et these are fertile times for some journalists. Blogs�stands for “Web logs”�are flourishing; they are Web sites with short hit-and-run commentary and abundant links to other blogs, articles, and sites.

Blogs are a pure expression of the Internet: unmediated opinion and information passing from hand to hand. Blogs promise a reckless, independent use of the First Amendment, journalism without fact checking, editors, advertisers�nothing but writers and readers communicating directly. In theory they offer across-the-spectrum opinion, electronic libertarianism.”

– RJ Smith, Los Angeles Magazine, October 2002

dear rj smith, alex beam, and whoever that chick was who wrote about blogs in the la times last month,

please stop trying to write about blogs.

you look ridiculous.

you look older than you probably are.

you make it easy for us to pick on you, especially when you’re critical.

because there are no editors doesnt make it reckless. dewey defeats truman?

please get over the fact that there are no editors.

i would love a fucking editor for my blog, but guess what, they’d probably edit out all the fucking.

when i read you and you make little snide snipes at blogging i wonder if you dont do it to get attention from the entire blogging community. more people on the web know alex beam than any other boston columnist. in a twisted way he became very popular. unfortunately he is as well-known now as anthrax. not the sort of infamy one would like, i would imagine.

because we type stuff into software and it turns up on your computer screen doesnt mean that it’s journalism. and it also doesn’t mean it hasn’t been fact checked. infact who was it who said, “this is 2001, we can fact check your ass.” mighta been welch. [ Ed. it was layne]

and just because it’s free doesnt make it libertarian. very few people use that word politely, rj smith, and im not so sure that you did just then, so fuck you for your general high and mighty oh-arent-they-cute attitude regarding the next big thing. how many hits would you get on your own?

which brings us to welch and layne.

just because you got paid doesnt make you a pro, RJ, you name check the LA Examiner, you call my boys college “dropouts” like thats a bad thing (never mentioning Bill Gates, Peter Jennings, William Faulkner, Steve Jobs, Ted Turner, Tom Hanks, Bill Murray, Larry Ellison, F. Scott Fitsgerald, Michael Dell, Wayne Huizenga, Woody Allen, Dan Aykroyd, David Geffen, Warren Beatty, James Dean, Brad Pitt, and scores of even more interesting and succesful people who also chose a different path other than a college degree), but you dont ever ask Riordan why he’s been playing footsies with ken and matt but continue to leave em hanging. or is it the sheepskin?

instead you surmise that the former mayor is savoring the attention. the attention of guys like you, RJ and your 150,000 readers.

so what do you do with the attention he’s paying you, RJ? didnt Dick say in the spring that he’d have this thing by the end of summer, and here you are writing this thing in the fall and still there isnt dick out there. what’s his answer?

bro’s 72 years old. tick tock old man, what are you waiting for, christmas?

that’s a question that a real reporter and a real editor ask and put in the article of a real magazine.

call us reckless all you want, junior, but at least we’re readable.

hi tony, are you causing trouble again?

me? never.

you’re treading on thin ice when you piss off your readers.

they’ll get over it.

especially the ones who give you money.

the instant i think twice about writing something because i might not get money in the future from someone is the moment that i should just click the big Delete button in the options menu and go back to writing poems for chapbooks.

isnt there a happy medium?

all or nothing, hottie. else you lose your edge.

why do people hate it so much when you talk about politics?

they would love it if i wrote about politics if i agreed with them. i’d be the next sean hannity.

who?

they just don’t like it when i expose their party for being what it is right now: completely impotent.

you’ve lost me, tony.

name one thing the GOP has done right in the last ten years.

they beat Clinton.

they lost to Clinton, they beat Gore and they had to cheat at that.

i’m trying, tony, but it’s difficult, im just a gorgeous model who can keep it together when her shoe falls off.

i know. thats why they like this site. they just want me to put pretty pictures of happy faces up here, have fake interviews with celebs, talk about who i’m banging, and totally lay off the fact that the leader of My country cheated to sit at the table with the grown ups, and once he got there fucked the economy, fucked national security, made the military look like a bunch of dip shits who cant find the wascally wabbit hiding in a hole…

you’re funny. kiss me.

and even though they all knew, they put Condesellout Rice on the podium and had her say that they had no clue that people would slam planes up against buildings.

are you saying Black people can’t work for white Presidents?

im saying if you do it know youre going to be called a sellout, and when you do it don’t lie to the american people at a time when they are as fragile as can be.

so what should they have said, tony, “america, good evening, we fucked up”?

for eight years the republicans tried to get clinton on lying about whitewater, and on getting a blowjob. they knew they couldnt kick him out but they wanted to publically embarrass him by abusing the impeachment card and silence the democratic party in the process. their whole stance was that the president lied. they sicked ken starr on him and never let up. and you cant tell me that lying about head is the same as lying about “not knowing” about bin laden.

he let up eventually

giselle, don’t you remember when Starr tried to disbar Clinton so that he would be fucked even after his presidential term was over?

i thought they did disbar him.

that was just from arguing cases in the Supreme Court.

he was disbarred from practicing law in arkansas, wasnt he?

yeah for five years, but who the hell cares about practicing law in arkansas?

i miss Clinton.

me too, giselle.

he was a real president.

he’s no dummy.

so do you know politics or don’t you?

i was born in washington dc. i grew up in chicago. ive worked for two of the largest billion dollar companies in the world. i worked for a dot com during the gold rush and now i work in hollywood for a big time tv network. i know tons about politics. i also know that even though the airwaves and the web is full of conservative voices they Cannot Stand it when people point out how entirely ineffective their boys have been. they will say i dont know shit, they will say i shouldnt write about it. but all theyre trying to do is silence me. i dont blame em. nobody writes angrier shit than me.

silencing you? sorta unamerican. wouldnt you say?

sorta bullshit, i’d say. read that last post. change the picture to bill and hillary, change the 9/11 stuff to lewinsky and Rush Limbaugh would drive me a million hits. it’s not the writing they dont like, it’s the content.

god, i hate politics.

me too, baby.

wanna do some happy hour drinks with me after workie?

yes, please.

they tell me lots of stuff.

but you knew about 9/11 before it happened?

sure, i just didn’t think…

exactly my point, you didnt think.

please. let me just be. i cant know everything.

yes, but you can know when something that big is going to happen!

i want a waffle.

i want a man!

i want strawberries on it.

you disgust me.

and whipped cream.

your father was a loser, you’re a loser, even your brother is a loser.

im ignoring you.

i feel dirty even being near you.

some people put chopped walnuts on their waffles. i dont like that.

youre a disgusting human being.

a cherry on top would be nice, though.

your daughters are drunken whores…

and some chocolate milk, mmmmmmm.

everyone in your family are dirty theives, only concerned with money and power.

why did you marry me, then?

you Used to be fun.

im still fun.

you cant even spell fun.

f-u-n.

im going to jump off a bridge.

but, wait, i spelled it right.

wheres your cyanide pill?

“dirrty”

rca records

anna got hurt in moscow yesterday

called me sobbing and wouldnt get off the phone.

she asked me if i had seen the new christina aguilera video

i said “yes i did see the video.

infact i downloaded the video last night, anna.

i played it over and over

slowly.

one handed.

i loved her outfits.

i loved the song.

i loved the production of the song with its overlayed whispers

i loved the production of the video with its flashes of everything.

i loved the heaps of men and flesh and women surrounding her

pulsating around her moving with her

grooving with her.

i loved that it was still her show even though she is so little

so white so good and so bad.

i loved that her hair extentions were made of yarn and twine and lint and

cobwebs.

i loved that she looks like she has fully become aware of her nastiness and

she is taking ownership

in a way much different than some tranny’s dream of moulin rouge

but of a wigger with an attitude

with the waistband of a kilt as a skirt.

i loved that it seemed to me that she knows shes number two on my list

and she did everything she could to leapfrog you.

and didnt necessarilly fail.

just has a really long way to go.

but is definately knockin on the door.”

anna sneered,

ho

as everyone knows, gwen is one of ashley’s favorite people in the whole wide world and if it wasn’t for ashley i wouldn’t know so much about gwen, in fact i would have probably just overlooked no doubt entirely because none of the guys in the band interest me, and gwen is, after all, just a girl.

so since ashley is working two jobs now and raising our illegitimate son, tupac roosevelt pierce, i will give you all the info about gwen that i have culled from the endless hours of listening ashley talk about her musical idol.

gwen was born a poor black sharecropper in the city of orange in orange county california.

like all the trendy girls who wanted something soulful, yet white and punky, she got caught up in the ska scene thanks to her brother eric who was an original member of no doubt. he played keyboards and eventually left the band right before they were about to make it huuuuuuge.

gwen and her brother are still super super close because gwen, like me, loves long long relationships and is terribly loyal and borderline co-dependent, typical libra traits.

her first real true love was a guy named tony.

tony is the dark skinned Indian bassplayer of her band. not native american Indian but from India Indian, which might explain why gwen sported those glittery dots on the center of her forehead in some of their videos back in the day.

they had a big time love affair which ended. she was crushed when he dumped her and began writing all the sad songs that became huge hits. the guitar player wrote lots of the parts, but the words were gwen’s and most of the aptly named Tragic Kingdom were straight from the broken heart of today’s birthday girl.

Tragic Kingdom ended up selling 12 million records worldwide. their manager at that time is tsar’s manager at this time. if you thought i could write a post without mentioning my favorite band, you’re insane.

gwen went on to sing duets with Moby and Eve which were both huge hits too, but being loyal to her bandmates, she truly meant it when she said that those were just little one-off projects, and last year flew off to jamacia where no doubt made the rock-roots flavored “rock steady” which lofted such hits as “hey baby,” “hella good,”and now the smash hit “underneath it all.”

rock steady is holding steady at #46 in the album charts which is quite an accomplishment since it’s been on the charts for 46 straight weeks. and “underneath it all” is locked in at #12 on the singles charts where it’s been quietly resting for the last seven weeks.

gwen probably hasn’t been resting too much. after opening for U2, and headlining their own tour, the skinny blonde recently got married to longtime boyfriend, hearthrob Gavin Rosdale of the britian pop group Bush. the couple exchanged vows in london last month and later jetted to the states to have another service for their friends and family in america.

what’s next for gwen stefani? role model, fashion icon, overall super cool gal, and frontperson to the incredibly successful pop group.

my guess is she’ll be changing diapers in two years time.

either way, happy birthday gwen.

and if you ask me she doesn’t look a day over 40. friends, this is what vegetarianism, herbs, and yoga can do for you.

meesh is a nature girl. shes a gardener. shes into meditation. once i made love to a girl who was into meditation and she just laid there. for some reason i don’t think meesh would be anything like her. she throws her head back when she laughs, she doesn’t sip when she drinks, she drains. she swoops into a room and dominates quietly with her eyes and her smile and her subtle perfumed seduction.

ive met girls like meesh before.

shes one of a kind.

when i was trying to rally to get 100 new links a few months back, certain readers to this blog said that if they had something interesting to say they would make a blog just so that they could link to me to be one of the 100.

guys shouldn’t make blogs just for that reason. they should make blogs because of this reason: theres no way i woulda met meesh without this blog.

i think what happened was she read Rabbit, i begged Rabbit to link me, meesh clicked my link on Rabbit and fell in lust with me.

ta da.

through meesh i met simone and through simone i met steve coulter, who then introduced me to tsar.

no, kidding. actually, turns out simone once dated a guy who played with keith brown in popsicko and that guy is friends with tsar, and simone had actually seen tsar about four or five times.

hollywood is a tiny place, people.

be nice to everyone.

meesh is nice to everyone, so since today is her birthday, why don’t you go over to her site, read some of the xxx dear abby stuff that shes been writing beautifully, and write her an email and tell her that you’re happy that shes around.

i am.

see the dust cloud disappear without a trace.

i was stuck in right field steaming. i had missed one xbi softball game due to my vacation and i was no longer batting leadoff playing shortstop, i was in right field batting ninth. our team had gotten serious. they’d brought on some fratboys and brothas and they had forgotten about the kid.

they said that when he was pitching his 56 consecutive shutout innings orel hershiser sang hymns to himself , and even though i was a born again too, fuck hymns. i was whispering motorhead, maiden, priest, sabbath, metalica, and nwa 100 miles and runnin.

good luck, brothas.

theres a lot of time to think when you’re playing right field in a softball game where all the macho guys try to pull it over the impossible left field wall. sex love death money

revenge.

i thought about how the bank job before my vacation went down perfectly. so good the bank didn’t even want to talk about it.

much better than the early days when we’d pull that shit off at night in the wee hours. drilling under the streets with diamond tipped jackhammers in the day time and finishing the job at midnight straightup leaving behind a note that said ha ha bankrobbers were here next to a glass half empty of milk and a plate of warm cookies.

fingerprints?

what fingerprints?

i thought about the lady from the church who cornered me at the busstop before the game. hollywood and highland busstop at 8:20pm you meet all kinds and this one wanted me to take a survey and i said okay until i saw the name of the controversial sci fi author all over the page and i said, oh, no thanks.

she said, what?

i said, i know about you guys, i live up the street.

she said, where?

i said, over by your big building.

she said, oh, by the church in los feliz.

i said yeah. she was sharp as could be. great salesperson. no fear. i loved it.

she said, that doesn’t mean you cant just answer some questions. its about a magazine. ideas for the titles of a magazine.

ideas?

she was talking to the right man.

she showed me six names. they were all terrible.

she asked, which one would you like best for a magazine.

i tried hard but i couldn’t find one.

i said, no offense, but none of them.

she said, tell me what each of these names means to you.

i told her. they were all generic.

i said, this one makes me think of books. this one makes me think of the French. this one makes me think of Old People.

i wanted to say, none of them tells me, We Can’t Brainwash You.

she asked me my first name, age, income.

i said, Sonny, 21, agent.

she said, movie agent?

i said, undercover agent.

she laughed. then she stopped laughing. she knew hollywood and highland just like i did.

she said, i live next to the church too.

she said, ive seen lots of she paused

people

coming to your door.

she wanted to say girls. i knew what she meant.

at first i thought she was judging me. then i saw she was curious.

do you have a favorite?

i said, i like the ones who are being nice to me.

and i sang to myself, i want to run, i want to hide…

then, magically, the bus came.

and i finally understood what some non christians probably feared about me when i would talk about the bible.

they were afraid that i might just be right.

when blah blah blah from viacom said that they wanted my help saving vh-1.

i told them that i wasn’t interested in saving vh-1.

they opened up a briefcase of money. i said give to caesar what’s caeasar’s.

they said ok and forget about the stones at staples on halloween, what about a pair for their wiltern gig?

i paused.

then kept moving. fuck vh-1.

they said we can get you a date with mariah.

i said i cant do a divorced woman.

they said we can make christina aguilera fall in love with you.

i said vh-1 needs to hire courtney love.

let her be on the air as much as she wants.

i want to see cooking with courtney, caulking with courtney, child rearing with courtney, chatting with courtney, and coughing with courtney.

not only is she a fine musician her self, sexists, but she’s rock royalty, and if she’s not her little girl is, so god save the queen.

i let them in my house! and said, what you did with her on mtv2 giving her 24 hours was brilliant, but “behind the music” is filler when theres nothing to watch on saturdays. courtney is such an attention whore she’d do it for peanuts. and don’t let her fool you, shes as much into fleetwood mac as she is in fugazi. “malibu” is VH-1 101. not even boomers want to feel old and in order to stay away from celine you need courtney.

it doesn’t need to be live. her friends are michael stipe (whose music you should be playing more of) and billy corgan and probably quite a few other interesting people who would give your channel the cool factor that has always resisted your eager grasp.

and secondly, you should bring back Rock N Roll Jeopardy.

That guy from “Survivor” was a good host, but i think you need to hire David Lee Roth for a week.

The week after that let Bob Costas do it. I can’t stand Costas, but he’d be perfect.

The week after that have David Byrne, and then Quincy Jones, and then Kurt Loder, and then Moby.

they said those are brilliant ideas.

i said thank you.

they said, you far exceeded your reward, what else can we do for you?

i said, please fire john norris. i have no clue why i always have to see that guy on my mtv. who does he have photos of? mtv is notorious for letting people go sooner than later. from johnny knoxville, to jenny mccarthy, kennedy to tom green to tabitha soren to remote control to puck, you have no problem letting perfectly good interesting people leave right when they are about to explode.

why are you hanging onto john norris like he’s your raggedy ole rabbit’s foot?

he’s entirely forgettable in every way.

i have nothing against the man, he’s not annoying, but his presence is.

why not let that fat skinhead kid on m2 get a little face time?

that kid’s unbelievable.

he’s got tattoos and the lingo and the poise and the double chin.

america is ready for whatever his name is.

and that’s who you need to hook up with christina, not me.

i’d totally corrupt that little girl.

other than finding out that i still have a wicked bad crush on Christina Aguilera there are these items:

Meesh is making it very difficult for me to stand up, here in my lonely cubicle. But I’m glad to see that she’s giving Raymi her due props. :cough::tonysandwich::cough:

Although a picture may say 1,000 words, i like Sara’s words a lot more than pictures of britney spears and cher sporting a george washington mask (yes, the pumpkin patches are popping up on the abandoned lots of america, but take the mask off honey) and sara, get back to writing or i’ll post more billy joel lyrics. whatever you do, dont let grad school get in the way of your blog!

reverse cowgirl takes the sort of pictures of hollywood that i wish i could, if best buy would only give me back my camera. fuckholes. anyway, today she announces that she will be featured in an upcoming edition of Playboy. now arent you glad you subscribe like me?

it’s less than three hours before Game Two and Welch types the word “shitty” and yet isnt talking about the tough defeat of his beloved Angels to the dreaded Yankees last night in one of the best playoff games you’ll ever see. maybe he thinks the never-say-die Halos will still pull that one out. shrug it off, pal, your boy Glaus sent a few messages that the SoCal homies are going to continue their mysterious who’s-your-daddy on the bronx bombers. if you missed it the Angels rocked the rocket and mauled mario in game one at the house that ruth built. the cocky mothers nearly got away with loading the bases for Giambi and stealing game one away from the home team. but the angels will soar tonight, my pretties. and welch will rejoin the bandwagon that he is secretly driving himself.

laura crane would give two thumbs up on the Atkins diet if she could lift her left arm. i kid. my mom and sister are on it and they swear by it too. who knew cutting food out of your diet would help you lose weight?

kate sullivan lost her job, LA lost a really good newspaper, the doors of opportunity swing even wider. if i could only find that friggin iguana, i would ask for my fourth wish to be for there to be a real newspaper for me and all my amigos to work at and live happilly ever after. but alas, the LA Times is just far too mighty and good and powerful and well written and well edited and informative and sexy and colorful and smart and innovative and diverse and accurate and free thinking and superior for anything like that to happen in my lifetime, or yours.

Dawn called me a God today, which does wonders for my esteem, which is about to floweth over.

And then Uppity Negro done linked me less than 24 hours after i whined, and alas, the esteem has reached its peak, and then some. excuse me while i kiss the sky.

Glass Houses Columbia Records

“Close To The Borderline”

Blackout, heatwave, .44 caliber homicide

The bums drop dead and dogs go mad

In packs on the West Side

Young girl standing on a ledge looks like another suicide

She wants to hit those bricks

‘Cause the news at six gotta stick to a deadline

While the millionaires hide in Beekman Place

The bag ladies throw their bones in my face

I get attacked by a kid with stereo sound

I don’t want to hear it but he won’t turn it down

Life is tough but it’s just enough

To hold back the tears until it’s closing time

I survived, I’m still alive

But I’m getting close to the borderline

Close to the borderline

A buck three eighty

Won’t buy you much lately on the street these days

And when you can get gas

You know you can’t drive fast anymore on the parkways

Rich man, poor man, either way American

Shoved into the lost and found

The no nuke yell we’re gonna all go to hell

With the next big meltdown

I got remote control and a color T.V.

I don’t change channels so they must change me

I got real close friends that will get me high

They don’t know how to talk and they ain’t gonna try

I shouldn’t bitch, I shouldn’t cry

I’d start a revolution but I don’t have time

I don’t know why I’m still a nice guy

But I’m getting close to the borderline

Close to the borderline

I thought I’d sacrifice so many things

I thought I’d throw them all away

I didn’t think I needed anything

But you can’t afford to squander what you’re not prepared to pay

I need a doctor for my pressure pills

I need a lawyer for my medical bills

I need a banker to finance my home

I need security to back my loan

It isn’t new what I’m going through

But everybody knows you got to break sometime

Another night I fought the good fight

But I’m getting closer to the borderline

Close to the borderline.

sadly, this is one of only a handful of songs that i have completely memorized. sadder still, it was one of the most punk rock song i had to grow up with.