to write on the Lick blog

but i might have to.

then today i thought, maybe the ladies dont know how easy it is to write for Lick and the Lick blog.

if you want to write for Lick, just email me at my brand new email address:

busblog @ gmail . com

i will give the story to the lovely designer, ms raspil iverson of bluecad.net and before you know it it will be in Lick Magazine, the finest online web zine written and designed entirely by women.

if you would like to write for the Lick blog, just email me at the above address and let me know your intentions and i will invite you to join the blog via the blogger interface.

it really couldnt be more easy.

actually it could.

but this is what we have now.

i want to hear from you.

america wants to hear from you.

canada, who’s as sick about american politics as i am, wants to hear from you.

why should you write for Lick?

to share your deepest darkest secrets that really should be let free.

why else?

cuz it will get read.

a year ago madpony wasnt getting but 500-600 hits. now theyre getting 1,600+ a day.

if 1,600+ people want to read two young women write, imagine if there were twelve regular contributors? nay, twenty?

lets face it, i dont even know when the next update or issue of Lick magazine is going to appear. which means the best way to get to tell the world about your run-ins with sex drugs and rock just might be the Lick blog.

when you sign up you can do it with a fake name, or you can sign up, like many have, with your real name.

the choice is yours and it can be changed.

so whattya say?

do you really want a bunch of sweaty dudes telling us about the first time they ever got it on with twins?

i dont.

i want to read about the first time you got it on with twins.

write me. make the Lick blog live up to the coolness of the Lick mag.

do it before its too late.

do it with someone you love.

but please,

please

do it.

tomorrow is tina‘s birthday, but since shes canadian, its happening right now.

actually they dont. i wish they would. but they dont.

i seriously became a Christian while in college, my senior year. i had already taken two Bible as Literature classes where i had to read large portions of the good book, but i didnt “get it” until one day when i was reading it for leisure, and then everything suddenly fell into place.

i had been raised Catholic, but nothing ever sunk in. i went to church occasionally in my youth, but rarely out of my own choice, even though i had always been interested in God, religion, and indirectly, Jesus.

one of the most telling times of my life was when i was 11 or 12 years old and i was at a Christian summer camp outside of washington dc. at around noon i was given the choice of playing basketball, something i loved, or taking Bible study. i didnt even have to think twice, even at that young age i wasnt interested in the trivial rituals of the Catholic mass as much as i was curious and fascinated by this alleged holy text.

i remember nothing from those afternoons in that little chapel, but i do remember feeling something spiritual, imagined or not. a very different sensation than anything ive ever experienced in the secular world.

regardless, since that summer i never read the bible until college and it never “spoke to me” until i was about to graduate.

whats interesting is how it spoke to me.

for seven years i had been a struggling college student of english literature. over that time i had a variety of teacher, all of whom had similar ideas about what made for good stories and fine writing. when i read the bible for the third time i started reading it as a lit major, and it dawned on me that the bible was everything that i had been taught made for great literature.

it had a variety of believable characters, it was written in a clear manner of short descriptive sentences, very few adjectives and adverbs, light on the flowery phrases, and heavy on the quick movement of plot.

at the center of my fascination was the description of God who throughout the bible goes through many changes. all through creative writing classes i had been warned about flat characters who are predictable and who dont grow. here was the Creator of the universe who on one hand was supposed to know the begining and the end of things and yet acted very much like a human when he banned Adam and Eve from the garden, when he killed most of the planet with the flood, and who didnt allow Moses and most of his people reach the promise land.

if the bible was nothing more than edited propaganda, sliced up and re-written by church leaders over hundreds of years, they certainly knew nothing of propaganda. this was a god that only a half dozen characters ever truly believed in, followed by a messiah who even less believed in. if it was indeed propaganda it was reverse psychology at its finest.

to me, however, it was as honest and as real and as human as could be. trust and faith do not come easy to humans, of course they wouldnt have come easy for a man/god like Jesus, and the bible described it the way i could see it happening now: even after healing the sick and performing miracles day after day, Jesus’s disciples still didnt view him as God, and even Peter, his rock, denied him all the way up until his death.

perfect.

probably because of my long slow journey in “getting” the bible, i have never been compelled to try to convert anyone into my belief that Jesus is God, because i seriously doubt that anyone could have converted me. here i was open minded and willing for most of my life, i read the bible on several occassions, went to church, even watched televangelists, and it didnt take. how on earth is one person going to convince another person as to something which at its root is so incredibly personal?

so personal that i take the next step in believing that i didnt “get it” until i was ready to get it. im glad that i believe in the bible due to the literary aspect, cuz that makes sense to me. if i had “seen God” during an acid trip or became “born again” after a huge tragedy, im not so sure it would have stuck. im not sure it would have seemed geniune to me.

but now when i read the bible and know that it was written by dozens of writers and individually and collectively it reads better than any one particular short or long work helps me believe that this was the will of a higher being.

and as a writer and a reader, it’s important to me that my savior writes better and tells better stories than any one else.

and i like that he’s a jealous God. and i like that He changes his mind. and i like that his Son was emotional.

the only wish that i have is that other intelligent young people who read dozens of books a year, try to read the Good Book this year. it baffles me how such well-read intellects, liberals even, hungry for political knowledge and artistic inspiration turn their backs on the most controversial and central work of literature of all time.

when I read the bible and finished it i saw no mention of premartial sex being a sin, i saw no mention of marijuana being a no-no, and i saw no mention of priests needing to be celebate or confession being necessary.

im dying to find out what my peers would discover, and then teach me, about their take on this fine read.

but i remember how difficult it was for me to get beyond the first few chapters on several attempts, and so i remain patient.

i wish you all a happy and enlightend Easter, probably the most important day in the religion I believe in, Christianity.

i’ll do my best to continue to keep my religious beliefs to myself and out of the blog in the same way that i wish others kept their religious beliefs to themselves and out of the government.

matt welch + jeff jarvis + flagrant disregard

but of course bush knew.

this is the united states of america. we know everything.

better fucking know.

half my paycheck goes to taxes of some sort and some of that money damn well better be going to unnamed sources telling our unnamed agencies that the shits going down.

when the fuck does someone come up to you and say its col mustard in the library with the knife?

thats why we pay your asses to connect the dots. thats why we allow republicans to bankrupt us so that we have the greatest spywear in the galaxy. thats why we let it slide that the son of a former cia director steals an election, cuz thats what sons of former cia directors are supposed to do.

but theyre also supposed to say, 70 investigations on osama’s ass, and all ive got is this? we know which hand and which finger pierce is going to use on tonight’s nba cheerleader, now is the time to focus our strength on osama and not saddam. saddam hasnt ever come to america and blown shit up.

but this bull that my girl condi tried to shovel my way along the lines of “there wasnt a who, where, how, and when” is irresponsible malarkey only a step away from “my dog ate my homework.”

ive fucked up at work from time to time. and when i do any number of people are quick to say, didnt you get my email, didnt you pay attention at the meeting, didnt you see the writing on the wall?

and i never ever ever get the luxury of saying, my bad.

bush had that luxury and instead of saying it, his lip got on the mic 8 months later and said, “I don’t think anyone could have predicted these people would take a plane and slam it into the World Trade Center.”

really?

even Martha Stewart knew what to do with her information once she got it.

and they try to tell us that its not what she did with her info that got her thrown in jail

it was lying about getting the information that got her the one-year sentence.

condi obviously couldnt have predicted that these people would take a plane and slammed it into the world trade center, but the brief did say that these people were poised to hijack planes, and they already attacked the wtc, therefore…

but bush obviously had more important things on his mind, the day after he got the briefing that was released today he took the longest vacation a president has ever taken in the history of the united states.

guilty of ignorance as to what to do with that brief or not, its time for gw to take a much longer vacation from being in charge of big things like the safety of the united states.

bukkake + my wedding as reported en francais + jarret house north

she typed to me from her bathtub

i dont remember anything thanks to the xbi but i was trying to recall her typewritten love note from somewhere.

dear tony pierce

i am writing to you from my tub.

she was beautiful of course. they all are.

we had just opened up a video store a few blocks away from the biggest counterfeiter in all los angeles. the fbi had no luck and we told them if they let us try something for a week, we would provide proof that he passed paper if we could keep half of the paper.

for educational purposes.

we had a soft opening for the neighbors last friday night. there was champagne. free movie coupons. won tons.

then we had a grand opening with balloons on saturday, starring a few a-list celebs who owed us.

and then we opened our doors for reals this week and nobody came.

i told everyone we needed to call the place sixty nine anytime and rent the dvds for 69 cents. but somewhere in the middle of the sting, the idiots wanted to turn a profit on the place, lest we’d seem suspicious.

lest?

so today i leaned against the spotless, brand new slate table top waiting for someone to ring the tinkley bells as they came through the front door and i thought of her.

well its the middle of the afternoon and im feeling a warm buzz from the glass of wine ive just polished off.

i still love you

i tried to remind them that the object was to sign everyone up in the neighborhood, collecting everyones drivers license numbers, names, addresses, socials, credit card numbers, emergency contacts, birthdays, and childrens names and eventually build enough community in the mini market video store that the big fish would think hes in a small pond and make a mistake that would cost him everything.

disney titles in the front, video games on the sides, new flicks in the back, porn behind the curtain, and baseball cards under glass.

our man, we had learned, loved to collect baseball cards.

indeed, i have taken billions of sad pictures of myself and several billion superCLOSEups ofn my piano.

nevertheless… wgere us nt whisky when i need it.

i thought about my new bride but i also thought about her. i knew this would happen. my mind has to be racing at all times. i have to be on on on on thinking making fucking talking rocking stalking mocking remembering and i was remembering that she drew a picture of a man with sunglasses and his hands in his pockets and i remembered one of the pictures that she enclosed and i remember thanking blogger for making it all happen

when the front door tingalinged and there he was taking off his sunglasses and stopping dead in his tracks in front of the little case that held the steve garvey dodger cards from the seventies surrounded by davey lopes cards ron cey cards dusty baker don sutton and manny mota cards.

the bill russell cards had been stolen

for some reason.

we were the only video store that didnt have any videos playing on televisions. i was listening to nevermind, a cd that i hadnt listened to since september eleventh because for some reason grunge sounded perfect that dark twisted gloomy confusing fucked up day.

But the point is, not that i am a whiney baby,

tada

and he put down a handful of garvey cey and lopes cards, asked about our membership and i told him that if he signed up this week that he’d get his first ten rentals free.

and he plucked a pen out of the innocent enough looking dixie cup of brand new cheap bic disposable blue pens

peeled a New Membership form from the pad

and proceeded to write down everything that we needed to know about him. the only thing we were lacking. next to his license plate number, was which part of his wifes ass she likes to get slapped.

his mothers maiden name was la vista. i thought. interesting.

teresa clicked a few photos of the vin number of his black hummer since he liked to keep the dealers plates on it.

xoxoexohexooooh,

[ signature ]

i made an imprint of his credit card, had him sign it, wrote “not to exceed $250”, gave him back the credit card and drivers license, and laminated the membership card while he smiled pretty at teresa when she pushed the front door open and walked into the store tingalingalingating

pretending to be a customer

high heels short dress unconvincing smile

and fake tits

like all her girlfriends

Maybe if i dont get anything turned back on i’ll become Very proficent in typing and taking pictures and drawing

in the dark. love you.

and i handed him two coupons entitling him to 50% off any purchase over $50

but he wasnt listening

he was checking my partner out

just like

we hoped.

tiffany + oliver willis + not safe for work picture of john gashcroft

which means it’s time for the easter + angus young dealie

i waited until tonight to see it. i dont know why. now im watching it again.

i dont know why i do a lot of things. i dont know why i write to you every night. i dont know why i dont write to the la times every night. i dont know why dumb little highschool bullshit things bother me. i dont know why huge gigantic xbi life and death shit doesnt bother me.

i dont know why i dont beat off as much as i used to. i dont know why i dont drink hardly at all. i dont know why i play fantasy sports fiendishly. i dont know why i dont get off my lazy ass and change the world like all the angels and saints beg me to. i dont know why i dont fuck this one girl more often. i dont know why i dont read the bible every day. i dont know why i dont work out. i dont know why i dont eat right.

i dont know why i dont cook more or read more or pray more or rock more or sleep more or walk more or talk more or lick more or love more or date more or wait less or dream less or rhyme more or fuck whores.

and i still havent asked if my camera could be fixed.

i dont know why i havent done a full court push on lick begging the ladies of the web to write more drugs and rock stories and a tad less sex stuff. i dont know why i havent sent a resume to anyone other than karisa in more than three years. i dont know why i dont give a shit but i dont. i dont give a shit. i should but i dont. and im glad the guy who made the sopranos happen gave a shit and didnt let the telephone ring and ring when odds are theres a blonde nba cheerleader on the other end who’s not naturally blonde shes eurasian and eurplaythin and eurtooyoung and eurtoohot.

the sopranos kicked my ass and if i wasnt so fucking lazy i would tell kool aid that they should sell their blue flavor in bottles that look like windex. kids especially boy kids would love to freak out their teachers and sisters and moms and there would be some dumbshits who would say oh right now do you want to be responsible for kids squirting windex in their mouths and kool aid would say escuse me we want them to squirt kool aid into their mouths thats why we put it in the bottle.

and if they were smart they’d fortify that shit with vitamins and minerals and trick kids into being actually more healthy, but they wont cuz theyre scared of the dumbshits, some of whom are moms, and lord knows moms are never wrong. if a kid wants to squirt windex in his mouth there wasnt anything stopping them from doing it over the last 40 years. what youre inspiring them to do, once again, is squirt super fortified kool aid into their mouths because this shit is for kids who arent entirely full of shit and retarded.

and once that explodes, the good people who make karisas favorite candy, nerds, need to start pouring that stuff into boxes that look like rat poison. not that i know that rat poison looks like baby blue and white broken up peices of nerds, but it does, and if you sold it in boxes that looked like rat poison i bet you right now that a kid would love nothing more than to finish his sandwich at lunch, wait for his teacher to pass by, crack open that box that looks like rat poison, scoop up a healthy serving, eat it and wash it down with a few squirts of koolaidex

and then fake pass out.

and all those motherfuckers can hate on me and steal from me and wish i was someone else but im me and i suck the worthless cock of no one, b, no one.

madpony + chokey chicken + sk smiff

i earn it, and then i spend it. usually i spend a little less than i earn.

as ive gotten older there have been fewer and fewer things that i have wanted to buy. which is good because things have gone up in price pretty fast.

the first concert i paid for was ac/dc’s back in black tour in ’83. it cost $12 and i was in the 14th row, on the floor.

if you wanted to sit in the 14th row of the madonna concert that’s going to happen at the forum this summer, it will cost $300. anywhere on the floor will cost $300. if you want to sit in the loge, the section that encircles the floor, it will also cost you $300. the only way not to pay $300 to see madonna in concert this summer in LA is to sit in the upper level, the concourse, and that will set you back a measly $75.

minus ticketmaster fees.

if i wanted to sit in the 14th row, and i could get that ticket through ticketmaster, the only way to get a ticket there, it would cost $22 in ticketmaster fees, plus the $300 price.

it makes me not want to go to many concerts.

which saves me money to wine and dine young ladies at my hollywood bachelor pad. where its cheap.

i have a feeling though that if i had more money i would probably do different things. and maybe some of those things would be better than the things i do now. for example, i would probably visit hawaii if i had more money. i would probably drive a car if i had more money. i would probably give better gifts if i had more money.

nothing life-altering. which is why i dont sweat it much. cuz id also pay more taxes. and waste far too much of my precious life in traffic.

however.

advertisers should pay me to hype their shit.

why me?

cuz i reach a thousand people a day and those people reach hundreds of thousands of people a day.

plus, i hype shit in far more interesting ways than anyone else.

for the next week i will hype the miss usa pagaent. a television show that noone ever talks about.

this week i will do it for free because this blog, unlike most blogs that get 1,000+ hits a day, does not accept traditional advertising banners and strips.

i do this because i dont think al gore invented the internet to provide a new place for commercials to get run.

i dont believe that just because someone has some money that they should get to uglify, pollute, and add noise to a blank canvas that could be providing art wisdom and poetry unblemished.

van gogh most certainly would have allowed surveillence cam ads on the vase of his sunflowers series if they had handed over the francs, and thank god he was never offered it.

and thank god im not vincent van and thank god this aint the sunflowers because someday i will rent out space on this mofo, but i promise you that it will look like it belongs,

and if it’s for a destructive lying weasly corrupt and violent cause like the republican national committe who would have otherwise never found a way to my readers via this blog, the ad(s) will equal a car.

and then you will know that indeed nothing

nothing at all

in this bad boy

is true.

my beautiful wife + mad mathias has a sweet new design + kool keith is down with the sickness

inspiration

koch records

when william hung sings “theres a time for everyone” from “Can You Feel The Love Tonight” from his new cd, Inspiration, he sings a mouthful. on many levels.

yes its awful karoake. yes its funny. but weirdly it is inspirational in a way much deeper than how the special olympics inspires.

this is a guy who can barely speak english let alone sing it. and he doesnt stop at covering the Eagles and Ricky Martin, but he then busts with the spanish in “Bailamos” and it’s funny and terrible and wonderful and laughable and uplifting!

fuck lance armstrong, william hung is your great american hero.

im listening to it here at work and people are repulsed.

“i love how they insterted the mating calls of a warthog.”

“this is disgusting.”

“how can you listen to that?”

“dont you see that people are laughing AT him?”

it doesnt matter. i can listen to him sing “Shake Your Bon Bon” all day.

hung proves that its not the song, its the singer. i was never interested in this tune before william decided to cover it.

“it’s amazing what you can throw together in an hour.”

“please turn that down, tony.”

“ok, im leaving. tell me when youre done with that.”

my only criticism with this record is the choice of the village people classic YMCA which he sings with help from some of his fans. it makes you think this is a joke. its not a joke. its people loving the william hung inside of each of us and owning it.

only someone with true talent can sing this poorly and get away with it.

im not sure what that talent is, but theres something there.

this music, as retarded as it is, is going to live forever.

i cant explain why.

i dont want to find out why.

theres no reason why, but its true.

we love this man.

nike seriously needs to incorporate hung’s “I Believe I Can Fly” with slow-motion clips of nba stars missing dunks.

and you seriously need to embrace this phenom.

before its too late and he sells out.

kitty bukkake + melting dolls + steph

i have it. i love it. you should get it too.