and the differences between USA and Canada gun laws

watch how the american calls the cannuck retarded

and i love her and im so happy that shes here in LA where we can see each other at tsar shows and parties and red carpets and truck pulls.

born in hollywood california to a famous surgeon and a creole celloist jeanine was blessed with the talent to play the guitar like she was ringing a bell.

when i met her at the nexus she was shy and untrusting and talented and beautiful and yet shed neverbeenkissed (which is greek for “not a man had known her”). all signs said “tony you live in the most densely populated square mile of loose beautiful women yearning to be free, avoid this gorgeous virgin with defense sheilds set on stun.”

but love is blind and my acid was strong so i drugged her and poured booze down her gullet and whipped out the six foot bong and filled it with the chronic and when she was at her most vulnerable i kissed her and the next day she kissed me back.

and now that wall has been torn down and she will not only drink you under the table but she’ll talk your ear off if you get her in the right mood. my how have times changed.

i love her and shes sexier than ever she shreds harder than you know she taught herself jewlery design and shes made all of our friends their wedding bands. even the ones who arent married. now shes finding herself in the movie business green lighting the good scripts and rolling her own with the bad scripts. i love her and she lives in the famous roosevelt hotel home of the very first academy awards.

after we broke up she moved to prague with my friends and played in several bands including Count Rockula and the german boys swooned and the french sighed oui. i love her and she has ended up with all walks of boyfriends after me but none who loved her more. she calls me her guardian angel but im the man who poisoned her first is all i am, yes im eternally in love with her but shes the one who has the power over me, shes the one who i stayed home for instead of going to the czech republic and if i had to do it over again youd do the same thing too.

jeanine is a blessing to all of us, a skinny girl who walks around the apartment topless reading your astrology chart and raising iguanas and only listening to tapes of local bands when shes not spinning nina simone on the turntable. she can cook greek masterpieces as well as soul food, she can bake cornbread from scratch and transpose guns n roses on the keyboard seven different ways just to remind you whose boss.

she was my good luck charm in sacramento when i won best in state but as great as that award was to drive her down to mexico to make out with her was the best award ive ever gotten and when child protective services said tony pierce youre the father of this girl named Mystery i was all nuh huh i was with jeanine and only jeanine and they were all but and i said look at jeanine why would i ever stop holding her hand and the judge said case closed. and i love her.

jeanine + when me and jeanine went to mars + jeanine and i in a car + jeanine and chris

before i got my car this summer i didnt eat a lot of fast food. but the convience of the drive-thru is pretty tough to beat. i have very little patience with waiting for food to get served to me unless im on a hot date. there are so many things i want to do in a day i dont like to waste time eating things and waiting to eat things.

Mike (aka Azreal Darkskies) asks “Why don’t you return my link love? Is it because I use Buzznet’s competition? What’s the movie you’re looking forward to the most? Album?”

if i havent returned your link love either it was because blogrolling didnt do its job when i tried to link you or you havent sent me an email to ask for a link. im very willing to link anyone who links me and/or buys a book and/or flows to the busblog. so i apologize. send me an email and i’ll rectify that.

also buzznet has no competition.

the movie im looking forward to the most is the one about the History of Isla Vista, im also looking forward to the film version of Hammer of the Gods, and im curious to see what matt dillon does with Bukowski’s “Factotum”. sadly only the later is being actually made.

and of course the third Tsar record is pretty much the only cd that im really looking forward to if you dont count Matt Good’s upcoming disc and anything by Bob Dylan.

Pitt asks “who’d win in a fight: Kato Kailin Versus K. Fed, The Green Lantern Versus The Flash, Johnny Cash Versus Joey Ramone, Elvis Costello vs Buddy Holly, Tony Pierce Versus Joe Fraizer (Current 60yr+ version), Matthew Good Versus Moby.”

kato doesnt lift a finger to do anything other than asking for a handout so he loses, the green lantern was Black so he wins, johnny cash killed a man just to watch him die so he wins, i was at a concert where elvis costello stopped the show just to publicly berate any critic who was even considering writing a bad review so i’d give it to him over buddy, i would never fight a Black man over 59 so smokin joe wins, and matt good is like 6’2″ while moby is a vegan midget so mr indestructable wins.

glennis asks “What fraternity did you belong to in college?”

when i went to ucsb the chancellor got a dui for drinking and driving on campus, the students voted to not have a football team any more, and the greeks were publicly ridiculed for being wannabe yuppie college republican steve miller blasting followers. no one respected them. plus there were so many hot chicks that 20 yr old gwenneth paltrow left ucsb because noone noticed her (true story). the only greeks that people liked were the Black frats during Step Day.

even though my entire family for several generations belonged to Black greeks i always considered that whole scene pretty much the exact opposite of my personality and ideals. in a less pc world id call it gay. however some of my best friends were greeks and they try to remove those years from their memory. rightfully.

vortexia asks, “best fantasy come true? favorite guilty pleasure? what picture would you most like to see on my blog?”

ive had many fantasies come true. most revolve around sex and rock music. but when i was a kid i always wanted to live in los angeles, and to have lived here for so long with so many of my friends around me, and to earn a living doing what im good at, and getting to meet and interview some of my favorite rock heroes is a dream come true. and to have those things happen without selling out or changing my style just to fit in makes it so much better.

my favorite guilty pleasure is looking through my referrals to see what people are saying about the busblog. its a pleasure because people usually say very flattering things, but i feel sorta guilty because i pretend like i dont care what people say.

i also like to smell my fingers after im driving home from a cheerleaders house. guilt because im not spending the night with her.

as for pictures, im partial to little plaid skirts, knee highs and fan signs that say i heart tony.

hans asks, “if you had to live somewhere other than the state of california, where would it be?”

if i spoke better french itd be paris, if i surfed it would be maui, if it had better weather id say nyc, but i truly love oregon namely umpqua oregon which is way out in the middle of nowhere next to the umpqua river and i could totally see myself raising a family out there once i grow up and quit chasing these cheerleaders here in lipstick city.

gusgreeper asks “how do i get under the canada OR hotbabes kicking your ass under tonypierce.com/links.htm? also i just HAD ass surgery so i think that should get me on right there. OH and who do you think is ‘better’ jack shepard or jack bauer?”

the hotbabes section are the female bloggers who i read the most. so to get on that list you may wanna check out what the other ladies are doing and then follow suit. however the canada section requires that you live up there. therefore send me an email and i will put you in that section the next time i update that page. i use that page a ton as its really my homepage aka my default page when i open firefox.

the jacks – i saw the first episode of 24 and dug it but never saw it again. when i worked at E! i got to meet elizabeth cuthert and shes way hotter in person. and shorter. with that said, i love Lost but dr jack hasnt shown much depth and it looks like he is losing “freckles” to sawyer, and who can blame her? even the fat guy is more intesting than doc. and the korean guy is better looking. so id have to say jack bauer by a long way.

rilah asks, “me, too, for the grepeer’s first question. and also: when will you be rolling out the next book?”

i hate writing those books, i hate making them, i hate mailing them out, i hate the books after theyre over. its one reason stiff is now out of print. i also hate that millions of people dont buy them. therefore expect the next book in october. on my birthday. complete with material never before seen on the busblog. i might dedicate it to the girl who just drunk emailed me thru myspace who told me that all her friends keep stealing stiff from her and telling her how funny it is. i may marry all of them.

Aaron asks “Who are the most underrated talents in rock and roll (excluding the easy Tsar answer), football, hoops, baseball and the blogosphere? Oh, and what is your plan for solving world hunger?”

in rock: drive by truckers, tom waits, the jesus and mary chain, the darkness, maria mckee, victoria williams, the donnas, the muffs, monster magnet, gwar, and marilyn manson.

in football: larry johnson (kc), byron leftwich (jack), tj houshmandzadeh (cincy), and todd heap (balt)

solving world hunger would be extremely easy. but it would take the usa to accept two things: that poor people deserve the right to actually eat every day, and that marijuana is not only biblically okay (see page three of the bible) but giggling and having the munchies is no more morally wrong than smoking cigarettes drinking booze eating big macs spending 20 times more of the budget on the military than on education or legalizing guns.

so if the usa legalized weed, they could tax it and with a fraction of that tax revenue they could subsidize farmers to grow food for the entire globe.

heres how it would work: imagine you could buy twenty joints in the same sort of container as twenty cigarrettes. currently the amount of weed that it would take to create a pack of smokes would be about 1/6 ounce of pot. right now 1/6 an ounce of pot costs roughly $75 on the black market. but its real cost is probably $3.

only allow tobacco companies to grow it, make it illegal to add additives, slap a $37 tax on a pack of joints and you would have 20 joints for $40. two bucks a joint is cheaper than a beer at a bar, and cheaper than it costs now, and since its legal everyone would be happy. plus theyd know that the majority of that pricetag is feeding the hungry around the world.

make it illegal to grow your own or drive high and pot smokers would gladly get their smoke on while doing as Band Aid suggested.

but it wont happen because the Right hates poor people, they lie about drugs, and they fear the church goers who pretend like God didnt make weed on the sixth day.

in baseball: jason bay (pitt), chone figgins (anaheim), brian robers (balt), melvin mora (balt), derrick turnbow (mil), john lackey (ana), cliff lee (cle)

in the blogosphere: flagrant, zulieka, leah, allthingschristie and pretty much everyone who i link to which is one reason why i do it.

tomkr asks, “How’s your guitarplaying coming along?”

crappy cuz as soon as i got it i started getting laid again. the purpose of guitar-learning is to get girls way out of your league. if those chicks return your calls without the guitarlearning you’ll never pick up the axe. thus my shits outta tune and i dont give a fuck. but it does look hot in the corner collecting dust.

Phil Renaud asks, “Will you ever come do a big fun Buzznet event in the Toronto or Detroit areas? Also: are we good to go for the Shaq/B. Wallace trade?”

i want to go to every city that will have me. particularily motown and the gta because i have a sneaking feeling that i wont have to pony up for a hotel room if you know what i mean. however im not mr buzznet. i have bosses. they tell me what to do and where to go and they have yet to send me on the cross country adventure that you and i both want me to go on. that day will come though. oh yes it will.

and yes i will pull the trigger on the shaq ben wah trade if we can do it straight up. im not gonna give up diesel and michael redd for big ben. thats far too much.

Krista asks, “Top 3 favourite movies? Top 3 favourite male celeberties? Top 3 least favourite female celeberties? What is your most valued possession? (Can’t be a computer! )”

favorite movies: the blues brothers, sixteen candles, buster keaton’s the general

favorite male celebs: robin williams, howard stern, prince

least favorite female celebs: all women are beautiful and perfect

my most valued possession: to answer this id have to think what would i be most sad without, and in that case its either my penis or my television and since my television is huge and gives me hours and hours of pleasure and entertainment every day, id have to say that beautiful 35″ mits sitting on two wooden crates.

… i’ll answer the rest throughout the week. thanks everyone for your great questions.

she had her readers ask her questions
which she answered on her blog
so today put your questions in the comments
and in a few hours i will answer them as transparently as possible

why i have a problem with olympic host, nbc and hbo broadcaster bob costas.

hans from verbungle suggests that those curious look through my archives

but since the pictures in the original post have disappeared, i will reprint the post that hans linked to – one that was written three and a half years ago, but still rings true today

+ + +

jay asks: Tony, great post. But what’s with the loathing of Bob Costas?

Seriously.

Fair question, Jay. I despise Costas because i worry about the kids.

I don’t want children to see and hear Bob Costas and think that it’s okay to simultaneously nostalgize and sterilize popular sports and culture in such a way that you never want to look at it again for what it is: a child’s game played by immigrants who wouldn’t get a job wiping puke off of porcelain if it wasn’t for an abnormal pituitary gland, or in the case of baseball, defection.

Bob Costas has taken the lively art of calling a ball game and dragged it into the drab dens of middle america mediocrity. He’s as exciting as an acorn, as spontaneous as a tug boat, as lively as a hang nail. if he were a fish he’d be a white fish. a dead, odorless, forgetable one.

In a world of 31 flavors Costas asks for vanilla yogurt in a cup.

He makes Vin Scully sound like John Madden, Oprah sound like Ozzy, he gives milquetoast a bad name, he neither wears boxers or briefs for underneath his clothes are simply wires and switches and tube amps.

The French laugh at Jerry Lewis and Jerry Lewis laughs at whoever the idiot was who put Costas on tv. I’d call him a demon from hades but evil is usually interesting. he’s an antedote to insomnia and the only cure for the flu because not even a virus can stand to listen to more than a hour of Costas droning on about “The Mick” or Stan “The Man”, they wince like children do when their uncles talk about the war or how Hilburn writes about Bob Dylan.

you’ll never see Costas sitting in a dunk tank at a fair because real baseball fans would fake throw and bum rush the tank and ruthlessly drown this ill like a frothing dog.

Bob Costas was raised in the Ozzie and Harriet world of baby booming St. Louis and embodies every sad stereotype therein. My spite only intensifies when I realize that he grew up blessed to listen to the rickety calls of Harry Caray broadcasting for the Cardinals. I bristle because the Good Lord sent down an angel when He gave us all Harry, a man who could drink beer and broadcast a game and it sounded like a real man drinking a beer and calling a game.

When in St. Louis Harry was hired by Auggie Busch who owned the local brewery famous for Budweiser. Mr. Busch told Harry that he admired his work, that he knew that he was the best baseball announcer in the game, and that all of St. Louis was his and he could work for the Cardinals for as long as he lived as long as he didn’t marry any of his daughters.

Harry shook the man’s hand and promptly married the youngest and prettiest of Mr. Busch’s three daughters and was immediately fired.

Would Bob Costas marry anyone’s daughter like that? Don’t hold your breath.

Harry went on to broadcast all over the midwest, making a home for himself on the South Side of Chicago. Known as the Mayor of Rush Street because he was often spotted drinking with the locals on the popular street known for its taverns.

“Booze, broads and bullshit. If you got all that, what else do you need?” Harry was once quoted. He lived his word. He was not only the keeper of the flame he was the reason for the fire.

If the White Sox were playing and Harry was broadcasting for them and the fans were drunk and the game was nearly over and one of the weak hitting infielders popped up to end the inning, you could hear it in his voice. Like a wind-up toy that needed a few turns. “Ahhh, that wouldn’t a been a home run in a telephone booth,” he’d say, uttlerly depressed. A fan at the mic! What a concept.

Harry Caray is the reason that we sing the 7th Inning stretch at Wrigley Field with the enthusiasm that we do. In the ’80s, in order to garner more revenue, new owner Jerry Reinsdorf told Harry that they were going to put a bunch of Sox games on Pay-Per-View only. Harry said that baseball was meant for the average fan and most average fans couldn’t afford pay per view for everyday baseball games, so he quit and joined the Cubs.

Would Costas make such a stand? If he did would anyone see him?

Once I saw a Cubs game where Harry broadcasted the game from the left field bleachers. He brought two ice chests with him. One full of beer and the other full of more beer. He had a paper scorecard and two pencils. Where’s Bob Costas’s two chests of beer?

Harry had glasses as thick as a steak. He had a tongue the size of texas. His lips were big and he was shorter than you think, and the first time I saw him he had on a checkboard suit with a red dressshirt, white tie, white pants, and white shoes. i said are you heading out anywhere after the game all dressed up like that? he said, son, i’m heading out everywhere all dressed up like this. might even make it to your house if the light’s on.”

and he laughed and everyone around him laughed and his breath didn’t smell like booze it smelled of life.

i bet you a million bucks that bob costas’s breath smells like bologna.

harry handed me back my baseball and it said Holy Cow Harry Caray on it.

know what it says if you get NBC’s golden boy autograph on your lucky day?

it says bob.

but the worst thing that Costas has done, jay, is mess up the bell curve. he has made it okay for announcers to be soulless and bland and average and background filler. fakers like jack buck’s son, and harry’s grandson, step children of milo hamilton have polluted the airwaves with a lust for attention and a fear of life. corporations would never hire a man like Harry Caray when they could put their money on dull and hire a Bob Costas who would never get caught closing down a tavern buying a beer for a cop and chasing it down with a redhead.

People say that baseball has lost its edge because of spoiled players and high salaries and greedy owners, but i say it’s because the storytellers only want to read from the children’s library and live the lives of elves.

Rot in peas little man with all the potential in the world but sits on it like so many telephone books used for your pampered ass so you can see over the mic. All the vocabulary in the world but with no backbone to bring the game to life the way one would if chatting about it over a twelve pack in a basement.

That’s what Harry did.

In fact when Harry realized that he had accumulated a ton of cash from being the best there ever was, he and his wife Dutchie (they never divorced) decided that no one would be a better saloon owner than Harry, and they were right.

What would Costas open if he could? A candy store, I bet.

Filled with one flavor of bubblegum.

operation comeback + hans + g man + a nice collection of harry pics

and it happens every year and it sucks. i havent had a girlfriend in years and a certain former tennis star knows this so she will write me like once a month and think that ive got the hots for her and im holding out for her and on february thirteenth she can just call me up and fly into LAX and i will be waiting there with a boombox over my head in the rain and we will make love in the dirt and in the morn i will cook her valentines day breakfast and f her valentines day stylie and do things to her that black men dont do and white boyband boyfriends only do to her on valentines day.

yes anna kournikova im talking to you.

and some years i dont have a girlfriend, proper, but there will be someone who im dating semi regularilly or someone who im dating super regularilly but she doesnt care she makes this the time of year when she checks in to LA and calls her LA boy and for years that boy has been moi.

whats different about this year and people or us weekly or jet or whatever is gonna tell you that anna and her dude are kaput and what kills me is she thinks i dont know she thinks im not down but im down i know things ive got my ear to the train tracks and hell im the community manager of the coolest photo sharing community this side of isla vista – i know the four eleven.

so heres the deal miss russianista, leo tolstoys wettest dream, you dont get to call me on the thirteenth like im just sitting here on my hands waiting for you like im some ken doll in your barbie dreamhouse collecting dust waiting for you to throw me in the passenger side of your pink vette. and youre not going to call me on the twelfth neither, youre going to email me and say that you miss me and you want to act like grownups and not like idiots not like everyone else not like the fakers in melrose place but like two people who like each other who are sick of games who are sick of poses and stances and hiding behind manmade walls and lobbing grenades of nontrusting bullshit at each other.

i will give you twenty four hours to email me and the longer you wait the less im going like it and that means the less cool im gonna be on vday and i’ll tell you another thing, if by this time tomorrow i dont have an email from you im gonna pick an LA girl to wine n dine and you know i know how to do both of those things classy like. i know this town upside and down and i know my way around the curve of the back and if you think you can just fly into the city of angels like its yr town yr nuts cuz its my town yrs is moscow or miami land of coldfronts and cooties and you can have it.

so there you have it.

and when you write me stick to what youre good at, talking about what clothes youre gonna wear.

etienne is off the air + erin wrote the post of the week + krista answers your questions

because of some cartoons,

hi. my name is jim lampley. you might have seen me hosting the olympics last night.

i am the second most annoying broadcaster in business which is funny because i always get booked for huge events like heavyweight boxing championships, and things like, well, the olympics.

clearly i have photos of every network sports executive with little boys because i dont know one person whose ever said, “you know what tv needs? more lampley.”

the only person more annoying than me is the little midget pictured, mr bob costas who obviously has even more photos of every network sports executive with little boys because he gets to do the world series, the olympics, basketball, and even the weekly football roundtable show on hbo.

the reason im writing you, muslim extremists, is because i cant hold on to this secret any longer and i figured the best way to reach you is through tony’s blog because, well, blogging is everything nowadays, right?

ok well heres the secret

bob costas is really the artist behind those cartoons that you’re upset about.

there. i said it.

yes the danish news organization ran the cartoons but only because they were the only ones who were starstruck by the diminuitive amateur illustrator.

i dont think theyre that good. and clearly you think theyre awful. but i cant sit here in torino italy and watch you burn up the danish embassy while knowing that they had very little to do with them.

theyre the work of bob costas, who by the way cackles every night when he sees how far off track you are in your revenge.

he cackles and holds his sides.

he cackles and slaps the bedspread of his hotel room.

which sometimes wakes me since we are doubling up on this trip.

say what you will about his broadcasting ability, but hes very good at spooning and he doesnt snore very loudly.

so there you have it muslim extremists. ive done my job as a fellow human being and as a reporter. the man you want to hang and burn and stone and shake your fist at is the host of the XX winter olympics, the man who makes you turn down the sound while you watch the opening ceremonies, mr bob costas.

me, i wash my hands to all of it because youre as nuts as he is short and i think you’ll both burn in hell.

see you in the funny papers,

jim lampley

flagrant disregard + terra + cracked via treacher

i made out with a girl from montreal.

below is the post i wrote way back then but before i give you that repeat let me say this to you who are still checking in with me today.

i heart you. i heart you big time. i am getting carpal again but i will still write you every day without a day off because that is what im here to do.

i was so broke this week that i had to ask someone to loan me some money and i think on monday i can explain to you why i was drained of funds but i need to find out from my lawyer if its kosher.

being broke for an hour was horrible. especially after not being broke for so long.

it made me realize i need to write a really good book. a book so good that all of you who didnt buy how to blog or stiff would say fuckit ive GOTS to buy that one, damn.

and i hate to be just like every other writer in history and write for money but maybe thats how shit gets done. the Lord sees a writer getting his nuts licked and not producing any literature so hes gotta drag his ass in the mud for a little bit so he roughs him up a little and makes him believe that the only way he can get back where he should be is to write all the things that hes been keeping hidden inside.

so last night driving on the glendale freeway, the 2, i decided that thats what my next book will be, all the little secrets that i dont dare write on the busblog, the juicy bits that ive been tucking away inside.

its gonna be a big book and its gonna cost you money.

now heres what i wrote two years ago because im sentimental about canadian girls:

this is new york fashion week and on monday betsey johnson showed her new line. to celebrate miss montreal came over last night dressed up as an 80s ho. betsey would have been proud.

she had a striped shirt dress that barely covered her coochie, fishnets, bangles, pink earrings, and tall fuck me boots. so i fucked her.

you know youre with a good girl when you reach down the fishnets and you’re doing your thing and you whisper that youre sorry but that youre trying to be gentle cuz you dont want to rip her stockings and shes all i dont care if you rip my fucking stockings and she rips em for you.

i suppose theres other ways to know when youre with a good girl but thats one way.

my truest gave me back a few crates of cds that i gave her years back when we split. apparently she never cracked open the ted nugent box set nor any of the motorhead cds or many of the other assorted masterpieces so she brought them over this weekend and last night as miss montreal was over i popped in the first cypress hill cd from my old box of love.

heres a game you can play with cypress hill and a half naked betsey johnson looking canadian girl in your waterbed.

every time that one guy in the background repeats what the main guy says, kiss the girl.

every time they mention drugs of some sort, squeeze her ass.

every time they talk about cops fucking up their shit do something with a boobie.

and like most cds, dont get her naked and dont let her get you naked until the first track is completed. if youre a super good boy wait till the end of the second track.

and of course, dont head for the home stretch until the cd has completed and it starts repeating.

musical cues my friends. life is full of tiny little musical cues to help your unworthy ass out.

wampum + rice topher + an italian version of how to blog

how are you baby? i never know.

you know your blog is my favorite and its my favorite because i love mystery and you are the mystery of mysteries.

and you write so well that its amazing. its precise. its thought-out. its sculptured.

i read maybe 75 blogs a day. im addicted to reading them. sometimes i read them to see how i can make this blog better, sometimes i read them because i have fallen in love with the writer, sometimes i read them because i wanna see whats all the fuss about them and if i cant find the fuss i will dig deeper until i find what the fuss is.

i cant remember how i stumbled across your wonderful world of disregard but i cherish that day.

ok this is why im writing you – im going to holland in 11 days and i want you to come with.

holland.com which is the tourist bureau of the dutch government, so basically the dutch goverment is putting me up in a five star hotel and treating me right.

i know how much you love to travel and i know how much you like to get the heck out of the val so it dawned on me that maybe we could take that roadtrip that we’ve always talked about.

can you stay in my hotel room if you want? sure. youre my fave and if youd feel comfortable sharing a big fat fancy room with me fine. like you im a hermit. im just not as good at it as you are. infact im a failure at it but im a hermit at heart.

like you im painfully shy but ive learned to cope.

in a perfect world id have a little house on del playa in isla vista and id have a megaphone and in the middle of the night id point my megaphone down the street and id say “WHY CANT I HEAR ANY BANDS?” “WHY ARENT YOU KIDS SCREAMING!” “WHY AM I THE ONLY ONE WITH A MEGAPHONE UP IN THIS PEICE!”

and id slam my door and fill my big gulp cup from my kegorator and get back to reading blogs.

and watching the sunset.

why didnt i write this to you earlier? because i didnt want you to think about it, say yes, and then talk yourself out of it.

this way you can think about it, book your flight and then you wont have much time to listen to your demons.

also this way you can ignore me like youve been doing a lot lately (hiss) but secretly know that youre the only person who id share a room with on this trip. or if you want your own room, fine, but we could be like rich married people and have adjoining rooms and ignore each other but always know that the other person was on the other side of that wall.

fucked up security but security nevertheless.

i am having the weirdest month ever so what could be weirder than hanging out with the coolest weirdest blogger i know… next to myself.

btw when i saw sly stone at the grammys yesterday i thought of you.

when i first moved to LA 20 years ago i was too young to get into any of the rock clubs but i remember reading an article in the LA Weekly about a show that Sly did at the Palamino Club which was a country bar in the valley who every now and then would book someone so not country like Taj Mahal or The Replacements.

in the review they said that Slys band played for an hour and then they took a break and then they played for another hour and finally Sly showed up and played for 20 minutes and said goodnight everybody and the crowd went crazy. crazy as in they loved it. even the reviewer loved it. he called it the most rock n roll punk rock show hed ever seen.

so when all those people were singing Sly songs and sly never showed up i kept thinking, fucking a sly is going to diss the grammys how fucking cool and punk rock would that be? and then he actually did show up and he played like 20 notes on the electric piano and then left. which might have been cooler than not showing up cuz at least we got to see his sweet mohawk.

anyway for some reason i thought of you and now im writing you and now im saying if you wanna go to the land of wooden shoes hit me up at busblog at gmail

signed,

tony