which is why im gonna give you two posts in a row about our favorite web-based hobby.

recently i was asked how much i would charge to give a critique about a good-sized web site of a pretty large company.

i told them that i would analyze it and create a 6-8 page report worth of insight and links and i would follow it up by being available to them for a week so they could talk about the repot, ask questions, re-do things if they want on their site, edit or re-write parts of their site, and generally let them pick my brain for a week.

i had no idea what to offer as a quote, so i just figured id charge them what i got paid per week at my last gig. not a ton of money. reasonable enough, and i figured that if they needed me for an additional week it wouldn’t break em, and if they really loved me they could hire me fulltime and all would be good in the hood.

meanwhile in colorado…

a woman who fancied herself not only a writer, but an editor, And a consultant who is willing to travel worldwide to preach her masterful techniques on how to develop web content had linked my “how to blog” post.

that in itself is nothing new as i have been fortunate to receive high praise on that little puppy nearly every day since i posted it almost exactly a year ago.

however this particular writer/editor/trainer/ghostwriter/consultant didnt just link to my post, she editorialized underneath it by saying “Warning: A lot of bad, blithe advice lies on the other end of this link…”

say wha?

upon first glance at her page whose recent topics have included “Yes, Daily Blogging Really IS Usually a Bad Idea” i was all, im being punk’d im totally fucking being punk’d.

and i laughed and i laughed and i read on because who doesnt love to laugh?

shes linking to $200 Blogging “workshops” where they will teach you, among other things how to use “Technorati and Google to find existing Web pages on your topic and how to figure out their ‘permalinks'” (i guess if your retarded enough to pay $200 for a blogging seminar perhaps you really do need a tutorial on how to figure out the subtle mysteries of ‘permalinks’),

shes saying such nonsense like “Good writing results most consistently from clear thinking and lots of editing,” (even though pretty much every great song you’ve ever heard was written in less than 20 minutes, so says just about every successful songwriter, most of whom were stoned out of their gourd.),

and then of course she goes on and on and on and on about RSS feeds and Podcasting which is the tell-tale sign of someone who cannot write: they spend a huge portion of their days trying to figure out how everyone can subscribe to their brilliant feeds and hear their golden voices, instead of omg actually writing down some decent original content.

good writers don’t give a fuck about spelling grammar blogging seminars third drafts and rss feeds in their blawwwg and they sure as shit don’t care about podcasting, sorry ev and noah. writers write and those who cant podcast. prove me wrong. i double fucking dog dare you.

which isnt to say there isnt a place for podcasting and feeds and all the other accessories that blogging has been blessed with, but it has been my experience that if a blogger really truly can rock the keyboard, they don’t a)need to bother themselves with adam curry’s lifestyle b)get obsessed with RSS c)do very much else other than straight-up blog.

and those who suck at all of the above, consult, or worse, blatantly rip me off without the courtesy of a linkback

TL Pakki Pierce anyone?

anyways after a while it became apparent to me that she was actually sincere in her madness and so i clicked around a little on her site and at every page i laughed harder and deeper and wilder and stronger

until i got to her rate page for consulting companies on their websites via Site Critiques!!! my my my what a strange strange world we live in.

turns out our girl will look over your web site and give you a 4-6 page report for $600, 8-12 pages for $1,100, and 10-15 pages (the “gold package”) for, wait for it… $2,500!!!! and shes offering tick tock only thirty minutes of her precious time to explain her findings.

eureka.

here i thought i was pricing myself out of the market when all along i was selling myself cheap. plus i had discovered that i could be hawking typepad and teaching people to use technorati for two hundie a head.

adios amway, suddenly im in love with this woman.

thank you baby thank you!

not only had she instantly substantiated my rate but she gave me dozens of new examples of how not to create a blog.

first of all, don’t tell people not to write. thats like telling baseball players not to take batting practice or telling musicians not to practice. she says (im paraphrasing) “fine, write if you must, but don’t hit Publish every day. think about what your writing, edit the shit of it. hold everything precious. obsess over every t and each i.”

she calls herself worthy of a buck a word for a report and yet in the face of the fact that 9 out of 10 blogs dont make it to its year anniversary, shes going to advise people not to maintain the practice of writing at different parts in the day, multiple times a day, thereby building a following, which will help keep the blog alive?

and you also don’t tell that to people because at the heart of blogging is freedom and experimentation and the practice and throwing shit on the wall and seeing what sticks. its about exploring the new frontier not about overanalyzing last weeks ruminations. its not about keeping things in the garage, its about getting it on the track and flooring that fucker.

didnt you get the fax? its the Internets, it doesnt matter!

you also don’t use big words if your full of shit. easiest way to tell if someone is full of shit is to notice how many big words they use, and Lord help us all if they name their blog something ridiculously pretentious like “Contentious”, and sweetheart, ALL CAPS TITLES ARE SO 80S MIDDLE MANAGER OMG I JUST GOT TEH AOL.

my girl has no pictures, graphics or images on her blog, she has no blogroll, and she has the gall to copyright all the pearls spilling over within her site.

people who have the brass ones to throw up oldschool (c)opyrights on their blogs, unless theyre photographers, illustrators, cartoonists, or nude models almost Never have anything worth stealing. add to that over a half dozen mentions of RSS and even more regarding Podcasting, CONTENTIOUS (please tell me thats not a pun) is a steaming heap of rocky mountain oysters.

the only thing more embarrassing would be a geocities page of copywritten original poetry framed with blinking animated gifs eightbit midi tv show themes and scripts that turn your cursor into a butterfly

LOL indeed

but God Bless her because when bro emails me back to discuss my rate i will just send him her way and say you can have her for more than twice the price

or you can have mr busblog and his blithe advice whose links actually work and who isnt afraid to step up to the plate day after day after day after day and take his cuts infront of everyone

who literally wrote the book on how to blog.

got damn i love the internet.

ruminations + raymi + happy birthday, nerd + sk smith

long hair. bare feet. short nails. hot eyes. brown skin. smooth cheeks. wild mind. hard tounge. somehow bigger than life. somehow from another place entirely. somehow found the best people to migrate with. somehow made everyone better who she mixed in with. if msg had titties. nice full non allergic ones.

on a campus surrounded by beach there were hot chicks everywhere. she was the type of girl who was so sexy that she made you repeatedly reevaluate your girlfriend.

youd think things like my girlfriend doesnt climb trees. or walk around in a dayglow strapless bikini top and cut offs. my girlfriend cant roll a joint one handed while telling you about the dead show she was at last weekend. my girlfriend doesnt have lips like those or eyes like those or stories like hers or energy like her or pixie dust falling from her everythings.

and lots of the boys would say the wrong things to her and she would just exhale and run off or hop on an awaiting scooter.

magic powers of seductiveness that was equalparts innocent and guilty witchcraft and so natural.

she once made a man jump out of a two story building wearing a dress breaking both of his legs.

no one knows what she did or what she said to the young man to make him do such a thing

but theres no doubt

shes to blame.

she might even agree that shes to blame.

well somehow she ended up in the navy.

and the navy tamed her.

some folks say she was ready to be tamed and the navy was the luckier of the two because she could have sunk the whole damn fleet if she wanted, but she not only obeyed, she excelled.

one night she visited me in my san francisco bachelor pad, at the time she was stationed at treasure island, not far away.

in the middle of the night i noticed she wasnt next to me and i heard scrubbing and i went into the bathroom and she explained how she hadnt cleaned a head in over a day and it was weird for her.

so i let her clean the head.

real good.

so it wouldnt be weird for her.

and now shes a prison guard working death row in utah

where all the inmates love her.

and just last week she was on her vacation and she came through town and we ate at fred 62, the hip little coffee shop on vermont, and we drove around hollywood and beverly hills and sunset plaza drive, and everyone has a few people in their lives who will always love you and in their eyes you can do no wrong.

and thats how i feel

about linda.

craziest girlfriend i ever had.

crazy in a good way + city flirting + newyorkology + amy

part three

rule number one. kiss my ass.

this blog isnt on your screen. its in a computer in a cage in a secure location in southern california, america. land of the free, home of the brave. if you walked down the rows of servers and stopped in front of my cage and bent down and pointed your finger at the hard drive that this blog resides and said blah blah blah i would give just as much a shit as if you typed it in the comment box. and id think youre an idiot.

the comments are there for people to tell me how much they love me. thats what everybodys comments are for. not that any of us deserve any love, myself especially, but if someone wants to stroll down that row of boxes and say something nice to my blinking green light, theyre free to do so, and encouraged. but because im a flawed individual the positive reinforcement will probably only last the amount of time it takes to read it. which is why links to topless photographs with we love you tony written across your sisters tits are so much nicer. and thank you tom and lisa. youre sick people and i love you too.

some blogs encourage debate in their comments. they get their yayas out of having lots and lots of comment traffic over controversial issues, good for them. if that what they like then i hope they get their wish. me, i know where i stand on things and although i do change my mind about things, its unlikely that some dillweed in a comment fight is going to make me see the light about anything. if i wanted to fight shit out out virtually id be more active in metafilter and in the comment sections with the endless amount of idiots over at the buzzmachine. i would never want to be infested with the roaches that crawl through the comments of poor jeff’s excellent blog.

me having comments here is like me opening my living room window. if someone walking by wants to say oh hey tony theyll get a lazymans salute from me and get to watch me flip the page of the newspaper. if they wanna yell love ya man then good. it is not however an invitation to press their nose up against my security bars and complain that my house is a wreck. nigga i know its a wreck. want me to come over to your crib with the black light and the opinoins and judgements? howdy neighbor is all thats needed when you see me through that window. just like in real life.

some people get confused. they see the blog in the open public, they see the comments, they see that others have commented, so they figure its cool to just say anything other than howdy or look at my sisters tits. its not. say youre walking down the street and a a big titted girl in a plunging little bippie top and some daisy dukes clicks past you, do you say blah blah blah to her? no. your momma raised you better. and if she really raised you right you say good for you baby, let everybody see what you got girl. damn. and watch how even if shes black she’ll blush and she’ll smile and she’ll stand up a little straighter as she walks that catwalk home. and watch how you’ll feel all warm and good inside.

thats how you should comment on this shit too.

do not impose your bullshit on people who are out there on the limb doing their thing. think it all you want but if you type it in that box thats the same as if in real life you told someone fat that theyre fat even if indeed theyre fat. nobody asked your opinion and in the time of gentlemen and ladies even if youre asked your opinion you compliment and then take a sip of tea.

some of you dont realize because you dont have blogs, but its not as easy as it looks. not for everyone, at least. some of the biggest bloggers dont have comments. i dont know, but i can assume that they think, “fuckit, im already big, i dont need comments because if 1,000 hits mean that 2 idiots a day will say something stupid, 5.000 hits a day means that 10 morons will get brave, its my show i will provide the commentary.”

im not like that. im a real libertarian leaning american. i believe in the freedom of speech and small government. therefore i believe in the use of comments even to the cowards who chose to use them anonymously. they have their right to be pussy ass bitches and i have my right to call them on it. every time i delete a comment it pains me because as a black man i am overly sensitive to freedom, including the freedom to be a dick in a comment box of a gayass blog. particularily since im occasionally a dick in the post. in the many years of this blog and the tens of thousands of comments, ive deleted maybe 8 comments. if yours got axed you were probably being a dick. fuck you try it again.

my mother is the most important person in my life and shes reads this blog and probably hates seventy five percent of whats in here if not more and i do not care. that doesnt mean i dont love her, but her giving me advice on how to clean my room at 111 years old gets as much attention as her feelings about what i write

that ends up getting sent to blogger

that ends up getting sent to some other computer

that ends up getting sent to some other dumb computer

that eventually ends up getting sent to the server in the cage whose zeroes and ones we’ve all agreed equals the busblog.

so dont think that your blah blah blah will effect me in the slightest.

so save it and let me finish doing nothing with my window open.

happy anniversary matt and jen! + carrie + nancy rommelmann + voix de michele

no way did i think things would end up like this. im very sorry.

no way did i think that id even be writing you in this blog but nobodys reading this its just you me and the orange peel.

i miss you and i know im stupid. i want you happy and life is a weird fucking car ride. sometimes you realize youre not driving.

i feel like im the only dude out here in the outpost and the indians are about to hit me from all sides and theres no way i wanted you anywhere near here because i dont know how this is gonna end up, but someones gonna get it and so far everyones whose been aiming at me lately has landed their body blow body blow uppercut combo and this is just you and me so let me tell you a little something about libras.

the cardinals of the air signs. the leaders of the idealistic. theres a lot of awesome shit that we can do, as hopefully demonstrated. but we also have our weaknesses, our vulnerabilities, our achilles heels. the libra is the scales. the olde fashioney scales that people dont really use anymore so they lurk in cool places unassuming but curiously beautiful and intricate. if you fuck with the scale it shakes around all retarded and unless youre four times the size of it you cant stop it from moving around until life itself settles it down, which it will eventually. it always does. and then when its settled down it doesnt matter if you have a fucking elephant in one of its cups, the scale will just say bring on another elephant motherfucker, and you can.

but when shit has disrupted the scale its worthless. its ugly. it makes weird sounds. its chains’ll tangle it and make it clank. everythings fucked up and it might even fall over.

im doubly screwed because for most libras when the shit is bad you just nail everything down and ride out the storm. but im not most libras. im half scorpio which has a whole nother fucked up list of shit to have to deal with. and im telling you its very very scary and normal things like making out with unbelieveably gorgeous young runway models from hawaii like you as perfect as that is, strangely has no place. that right there should tell you how fucked up it is.

as you know in college i was poisoned dozens of times by my hippie friends. they put lsd in my soup once, they put hippie mushrooms in the stir fry twice, they dropped liquid acid on their tounges and kissed me lots of times. they did so many horrible horrible wonderful wonderful things for me because they knew i was straight edge and i couldnt do it on my own. one day i told them to please stop because i wanted to try out for the xbi when i got out of college and they said tony this has been your tryout, youre in. and we clinked wine glasses and within an hour i had realized that those motherfuckers had slipped six hits of ecstacy in my merlot.

i bring this up because when youre incredibly wasted and your mind is tie-died the most simple things like say a cup of 7up turns into the most intense mouthful of sugarsugarsugar and not mmmm good sugar but bad. as in you can taste every bubble every grain of everything

and all that you can tolerate is small sips of water and slow walks on the beach with all of your friends and blankets and special trinkets to bring with. things are so intense that every twinkle of every star is perceptible and even the slightest breeze is palpable to your thinnest cilia.

now thats a good trip. a bad one involves bright sunlight. fast moving cars. cops. guns. explosions. loud voices. noise. fear. pain. and permanant damage. hopefully to the other guy.

its no place for cute girls named shhhh.

the best thing about the xbi is once youre in youre in til death. they say it like that too which most people dont pay attention to until they hear it a few times and then its unmistakeable. most people like supreme court justices are in for life. hell even serial rapists are in jail for life. its upbeat, its pc, its the power of positive thinking. at the xbi youre in til death. theres no bullshit.

e was just my beat. im still xbi. they were pissed that we have to get someone else in there but four year assignments arent anything to scoff at. especially while doing what i had to do there. and blogging? shit.

anyways forget all that. what i have to tell you is this. i miss you. im sorry. i know im an idiot. i am an idiot. i wish i could just erase everything so that you wouldnt think that what happened was normal. the good parts were normal but how i reacted wasnt. do exactly what you did with me with someone else and it will go well for you. i swear. you did nothing wrong. i have never bullshitted you and i will never bullshit you, you did nothing wrong.

remember that i couldnt care less about what happens to me here on earth, what im worried about is going to hell and i know i would go to hell if i lied to you about anything so listen, you did nothing wrong. you were perfect. you are perfect. i know it will be hard and i know youve never played football but you know what the coach says to you even if youre 9 years old on the football field and some two hundred pound dude fucking bowls you over? the coach slaps your ass and says shake it off rockstar. and youre all uhhhhhhh.

im going to beat the evil thats out there that has its eye on me. whose gotten its shots in on me. whose used some trickery that it found in the back of the video game magazines that havent come out yet. it may have a thousand arms and a thousand lives but i was raised on space invaders where you’re constantly outnumbered. plus i have a lucky cap and a big fucking gun.

so to speak.

and since i probably wont be writing you for a little while longer i have to ask you to do me a favor. listen to your friends about everything about me being an idiot. i am an idiot. if i am lucky enough to make it to heaven the lord is going to say oh look the idiot has arrived. and st peter will say yeah the dude who we just sent one angel after another down to? and the cherub will hand peter the clipboard and just look me up and down and judge.

listen to your friends about everything except for this blog. for example, im going to have to go back to writing sexy shit on this shit but you cannot let it effect you. you know how much i lie on here and you know how much i sorta lie on here. the sexy shit will be total lies and if theyre not total they will be about you or about what i hope for you, the point is it wont be my life so you have to trust me. if you dont wanna read i totally understand. infact i will pretend that youre not reading. the other girls didnt read for a while afterwards and i dont blame em.

but if you do take a glance now and then and you see something, im telling you, if i lie to you im going to hell. they wont be true. but they will be hot. they have to be hot. do you know what some dude told me, he showed me how the busblog should be in the technorati 100 except so many links are to my photo essays so if you technorati tonypierce.com im like 91 but if you technorati /blog/bloggy.htm, which is the busblog, im like 150. my readers say theyre loyal but how can you be sure? people tell me all the time that they leave me for months on end and then come back. and why wouldnt they stop clicking over here if theyre not getting what they dont know they want. and like bo brice im seacrest out on this shit and nobody wants that.

i love you very much and all of this is totally uncharted horrible territory for me. i know you care. everythings gonna be ok but right now is a very bad time and you are so much better where youre at, even though im sure you cant believe it. and i do know where youre at.

since i know you love the bible as much as i do let me leave you with a little of the good book. the bible is full of lineages. theyre sorta unbelieveable but if you follow all the he begat him and he begat hims theres a line from adam to moses to abraham to david to Jesus. one reason i believe in the bible is because all those dudes were flawed in some major ways. ways that no way could that shit be made up by propagandist fictionwriters making shit up about men who are the foundations of a religion.

and the most flawed of all the major figures was moses. david had serious issues too including cutting the foreskins off 1,000 men in battle, but moses was a murderer and an orphan and a middleman who fucked up and never made it to the promised land. he didnt even want to be moses. he wanted his brother aaron to be moses but aaron if you remember was a complete fuck up and got all the jews to build the golden calves when moses was talking to the burning bush doing his best to save the world. so heres your lesson hot babe, everything thats good in the world. your job is to keep talking to God. my job is to keep the chosen from panicking. your job is to be on the mountaintop. my job is to run with the hunted. cuz im dumb.

i miss you and i wish things could be different.

signed

dumbshit oleary

kate interviewed rivers beautifully + nsfw nsfw sexoteric nsfw nswf + negro please + doc is right, right justified is brilliant

so lets do thirty five minutes with tony and now heres your host tony.

106. Johnny

first lets all give major props to my beautiful attorney kim and the host of this site os for bringing into this world beautiful henry who i, if i was a good uncle, would have visited by now, but i suck. so here you are dan, a picture of the lad, which now proves im not gay. long story.

ive been drinking so forgive my typing. its been a tough few days. last night i was up till all hours putting toegether the book which is coming a long way better than the last one thats for damn sure. normally i hate going back through my old shit and wincing through all the crappy parts to make it to a good line or two. but the poems and “unreleased” materials that he strangers have asked for arent bad, even to me.

i have a very odd selfimage thing. its not self image. its not self confidence. i dont knowo how to describe it. its like, i know i can write at a certain level, but professionally?> not quite sure. if you havent noticed i havent written anything professionally in a while. hell i havent done anyting professionally in a while. but i know i can write at a level and maybe that level is the blogging level. i know i can make a blog that isnt completely boring. anything above that im not so sure about and i cant really listen to my friends cuz theyre my friends of course theyre gonna say nice things and i cant listen to my enemies cuz of course theyre gonna say mean things.

and i cant really listen to strangers cuz theyre bombarded with shit on the daily so what do they know. and i cant really listen to my mom cuz shes my mom and she hasnt read ee or bukowski or listened to never mind the bullocks so how is she supposed to relate. so the best thing to do is just keep my head down and type and never look back and to be totally honest with you i hardly ever look back at anything i write because if i did i would probably do like what flagrant does and edit and eventually just start deleting shit and the weeeeeeirdest thing about when i was applying to grad school was i put a ton of poems on here and then i just ended up linking to a poetry collection and i asked people what two poems they liked the best

and people picked every poem. some people picked #1 and number #4, some people picked #7 and #3, but if you tallied up their votes there was no clear winner. which either means they all sucked or they were all consistantly ok.

ive been wanting to write about michael jackson all day but instead i was fixated to the tv to hear people talk about michael jackson.

what i wanted to talk about was how i felt so sorry for nancy grace, the courtv witch who also does some work at CNN. poor nancy totally had it in for the king of pop and it was fascinating watching the lawyer berate Juror #1. somehow she got an interview with him right after the trial which they broadcasted live. and at the end of the interview she asked the THE perfect question so ive gotta give her props

she said, ok now that its over, what do you think Michael was doing with those kids in his room night after night after night?

and the dude, who was a decent dude, infact i listened to all of the jurors and they are full on central coast californians meaning theyre just like middle-americans – totally normal people. he said what i think he did with those kids doesnt matter.

she said, of course it matters you saw the whole trial it was your job to decide what he did with those kids.

and this dude with his stupid Harrah’s trucker hat and his im-a-55-year-old-father-of-four-moustache said no, my job was to look at the evidence and decide from what we heard in that courtroom.

and poor nancy grace wanted him to put his own opinion in the verdict, just like she had. she didnt want him to pay attention to the evidence or the testimony, she wanted him to do what so many people did today, which is throw out the trial and judge michael jackson for being a freaky dude who is either truly a loving man or a kiddie molestor.

and i say poor nancy grace because cnn and courtv should fire her ass for being a horrible representative of the US court system and for not understanding what the foreman of the jury truly got: leave your biases at the door, the only thing that matters is what goes down in the courtroom.

this o’reilley style of rightwing faux-rage is a fad that i thought cnn was taking care of by axing Crossfire. CNN used to just tell you the news and then break for commercial, why does Nancy Grace have to ignore everything that happened in the case so that her pre-conceived biases can be appeased?

hell just about everyone she interviewed said that the Mom was insane and a mistake to introduce to the jury, everyone agreed that the DA totally went overboard with the 100+ search warrants on Neverland, that the Conspiracy charge and the False Imprisonment were bogus and distracting, and that most of the prosecutions witnesses totally flipped when they got on the stand and said that MJ wasnt the monster that we all assumed that he was.

so get off it nancy and just say, huh. weird. is that so hard? the whole time i kept thinking of that elvis costello song “you’ll never be a man”. the reason men love women is because we’re the hardheaded idiots locked into our caveman mentalities of imrightimrightimright. fucking watch the precedings and report on them ho and if things dont go along with what you expected say wow things arent going along the way i expected.

or quit and move to fox news where michael im pretty sure was pronounced guilty.

today the cubs got their asses handed to them. the announcers didnt say the scorekeeper got it wrong. the announcers said the cubs played like shit and dontrelle willis is a fucking stud who the cubs are probably kicking themselves for giving up on so early.

all these people keep saying that we shouldnt have legal weed, we shouldnt have howard stern talking about blumpkins, and we shouldnt be all pissy about the Patriot Act because we need to protect the kids. the fucking kids.

but what are we saying to the precious kids when we cant admit that we’re wrong?

our pal the Instapundit is in an iteresting situation that one of our fine commentors pointed out this morning. right now he’s on a much needed vacation. i poke fun at the good professor but you cannot deny the fact that he is a tireless blogger, and if one day its revealed that he’s had an intern or twelve who have helped him knock out those 30 posts a day then we’ll all understand, but glenn on vaction today linked to another righty blogger who thank God denounced this new Hillary bio.

have you heard of this book? its called the Truth about Hillary, because apparently i guess it isnt enough that she stood by her man during the 8 year witchhunt, and it isnt enought that shes held her own as the junior senator, and it isnt enough that she just might end up being this country’s first woman president – a long overdue accomplishment for the land of the free, and we could do much much worse – so they have to get the smears in early and often because the next presidential election according to the fearful is right around the corner.

anyway in this book, it is revealed via our pal Drudge, that President Clinton raped his wife Hillary and in that violence Chelsea was conceived!

my word.

and she is a lesbian.

now nobody in their right mind really believes that Bill raped Hil and out poped Chelsea. nobody. plus how could you prove it? unless Bill and Hil hadnt had sex for a month other than the time bubba got shitfaced and rough with his wife and then she didnt let him get close to her for a long time, how would anyone know? the only person who would know is our next president and why on earth would she ever say that to anyone?

so obviously its one of the most ugly lies ever smeared on a former first lady and president, and no it doesnt compare to kitty kelly’s allegation that our current first lady sold weed in college because, well, if i have to explain to you how selling joints doesnt compare to getting raped then well then fuck you. it doesnt compare.

now the Instapundit is in a sticky situation because, i dont know, if I found out that someone was giving me money to spread such implausible, outrageous, below-the-belt, tastelessly vicious lies about Sen Clinton regarding her DAUGHTER’s conception, i think i would have to pull the ad and give back the money. even if i was on vacation. because one would imagine if one could post from a hammock one could dial up blogads.com and click delete to the $$$ ad. trust me its as easy as cracking open another tall boy.

the right-leaning Wizbang also finds himself in a similar situation and he does a pretty good job of describing the passage in question, but excuses himself for running the ad by saying that when he accepted the ad he had no idea what was in the book.

but my question to him in his comments, and now in this post is, well now that you know part of what is in the book, why dont you do the right thing and cancel the ad?

or have we turned into a blogosphere of ad-whores who selectively talk about morals
only when its convienent?

and by we i mean you.

of course.

cuz im perfect 🙂 ding.

poor zulieka + earth-info + project outhouse + jarret house has a GREAT tsar review

miss pamela anderson. but shes going to have to do more than wear lettuce for me to stop eating meat.

welch and i were at a taqueria the other day and he ordered the goat burrito.

everything is in spanish at midnight tacos on santa monica and vermont so i ask for the pollo burrito no onions and everything usually works out fine.

but welch is so badass that not only did he order the goat burrito but he prounced it in perfect spanish rolling the r’s and everything.

i guess you learn those things when youre living in prague and budapest or married to a superhot frenchwoman.

midnight tacos is famous for their beef tongue burritos which looks like tongue when they pull it out of the sauce with the tongs but once they split it open with the big knife it looks like ground turkey.

people order tounge at a 2:1 ratio over the pollo at this 24 hour secret treasure of east hollywood right above the vermont and santa monica subway stop.

but when welch ordered the goat the normally speedy white dress shirt, bowtie wearing mexican man had to pause and consider his options.

he pulled the goat meat from one of the warming dishes and placed it on the cutting board to chop it up real good.

he prepared the sloppy thick meal and wrapped it up and charged us two fittie each and we went on our way.

we ate and i asked hows the goat and welch said ggggggggggood.

tofu doesnt do that to you pamela.

shabooty interviews JD from the Howard Stern Show

OF ALL COUNTS

and i totally concur

i watched pretty much every re-inactment on E!
and many of the wrap shows on CourtTV
and this is my prediction:

he will only get found guilty on the misdemeanor for the booze
(the “Jesus Juice”) even though the kids stole booze all the time

yes its creepy that a 30+ year old man sleeps
in bed with boys, but hi thats not illegal.

it should be, but its not.

also the kids are admitted liars who lie under oath.

the mom and dad lie in court and admit it
and All of the witnesses either had something super shady
going on in their lives or had reasons to lie.

if anything this trial showed the world that MJ is quite a freak
but probably doesnt have sex with kids.

lets see if jury agrees.

how could i fall asleep thinking that i pissed on your 75th birthday by being upset about advertising on a blog? the dumbest shit of all time. something that ive always been against and here i am caught up in it just like the naysayers predicted. im the most selfish man alive and im sorry.

you were in an attic for two years having to tip-toe and whisper and pray that the nazis werent gonna find you and here i am carrying on like the end of the world cuz im not going to be able to sit in my pajamas and write worthless bullshit on a computer and enjoy my summer.

its three am and i just took out the trash. i hadnt been outside all day or night and i wanted to take out the trash so i did. you couldnt take out the trash if you wanted. you couldnt just walk outside and see that the neighbors hadnt rolled the garbage cans back to where my car should be parked so there was only one garbage can left and it was mostly filled.

you couldnt walk outside in the middle of the night and get spooked by a summerroach the size of a mazda sniffing around with his antennaes for some kfc bones which now he has thanks to my garbage bag of shit.

you couldnt listen to rodney on the roq all night and now stern live from nyc. you couldnt read your email any time you wanted you couldnt turn on porn so something would be on the tv other than infomercials.

you couldnt try to figure out if the pink floyd reunion was a good thing or a bad thing. you couldnt do a whole bunch of shit and you still did a whole bunch of shit. far more than i ever will.

so anne frank i know youre in heaven and today is still the sabbath according to my calculations because i havent gone to sleep yet and this is what i want you to do ms frank i want you to tune into kroq 106.7 who are playing live my chemical romance and i want you to crank it up there in heaven and i want you to know that i saw only one other blog today write about your birthday and if youre in heaven maybe you can read minds so you know ive never read your diary all the way through because i was in advanced english in high school so they for some fucked up reason thought that we had already read your diary but when the hell were we gonna read it if not in high school so they didnt give it to us

but i read enough of it on one particular summer vacation to write a paper for my friend in college who got a good enough grade that she asked me to read the bell jar for her and i was all fine and i wrote her paper on that one too. please tell me they have rock music in heaven. not just rock but real rock. superrock. fucking explosions and fire and mosh pits and shoes being thrown and violence and dual guitar attack rock music.

the sort of music that wipes its ass with my chemical romance who arent bad but have a little growing up to do but only a little. is today tuesday cuz theyre now playing a second song by them but i guess its late and they figure noone is listening but im listening and if you have an esp radio up there then youre listening too.

im sorry anne frank for remembering your birthday and then totally forgetting all about it and showing my true american colors which are so often money selfishness and whines. otherwise known as red green white and boohoo.

hey its a tripleshot of mcr here on krq and af im gonna dedicate this new book to you because despite what anonymous negative nonblogging commentors say you are the matriarch of blogging because communication even dumbass bullshit interweb communications are all important because just like you proved, if someone writes it, someone will be better because of it. and it doesnt matter how old you are or where you lived or where you died. as long as you wrote it down and were honest and delivered the goods, you did your job.

tell jimi and kurdt and walter payton that i say hey.

your pal,

tony

oak park mastermind + city rag + german + shane

fuck the month of gemini with its changes when all its changes are bad and all of them take money out of my pocket that didnt have very much in there to begin with. i hate thinking about money. i hate it. i hate that i have no job and now one of my plans to just write all summer is falling apart.

i hate that i just got the official word that my longest running sponsor is going to drop me and have other blogs and not mine in their posse. im pissed because didnt i just totally give them props in one of my interviews? and didnt the blog that interviewed me just get mentioned in Time magazine? how many blogs in their lineup are even getting interviewed? how many blogs on their dancecard even update everyday? basics.

my deal with this sponsor was such a nice arrangement. all they asked me to do was post a few times a week and keep it pg-13. no problem. i posted on average 14-20 times a week during our year run. and my hits doubled in that time and my rate stayed the same. why? because it was a contract. and i honor and respect contracts. when they said they were probably gonna have to let me go i did the dumbest thing ever and said that id even lower my rate. they still didnt re-sign me. and now im curious if its because i say things like the president is a fucking retard or because i say fuck or because i say two chicks came over and fucked my brains out last night and heres how they did it.

never in my life have i been able to fit into a box. until now. im a blogger. yay! an award-winning one at that, whose popularity is on the fucking rise. but just as quick as that people want to slice up the blogosphere into catagories and suddenly im no longer so easy to put in a box any more. fuck. and now i have to worry about stupid ass fucking shit like rent.

this is not any subtle way to beg for money from you, or a way to get your sympathy. i dont want either. i just need to vent. if i had a superpower id have a clean up button so when you got super mad you could take a softball bat to your bachelor pad and destroy everything in it and when you finally were “done” you could hit that button and your tv would morph back your lamps your windows your dirty dishes your microwave your waterbed everything would be unbroken and cleaned up.

but i have no superpower so i have to sit here and be peaceful.

jimmy johnson the former head football coach of the dallas cowboys said that you need to peak ontop of peaks. which means that when you think youre on top you need to do something that takes that successful situation and make it so that next year youre even stronger. the cowboys after they won their first ring got deion sanders and then they won another ring. i hate the cowboys but jimmy knew that sitting in your xbi copter with a few thousand hits on your blog and a good job doesnt mean that you can sit there and think that nobody’s not going to shoot your cocky ass out of the sky

and once you land on your feet it doesnt mean that an indy car isnt gonna run you over.

yes virginia the busblog has been thrown under the bus.

hold please i have a phone call. who on earth is calling me at this hour on a sunday night. maybe its my momma, which will suck cuz now i have to explain how her firstborn is a fucking loser.

k im back.

you will never believe this.

you shouldnt believe anything on the web anyway, fyi, but this is true, this super hot chick (not pictured) just, i shit you not, called me up and said super sweetly

hiiiiiii

i was all uh hi.

she was all, im drunk i only have a second, my girlfriend is peeing and i just wanted to tell you that i want to fuck you.

i was all get over here then. shit.

she was all, shhhhhhh, we’re at a party, im just telling you im not offerring. im just telling you.

and then she giggled and hung up.

and instantly i feel better.

so thank you universe, i love you too.

but im still pissed.

and scared.

karen + scoble + gaping void + seth