and for some reason im tired. i shouldnt be. i slept on the plane, something i love to do, i didnt even watch the diane lane + john cusack romantic comedy, in fact i even read a few chapters of Buzzmarketing which mc brown has been hyping since ive started at buzznet.

and i listened to howard stern on my ipod, and of course the sound of one hand clapping.

i fucked around in LA procrastinating so much that i nearly didnt make it on the plane.

if you havent flown lately they have these automatic machines where you slide your credit card and its supposed to do all the necessary things to check your ass in. of course they still have people in blazers to help you out, but if you check in with fewer than 45 minutes before takeoff they freak you out and say, your bag probably wont get on the plane and they might not even let you on.

why?

cuz they have to check your bag out.

why dont you check it out right here?

thats not what we do here, we check you in here.

and if you think i have snappy comebacks in my comments, you should see what im capable of when i see that my country is on its knees thanks to a terrorist act four freaking years ago by dudes who checked in on time, by dudes who werent wearing a cubs hat, by dudes who didnt have a suitcase filled with autographed copies of Stiff for the local libraries here in the windy, nor dvds of porn and mp3s.

if it takes you more than 45 minutes to see that theres explosives in my bag then we’re in for some trouble, america.

and on top of that — those fuckers didnt even use explosives! they used box cutters.

IN THEIR CARRY-ON!

but i just bit my lip and went to the xray portion of the obstacle course and watched a lady break down her baby stoller one-handed (the other hand held her frigging baby) as her husband sat on a chair with his shoes off getting the wand-treatment.

and four of us waited for this woman to get everything out of the stroller including the hidden 3 yr old who didnt know wtf was happening.

excuse me, never in the history of terrorism has a blonde haired family with a 4 month old and a 3 yr old terrorized an airplane, other than with cries and screams and whines and mommymommymommy at 45k feet.

let the soccermom and the middle manager through!

but i took a deep breath and thought about miniskirted teenagers who waited for me back in hollywood if i missed the flight, because the automated check in machine told me that there were no more flights if i couldnt get on this one. so i chilled and watched the dramadey and took a mental note that if i was ever blessed with doe-eyed little angels no way would i allow my wifey to have to break down her shit one handed while holding my prodgeny.

in fact no airplane flights during the holidays for my family. clark griswold style minivan action until the kids are at least in school. an airplane is no place for beasts who cry. not because theres something defective with the childrens, but because theres far too much to cry about.

top of the list being theres no food on these flights. even on United. or Ted as i rode today.

one tiny bag of pretzels is what we got.

heres my advice for the airline industry: feed us and make either big tobacco or the pharmecutical industry pay for it. if i got a nice meal that had a huge ad for Marlboro Country on the alumnium foil id be totally cool with it.

since Mobil/Exxon made so much frickin profit last quater – let those motherfuckers put a huge ad on the napkins or on the cans of pop that they hand out. put a Shell gas pump on the dish that you serve me some chicken cordon bleu. you have a captive starving audience flying halfway across this great land of ours. we already hate you oil profiteerers and big tobbacky – feed us and we’ll call it even.

and people are all, you should pack a sandwich. we were three across all the way to the back row. anyone with a sandwhich got farted on. i didnt want to be the object of anyones wrath or jealousy. i ate my nine pretzels like everyone else and fell asleep dreaming of a real chicago polish sausage

which i got several hours later at 10pm at a nice little hut called McDog’s in the northwest suburbs.

with a grilled skin so perfectly crispy i knew i was back home.

and all was well.

tomorrow i will go to radio shack, to get my momma wifi for her house after i demand that sbc yahoo hook her up with dsl immediately.

this dialup business is for the birds.

jay + pitt + dave the pa + how you should start a blog

i spent the night with my old flame rene marie spurnikova. she and i have spent many many nights together over the centuries and every time theyre just as magical as the first.

i teased in my interview with smelly danielley that she is my soul mate and that the funny thing about soul mates is you dont always end up getting naked with them every night. and its true. we felt perfectly in each others arms and all tangled and even though we didnt copulate, we didnt have to, she knew and i knew that there was love being exchanged there. a deeper love than i ever expected that first night under the bleachers, and far more than i expected when i drove over yesterday.

she lives on the beach near the airport so she suggested that i crash with her and we ordered chinese from the china wok and you forget how good chinese can be when you eat nothing but bad chinese in hollywood.

we gorged and watched the first two episodes of the office on dvd, a gift i received from my buddy chris and his wife hillary.

so in a few hours im going to get on a jet plane and leave this unbelievably perfect weather for not so perfect and totally believable thanksgiving weather in chicago.

i know why i dont like going back home during the holidays. its very emotional for me, its very uncomfortable for me. its nice to see my family and everything but so much has changed since i was a lad. i fucked up and announced that the Buzznet meetup would be in Wrigleyville, but i dont want to see the bleachers being renovated or torn up.

if i was half the man i should have been, i would have studied harder in school and gotten a law degree at some ivy league college so i could run for mayor of chicago so things like lights at wrigley or bleacher reconstruction wouldnt even be an option.

and once i put a moretorium upon fucking with the greatest temple to sports of all time, id have retired at an early age to isla vista where i would have incorporated that fair village and been mayor of the 93117.

but alas i slacked and all i have to offer you is this blog. pah rump a rump rump.

i have a short layover in las vegas where the daisy princess works part time at the cinnabun and i will deliver her a signed copy of Stiff.

then i’ll be on my way to the windy for only the second time in like eight years.

i will miss you sunny california. i will miss you perfect blue skies.

i will miss you cheerleaders who tap at my door and giggle and apologize for waking me.

i will miss you midnight tacos open all night

i will miss you scientologists who probably hated the latest episode of south park but hopefully secretly found it genius, which it was.

i will miss you clear skies and green mountains and fires in ventura and crackheads on the blvd.

i will miss you hollywood starlets in your low cut finery.

i will miss you parade of new cars and fake baked men who drive them.

i will miss you kids who skateboard down anything they can find and have no idea how great they have it here.

until theyre somewhere else.

or fixin to leave.

osm is back to being pajama media + german + billy the kid + mostly meat

tsar show pics + pics of juliette lewis + and i met a reader named mike

pics by me + pics by marc + AND by Xris

im seeing a lot of traffic
going through my mark prior photo essay from Cubs.com

there are more photo essays here including

no tying in baseball + george bush like a virgin + happy easter + you know youre right
interview with an escalator + dear rock n roll + wordless + function at the junction

and theres nothing your friends can do about it or your lawyers or your loved ones or emmanuel lewis. you just do your thing and hope nobody gets hurt or you don’t get the shit beat out of you.

i have lost my mind a few times.

i have been insane in the membrane.

nothing in this is true so i can tell you about the time when someone slipped something in my drink and then someone slipped something into my cigar and then someone escorted me to the beach and we watched the sunset. we each had a beer. then this little elf bounded his way down the cliffs of isla vista and said

hi boys, would you like to suck from this magical balloon of looney love

and i had never seen an elf before and there he was in his felt suit and big red nose and his basket of gold and pointy shoes with bells on the toes and he looked at us like a dog would, with a cocked head and blush on his cheeks. were those whiskers?

and we were young guys and the sun was setting and the waves and the sea gulls and the surfer girls and surfer rosa was playing on a boom box and we said what the heck and first my buddy sucked some in and then i sucked some in and then the elf had some and then flipper swam to shore and the elf gave him some and then my buddy had one as soon as he exhaled, no air in-between, and then i did the same and then flipper cut in line and took a toke and then did a back flip and then the elf took a drag and offered it to us but we said no thanks and held it in as loooooong as we could and then the elf bowed to us and sank right into the sand.

and then i started to drift away.

away from you.

away from my buddy.

i was drifting up into the sky.

i could see my body down there against the rocks, i could see the pacific and the sunset and del playa and the houses and then i came back down into my body slowly.

ahhhhh

i took a breath of fresh air, god that was scary

oh shit then i floated up again this time higher way higher i could see all of isla vista, part of francisco torres, sands beach deveraux mental hospital lots more of the ocean, the curve of the horizon. fucking A the islands!

it felt like i was the ball on a gigantic paddle ball and i went back down to my body, faster this time, i didn’t dare take another breath of air

but i did and there i floated back up again. shit shit shit.

up up up.

goleta.

ocean.

santa barbara.

i had only been this high up when i was in an airplane flying home from a business trip nose smooshed up against the window.

the silver cord connecting rubber ball me with the paddle was going to stretch too far i feared and i would float up into heaven, a failure, a cheat. what are you doing here anthony h. pierce the third?

i lost my mind, sir.

hmmm, you’re not scheduled to be here for another 102 years. you’re a very bad boy, to hell with you.

but that didn’t happen, i was brought back to earth thanks to a sip of beer that my buddy advised me to take because i looked green. hippie chemistry. headache, smoke weed. weed headache, eat aspirin. hangover, drink rum. sensitive from acid, smoke pot. heartbroken, eat x. too much x? smoke pot. it went on and on.

the beer worked. dulled the visuals.

then the waves began to digitize.

pixilate.

the smoothness of sight had been replaced by digital colors of green red and blue, grainy like sand. the sand had turned into grainy red sand, it looked like a satellite feed from overseas in the middle of a nighttime firefight.

but it was sunset.

then it was just squares of colors.

and then just beige squares.

and then just black.

– originally posted three years ago today on the busblog

alecia + kool keith + xTx + evil china girl

1. marc brown was born

2. and abe lincoln scribbled something down on the back of his top hat bill:

Four score and seven years ago our fathers brought forth on this continent, a new nation, conceived in Liberty, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created equal.

Now we are engaged in a great civil war, testing whether that nation, or any nation so conceived and so dedicated, can long endure. We are met on a great battle-field of that war. We have come to dedicate a portion of that field, as a final resting place for those who here gave their lives that that nation might live. It is altogether fitting and proper that we should do this.

But, in a larger sense, we can not dedicate — we can not consecrate — we can not hallow — this ground.

The brave men, living and dead, who struggled here, have consecrated it, far above our poor power to add or detract.

The world will little note, nor long remember what we say here, but it can never forget what they did here.

It is for us the living, rather, to be dedicated here to the unfinished work which they who fought here have thus far so nobly advanced.

It is rather for us to be here dedicated to the great task remaining before us — that from these honored dead we take increased devotion to that cause for which they gave the last full measure of devotion — that we here highly resolve that these dead shall not have died in vain — that this nation, under God, shall have a new birth of freedom — and that government of the people, by the people, for the people, shall not perish from the earth.

scroll down a tad for todays buzzblog + show him some love + only pic of abe at gtown

i bring it up today because i dont wanna forget.

mc brown, the inventor of the internet, world ski jump champion, he who cracked the divinci code, and the man who gave nirvana a chance and thus broke them on college radio.

born on a dinghy off the seattle sound, marc was swallowed by a whale and expelled off the sandy beaches of santa barbara where he befriended a volleyball and named him grungy

he lived on campus point beach for several years until the isla vista foot patrol discovered that he didnt have a permit for his bonfire, and after failing to pay his citation, arrested him and the judge sent him to ucsb for four years of hard time.

with good behavior he did five.

while in college he was the music director of the radio station. this was the magical time of the late 80s when hip hop, rock, metal, punk, and pop melded and bore a new music “grunge” a term mc brown bestowed on the joyful noise that was best represented from his hometown label, sub pop, in honor of his volleyball friend.

his popularity spread througout the campus and in 1990 he ran for associated student president, with help from his pals at the daily nexus, where he had become a media darling, occasionally writing music columns and opinion pieces, he won in a landslide. but always the pranksters, the nexus reported that he had only garnered 69 votes, a curious number but symbolic since it was the number on the LA Raiders football jersey that he was often caught ripping off his svelt frame and twirling above his head while dancing atop a picnic table at the local pizzeria, pizza marc’s, which many believed he owned.

and then he adopted a rap persona, mc brown and released the cult classic “mc brown goes to college” which was followed up with the smash hit “mc brown goes to night school”. the green 7″ singles were huge along the central coast, and peru.

since then marc has traveled the world, dated models, rock stars, and homeless women. he has started his own web design company with such clients as paramount pictures, rupaul, and most recently triumph the insult comic dog. who says affirmitive action doesnt work?

the macarthur park loft that is now his office is so badass that hipster mag Dwell featured the inside of his pad and if you look closely in the first portion of Kill Bill you will see his garage as pretending to be the hospital garage where Uma finds the Pussy Machine.

founder, president, and inventor of Buzznet, the latest in blog technology that allows people to share pictures that theyve either taken from their digital cams or phone cams, marc continues to influence and feed off the ever-changing world of the internet like it aint no thing.

we are lucky to have marc brown in our collective lives.

which is why, when Thor Garcia finished his first book of short stories, he dedicated it to tommorrow’s birthday boy.

and why when you read this website and blog, you will see homages and praise doled out freely and lustingly in his general direction.

please join me in celebrating in mc browns birthday by either visiting his frequently updated blog, creating a buzznet account, pouring a gold bottle of boones farm on the ground like you just dont care.

wwmbd + marc at an art opening + the mc is a great photographer