and drove out to death valley. the ride wasnt bad, it was just me and kurt and a few gangstas from the hood.

when the bus stopped kurt led me out.

before we can go any further you have to sit on the Regret Throne.

all i saw were a row of Port-A-Potties.

go in there, put down some paper on the seat, pull down your pants, and think about all of your regrets.

i did as instructed.

“i cant think of any.” i yelled.

i thought you said you were bummed that you never went to Prague?

“oh yeah.”

plop plop plo-plo-plo- SPLASH

“i think im done.” i told him.

did you ever have sex with anyone you wish you hadnt?

hmmmm. no. no, i dont think so.

think hard. if theres any regret in you, you wont be able to fly in heaven. it’s what seperates us from the birds.

plop plop plop.

what about some of the jobs you had?

sorta liked my jobs, kurt.

wish you had said some things, or not said some things, or quit earlier at some of them?

plop plop plop plo-plo-plo-plo-plo-plo-plo-plo-plo-thrrrrrrrrrrrrbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb plllllllllrbrbrbrbrbrbrbrb SPLASH

ok that was sick, tony

hey man, im just doing as the inventor of grunge is instructing me.

any girls you wish you had asked out?

the toilet exploded.

it was like a missle.

there were flames.

kurt hosed me off and handed me a towel. i tipped him a dollar and he opened the door of another port-a-john.

any records you bought you wish you handt? movies you saw? extended warrantees you bought?

another violent explosion.

my ass was starting to hurt.

kurt took the hose to me again and handed me another towel.

i gave him a $5, he gave me three ones in change.

i went into another port-a-potty and sat down.

sorry you didnt buy Amazon at 7 and sell at 100?

huge explosion. my ears began to ring.

kurt hosed me off, handed me a towel, i gave him the three ones. he gave me a squirt of cologne.

went into the last port-a-potty that remained.

sorry you didnt say good bye to anyone?

nah, not really.

wish you had asked for more money on your blog?

plop.

wish you had spell checked or proof read it before you posted?

pleep.

wish you had kissed more people’s asses so that they would link you?

plip.

wish you had gone to journalism school?

plop plop plop.

wish you had learned to play guitar?

SPLASH.

wish you had gotten married in your twenties?

no.

look down at your feet.

“what am i looking for?”

are they on the ground?

and what do you know, i was floating about an inch off the floor.

crazy.

i wiped, flushed, got out, and felt incredible.

me and kurt hung out at the bus stop waiting for the next bus.

“what was one of your regrets when you were here?”

i wish i had been a corporate spokesperson for someone.

“really?”

yeah, really. i was just shy.

listen missy + seventeen pics of isla vista + unknown column + the state im in

well what are we supposed to do?

well the bus doesnt come for another few hours, what would you like to do on your last day on Earth?

wow, kurt cobain, thats a tough question.

nothing bad can happen to your body, because you’re already dead you cant be judged for anything you do, and anything that you do will be wonderful.

okay i think i know what i’d like to do.

wanna go see your mom for the last time?

nah. i’ll see her later, im sure.

wanna see wrigley field for the last time?

nah, i bet they have one up in heaven.

oh i know, you probably want to go up to Isla Vista, huh?

nope. i want to do heroin with you, kurt, at the Playboy mansion and have a bunch of unprotected sex.

whoa nelly. none of the girls will be able to see you. you’re invisible, they wouldnt notice you even if you jumped up and down and yelled. and they wont be able to feel you either.

ah, im used to all that.

alright then, lets go.

they got good H up in H?

sure, but nobody does it.

why not?

people get high off life up there.

interesting concept. but arent they really getting high off death?

no, it’s eternal life. eternal death is the other place.

hell?

no, earth.

everything dies, baby thats a fact.

and maybe everything that dies some day comes back.

put your make up on

fix your hair up pretty

and meet me tonight

in paradise city.

– from the busblog archives friday the thirteenth 2002

verbungle + matt good + bunny mcintosh

when i saw kurt cobain waiting for me at the front door.

hey buddy.

uh, hi, kurt.

i dont really know how to say this to you, so i’ll just come right out and say it. youre dead.

pardon me?

ok, let me put it this way, knock knock.

heh. who’s there?

not you, because you’re dead.

can i ask you a question?

sure.

good, am i on acid?

no, youre dead.

how did i die?

i can tell you, but then i’d have to bring you back to life. ahahahahaha. sorry, little joke we tell.

what’s this hole in my chest?

thats where you were stabbed with a knife.

who the hell would stab me?

lots of people. there are those who are jealous of your talents. there are all the dads of the young girls you do. there are the sisters of the girls you do. there are the republicans who fear that you might go to law school and then run for office. theres bud selig, matt drudge, george bush. or any of the hundreds of criminals you sent to jail.

you know whats funny, kurt, youd think id be sad, but im not sad.

good.

but i will miss all my friends.

they’ll probably miss you too.

and i love the people of Earth.

theres people of Earth where you’re going.

yeah, but i liked life.

you did? you were always bitching about it. you were never satisfied with any of the girls you got. you were never pleased with where you lived or what you did for a living, or what you looked like, or what you wrote, or who you were. dont bullshit me, bro.

hmmm. i did like chris.

too little, too late, cubfan.

and i liked living on del playa.

youre going to a better place.

i am?

maybe.

what!

hopefully.

fuck.

hey i got in and i broke some major rules.

thats right, you killed yourself.

major faux pas, let me tell you.

how did you get in after something like that?

G-o-G.

whats that?

Grace of God. thats how everyone gets in.

what if you were super good?

doesnt matter, without the GoG you dont get in.

so, like, mother theresa?

God isnt crazy about the Catholics. little known fact. especially the ones who know better. they disobeyed the very last line in the Bible, “dont add anything to this text or else you will get all the curses written herein on your ass.”

thats not exactly what it says.

whatever.

damn, kurt, even in your afterlife you’re controversial.

ready to hit the road, pallie?

wow. im really dead?

dead as grunge.

and i have to leave this apartment behind?

you can haunt it if you want, but scaring people becomes dull. it’s pretty easy.

but its sorta messy, i’d hate to leave a mess.

trust me, dude, people are going to make a fortune eBaying your stuff. youve got some great shit here.

yeah somewhere in here i have a ticket stub from your last show in LA.

not anymore,

kurt cobain said and flashed me the stub and tucked it into the breast pocket of his raggedy flannel.

p. 66, how to blog

wil wheaton + anti + thanks for the clarification + new teenage fanclub

because my directv is broken i spent the weekend holed up in my bachelor pad trying to knock out this xxx novel that im ghostwriting for a celebrity friend of a friend, which is tough because writing is all about habits and one of my habits is to have the tv on even if im not paying attention to it.

what i love about the newer assignments that ive been getting is watching my body react to them.

i get ridiculously hungry when im writing something that isnt a blog.

its a form of procrastination but it also feels like im feeding fuel for the fire. its like buster keaton on the general and since ive got plenty of wood, the fire gets bigger and the writing just flows and flows.

the other day i found myself way ahead of schedule so i signed up for my 11th fantasy baseball league. big mistake because im in so many nba playoffs right now that i forgot to start some pitchers today.

ive noticed that my writing ritual is very rhythmic and follows a pretty strict schedule. maybe yours does too.

i like to blog, for instance right before i get on the subway and go to work. then i like to write at lunchtime and then once again when i get home. instead of writing the blog at night ive been writing this book and thank God its about done because it pretty much ruined my weekend.

but now it’s nearly done and nobody will ever know that i wrote it and i will get my little check and i will do something dumb like pay off my lone credit card and give my favorite charity the hollywood free clinic the rest.

maybe i’ll get some new pumas cuz these are two years old now and falling apart.

what i really want is a pony.

went to lunch today with the swedish virgin. we’re just friends which i hate cuz you have to keep your hands to yourself and pretend that you dont want each other. right there. on the table.

maybe its all the porn that i just wrote but when im with who i want to be with and shes looking so good and the farmers market clam chowdah bread bowl has fed the fire i suddenly find myself with energy that needs to be spent.

walking to the car i said why dont you put your hands on the hood of that beamer and give these tourists something to tell their friends about.

why dont we do for once in our lives exactly what we’d do if we were back in the jungle.

what about the cops she asked laughing and trying to wrestle her hand out of my firm grip.

oh baby by the time the cops showed up we’d be long gone with only the smiles on our lips and some dna on my pants and on your wrinkled skirt to condemn us.

but virgins dont play that

which is why you have to say it.

and when the valet drove her car around the corner i whispered i miss you and i love you baby

and she stopped laughing for a sec and said i love you and miss you too tony.

and we hugged and i slid my hand down down her backside probably for the last time

today.

moon over pittsburgh + joz joz joz + raymi + matthew good

some people think im their monkey.

some people think this blog is theres and or its something more than my two cents presented for the world to see.

some people think that when an old man dies youre supposed to all of a sudden say nice things about him even if you never really said anything nice about him. fuck those people and fuck the dead man too.

some people think that you shouldnt be honest about the recently dead because being dead means something different than being alive. it means you should be reverent, respectful, solemn, generous.

why? i thought this was Jesusland. i thought we all agreed that when you die, if youre a good person you go to Heaven. if youre in Heaven who the fuck cares about what theyre saying about you on the sleaziest of all bathroom walls, the blogosphere?

people originally didnt speak ill of the dead because they were pagans fearful of the ghost of the dead person haunting them and causing them lack of sleep. Christians shouldnt have that phobia because a dead soul either rises or falls, it doesnt loiter around terra firma waiting to scare some cocksucker who just typed some shit about them. so grow up.

the pope ran an operation where on one hand they said the only way to the Father was through the Son, and on the other hand they presented the baseless idea that the Pope had a direct link to God and was the head shepard in charge of the worldly flock.

the catholic church also made up non-biblical rules that prevented their priests from getting married or having sex, and the catholics were given rules against abortions, masturbation, and birth control. even the pontiff himself went to africa and told the people overwhelmed with overpopulation and AIDS that condom use was a sin – despite the fact that there was nothing in the bible to back it up.

and recently the lovable pope gave safe haven to an american cardinal who was deemed ultimately responsible and negligent as thousands of kids were being molested by Massachusetts priests.

an independent group of a dozen lay Massachusetts citizens were picked by the catholic bishops of the us in 2002. that group was called the National Review Board. the board released two studies examining the claims that 4,392 priests allegedly abused 10,667 minors. and they wrote a report condemning the church, calling them shameful, and criticized boston cardinal bernard law which led to his resignation.

the Board is deeply disturbed by the situation in Boston. The picture that emerged was that of a diocese with a cadre of predator priests and a hierarchy that simply refused to confront them and stop them.

It is clear from the Review Board’s examination of the Boston Archdiocese that Cardinal Law paid insufficient personal attention to the problem of sexual abuse of minors by priests under his authority and that the clerics to whom he delegated responsibility for this issue often failed in their handling of it,”

Nor did Cardinal Law properly supervise those to whom he delegated authority, essentially abdicating responsibility for a matter of paramount importance to the integrity of the Church. As one bishop said of Cardinal Law, `I think he wasn’t even paying attention,’ – boston globe

what did the pope do? he hired him. he brought him to rome. he made room by asking an 82 year old italian cardinal to retire. and whats one of cardinal law’s new duties?

picking new popes.

so wait, oversee one of the most heinous crimes on american soil – the sexual abuse of children – and you get a plush gig in rome

and i’m supposed to be cool with that?

christopher hitchens, who is rarely cool with anything, isnt havin it either

A few years ago, it seemed quite probable that Cardinal Bernard Law of Boston would have to face trial for his appalling collusion in the child-rape racket that his diocese had been running. The man had knowingly reassigned dangerous and sadistic criminals to positions where they would be able to exploit the defenseless. He had withheld evidence and made himself an accomplice, before and after the fact, in the one offense that people of all faiths and of none have most united in condemning. (Since I have more than once criticized Maureen Dowd in this space, I should say now that I think she put it best of all. A church that has allowed no latitude in its teachings on masturbation, premarital sex, birth control, and divorce suddenly asks for understanding and “wiggle room” for the most revolting crime on the books.)

Anyway, Cardinal Law isn’t going to face a court, now. He has fled the jurisdiction and lives in Rome, where a sinecure at the Vatican has been found for him. (Actually not that much of a sinecure: As archpriest of the Rome Basilica of St. Mary Major, he also sits on two boards supervising priestly discipline-yes!-and the appointment of diocesan bishops.) Even before this, he visited Rome on at least one occasion to discuss whether or not the church should obey American law. And it has been conclusively established that the Vatican itself -including his holiness -was a part of the coverup and obstruction of justice that allowed the child-rape scandal to continue for so long.

…

But we cannot possibly let the case of Cardinal Law slide. And here the remedy is in the hands of American Catholics. They have had the guts to defy the papacy, in essence, when it comes to birth control. If they don’t want to be thought compromised, they can protest at the sheltering of this vile man by the Holy See. But when did you last read of a protest like that? Will any obituary in this week of piety even allude to the situation? Of course not. – slate

someone in my comments accused me of insulting the billion catholics who weep this weekend for their fallen leader.

if by catholics, the commenter meant people who stood outside the vatican praying and crying over the imminent death of an 84 year old man who had all the power

a pope

could have in this time where the line between church and state blurs more with each day id ask these catholics

and with that power he did what?

did he change the environment that bred and fostered such disgustingly vile and almost unforgivable behavior, or did he make it worse by promoting americas most despised cardinal and putting him in a position of hiring more in his image?

i dont know of another group who could rape molest and fondle 11,000 kids over 50 years and think that everything is cool

particularity in regards to reflecting on the leadership of their ceo who presided over them for nearly half of that dark era.

to be a Christian means you believe in Jesus Christ, who said the only way to the Father is through the Son

and this pope business is probably one reason why

paige + goldenfiddle + leah + buzzmachine

guero
interscope

lets get the formalities out of the way, im not here to make any friends.

friends is what you get when you go on a date and there isnt a love connection and you try to make something happen and maybe some of it happens and maybe shes really good at head and has a hot tattoo or a tounge ring or a shitload of weed or has the sexiest voice and loves to talk dirty or is super kinky as in whoa or has the cutest barest pussy that you just want to stare at it because from every angle its just fucking perfect as in its an oddity as in you want to take a picture but you cant just tell some new ho damn can i take a picture of that shit

but the sum doesnt equal the whole or something and it doesnt work out even if you try to change or start shaving more or stop buying clothes at target or quit eating taco bell every day. what you have is a failed good thing and now you have a nothing bu you want to keep it on the backburner just incase hell does freeze over so you have a friend.

friends are people who will help you move like no problem. friends are who you give your keys to when youre going to aruba to water the plants. friends are who you buy three dollar liscense plates for while in aruba and baked and drunk and bored so you figure let me find something here that no way in hell they can find out there in america, something better than a hard rock cafe aruba visor, something better than a cowboy hat with a bandana tied around it that says aruba in cursive, something less illegal than an iguana stowed away in your baggage.

i have enough friends.

a friend is someone who offers to take you across town on a sunday afternoon to get your directv tivo fixed even though it means that shes gotta drive uptown first to get your busriding black ass.

a friend is someone who makes you salmon steaks as youre doing laundry at their place.

a friend remembers that you really like beck and while shopping for garters with her girlfriend because theyre seriously going to have a girls night garter party buys you the new beck cd.

a friend remembers you after you hooked him up with a great stock deal and cuts you a generous slice after he cashes some of it out.

and heres what else a friend does, a friend calls bullshit on your last few records for being whiny and glum and cheerless and olde. a friend says if i wanted gordon lightfoot i would have dug his bones out of the dirt and got me some gordon lightfood. a friend says this new record of yours is a step in the right direction (“scarecrow”) but not a full step (“rental car”), a half step.

a friend says someones half stepping me and crosses his arms and furrows his brows (“missing”) and whispers bitch and goes back to chewing on his toothpick.

a good friend might even say this sounds like all the leftovers from odelay which wouldnta been bad leftovers if they werent thirteen years old and whereas some things age gracefully some things just stink.

word is the dustbrothers got dug up and their dirty bones were put together and their vaults were plundered and beck got out of there with some of the stuff that hes been looking for (“Que’ Onda Guero”) over all these years (and there are some layers in here that are promising. tom waits meets pearl jam promising (“farewell ride”) and didnt i tell you parts of it stink but before it was just pearl jam meets pearl jam and if i put my name on that id be depressed too.

i barely treat the friends that i have good why should i come here to try to make new ones, my only job if you can call it that is call em like i see em and if im gonna call not earthshattering not impressive not inspiring not fabulous not roadtrip worthy not better than even the donnas last record then thats what im gonna do

and some people would be all hell man why dont you use your blogger influence to be more positive why you gotta kick a man when hes down and im all why do you come here if not to have a time out from the blahblahblah bullshit that everyone seems to love to sing along to.

hey i know the dudes down, i can read:

from “scarecrow”
Walking to the other side / With the devil trying to take my mind
And my soul’s just a silhouette / On the ashes of a cigarette

from “black tambourine”
My baby runs to me / She lives in broken-down buildings
Can’t pay the rent again / These spider webs are my home now
And when the sun is down / We’ll shake and rattle our bodies
To keep it warm at night/ My tambourine is still shaking

because im a friend ive played the guero drinking game where you take a shot every time he mentions bones or death or the devil or dust or being buryied and im sill fucking wasted

so i know what sort of shape he must be in and it is and what an accomplishment it is to have hit rock bottom, find the scrapbook of past grandeur which is doubling as treasure map out but to use it you have to put on a silly hat and try not to be embarrassing and dirivitive

and its nice to see that guero isnt either of those things.

this is a record from a friend to a friend

at christmas

if you were gonna get them three cds and a scarf.

and one day we’ll get a whole cd of this:

from “go it alone”

I’m coming over
See me down at the station
By the lane
With my hands in my pocket
Jingling a wish coin
That I stole from a fountain
That was drownin’

All the cares in the world
When I get older
Climbing up on the back porch fence
Just to see the dogs runnin’
With a ring and a question
And my shivering voice is singing
Through a crack in the window

oak park mastermind + muscle68 + lithium journals + heroine girl

but unlike the pope, it will be back and better than ever once i take it to my dude.

wanna cry over something faltering, cry over my tivo. how’m i supposed to watch the final four without my tivo/directv?

meanwhile these “pilgrims” crying outside the vatican has got to be the worst advertisement for catholicism since 4,450 priests got caught fucking kids.

HEY PILGRIMS, THE POPE IS 84 YEARS OLD. EVEN HIS PISS IS TRYING TO KILL HIM. FUCKING GET OVER IT, YOUR FIGUREHEAD, YOUR FAKE PUPPET, YOUR STUBBORN MULE IS ABOUT TO BE TAKEN BEHIND THE BARN AND OFFED. DEAL FUCKERS DEAL!

sheesh. sometimes i think people need a reason to gather outside a building and hold a candle in a paper cup.

i can give you some reasons to weep other than the inevitable happenning to some sexist, homophobic, clueless old man’s ass, lets start with darfur whose death toll is close to 300,000 who have died due to starvation, murder, and disease. thats like 120 9/11s. just sayin.

but if we didnt give a shit about the 800,000 rwandans killed over 100 days, why would we even blink over less than half of that in darfur? fuck black people in america, so double if not triple fuck black people in africa. if they want our attention get some freaking oil or start dating angelina jolie.

but you wont get our tears, or our candlelight vigils unless youve got a feeding tube hanging out your mouth, unless youre a little cuban boy, or unless youre an 84 year old pope who still wont tell his overpopulating masses that condom use actually might be a sensible idea after all.

wheres everyones grief over the 100,000 iraqi civilians who have died in this war over oil and missing wmds?

wheres everyones grief over the fact that the cubs are stumbling into this season without sammy, without moises, with wood and prior hurtin, and with no closer.

where are the pilgrams outside the michaelangelo designed gates of mtv headquarters protesting the fact that they havent shown a decent video since 1991?

how about the outrage that i still cant get a beer in the bleachers at dodger stadium?

wheres the grief over the fact that we might not have barry bonds to kick around anymore?

shit i’ll give you something to cry about.

like who fired mariah carey’s personal trainer?

oh wait, this just in, the pope is dead.

good, now can we go back to ignoring religion until we want to hide behind a reason to vote republican and dick over the gays?

k thanx.

zulieka explains “why i fucked all those people” + anti and tanky make waffles, a film + radiohumper

its one of the many reasons i married her.

she doesnt even mind if i date on our anniversary.

last night i had a few hours to kill before i picked up our lil moxie at LAX so i did something i never do: i networked.

as you know i have started freelancing at the LA Weekly, one of the greatest free weekly newspapers of all time, and luckily for me, it’s local. so when they invited me to a little mixer to celebrate their annual Style supplement i said to myself, you know, i hate going out in public but i really truly love the Weekly, ive read almost every issue since i moved here 20 years ago

and i can get a hot date

and i can hang out with my hot editor, one ms kate sullivan

and since its being held at chinese/thai Kung Pao Kitty on my favorite street hollywood blvd in beautiful downtown hollywood and since they promise chinese hor d’oerves, i will go.

and i did go, and it was fun, and there were models there and writers and free food and chinese beer and lo there was famous author luke ford and brit blogger jackie danicki who we got into such an engrossing conversation that i didnt even get a chance to either network nor hang with my editor.

but its cool. i would have liked to get the sxsw rundown from ms sullivan but instead i was entertained by the tipsy mr ford and the totally tapped into the blogosphere ms danicki.

she told me hella things off the record which are pretty interesting.

and she blogged a bunch about the party, as did luke, who said this about my date who was a lot like my last girlfriend, except last nights was korean, which i agree with luke, are so supernice.

My whole night lit up like Korean fireworks when I ran into Tony Pierce and his beautiful 24-year old Korean date (doesn’t drink, doesn’t smoke, doesn’t lend herself to other blokes).

Tony always has the hottest chicks (he brought Karisa to my book party). How does he do it? He doesn’t even own a car.

I fear that once they’ve gone black, they’ll never go back. How can you keep them on the farm once they’ve seen Paris. Tony is very Paris.

We both want to cross the DMZ and invade Helen’s Korean peninsula which juts so provocatively into the Pacific Ocean, just sticking out there, all tempting like, driving wild a warlike people like Tony and I.

For the next two hours, I talked nonstop, trying to test how far I could go with offensive positive generalizations about Asians (smart, polite, courteous, cute, eager to please) before I offend the born-again Christian.

Nothing I said seemed to throw her. She laughed at all my jokes. She must have a great sense of humor and be highly discerning.

Koreans are the best. They are far better looking than the Japanese and they don’t rape whole countries. My whole dorm floor at UCLA was filled with Koreans and they had broad friendly faces. I was so grateful that somebody was studying math and science so that I could receive quality medical care in my old age.

and then my date dropped me off at the airport and i met moxie at baggage claim, we got her porsche out of long term parking, and we drove to her place for some monkey business.

i dont know how i do it either luke.

i think it has something to do with something that starts with L and rhymes with fuck.

luke + jackie documenting how when i get drunk my left eye starts to close + oliver willis + negro please

tonight 4/1
motorhead, wiltern
aquabats, vault 350
the groovy rednecks, cole’s
blowfly, alex’s bar
phranc, highways
u2, the pond
warren g, universal
hellride, 14 below

tomorrow 4/2

mastodon, troubador
u2, the pond
soundtrack of our lives, avalon
the roots, usc mccarthy quad
the platters, kodak theatre
soccer mom, the cat club
explogasm, knitting factory

sunday 4/3
ozomalti, farnsworth park
radiators, cafe fais do do
peter himmelman, borders (westwood) (free)
the filthy thieving bastards

monday 4/4
jimmy chamberlin combo, troubador
holy ghost, spaceland
hello fever, the echo

tuesday 4/5
u2, staples
drive-by truckers, ameoba (free)
doc martin, viper room
bastard noise, the smell
bodeans, roxy
dizee rascal, el rey

wednesday 4/6
my life with the thrill kill kult, vault 350
u2, staples
trick daddy, house of blues
the cave sluts, 14 below
the best story book ever, genghis cohen
black sativa, whisky

thursday 4/7
morris day and the time, vault 350
jimmy buffet, the pond
heartless bastards, spaceland
hot hot heat, amoeba (free)
the fucking champs, the echo

funny ass photo essay about saving a fish + via amy + superjux + fc bearded

from Laura Kovacs blog:

Tony Pierce’s blog has gotten really interesting to me. I actually think he’s in charge of a porn magazine or something like that (he talks about Lick a lot, I think that’s the name), but he has some interesting posts. I found him through Peter, who found his how to blog post that has gotten a lot of attention. He posts like 5 times a day or more, so if there is something not too interesting (like Motley Crue right now), I just move on to the next entry. Of all the blogs I have on Bloglines, his is the most interesting and thought out I think. And I am trying to follow his laws of how to blog, at least some of the time. It’s hard to post every day when all you do is go to work, come home and watch tv, then sleep.

from downtown alleys:

anyway, let me start by saying i dont read many blogs. there are a few, which i’ll list for you below, in a very generous fashion, but usually i dont really give a fuckin rats ass about a single thing most bloggers have to say. like there is this guy. who everyone seems to be freakin about. like, all my homies [in cyberland, which in of itself is kinda strange] is on his tip. and these are people i respect! they all think he is, how do you zey in de american, zey “bomb?” so i inevitably went to check him out and he just seemed to be some white dude in LA. i mean, he didnt come off as offensive or stupid, he could actually be a pretty swell guy. i just didnt care. see, being a heterosexual male from san francisco, and now living in brooklyn, by rule, i just dont care for white guys in LA. i dont even put enough energy into it to NOT LIKE them. i just dont care. and when i read his shit i got that same feeling i get whenever someone mentions a white guy from LA. meh. but he seems to be the ruler of bloggerverse and all the shorties wanna lick his dick. whatever.

and he is the only one i culd think of off the top of my head [bravo white guy from LA. you stood above the rest. i guess, in the end, you win. and that was TOTALLY in a gay way], so im just gonna say that most blogs i have read are people whining about feelings they wish they had. they are just bored and looking for attention [kinda like me] and want someone to say “yes i understand.” there is nothing wrong with this, im just not tryin to waste my time reading it. hell, id rather write crap than read it. i thought that was the way it was supposed to be done. apparently, there is a whole other art to blogging. and its one i trust. see, its best if you write something that people might want to READ.

gossipger + flagrant + ms. wheelchair wisconsin stripped of title for standing up (h/t mefi)