i have. im tapping into the force. im using my powers of good for evil. fun evil. im hypnotising you. your eyes are getting heavy. youre getting very sleepy. this is why i dont podcast. what you will do is go about your daily journeys and on tuesday you will go to the record store and you will get the new tsar record

you will tell the cashier that tsar is amazing and there should be a poster up. ask them why there isnt a poster up. if theres a poster up you will say why the hell arent there two posters up. why isnt it in the window you will demand. and then youwill ask them to put it on the speakers right there in the store and you will command them to crank that shit. you will, in fact say crank that shit buddy. and when the song is over you will say now that you little hairless freak is rock music.

what songs should you demand? quite frankly you cant go wrong with any of them.

it starts off blazing out of the gate with the noisy title track Band Girls Money. whalen alleges that the president sneaks when he walks down the street, hes got a stove pipe hat and wooden teeth, then jeff reveals that his girlfriends name is kathy wong and all hell breaks loose.

meanwhile lead guitar player w. daniel kern is shredding through all of it, taking breaks only to reload the flamethrowers with gasoline.

it stops hard and fast on a dime. Wanna Get Dead, which ive arranged to be the second song pops on the first beat. whalens actually in there before the music even starts talking about all the pictures he has of people he hates. he calls someone a fucker. and sings about wanting to get dead. “its hard to take a stand with all the women on your lap” is not about me so shut up. its a top 40 single if ever i heard one.

next on the love parade is my favorite track Wrong. on this one whalen screams and we feel it. number one hit if ever ive heard one. with a bullet. it should be in every movie.

following that in my lineup is Everyones Fault But Mine with its ominous bass riff which should get snapped up by a commericial just like the title track and Straight were (BGM is currently being played on the Nestle Crunch commersh and Straight was used for the Nissan Xterra).

next comes my second favorite track on the album Startime which i had linked on this blog for maybe six months with its big horns, non stop guitar, and perfect lines “and if you dont like that why dont you go home and watch some Tivo, fucker.” what can i say, the hey hey never let me down.

go glam the conqueror worm is next, then the ultra rockin Straight where whalen through mascara and pink sneakers pleads to the world that hes no tom cruise, “all the dianetics on the miracle mile know im straight.”

Superdeformed is a story about a horny dude who dropped out of school and got a job with the xfbi. it sounds like the beatles meets trex which means that i only like half of it. but the rest of the world should eat it up.

then theres the Love Explosion and it ends with You Cant Always Want What You Get which the band never plays live and is therefore something that i listen to all the time because its the closest thing to a “new” song that a friend of the band will get to. and its good.

this summer please buy the new Tsar record in six days. if you take a picture of youreself with it i will put it up on here. and i will be happy. and you will be the owner of a truly good american rock record which is just as good as any of the other crap thats out there, i can tell you that right now.

my single mom life + dan who + michele + moon over pittsburgh

i went through a baseball card phase for a while. then basketball cards. then books. now cleaning supplies and razors and baseball game tickets. if i dont seriously make this 13 minutes with tony i’ll never get out of here so go.

its 137pm, now 138pm and all ive wanted to do all summer was see a movie and go to the beach and i havent been able to do that all summer. theres been too much drama in the lbc. thats not an inside joke, euros, thats snoop dogg and who are these people who think there are inside jokes in here? xbi stories you mean? fine heres all you need to know about the xbi.

the xbi is a vigilante group of former fbi cia and us military who fight crime by stealing from the crooks and dumping their fucked up bodies on the doorsteps of the cops and return most of the booty. when i was in college i was recruited into the xbi and ive been a reluctant agent ever since. my main job is to fly the helicopter, chopper one, but oftentimes im needed on the ground to chase people or shoot them. i usually give my share of the stolen merch to the poor because i want to go to heaven when i die. its 142.

currently i am being reassigned after serving four years at a tv network. its good for xbi agents to be in major cities working in big companies which is why i am only applying at very little companies right now because i secretly want to quit the xbi and be a school teacher and start a family in the suburbs. its 144. the problem is, like today, i spend far too much time reading books, playing fantasy baseball on yahoo, and typing up ridiculous bullshit on the world wide bleh. everyone knows brothas cant fly helicopters.

speaking of which, one of the first ads that i got on this blog, if not the first, was for the New Gilligan’s Island. so i tuned in to give support to my donor. i tuned in a little late and i see a black Professor. i was all oh thats great, aw, i love my advertiser.

it was a contest to see how quickly they could bail water out of a sinking rowboat. it didnt make any sense because the boat that won had a captain who was barely bailing anything. i dont understand it. anyway as they were bailing the host would tell the characters to jump out of the boat one by one. when they got to my brotha the professor he couldnt swim.

fulfilling the sterotype embarrasingly. who on earth producing that show doesnt say ok we have this show called giligans ISLAND, we’re gonna do something cool and have a black professor, when we choose one lets find out if he can swim., because, you know… some people dont have pools in their backyards, etc.

scott lasky who was always annoying on his shows on E! is the host of the new gilligan’s island and he dove into the water and saved my man’s life and pretty much looked like a hero right there as the cameras were rolling. which also sucks because its so much easier to scoff at lasky but he did do the right thing. and thats my review of the new gilligans island.

its 152 and now im thinking it might be too late to go to the beach. heres why. lets say i get my ass out of here by 2:30, i wont get to venice till 3:30, if i cruise around for even an hour now im stuck trying to cross LA at 4:30pm which is the heart of rush hour. i suppose i could just see the movie over there. hmmm. thats a long time out of the house though, something im not usually very happy to do, particularily alone. these are the conflicts in my head. i read rivers getting interviewed and i think i know how he feels sometimes because i’ll tell you this, if i had the blue album and pinkerton youd have to do a lot to get me out of the house. id just live off those. so i do give respect to rivers for going to college and touring and knocking out three more records than i woulda.

and i do like make believe. i listen to it almost every day.

the teenage fanclub record, im sorry to say is miserable. what a great band, what great talents but man have they dropped off. the paul anka rock swings is more interesting than the new tfc and who ever thought that would happen.

156 and i think i will go to the beach and to the movies and maybe go to the fox hills mall since its right over there and give you some pictures of that. ok three minutes left so lets make this worth it.

last night a super hot chick called me up and i was all uh and she was all comeon you love to talk dirty and i was all i dont know what it is but chicks arent foremost on my mind right now and she was all thats the most insane thing ive ever heard, do i have the right number, and i was all, shit i dont know anymore and she was all i will be right over but i was all i wont open the door, dont waste your time. and she was all im worried about you tony and i was all its not anything to worry about, something very odd is happening and it will go away at some point and when that happens you can come over and i will regain my place with the legandaries but right now even porn is turning my stomach so quit sending it over, and she resigned with a pouty “fine”, not in a mean way just in boohoo way, but then i added that i liked service animals eighteen with teagan and she said yeah that ones good huh.

airport sitter + the overflow + whaddup jakarta + raymi

directed by Jared Hess
starring Jon Heder, Jon Gries, Haylie Duff, and Efren Ramirez as Pedro

we were supposed to see Coffee and Cigarettes at the lemelle sunset but they were having this eating contest so we shared a plate of funnelcakes and watched the gorgefest.

apparently we had inadvertantly crossed paths with the LA Film Fest. whatever. just living here is a gdamn film fest.

but a live eating contest, well thats entertainment.

the guy’s name was crazylegs and he had rounded up 5 people who were really good at eating certain things fast.

a hot dog eating guy
a guy who could eat a lot of boiled eggs
a spaghetti eating little kid
a guy who can eat a lot of pie
and a guy who could eat a lot of recees peices

crazylegs beat the first guy pretty easilly.
then he kicked the boiled eggs guy in the ass.

but then this little nine year old bobby brady lookin kid used his whole hand like a shovel and didnt mind getting dirty and destroyed the blonde dredlocked bespeckled white dude named crazylegs.

people were shouting and cheering and this was a normal looking kid. a boy who just smiled in astonishment. everyone was staring and cheering and i was waiting for him to double over in pain but no, that amount of pasta hadnt effected the lad in the slightest, except for the slight staining around his mouth due to the sauce, nothing more than what a good paper towel and some mother’s spit couldnt remedey.

in the minute he ate probably five plates full of spaghetti and crazylegs, a grown man, who, youre right, did just eat about twenty hot dogs and thirty boiled eggs, but he is after all a professional.

after all that excitement we went up to the ticketbooth and saw that Napolean Dynamite was playing.

The ads made it look stupid but what the hell, we had already recieved some free entertainment, the movie only had to be a little bit good and we could call it even.

Weird thing is, Napolean Dynamite is actually a pretty good film. It’s outrageous, over-the-top, and very funny. and somehow, bizarrilly realistic.

Don’t miss the opening credits featuring a white stripes song.

three esthers.

danielle + wonkette + rosie + matt good

nothing more here will be true. had a job interview with an adult magazine today. awesome people. this will be twenty six minutes with tony because that pictures huge.

was interviewed by two very nice women who said right away that they wanted to be very honest with me which was awesome because i wanted to be very honest with them. geographically and symbolically, in beverly hills playboys headquarters is on the extreme west of the city and hustler is on the extreme east. i was being interviewed in the very dead center.

they said that i might have to work late into the night. i said, you call this work?

they said if you havent noticed this whole company is made up of women.

and a thousand off color jokes popped up in front of me. maybe two thousand. my entire life had been blessed with being in a situation where someone sets up the perfect line for a great joke and i was there to tip it in.

but i figured that they had probably heard thousands of dumb jokes so i pointed to my college education of poetry, where, it was true, i was often one of the very few men in the classroom. which, may i say, is a great place for a young man to learn about love life romance and women.

i liked the romantics and i liked the the victorians. thats my little joke. tennyson was my favorite of that era and young men should keep quiet and let the twenty five women go on about what they like in these poems and stories because that information is just as important as the teachers information on what makes the work noteworthy in the first place.

i cant imagine having a different major or have attended a better school at a better time.

during the interview my blog came up a few times because part of the job involves working on a few pages of their website occasionally. i explained to them that i was breaking one of the rules of blogging, the one that says you shouldnt tell your mom your friends your job or the people who you want to work with about your blog. and then i told them everything. people always want to know about the money, how much money can you make from it. i was all, sell out and you can make a fortune.

im eating house of pies dutch apple pie right out of the box. im watching a tivo recording of regis and kelly from this morning. i know youre not supposed to tell your prospective employers about your blog but i like them, they like me, and everyones being honest about everything and ive got nothing to hide, infact if youre reading this for the first time hi. ive been in lots of interviews, mostly on the other side of the table but that was great.

they told me that there would be another interview soon and asked if i had anything that would get in the way of that and all i could think was that i wanted to see batman tomorrow and maybe go to the beach, but can you really say that in an interview?

what i like about this job is that just like at e! i will be right in the center of everything. libras love being in the center. moderators, mediators, ombudsmen, middle men, judges, middle linebackers. i like being in the center not because im nosy but because theres nothing i like better than teamwork and teams work best when everyone is involved and everyone is communicating in a trusting way.

i was completely honest about my layoff which for some reason i hadnt thought out. as someone who has interviewed over 1000 people i was always amazed when people stumbled over the simplest questions, and there i was being unprepared with a very reasonable question, how come you got laid off.

any form of rejection is embarrassing to me, especially when ive had years to win people over. but just like in the good book, sometimes the lord hardens our hearts. he said hed give us free will but he never said he wouldnt revoke it from time to time. in the bible pharohs heart is hardend each time he agrees to let moses’s people go. and each time he renege on the deal the lord douses egypt with bizarre and kickass curses, like locusts and plague and my favorite toads everywhere including in your stoves.

toads!

so i figure the good lord hardened my old bosses heart so that i would be inspired to create this, the busblog, that has crept up in every corner, to plague him, to creep him out.

the job that i would have at this magazine would be a lot like my job at e! except it looks like i’d have a few other side jobs to help out the company and id get to work on macintosh computers, something i hadnt done since the advent of napster and my old 6300cd

dude who i said id guest blog for tomorrow, lets make it the day after tomorrow cuz im worn out. it was a three hour interview in a warm room with two flies flying around and my ride over there was really hot. not fun hot, warm hot. but the whole time i was all i love summer and here it is summer and i like that im sweating a little in this car, my car, in my car driving down sunset blvd heading to beverly hills to apply for a job that i have a decent chance of getting. this the second situation that ive had this week. two great jobs. one sweating man. i ate a tums before i left and i was on time, and then i looked in my rearview and

oh crap. i had shaved real good all around my head, the back of my head, my face, everywhere but the center of my head right in front. three happy little hairs were sprouting out and enjoying the great view. you can see everything the long one said. dude youre telling me the second longest one said.

i knew exactly where the nearest drugstore was and i bought a disposable razor a ballpoint pen and a little pad of paper incase i needed to take notes. why my car didnt have them is beyond me, but theyre in there now.

so they asked when id be available to start and i said july 1 which i should have researched because thats a friday and what idiot says hes available to start on a friday, especially the friday before the fourth of july which is usually either a half day or a day off for most companies. but i dont think they noticed. thanks to my buddy the fly who reminded me that it was summer and gorgeous.

zulieka + jmo + heroine girl + dc

has asked yours truly to guestblog on his site. he wrote this long apologetic email that i really should put up here because it will give you an example of the sort of incredible respect that people falsely laud onto me. when you see full frontal nudity on here is when you can respect me. until then im just another teen trying to front at the junior highschool dance.

of course i will guestblog at your blog bro.

one of the secret little bonuses of guestblogging is that, i have found, at least, is if you do it on the right blog you will find yourself with more freedom, and in my case more anonymity to write whatever the fuck you wanna write.

for example, lets say that you were taking pictures on hollywood blvd and you happen to run into a girl you dated a while back and she is in the throws of a few too many jagerbombs and shes barely being held up by her girlfriend whose stuggling because together the waify little girls combined probably dont weigh two hundred in their dripping feet.

lets say that upon seeing you she breaks out with a long maybe too long hug that begins with tony tony tony tony and ends with ive missed you ive missed you ive missed you ive missed you.

lets say that youre a redblooded american man a little down on his luck and confused by everything and not really horny but this girl was a wildcat sober, and drunk, shit. you know how theyd teach you that soldiers dont wear those helmets to protect them from bullets but from shrapnel? this girl was so nuts in bed that i wanted to wear a helmet because back in those days i had a sweet fro and she liked to grab it and whip my head over here or over there and i had to wrestle my way on top which often times led to the scratches and bruises which would often out my previous nights activities.

lets say you want to talk about how you drove these girls home because youre a gentleman. lets say you took them into their weho eight floor condo with views like ive not seen in la in a long time. lets say you turn around and saw a sight like ive not seen in real life in a longer time.

lets say you write a blog read by people whose feelings might get hurt or by people who want to consider you for entry into their hotshit company that you really want to work for badly so badly you’ll even cut your last summer vacation short.

thats when you accept your buddies guest blog offer and you write your little heart out telling the truth the whole truth and nothing but the truth and you do it under a fake name maybe and when youre done you link to it at the bottom of your post on your blog and because it just blends in real nice nobodys the wiser except you him and all the people he emails on the sly.

and thats why im totally pro guest blog and why im super totally pro linking at the bottom of every post.

happy birthday whitey, hear bro and his metal band rock! + jason + today is go skateboarding day

you’re speaking my language
fiddler records

todays juliette lewis’s thirty second birthday and if i was her boyfriend id keep a lot of rope around because i have a feeling id have to use it quite a bit.

and maybe thats one of the problems that i have, im never satisfied with whats right there, i have to try to balance even perfect things out with something either restrictive or flamable when all i should have done was obey fat joe and just lean back lean back.

unfortunately whoever is producing juliette and the licks arent listening to fat joe either because what i guarantee you is an emotionally captivating live performer is not what i hear on this record.

the songs sound somewhat familiar but they lack everything youd need a rope for. theres no brattiness or youth or anger or life. you dont sit there with your mouth open you dont take a zillion pictures you dont gasp and scream along and jump into the pit.

its almost as this record would be the demo that youd cut for prospective musicians who wished to audition for the band so they could learn the changes. its a blue print for something better. its the x’s and o’s on a whiteboard its not the magic and poetry and electricity, it’s the notes.

juliette lewis was rocking harder than this when she was 14 and holding her own against deniro. she was rocking harder than this when she lured brad pitt into statutory rape when she was 16. juliette lewis is one of the few people who really can act more of a rockstar than a lot of rockstars because she can everything which is a lot different than being able to act like she can do everything.

the slow tunes on here have to be slowed down, i know shes hyper but they should have been recorded late at night after hearing darkside and riders in the storm. she should have been properly bound and if she tries to go faster she has to do it twice as slow. and she has to kiss someone. not me. she can kiss me when shes done.

the fast songs need to be twice as fast and three times as loud. this is only juliette and the licks, not juliette lewis and the licks which means give me more fucking licks or change the lie in the name. yes shes the star. shes a star among stars but make her fight to grab your attention in the recording. pulling her up through the mix is a vote of noconfidence.

its far too clean far too organized, there are no risks, there is no spontinaiety. its mostly not rock n roll. its pop. pop is usually bad. if i was producing this record it would be produced live in a storage facility. there would be a few hundred young people in there with us. there would be mattresses on the walls but not perfectly. i would tell the kids that if they made a fucking sound i would mace the whole place and steal their shoes. but they should dance if they knew what was good for them.

then id take my microphone and id say ms lewis i dare you to rock these spoiled fucking snotnosed peckerless abecrombie wearing halfwits stoogesstyle

and what youd hear on that record would not sound like whatever this is which im sorry to say on your birthday baby sounds like an actress’s vanity record. it sounds like a mustang thats been broken and defeated laying in the dust. they eyes blink but theres no light there. no spirit.

this record isnt sure if it wants to be the unforgetable fire or any random demo tape you’ll see in the dumpster behind any la record label which is a shame because tracks like “got love to kill” and “this i know” hint at what juliette delivers live, but theyre brutally overshadowed by sappy worthless messes like “7th sign” which will make you drunk if you take a shot with each wince.

record this hellion without the ropes next time and see what happens cuz this could be confused for a lindsay lohan cd one day.

bunnies back + paris hilton’s house + welch discusses deadlines at the nexus + tomdog