if i was president i would make it illegal to flick a cigarette out of a window.

if i was president i would build public toilets all over the damn place. Seriously.

if i was president i would ask the bottled water people to think of a smarter idea than little baby blue plastic bottles to carry our precious purified h20. Remember when milk came in cardboard boxes. i bet that shit isnt filling landfills.

if i was president id send our nuclear waste to the sun, or threaten to send it to whoever the fuck is talking shit about us.

if i was president i would fine polluters more than people who cursed on the radio.

if i was president i would ask the stoners to flow the country monies to research weed. and with that research money we would hold serious testing on the Discovery Channel every day at 4:20p. set your tivos. and for once and for all we would see the pros and cons about marijuana and hemp and if it was true that weed couldnt kill you and if it was true that hemp could produce paper more efficiently than trees and if it was true that pot seed oil was good for us and could help those with hypertension and diabetes, then id go to congress and id say see fuckers. see! and we’d legalize that shit. but if it wasnt just some hippie vice that made you fat and stupid then id say sorry deadheads and we’d end the debate.

i hate people who insist on living in the dark ages with their heads intentionally up their asses.

thats not what america is supposed to be about.

red state ignorance and blue state arrogance.

this should be the united states of science and reason and logic.

i am all in favor of people smoking shit that will kill them. do it in bars do it in restaurants do it wherever you want. this used to be the land of the free. and bars should be free to run their places however they wish, and restaurants should be allowed to have a smoking section or not.

if people want to carry guns, carry guns. maybe we should teach the kids how to be better shots in school too. how would you like that america?

but dont litter your shotgun shells and boxes in the woods and dont flick your fucking butts on my freeways.

dont spit in the subways.

dont leave your empty 40oz bottle of dumbfuck in the brown paper sack outside my golden gates after youve slept there half the night

until my sprinklers went off at the buttcrack of dawn.

and if i was president everything would have a colored square on it

telling me what type of recycling bin i could throw my shit in when i was done.

and not only would abortions be legal, but theyd be encouraged

cuz theres nothing more dangerous to this planet

than people.

verbungle + city rag smoke-in + coop has a blogspot blog

music couldnt get any better. half of tsar were in the wonderfuls. half were in mons pubis. and half were in the brothers steve.

the best band of iv changed every night. one night it was a bunch of heroin taking punkers from downtown santa barbara called bad neighbor. one night it was the all girl even punker Pre Marital Sex. one night it was keith browns glitterbug. one night it was the sean white band. one night it was grateful dead-esqe electric blue, but only if you ate acid first.

an isla vista metal band that year was flown to florida to compete in mtvs battle of the bands. their name was indica. they won.

but the next year indica had been forgotten because isla vista’s ugly kid joe had actually broken through and had a top 40 hit on mtv, the spunky i hate everything about you.

people speculated as to who would be next to get signed and be huge.

because the pixies had a minor hit with “here comes your man”, locals immediately pointed to pop punkers rogue cheddar. a working man’s camper van beethoven. a lazy man’s cioppino.

rogue cheddar’s bass player and axe wielder was a fella named tom, who is now better known as tomdog, buzznet’s #2 most active user (second only to buzznet founder, mc brown, who used to play rogue cheddar tunes on kcsb-fm where brown was music director).

at blogtime, with 11,506 buzznet comments posted, tomdog is only 1,100 comments from being topdog.

rogue cheddar was the thirsty thursday house band for quite awhile. thirsty thursday was the weekly keg that my hippie friends hosted nearly every thursday for the four years that i was at ucsb. bring a buck and your own cup was the environmentally conscious motto of the long-running party hosted by jesus rob, toms next door neighbor when they lived on sabado tarde.

at first rogue cheddar was very bad.

they were the sort of band where youd get your beer and walk into the house and pick up on girls with the closing line of, “come with me, i live very very far away.”

and then seemingly overnight rogue cheddar not only had it together but they had original songs, a band groove, a tightness, a style, and a feel.

it was truly bizzare.

they were still playing thirsty thursdays but now they were releasing 7″ singles. i still have one.

they ended up playing on my radio show.

soon they had a tape out.

but then, as was the case of lots of great rock dreams, the singer fell in love and the band sorta fizzled into the overstuffed manila folder in the sky labeled “the woulda-beens”.

today tom turns thirtyblahblah years old.

when he was here in LA last he brought me over some rum, he gave me some good advice about my bicycle, and we even took a nice ride along sunset and downtown in the cuban girl’s honda element.

a few days later he created a buzznet account, and the internet hasnt been the same ever since.

we wont even get into the beauty of the tomdog bug (pictured) + happy birthday tomdog!

and every day i say thought of you and then passed out.

but the truth is every day i get home, check the voice mails, get the mail, check on the plants, close the drapes, put on my sweat suit, put on the ipod and take a quick run around the hood.

then i get home, do some curls, shower, and i put on my pajamas.

maybe i’ll pour myself a tall sip of rum and i’ll toss something in the microwave and flip through the tivo.

sometime before 8pm the phone will stop ringing. i really dont like to be on the phone after 8pm and people are starting to catch on. ive even started getting in the habit of keeping my answering machine near full so that i can only get one or two messages per day.

the thing is, when youre an xbi agent flying chopper one and shooting at bad guys youre ON for 8-10 hours. always talking, always thinking, always running, adreneline pumping the whole time.

then because im a dumbass, during my breaks at work im blogging, so i really dont have any downtime, per se, for my mind.

thats what the evenings are for.

typically i will turn on howard stern, flip on the computer and check my fantasy baseball and basketball stats. hoops just ended so now i only have to concern myself with my 12 baseball leagues. half of which i commish.

it seems like a lot but its not. once you know the 700 major leaguers its all about getting the good ones on your teams.

about a half hour after the microwave dings i remember that i put food in there so i get up and eat my cold food and drink a diet cola.

last night the hawaiian girl was over. she was experiencing menstrual cramps. i was all, wheres your pussy pills? she was all excuse me? i was like your midol your alleve your demoral?

she was all, i didnt think i was due for this for another week. its at home. i got up and went to the medicine cabinet.

every bachelor should stock their pads with a variety of feminime products. we’ve discussed this. im talking pads, ‘pons, pills, combs, toothbrushes, clean pajamas, face cream, cotton balls (i still dont know what women do with these, but whatev), shampoo, conditioner, clean towels, clean sheets, etc

she was all, no no no, i’ll just go home, i cant drive if i take an alleve.

i was like, i know. and i winked.

i suck at winking and she left.

karisa (not pictured) meanwhile was dancing on the tables at a swanky club in west hollywood.

she lives in the hollywood hills. i live in the hollywood hills. and yet our lives couldnt be more different, and we never see each other.

each chat begins with an i miss you and ends with a lets do laundry next week.

in a perfect world she would be writing this blog and telling you about the super cool shit that she does every day.

ok, my break is over, back to the stakeout in watts.

above photo of ashley’s sister + sk smith + stag + annika

by Sidney Blumenthal in today’s Salon.com

President Bush treated his final visit with Pope John Paul II in Vatican City on June 4, 2004, as a campaign stop.

After enduring a public rebuke from the pope about the Iraq war, Bush lobbied Vatican officials to help him win the election. “Not all the American bishops are with me,” he complained, according to the National Catholic Reporter.

He pleaded with the Vatican to pressure the bishops to step up their activism against abortion and gay marriage in the states during the campaign season.

About a week later, Cardinal Joseph Ratzinger sent a letter to the U.S. bishops, pronouncing that those Catholics who were pro-choice on abortion were committing a “grave sin” and must be denied Communion.

He pointedly mentioned “the case of a Catholic politician consistently campaigning and voting for permissive abortion and euthanasia laws” — an obvious reference to John Kerry, the Democratic candidate and a Roman Catholic.

If such a Catholic politician sought Communion, Ratzinger wrote, priests must be ordered to “refuse to distribute it.” Any Catholic who voted for this “Catholic politician,” he continued, “would be guilty of formal cooperation in evil and so unworthy to present himself for Holy Communion.” During the closing weeks of the campaign, a pastoral letter was read from pulpits in Catholic churches repeating the ominous suggestion of excommunication. Voting for the Democrat was nothing less than consorting with the forces of Satan, collaboration with “evil.”

In 2004 Bush increased his margin of Catholic support by 6 points from the 2000 election, rising from 46 to 52 percent. Without this shift, Kerry would have had a popular majority of a million votes. Three states — Ohio, Iowa and New Mexico — moved into Bush’s column on the votes of the Catholic “faithful.”

Even with his atmospherics of terrorism and Sept. 11, Bush required the benediction of the Holy See as his saving grace. The key to his kingdom was turned by Cardinal Ratzinger.

read the whole thing

stag + patricio + this is not a love song + my icelandic girlfriend

i got a good phone call today while flying in the clear blue skies of southern california

i was advised to light candles, to say prayers, to click my heels, to do what i would normally do to prepare for an important day.

i wish i could tell you what’s going on.

soon i will tell you whats going on.

i will say something like, remember on 4/20 i told you all to whisper a little prayer for your old pal tone? well this is what you were trying to stoke me with.

the problem with being tony pierce, besides having to live up to the hype when i meet people, is that a lot of things that i do in some way or another gets tied to this blog

so of course on the eve of one of the biggest days of my life, the day where some very important people will come to visit this blog (some for the first time ever) they will be greeted with anti smoking from a bong,

a hitchcock poster defaced with some green bud,

an illustration of a naked woman laying on a very happy giant panda,

a nude santa claus instant messaging me, bill clinton raising the devil horns,

pics from a strip club,

and the last few chapters of the time i went to hell and met mr kurt cobain.

sex drugs and rock. fine for keeping the site meter counter spinning, but not exactly the first impression that one would want v.i.p.s to have contact with.

and i know what you’ll all say,

you’ll all say, oh tony youre a great writer youve got nothing to worry about.

and i’ll say these people are surrounded by talented people all day, many of whom i dont hold a candle to. these arent xanga blogs im being compared to tomorrow.

and some will say oh tony these people know that youre just kidding around, these people know that youre not advocating illegal activities, being sent to hell, or hanging out at hollywood gentlemens clubs with dear friends from out of town.

but the demons in my head are working overtime these days and theyre all but but but and thankfully my job is hectic and nuts cuz i can ignore them for a while

and just a few minutes ago my buddy was all

dont be nervous tony, no way are these people going to be tougher on you than the cardinals were on the candidates to be the new pope. and look what happened, ratzi the nazi got picked! theres nothing on your blog as incriminating as being a hitler youth who grew up to be so backwards as to think that condom use to help prevent HIV is a bad idea.

i was all yeah, good point.

and then he fixed my tivo.

so yes, light your candles tonight my friends. and if you pray, say Lord let’s give a break to our pal tony who doesnt really deserve it or has truly earned it but who is ready to take this shit to the next level.

even if its a level where you hafta capitalize

and you cant say “shit”

too often.

susan mernit + zulieka onfire + city rag + everlearn

he’s got a six foot bong, the greenest buds and a camera that he uses to show you how it’s done.

since im straightedge i wouldnt know the first thing about the wacky tobbacky so i entered into a chat with mr. disestablishmentarian

xxbusblogxx: when was your first time smoking pot?

BigBadAnti: when i was a freshman in highschool. i submitted to my friends and their peer pressure. (thanks whitey!)

xxbusblogxx: how do you normally call it? weed, herb, pot?

BigBadAnti: weed, pot, or dope.

xxbusblogxx: how often to you clean your 5 footer?

BigBadAnti: the 6er? i change the water before each use.
BigBadAnti: but i have to use the shower to change the water.

xxbusblogxx: i heard that holding the smoke in doesnt help
xxbusblogxx: is that true?

BigBadAnti: nah, i think it it makes you higher to hold it in. although there are two schools of thought on why it makes you higher. one group thinks that the THC in the dope has more chance to enter your blood stream. and the other group say that it’s partly the THC entering your blood, and partly lack of oxygen to the brain. i always hold my hits in as long as possible.

xxbusblogxx: whats your favorite situation to get baked?

BigBadAnti: whilst driving.

xxbusblogxx: via joint or pipe?

BigBadAnti: bong! but a pipe if there is no bong, and i GUESSS a joint if there is no pipe. i smoke too much for joints. who has time to twist those things up all damn day? im a working man.

xxbusblogxx: arent you afraid of spilling your bong in your car?

BigBadAnti: im about as afraid of spilling my bong and i am about spilling my large sprite from taco bell. cup holders baby!

xxbusblogxx: ahahahah
xxbusblogxx: whats the weirdest contraption that youve ever smoked out of?

BigBadAnti: a gravity bong. it involves a lot of home arts and crafts (ie, a two liter bottle emptied and the bottom sawed off, ect), and a sink full of water. i never thought it was worth all the effort. i’ve also gotten high from a pipe made out of an apple. you can make anything a pipe, just about.

xxbusblogxx: you should definately make a movie of making a gravity bong

BigBadAnti: perhaps. if i can find someone down to do all the arts and crafts part. mebbe whitey will be down for that… who knows.

xxbusblogxx: where was the coolest place youve ever gotten high?

BigBadAnti: top of half dome in yosemite. and/or backstage at the Cypress Hill smoke out tour, with the Wu-Tang.
BigBadAnti: at the time, we were all “FREE ODB!!!”

anti + iron mouth + frampton came alive today + metafilter thread

in the spirit of this day lets copy and paste from a Phish messageboard via craigslist regarding the meaning of this special day.

420 is a phreak’s (and not just a hippie’s) favorite number for a variety of reasons, or maybe for no reason at all, but colloquially the number says pot — “let’s smoke pot”, or “someone’s smoking pot”, or “gee, i really like pot”, or “time to smoke pot”, either by time (4:20 a.m. or p.m.), date (April 20th), or otherwise (e.g. State Route 420).

April 20th at 4:20 is marked by annual events in Mount Tamalpais, CA (an informal gathering); Marin Conty, CA (the 420 Hemp Fest); Ann Arbor, MI (the Hash Bash); and Washington, D.C. (buildup towards the July 4th Smoke-In).

Original Source(s)

Conventional wisdom: The most common tale is that 420 is the police radio code or criminal code (and therefore the police “call”) in certain part(s) of California (e.g. in Los Angeles or San Francisco) for having spotted someone consuming cannabis publicly, i.e. “pot smoking in progress”; that local cannabis users picked up on the code and began celebrating the number temporally (esp. 4:20 a.m., 4:20 p.m., and April 20); that the number became nationally popularized in the late 1980s and, more ferverently, in the early- to mid-1990s; and is colloquially applied to a variety of relaxed and/or inspired contexts, including not only pot consumption but also a “good time” more generally (in contrast to the drug war surrounding).

Conventions are legends: 420 is not police radio code for anything, anywhere. Checks of criminal codes (including those of the City of San Francisco, the City of Los Angeles, Los Angeles County, the State of California, and the federal penal code) suggest that the origin is neither Californian nor federal (the two best guesses).

For instance, California Penal Code 420 defines as a misdemeanor the hindrance of use (“obstructing entry”) of public lands, and California Family Code 420 defines what constitutes a wedding ceremony (Marco).

One state does come close: “The Illinois Department of Revenue classifies the Alcoholic Liquor Act under Part 420, and the Cannabis and Controlled Substances Tax Act are next, under Part 428.” (RB 5/19/99)

True story?: “According to Steven Hager, editor of High Times, the term 420 originated at San Rafael High School, in 1971, among a group of about a dozen pot-smoking wiseacres who called themselves the Waldos. The term 420 was shorthand for the time of day the group would meet, at the campus statue of Louis Pasteur, to smoke pot.

“Waldo Steve,’ a member of the group who now owns a business in San Francisco, says the Waldos would salute each other in the school hallway and say “420 Louis!’ The term was one of many invented by the group, but it was the one that caught on. “It was just a joke, but it came to mean all kinds of things, like `Do you have any?’ or `Do I look stoned?’ ‘ he said. “Parents and teachers wouldn’t know what we were talking about.’ The term took root, and flourished, and spread beyond San Rafael with the assistance of the Grateful Dead and their dedicated cohort of pot-smoking fans. The Waldos decided to assert their claim to the history of the term after decades of watching it spread, mutate and be appropriated by commercial interests.

The Waldos contacted Hager, and presented him with evidence of 420’s history, primarily a collection of postmarked letters from the early ’70s with lots of mention of 420. They also started a Web site, waldo420.com.

“We have proof, we were the first,’ Waldo Steve said. “I mean, it’s not like we wrote a book or invented anything. We just came up with a phrase. But it’s kind of an honor that this emanated from San Rafael.'” – Maria Alicia Gaura for the San Francisco Chronicle, 4/20/00 p. A19

Alternate explanations

There are a variety of other explanations, all much more interesting than “police code”, and many plausible. Some are more likely uses of the 420/hemp connection rather than sources of it, such as the score for the football game in Fast Times at Ridgement High, 42-0.

im sure the pro-pot instapundit will have lots of posts about this today + 4:20 in the bible + high times

+

+

that they really dont want to know what bloggers are like on the other side of the screen,

that even santa claus loses his charm when you remove his uniform and present him out of context.

THATS EXACTLY WHAT WE WANT TO DO! they said.

not really agreeing with me. they just always write in all caps cuz theyre dumb.

they want me to intervew a half dozen big time bloggers and find out what makes them tick, what they think makes a good blog, what advice they’d have for new bloggers

all that regular crap.

i told them that ive been interviewed a zillion times and never has it ever turned out the way that ive wanted it to, that people just cant get a good snapshot of a good blogger because good bloggers should be like good fastballs – always moving, always unpredictable, always insanely aggressive.

they were all we will pay your rent for next month if you can get us what we’re looking for.

yawn. the old tempt-me-with-money ploy. dont they know that doesnt work on some people?

so i look to you, dear readers.

if you were flipping through a sunday magazine in one of your newspapers and you saw that 5-10 influential bloggers were being interviewed, what would you want them to talk about?

what would you be interested in finding out abuot them?

do you really care what inspired them to blog? does that even matter? do we care that lance armstrong started riding ten speeds cuz his older brothers did?

do you care about design tips?

about this fake debate between blogger and moveable type?

do you care about ways to get more hits? do you even believe that its possible to follow some sort of formula to get hits?

should political bloggers be ignored because all that shit ever boils down to is red ants and black ants?

i want to write this article but i want to do it for the wrong reasons. i want to do it because i know that if i dont i will wake up one sunday and read it and say “why on earth did they pick *those* bloggers?”

and “god those are the same lame predictable questions that lead to the same lame predictable answers.”

so what questions should i ask these people if i accept this mission

and what insights are you looking for in bloggers of 2005?

raymi + brooks + luke ford + terra

my tivo was fucked so she drove me over to the dudes house.

because shes the sweetest girl ever she agreed to pick up a friend of her brothers who happened to live near my hollywood bungalow. so on the way to the tivo dudes house her brothers friend started going off on these monologues as if he had been saving it up all day.

everyone needs but a few connections, he said.

you need your computer dude, your drug dude, your mechanic, your doctor, your dentist,

and now it looks like you need your tivo dude.

i added that its also nice to have a lawyer.

the hot chick squeezed my hand.

hard.

so i also said aloud, for the record, and a stewardess kissbuddy.

she smiled.

the dude lit a little one hitter and offered it my way.

since im straight edge i shook him off.

she took a hit though and he went off on his tangents.

normally i would have been annoyed but i tuned him out and looked at this chick and she saw me looking at her and smiled and i looked in the passengers side mirror and i thought what on earth am i doing with this hot babe.

how have i gotten any of these chicks.

and look at this girl taking me to get my tivo fixed.

hollywood can get suprisingly nippy on these spring evenings but we kept the top down anyway and her brothers friend’s jibberjab got beat down from the wind.

she doesnt like public displays of affection so i put a shawl over her right leg and across the armrest and over my left leg and i held her hand

as the stars streaked across the stratosphere

and led zeppelin three massaged the speakers

our girl had never heard this classic gem.

bros bro said no way

she said yes way

shes hawaiian and only so much made it to her side of the island

the backseat said i bet you ten bucks they hire that nazi youth to be the next pope.

i was all make it twenty and youve got a bet, no way would the catholic church, in the shadow of the biggest child molestation scandal of all time, hire a nazi to be pope. they’ll get a black or a latin.

he coughed and said we voted for the kid of a nazi police chief to be governor.

i was like yeah and hows that working out for us?

and today i got into the office, saw that they were putting new wiring in chopper one,

turned on the idiot box and saw that im gonna not only have to cross paths again with that weirdo

but now i owe him twenty bucks.

albino brain chiggers + frozen toothpaste + the keeze + alecia