today is martin luther king day

Martin Luther King Jr.

one of Americas greatest heroes.

a hero not just because of the words he said or the achievements he accomplished,

but how he did it.

he didn’t take anyone hostage, he didn’t gather dudes with rifles to occupy federal land, and he didn’t kill anyone in the name of any cause.

in fact he didn’t threaten anyone with violence. ever.

just the opposite: he spoke from a place of love.

love was his secret weapon, but it wasn’t a weapon at all, it was an adhesive.

love is what unified his message, his dream, and his goal with the hearts of others.

mlkwhen he was jailed, he didn’t fight, when he was punched, he didn’t punch back, when others around him were struck, he didn’t strike back.

it was the gutsiest, most punk rock move he could teach: take it.

love them for they know not what they they’re doing.

forgive them because they’re actually helping move this thing along.

it’s painful for me to see elements of this country have such a hard time accepting our first black president, because it shows me how much modern racism exists.

shrouded simply in politics, but it’s straight up ignorance and fear.

but dr. king’s ideals hold true just as much now as it did then: take it.

absorb it with love.

unite with peace.

live the example of where we want to go.

be punk rock

by being the opposite of the ignorant.

so learn.

speak so that others get it.

and come from a place of kindness.

we might not ever achieve a smidge of what mlk did individually, but if we simply walk along that path

together, we’ll get there,

awwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwwww

Sass was asked: “Who is one person you look up to and why?”

She answered: Tony Pierce. I only hope to one day be as honest, endearing and dork nasty of a blogger as he is. The blogfather tells it like it is, nay, ought to be. When he tells me what to do, I usually say ‘no’ then end up adhering to his advice anyway. He has built a life of rock n’ roll, hot babes, blogging and true love – what’s not to look up to?

and another thing for all these people who are quitting their blogs

thats just what the terrorists want.

i realize some of you have boyfriends or xboyfriends who have gotten into yr heads and thats the real reason why yr not blogging any more.

all i have to say to that is, thank god Emily Dickinson didnt care what her boyfriend or xboyfriend thought.

thank god Sylvia Plath and Courtney Love and Dooce never cared what people thought. they just wrote.

can you imagine if Raymi the Minx was all “omg i have xbfs, i have to now stop writing about my life, i have to stop being creative, i have to close this window to my world – because of someone i love/hate.”

men cause enough problems on this planet, please, ladies, dont let them effect the narrative of your development.

know that any devil voice in your head that is telling you to stop, is the same devil voice that whispers in the ears of anyone with an interesting tale to tell.

make it anonymous, make a new url, make something new. do something that will protect your identity, and for god sake if you are cutting off the rest of the world because of some d-bag – give me that dudes name and information and i will solve the problem posthaste.

i swear to Eddie that this is true.

she said, how much do you remember?

shes a carrie i said not much. she said tell me all that you can recall.

ok i said. i remember we were all at a bar in hanover when you walked in. i had my hand on the lap of that girl from norway and you came in and removed your sunglasses and i was all wowza.

she was from finland.

whatever.

and then i remember we drank a lot of very odd belgium beers and you lit a little cigarrette that had some hash in it and it made me very dizzy so you called a cab and when i passed out in the back seat you started making out with me.

i was trying to recessitate you

it worked. thank you florence nightingale.

i remember white stockings and clear heels.

um that wasnt me.

i remember twine being twung and a game of guess wheres the blackberries

nope, still not me

i remember a long drawn out moan that ended in a giggle

accented with a cunt fart

tony!

which was hilarious and i shall never forget.

and she smiley faced me and logged off.

and i believe tomorrow i will put in a half day.

day six six six

i have too many clothes, i have too many cds, i have too many books, and the hottest chick in minnesota has one too many boyfriends. still we went out last night and had a fancy dinner and drank a bottle of wine and drank at the bar and i asked for the sale and she said sorry charlie i gotta man. i was all, whats your man gotta do with me?

new rule. when i come to your town, its like light in darkness, nobody gets to have any boyfriends. you dont get to start having a boyfriend two days before i arrive, and you dont get to break up with your man a day after i leave.

likewise, no rain is allowed on this trip.

crazy thing is, mother nature understands these rules and shes given me some sprinkles, a little fog, and some chilly temps in the early morn, but thats only because she wants attention. baby i know youre there now get out of the way.

crazy thing about last night was even though my heart was broken, then sliced, then diced, then pureed a little, it wasnt so bad over ice with a twist of lime. and i really dont know why. ive met a few women in my day, you know. and some have had the nerve to reject my advances, and some have been known to frustrate or anger me, but there have been a scant few who just click, almost perfectly. freakishly perfectly.

and some of those rare birds have the bizarre knack of making me feel ridiculously nervous. now there are a few things that the xbi beat out of me during my training period many moons ago and one of those was the ability to be nervous. sometimes i will get emails from very sweet people who call me or my writing fearless but i have to give credit to the undercover superhero group that i was recruited to because they are the ones responsible for whatever it is that makes me not give a shit.

so when there are moments or people or situations where i actually feel this missing sensation i become totally fascinated and will endure anything to stick around to see what the hell is causing this feeling. because this young lady drove us around and because my motel was on the other side of town and because we had been drinking and because the bar was just two blocks from her lakefront home i suggested that i keep my car parked in her driveway and, if possible, i spend the night with her.

she was all but my man might call. and i said tell him the busblog respects commitments and all there will be is sleeping being done, which is tragic but… whatever. when we got into her house her cute little puppy met us at the door and ran to her bed and that fucker stayed there. so there was your hero in the sack of a gorgeous young lady And her dog. i would have cried but it was so funny that we laughed which made the dog wag his lil tail which hit me in the belly which made us laugh some more.

four hours later she got up to go to work and i went to the car and we made plans for tonight to visit the Mall of America and Prince’s driveway, and all those times where i said im the luckiest man in the world, well, luck takes very different forms, my advice is to enjoy them all. and always be a gentleman. cuz anyone can be a dog.

with that said, i’ll be in illinois in two days, everyone needs to get single and the weather needs to turn around in a major way. kthnx

whoops i forgot to tell you one of the most important rules of stopwatch

britney you cant play and then tell the results.

not immediately at least.

but lets just say that the young lady involved, this morning, was informed that she was playing a very good round of stopwatch. i told her the rules, and some of the strategies, and some of the world records. and i told her that i may have thrown this round a little because i didnt want to come across as some creepy old man.

even though im definately a creepy old man playing a creepy game.

strangely she didnt seem to mind. life is very weird. sometimes people are exactly the way you want them to be. sometimes theyre not at all who you want them to be. sometimes theyre too good to be true so you say, sir, im going to have to check your package to see if youve got more than i have. and sometimes the lady lets you check it and thankfully theres nothing down there but a gstring. and thats when you can go back to your game.

however i still try to find faults in people who seemingly have none. this particular visitor to our fair city seems to have no faults. and trust me, ive examined as closely as i could. ive got beakers bubbling, ive got tubes with loop-de-loops and colored liquids shooting through there analyzing data, ive got old mainframe computers spinning around huge wheels of tape. ive got a mini version of the bipartisan 9/11 commission working on an investigation. but so far all signs are that this young lady is pretty damn perfect. tall, hot, even keeled, no tics, likes good music, likes tv. drinks well. good manners.

today we are about to jet to santa barbara for a funeral.

it seems whatever tiny shreds of loneliness, illness, and sadness that i have had has died. so we got the remains, incinerated it, and we’re going to toss them off the cliff of isla vista.

and then we will have a burrito on milpas.

please feel free to fill my comments with your weekend plans.

ktnxbi

this is rad

the problem with my storytelling abilities

is that i dont always tell the stories that i should. either im too busy drinking new blends of alcohol or im dancing with the wrong girls or im busying myself with fantasy baseball or alternative music or politics or food.

and when i dont tell the stories that need to be told, other people chime in with their own tales based on a photograph from a cell phone in the shadows after a long a week.

but we all know that little slivers of time dont always tell the whole tale, so let me fill in the blanks of the love story of dan and ks, particularily for those who dont know.

once upon a time there was a newspaper in santa barbara called the daily nexus. the Lord named it that as a hint to all those who would earn a paycheck there. “all roads lead here and all roads will lead out,” was His hint.

nex·us (nĕk’səs) – A means of connection; a link or tie; A connected series or group; The core or center; Latin, from, past participle of nectere, to bind

dan worked at the nexus right when matt welch and amy langfield and jeff n pat whalen and os tyler and genevive field and stacy sullivan and jeanine natalie and chris scheer and todd francis and jeff solomon and joel brand and chris ziegler and dougie gyro and ben sullivan and jen adams and so many others were graduating, including myself.

dan was part of the second wave that followed our footsteps beautifully. this included bonnie bills and charlie hornberger and jason ross and brian banks and william torren and scott mcphereson and denis faye and sandra brilliant and don frances and many many more.

dancefor the exception of jason who went on to write on the daily show the second wave were sweeter and cleaner and more polished and less rough around the edges. oh they had their own ways of being punk rock, but they did it in cuter ways.

dan smoked in the editorial office but in a different way than adam leibowitz and jeff whalen did. his butts didnt fill ancient mugs with lukewarm coffee. he wore dress shirts and belts. they werent clean but they werent alive either. he never showed up in lipstick. he never showed up with mushrooms. he never was caught in a three way kiss with two punk rock girls in a shower fully dressed.

none of them did. and if they did it was because one of us gave them the drugs, or dared them to put on the lipstick or suckered the twins to make out with them.

as time went on many of them moved to prague and then they moved to san francisco and then i moved to san francisco. first i lived with todd where i had a nympho chinese girlfriend then i moved in a huge one bedroom apartment in 24th street with a balcony and a washer dryer in my bathroom and a dishwasher and a fireplace and i was oh so happy. until dans best friend don asked me if i would be interested in moving into a huger victorian on haight street with himself and charlie and ken layne and my hippie buddy mike and dan.

i said no. no thank you. you all smoke. you all stay up too late. youre all far too into politics. youre all drunkards even by my standards. plus i have all the electronics and theyd all get broken.

a week later we all lived together at 591 haight street. next to steiner. above a techno record store called tweeker records. and despite that last fact, it was pure heaven.

dan at the time was dating the lovely laura crane. charlie was sorta with bonnie but not really. ken was single. mike was single. i was single. another gaucho named chris needed somewhere to stay so she and her best friend shira were allowed our little tiny half bedrom to crash in as they looked for an apartment.

chris would end up being my girlfriend for the better part of five years.dancing

but before that happened dan soon broke up with laura and ken started having these curious coffees with her. he also started one of the first good websites with charlie, a funny news site called tabliod. the year was 1996 and there was very little on the web, especially daily updated news with a twist. no one knew about the taliban back then and their crazy ways, but 15 feet from my sinful bedroom ken and charlie were up all night telling those tales years before it would make it on the front page of the mainstream media.

dan and i went out and met girls which wasnt hard since half the dudes in frisco were gay and the other half were working too hard. we had parties at our house and met girls. we went to shows and met girls. and for a little while we thought we would be the happiest bachelors in the world. we were young, i had a company car, we had this great apartment that was impossible to clean, it had just one bathroom, but somehow it was perfect.

until my true love became my true love and suddenly the party was over for me. that party, at least. but soon dan was introduced to a recent harvard graduate named ks. and when he met her and when i met her and when we all met her we said dan if you fuck this up, well, just dont fuck this up.

and one day greg and molli got married up in san francisco and i was living in los angeles and i came up to stand up in the wedding and i got to have a nice long talk with ks and she looked like someone from another time. we all did because greg wanted all his groomsmen to dress in country western shirts with col sanders bow ties and my truest wore something from the 20s and ks wore something from the 20s too and os sang beautifully and dan sang beautifully and red meat played country and ks told me about the east coast and i thought to myself, now this isnt a girl who ever showed up with a bag of mushrooms or walked into a newspaper with runny lipstick and look her clothes seem clean too. and look she polished off that bottle of wine with a smile and a wink.

and she was so smart. not just show off smart but like so many of my friends – cant help it smart. the shit just sticks in there and turns into something better when it spurts out smart. and later that night my truest and i would eat ecstasy and dance next to one of those victorian windows in the wee hours as the hardwood creeked below us and we both said if dan fucks this up, some asshole is gonna get ks and that just wouldnt be right.

now sometimes things go well and then the lord wants to give you a pop quiz to see how youre doing. and dan wasnt fucking up infact he had a really good job across the bay but then ks got accepted to the best writing program in the southwest. and i believe a scholarship was part of the deal. so dan had to figure out how he was gonna keep this girl, let her go to school, and keep his job.

so lets pretend that i know the details. lets pretend that i know that he marched into his boss’s office and told him about ks and lets pretend that the boss was all dude if you fuck that shit up… and lets pretend that dan said trust me i dont want to fuck it up infact i want to see how i can move out to austin with her And keep this sweet job i have. and then lets pretend that the boss totally understood and told dan that if he could hold tight for a few months maybe he could work something out.

but ks didnt have months she had uh month, and dan said go, follow your dream, im gonna make this thing work out, and she went out there alone and dan called her every day and she came back to frisco a lot and after a few months the boss got needled a few more times by dan and after what seemed like forever dan was in charge of a new office that probably wouldnt have existed if ks hadnt been the kickass writer that she is and ended up in austin.

they moved into a house. they discovered texas sized bugs, a cat named after a junk food, they drove station wagons, they drank hard booze and listened to npr and went to punk rock shows. and don married the girl that he was in love with at the haight house, as did charlie, and ken married laura who he was drinking those coffees with away from the haight house, and my truest and i ended up in LA together. which sorta made that haight house a nexus of sorts. and yes, the original incarnation of tsar, the royal supremes played in our living room, as did chopper one, as did several bands.

and yes that was the house that i was looking for dan in, during a party, and there were three young ladies with their tops off, and i said oh excuse me, and they said no come on in, and i said first let me get dan, and i couldnt find dan so i had to go in there alone, well not completely alone since i had a shit eating grin to accompany me. so id call it a magical house, of course i would.

two years ago if you remember i flew to austin to attend my first sxsw and be on my first blogging panel. i was to hang out with dan and ks then but dan was flown to australia on business so i had to hang out with ks for a week. it was clear how in love she was with the old man. the big lug. the happy jack. i told her that there were very few nexites who werent spectacular. or who couldnt write me under a table. and she said one of the nicest compliments id ever heard, she said the nexus could hold its own easilly with the harvard folk. and i put down my joint and said well duh. and we clinked our rums.

one reason our friends are as close as they are, i believe, is we dont ask each other the tough questions. people dont ask me if i want kids one day, and i dont ask them if theyre ever gonna marry the people theyve been dating for years. several months ago i got a phonecall from dan, which was odd because people email me since i have a habit of throwing the phone at lowriders with bad music booming out of their trunks.

but dan wanted to tell me the good news. that he hadnt fucked up. that he had done well. that he had asked one of the coolest chicks ever to marry him and she said yes. and id heard him in happy spirits before but it was as if hed just won the lottery, which he had just done, of course. he sounded so happy it was as if he was gonna bust a gut.

which he did two days before his wedding this sunday. and thats also an interesting tale. see dan smoked. like many of our friends. and about six months ago he was giving blood and the nurse said holy crap your blood pressure is like a thousand over a thousand and dan figured well its gotta be all that smoking and drinking i do, but since drinking only tames the savage beast i better quit smoking. and he did and a few days before his wedding he couldnt sleep and he ended up in the emergency room and they took out his galbladder and the doc said ok your blood pressure is normal now, and dan said fuck so i quit smoking for nothing?

and the doc said no no, you quit smoking and thats good, now heres a bunch of vicodin, i know youre getting married in a few days, try not to drink much. and dan danced and drank and smiled and that fucker was on his feet as long as i was which was all day and all night.

which is possible when youre floating on air.

and yes, chronic dislocator, sometimes the pasty boys get the girl, and sometimes even the losers get lucky sometimes, but sunday the right man got the right woman and the clouds blew the 100 degree temps away and the sun showed up and the little kids were there and merle haggard’s guitar player plucked the six string and tony pierce rocked the dance floor all night, because the best people dont always get to say i do to each other, but sometimes they do. and when the best people do, and when the judge says you may kiss the bride, the best people turn it into a makeout session, because theyre the best.

and will live happilly ever after.

 

Hey Tony,

ribs I don’t know if you read your emails or not, but I have been reading your site almost everyday for the past two years and really appreciate both the things you say and how you say them. I don’t always agree, but I admire the way you put yourself out there and do it.

Anyways, I’m writing because after reading your series of postings on your old girlfriend I was wondering if you would write your ideas for getting over a broken heart. Mine’s been thoroughly broken by a guy and I guess I figure words of wisdom from a 111 year old man might help. I’m pretty good at falling in love, it’s the out of it that I need some help with.

Thanks,

Jennifer

Hi Jennifer,

Firstly, thank you for being such a loyal reader for such a long time. I’m sorry that you and your man have parted ways, but yes you came to the right place.

in my 111 years of walking this crust i too have fallen in love and had my heart broken. there are many paths to love but only one way to cure a heartbreak.

a new love.

you can weep you can reminisce, you can dwell, you can drink, enter a life of crime, become a workaholic, find religion, cut your hair, work out, binge, purge, switch politcal parties, become a world famous blogger, start new vices, become a tax attorney – but the only thing that will mend a broken heart is a new love interest and a new relationship.

you can fool yourself into thinking that you’re over a past love, but you can’t truly shut that door until a new one opens.

my advice is to start dating anyone who asks. jump in. jump in head first.

i also recommend putting everything that reminds you of your past love into boxes, storage, and/or the trash. only spend a total of one weekend performing this task. dont make it long and drawn out. the idea is to rid your life of the past, so put everything into boxes, seal them up and put them into the garage, crawl spaces, or dark closets and do not open these up until you know in your heart that its ok to open them.

heres how you know its ok to open them: when theres a new dude in your house who turns around when you yell, yo boyfriend!

i lived with my true love for 5 years. the minute i knew that we were going to call it quits i started finding who i was going to date next (pictured). it’s the only way.

some think that it’s disrespectful to your old relationships to get new loves right away, those people are fools. life is painfully short. if you can find love instead of suffering and sadness, go for the love. if you can find lust instead of misery and loneliness, get yourself a little backseat lust.

if you must mope, do it in poems, post the poems on your blog and once youve hit “publish post” pop some porn into the vcr and get the blood moving in your body. when youre done go to the nearest bar and flirt with the hottest person you see. there is nothing to lose if you do this, except for the sadness.

and sadness is not your friend.

gorilla mask + terra + paige

dear readers of the busblog,

happy valentines day.

i hope that this day brings you love and happiness and sexiness and smiles. for thats what each of you bring to me every day.

some of you comment. thats nice. some of you write. thats nice. some of you take off your clothes for me and send me the pictures. sometimes thats nice.

some of you have started to write for Lick. that might be the nicest thing of all.

some of you give me money or bid on my auctions or buy my crap. thats unbelieveable.

and then some of you, better still, come over to my house and do some of the most amazing things. thats, well, bizzare. i dont understand any of that one bit. but i love it, and im grateful.

love is all around. and for that im also grateful.

i love living in LA i love living in hollywood i love living near my friends and in the warmth and minutes away from two terribly gorgeous exgirlfriends who continue to love me in ways no one including me can fathom.

i love living in the town that tsar built. punk rock has its own standards of success. no one could refute the sex pistols being successful despite only having one album and one us tour. tsars new record comes out very soon and it’ll be interesting if their label does a better job with hyping that record better than they’re hyping labelmates the polyphonic spree who are also creative and poppy.

i love being able to get away with murder in just about every aspect of my life except my career.

i love the people who i work with and my view of los angeles.

i love that ive been able to make out with the hottest girls in town.

i love that ive been able to pull off this no car thing.

i love the internet and its free porn and music and movies. thank you mr. gore. yes, this does make up for tipper.

i love you dsl i love you direct tv and tivo for you i must thank the Lord above. thank You thank You thank You.

i want to thank the good people of Captain Morgan’s for keeping me stocked up with that spiced shit, i love you all.

i love the wacky kids at Blogger slash Google who made all of this possible. some say the blogging revolution was inevitable and i call bs on that. a Lot of things pre-dated blogging including full blown web sites. but there was something missing in Live Journal and Open Diary and Geocities and aol and message boards and yahoo groups. blogger nailed it, made it easy, were able to handle the periods of success and not implode like whats happening over at friendster. i love what theyve created and im indebted.

i love ebay and paypal and hugh hefner for showing us how its done and i love the ghost of charles bukowski who haunts what is now known as little armenia.

i love herbal remedies, the woman who makes the tom kha kai at palms thai, the old man who tells me dirty jokes in the morning at the xbi gift shop when i get my oj and bagel.

i love howard stern.

i love my true love.

and i love my mom.

happy valentines day america,

tony

raymi + bunny + bunnie + splinkee + tiffany + raspil + mad pony + steph + moxie