im remembering this because of emmanuelles post where she reports on a challenge that i was given.

we were talking about morrissey’s new cd and how he sings about how america acts superior because we gave the world hamburger.

i said, we dont feel superior because we gave the world hamburger, but because we gave the world mcdonalds.

some one said, are you serious?

i said, yes, other than french girls and swedish girls, (i forgot to say asian girls but i was drinking, and think even less during those moments) america has given the world everything that everyone loves

and thats why they so desperately want to be like us.

ugly americanism at its best.

and only mostly true.

around 2am we were debating free trade.

we’ve come a long way since dropping acid and gazing at the palm of our hands.

i was all, i have no problem giving Nike a bribe, i mean a tax cut, i mean an incentive for setting up a factory in hollywood so that americans can produce $150 american-made shoes that can be sold alongside the $100 indonesian-made sneakers.

let the lebron james shoes or the new air jordans get made in america. the 75% price increase will more than absorb the cost increase of american workers and the union they will probably join.

and i bet all the cool kids would be more than happy to have the latest kicks made in hollywood… where dreams are born.

blair and welch of course poo pooed the idea, unfamiliar with logic and progressive ideas, rigid in their hardlined freeeeee-traaaaaade mantra. ambivalent to the fact that when americans had jobs under clinton the economy boomed, there was prosperity, and there was no need to inject the collective psyche with fear.

their philosophy, i imagine, is that as developing countries come out of their tin shacks to nike factories to earn their $5 a day, those countries will begin to prosper and they can then import american goods and services.

like mcdonalds, ford trucks, and nike shoes.

sorry, but i dont have 100 years to wait for such malarky. and why are some people so hesitant to infusing THIS country with the aid that they’re so willing to ship off around the world?

have you ever spent much time in downtown LA?

it’s my belief that a strong american workforce will inspire a stronger american entrepenuer culture. one that will take what successes it learned here and go to foreign lands and start up newspapers, soul food chains, and Foxy Boxing circuits.

a shoe factory in hollywood or compton in 2004 producing quality trends will not only foster a work ethic that exists in every zip code in this country, but it will create generations of americans who can have pride in what they do, while improving their currently dilapidated community from within.

no offense but fuck indonesia while ive got concerns in my own backyard.

of course my ideals were shot down by the learned gentlemen of letters, so i brought it home.

fine then, screw shoes, i said. screw factories.

america is the worlds breadbasket.

i pointed to blair’s pack of smokes.

i said, from what i can assume, a pack of cigarrettes contain about 1/8 of an ounce of tobbacco. from what ive read, 1/8 an ounce of marijuana goes for about $60.

the cost of cigarrettes to the manufacturer, including advertising and shipping, etc. is probably about $1 a pack.

i said, you could put a $14 a pack tax on marijuana cigarrettes, if you had the free trade courage to legalize it, and with the tax and production revenues, pay for all the education and free health care that the dems cry about, but you could also pay off our debt and probably have a little left over for all the bombs youre dying to drop on the taliban.

america would have an export that could be made in the usa. the quality would be unmatched. their boys, big tobacco, would have the new product they are dying to release, and the enviornmentalists would be thrilled because hemp would replace trees for producing paper.

and the Christian right would be appeased because god’s happy plant, so perfect you plant a seed in dirt, water it, and it creates a weed that when ingested makes you smile, would be freed to do what He intended it to do.

but the only reason you wont do it, i posed, while lifting my half drunken bottle of rum at them

is because youre racists, and you know that by keeping weed illegal, you keep minorities under your thumb, and in prison

where you think they belong.

and thats why people take me into dark alleys and beat my ass when i say shit like that in the xbi.

welch and blair, gentlemen that they are, just laughed and called it a night.

the holy writer has finally moved to blogger + Outfoxed producer catches O’Reilly in a new lie + best new blog design ive seen + one year ago today

last night i was up till 3am talking politics with welch and blair. a completely delightful evening.

earlier in the day ms. heather rabbit was there, cathy seipp and her lovely daughter was there, mr. mickey kaus was there telling me that i am the only blogger that has ever gotten laid from his blog (not true), amy alkon, ben sullivan, kate sullivan, greg and molli rudnick, and of course lil sean.

all was good in the hood.

mr. steve coulter was there cooking up some delicious pork for us with his lovely wife heather. shanon and justin were there.

coulter by the way is the new drummer for the Royal Trux.

it was a crazy night, and yes that is eddie van halen on the left.

i must insist how great it was talking to tim about poltics.

the guy knows aussie history and politics, american history and politics, and middle east history and politics. and hes funny. and hes evenkeeled.

and he does a pretty good ken layne impression at times.

and he has some bright ideas about how conventions should be run in the future which i wont reveal at this time.

it was gorgeous last night and we all sat outside under the palm trees listening to the possums eat from the fruits of the trees.

the pit bulls barked at the moon,

and the neighbors yelled at their wives.

fullon east hollywood on a sunday night.

blair confided that he didnt read my blog very much because he got jealous of all the girls that i got and i was all, dude, nothing in here is true

and he said nothing?

and i said nothing,

and welch said, he gets way more ass than he writes about.

and when they looked at me for confirmation i just took another swig from my green bottle of beer.

cuz nobody likes a braggart.

linda + matt welch + emmanuelle

talking about what they do when theyre fucked up.

ive got groceries in the trunk, the cubs on the telly, and a bbq at welches house that i am fixin to attend.

just after i write and tell you that this ipod deal is pretty sweet, i must admit.

miss montreal has a honda element that has an AUX jack right there on the passenger’s dashboard. and under that jack is a little tray for things like your wallet, your camera, and an ipod.

a mini plug connects the music to the dashboard and the radio automatically goes into AUX mode.

pretty sweet.

last night we listened to tsar as we drove around venice.

i taped the kxlu show on a really bad vocal tape, then i digitized it. now i have to figure out how i can cut the half hour show into 7-8 mp3s and post them on here once a week.

i would also like to know how i can pause something in the middle of the track.

for example, lets say that someone emails me a four hour radio show.

lets say i park the car, turn off the ipod, go into the liquor store and come out… how do i resume where i left off?

the ipod just goes back to the begining of the track. so lame.

and how do i fast forward faster than just hitting the >> button?

there should be a >>> button somewheres.

or if you hold it down for a good while it should skip from ever :30 seconds to every five minutes. ive got three hours i have to skip through.

i realize that thats not the typical use of this lovely item, but at 40 gigs i would imagine people are going to have long things on their after a while.

barry bonds is up against kerry wood.

shit if i knew id be hanging with welch and blair i woulda brought over my outfoxed dvd instead of leaving it at my true loves house.

these are the problems you face in hollywood.

the cubs have only lost one game since they got nomar you know.

and yes, the clothes in that picture are hanging from a noose.

emmanuelle richard + tim blair + matt welch

starring Bill O’Reilley, Walter Cronkite, and Rupert Murdock

produced and directed by Robert Greenwald

i write you from sunny santa monica, my third favorite city of all time. isla vista. amsterdamm. vegas. hollywood. santa monica. ensenada. santa barbara. chicago. goleta. maui. manhattan. eugene. paris. tijuana. florence.

ok fourth. fifth. who’s counting?

my trueist is making bacon that i can smell. there might be some eggs and toast happening. its hard to tell. shes listening to kcrw. harry shearer.

last night we watched Outfoxed. the film about how Fox News is completely slanted to the right.

to be honest, i didnt have that much hope for it. i didnt think anyone could do a better political documentary than michael moore.

and i was all, so Fox is right wing, so what?

but after watching this i realize they might have a point that maybe they helped influence the presidential election of 2000. it is a strange coincidence that all the other network news shows flip flopped and named bush president after they named gore president.

i know this was brought up in F 9/11, but in Outfoxed, it rings truer.

i also liked how they exposed the Republican way of debating: don’t bother proving the other side wrong, just yell them down by calling anyone who disagrees with you unamerican, a threat to national security, or a wacko in hopes of getting the debate into a draw, and therefore a win for the right.

but the strongest part of the film is when it goes after Bill O’Reilly.

Using his own footage against him, they expose him for not only being a liar when he said that he only told one guest ever to shut up (turns out he has told many guests and likes to say “shut up” a lot), but for being intolerant of people who he can’t out-debate. A behavoir that spills over to other hosts of Fox News shows.

This was eye-opening to me because i don’t find myself watching Fox News too much. It’s all just a little hysterical and fake to me.

Sean Hannity went to UCSB when I was there. He wanted to have a conservative talk show on the alternative radio station that I was playing grunge and hip hop and metal on. I supported him. I thought we should have a conservative voice on the extremely college liberal station. Every dreadlocked pot smoking hippie had at least one tie-die that said “Diversity” on it.

And lots of us had that Censorship is UnAmerican poster or tshirt (that many said looked like me). So of course we shouldnt censor a different opinion than the rest of us on the radio. Especially if many on campus shared his views.

But alas, Sean was not allowed on the air for free and he settled for eventually working for Fox for millions.

Anyway, the reason I don’t watch Fox News is because Sean Hannity doesnt walk around wearing suits. O’Reilly doesnt sit around getting upset about Ludacris getting sponsorship deals with Pepsi. Bret Hume isnt a news anchor.

If I want fiction all i have to do is turn on HBO.

Which is far more entertaining than Fox.

my true love’s exboss produced outfoxed + his researchers have a blog

eggs are on the table.

caio!

batty baby + gorilla mask + tonecluster + dr. c calls this a true blog. thank you!

steph and lola are hot, and i had no business drinking with them at the mondrian poolside last night. i am old. i worry far too much and i should just kick back and enjoy this amazing life the good lord has blessed me with.

murphys law my xbi phone was ringing off the hook and i accidentally left my camera at home in my haste to get to the airport on time.

half way there i got a phone call from steph (left) telling me she got a quicker flight with no layover and had already made it into LA and had checked into the posh sunset strip hotel and if i wouldnt mind bringing over a bottle of something fabulous on the way over to the hotel.

steph is taller than you think. she wore a little something or nother with a plunging neckline that was hard not to peek at. we got to drink for about ten seconds when my cell started blowing up. embarrassingly i walked her over to the skybar with its spectacular views of west hollywood and beverly hills.

all i wanted was a few minutes of alone time before stephs caped crusader lola was scheduled to arrive, but no, everything i had to do on the phone never let up.

there was a disturbance, apparently, at the heron house. i had asked nicely for the evening off. but the fella who was covering for me fell ill. ill my eye, once he found out what his assignment was he chickened out.

so it was my responsibility, of course, to find a new replacement. everyone i talked to was thrilled to hear from me. but when they found out who what and where, suddenly they were busy.

steph sat there patiently sipping her bacardi o and asking if it was ok to touch my head.

of course dear.

i pounded my long island iced tea which comes in a big ceramic apple. let me stress the word big. and at fifteen bucks it better be big.

finally this dude said he would do it. so i put my phone down and reintroduced myself to step from southbeach and she told me about her flight on song airlines, an outfit i’d never heard of, but she told me that they are like the delta version of southwest airlines but with directv.

she watched 13 going on 30, which i imagine to be a very good airplane movie for a cute girl.

and then the phone rang.

the dude discovered that he had something to do. he asked if i could make a few more calls because he was scared shitless i mean suddenly busy.

so i called a few more dudes on the list. none of whom wanted to even discuss the fact that i only call them for the suicide missions.

two guys happened to be in greece for the olympics, as crime, it seems, likes the summer games too.

a few minutes after i closed him again on the lie that if he did a good job he might get a full time gig with the xbi, lola (above) arrived.

prettiest girl i’ll ever meet, lola promised, and she wasnt too far off.

and there they were steph and lola, on the west coast. all smiles and white teeth and tan bods and someone had a pink prada purse and someone had met a surfer boy already and someone got a phone call and someone had to go home early.

and as i did i thanked my lucky stars for not only having so many cool readers but being able to meet some of them

on such a summers day.

steph does south beach + zulieka + flagrant

bitch

the one i have with danielle is bizarre and bizarre.

yesterday we play-fought for a good hour over whether her dress was midnight blue or black.

every guy who we asked said it was blue.

the women looked closely and said it was blue, but after danielle asked them to look again they said, “oh yeah thats black.”

of course it was midnight blue (pictured).

the philosophy that men cant see colors properly is a danielle original.

shes full of shit like that.

she also takes insights personally.

when i described her dress i said, oh it looks like a japanese stewardess outfit from the 50s.

to which she crossed her arms and pouted and said, “dont make any more comments about my clothes ever again, you wrinkley shirt and jeans slob.”

i was all, dude, i loooove asian girls. in my heaven all there is are asian girls cooking me shrimp fried rice and binding my little girls feet.

i kid.

but i was all, babydoll, asian chicks + stewardesses is like male fantasy #1, only trumped by the teenage runaway cheerleader bus broken down in front of an abandoned hot tub factory.

still she took the description personally and negatively and gave me the silent treatment.

for a good thirty seconds.

today she didnt like the fact that i told her she looked a little haggared after she told me that she was hungover from spending all night at the new hollywood nightclub called El Centro where she had a run in with some of the beautiful people of LA who are neither beautiful or people: they are prefab androids devoid of personality or charm.

i was all, well you do look a little beat. to which she huffed and made me wait for her get her morning bagel with tomato slice and lofat cream cheese.

such punishment ive never encountered before.

i was forced to stare at her sweet ass for a good two minutes.

danielle keeping it real + jarvis + sean bonner

i dont need it rubbed in. and when youre old you do things, i dont know, logically?

so the hotties are coming out here and they think LA is just going to spread its legs for them. they think they can just bop out of the plane and the golden gate bridge is going to float down here from frisco and mickey mouse is going to toss rose petals at their feet

and brad pitt is going to get their bags at baggage claim

and the palm trees will part

and eight different colored convertibles will be waiting at the curb for them to choose from and then step into.

but LA isnt like that, oddly.

and LAX at night is a scary bad place that eats up tourists and shits them onto century blvd.

all i want is a plan from these girls. are they crashing at my pad or at “some dude’s”? and i want that plan before i rush home and clean my house, before i pick up miss montreal’s jaguar, before i drive to the other side of town in the middle of the night.

is that too much to ask?

apparently it is.

apparently im not the freewheeling bob dylan that they are.

apparently im oh-so-flagrant disregard who gets upset at pretty much everyone in her universe, and now i see why. and hopefully now everyone sees why i pretty much stay at my secret beachside getaway and hide in my closet and write and write and write and write.

because the outside world is on drugs and needs to just do their own thing.

ive said it over and over to myself: dont meet people who read your blog.

ive tried to fight that rule. ive tried to set up world tours that would keep me from my closet and allow me to shake hands with the planet.

god almighty am i glad that didnt happen.

and young girls are even worse. prettier they are crazier they are.

totally reminds me of shit my sister would have done back in the day.

no worries tony they tell me. just go with the flow they say.

heres the flow in south central LA, where, by the way, LAX resides: get off the plane, get your shit and speed away as fast as you possibly can to a pre-arranged locale THEN go with the LA flow.

i lived in south central so i can tell you first hand: theres a reason why nobody from N.W.A lives in the “hood” anymore. many reasons, as a matter of fact. 187 reasons.

all i wanted was a plan Before these well-intentioned hotties got on their crosscountry flights. all i wanted to know was where they were staying tonight. how they were going to get there. what they needed from me. what they expected. what they were doing tomorrow.

but no. i got nothing. i got, call you when we arrive. gotta pack. bye!

and whats up with packing minutes before the flight?

god im old.

here’s what i predict. i will meet the early one early. we will drink at a bar somewhere. the other will arrive hours and hours later. they will yell and scream and giggle and talk about how much they missed each other over the last 3-4 months that they havent seen each other.

some other dude sniffing around who is just as clueless will be all you girls can stay at my place. i will say GOOD! and they will be all, but no, we want to hang with you tony. there will be much debate. it will be 1:30am. we will be at LAX. my parking fee will be $1302894721034987. at 1:45a i will give in and the chicks and the weasly dude will decide to go to my place. they will stay up all night drinking my booze and popping my pills as i laugh at them, not getting a wink of sleep, which i dont need anyway cuz in real life im fucking insane.

they will wake up in their own barf come morning.

and the dude will be telling me that he cant believe he’s been partying with The tony pierce all night

i’ll ride the bus to work, arrive 10 minutes late and get written up and questioned about the liquor that appears to be on my breath

and i will want to say that most people wouldnta left two hot girls with their housekeys and hangovers on a friday, that most people woulda just called in sick, but instead i will say its the cough medicine i drank, so back off before they catch what i think i have.

but all i have is idiocy

disguised as openmindedness

wrapped in retardness.

because the only thing worse than not having a plan, is allowing drunk young girls to decide the plan in the wee hours. and fuck if im cleaning my fucking house.

xtracyx + anti + the deputy + three bed two bath

the ghost of bukowski continues to haunt my hollywood flop house. two things are missing, however: his alcoholism, and his smooth confidence.

i am nervous.

not because of the obvious. im cool about that. im just afraid i cant live up to the hype.

it’s one thing to write a blog that people like, but to BE that person or anything like that person in real life is daunting. especially if, as is the case here, i am much more mild mannered in person than i am on paper.

plus tomorrow morn i have to go to work.

one babe is showing up at 9pm, the other will arrive at midnight.

blogstar tony would take the hottie to the nudes nudes nudes next to the airport and play footsies with her as motley crue plays and we sip $6 miller lites while waiting for her pallie to arrive.

reallife dumbass tony will probably take her to fatburger on lincoln and sip diet coke and stutter a lot.

it’s a wonder i dont have to pay for sex.

bukowski used to be able to handle this much easier, i have read.

the girls who would read his stuff would come to LA, knock on his door, they would drink all night and he would show up to work hungover and sloppy – or not show up at all.

im far too responsible. sadly. stupidly. horribly!

the other bad news is my maid called me this morning telling me that her son was in the ER last night and she wouldnt be able to clean my house today. tragic, since my place is a pig sty.

hopefully they will consider it charming. or rustic.

my towels are sorta cruddy. i have no milk. because im bald i have no shampoo or conditioner, though i think i have some samples from the hotel suite i was last in.

i have clean sheets but theyre flannel sheets. what sort of host lays down flannel sheets in the august in LA?

these are the dilemas that will haunt my day.

in better news, danielle, looking phenominal in her japanese stewardess pink polka dot dress bought me my morning apple juice.

bunnie was in la + bunny mc is in toronto with raymi + sk smith is still watching alias