Wonderful Laboratories

Miss Me?

Sun, 11 Jun 2006 12:02:28 GMT

The Quirm Before the Storm

Just want to mention that The Coup has recorded the perfect wondersong "Laugh/Love/Fuck"

'Cause like me, you gots to be in the middle of it
Unravellin' the riddle of it

Join Us.

Ha!

Sat, 11 Mar 2006 11:07:01 GMT

Didn't expect a post from this account, did you!

That's how we'll win. The elephant of surprise.

Duck Soup

Tue, 19 Jul 2005 11:08:33 GMT

Keep watching this space, Wonderfans! Maybe it'll turn into Cheez Doodles!

"Oh well, if we worked really hard, that wouldn't be like FLCL, would it?"

-FLCL next episode promo

Start It Up, Minions

Mon, 14 Feb 2005 13:11:30 GMT

The Wonderful Labs mailing list still has me locked out, and I'm totally buggered for ideas on how to fix it. Maybe I should fling fish at the internet, like some powerful, yet renegade, muppet.

This is a program that lets you make a library in your computer, much like the one in your brain.

Do you Wonderpeople enjoy this random blather more than the usual "I'm *getting to it*!" whinging? You should. You're all so read-y. (that is, to rhyme with needy, not reddy, as in kilowatt.)

* * *

BY the way, Quentin Tarantino appears in the Muppet Wizard of Oz TV movie. Mister Wonderful is officially freaked the fuck out.

Buongiorno

Mon, 31 Jan 2005 08:49:58 GMT

A shameless update placeholder. Hi! Wonderful Labs will return, after these messages.

Tell Your Friends

Fri, 25 Jun 2004 05:03:30 GMT

Deviate.

Merely by way of being death defying

Wed, 16 Jun 2004 07:06:56 GMT

Mister Wonderful's Adventures in Wisdom continue, rest assured....

They's just not being formatted and thrown up here, thanks to chronic, dreadfully chronic, chronitis.

Please enjoy the automatically updated archives, &c. in the meanwhile.

Yours most ever much,
Pixley Sandbottom
Rigger of Contrivances

No names. No pack drill.

Thu, 19 Feb 2004 12:44:31 GMT

This is just a bit of fluff to indicate that my updating skillz son weak.

My lame-o excuse points you towards Le Archive. Work, it hae be done, but the entertaining format, she lacks.

* * *

Smiles, everyone. Or I send you back to Mu.

The Flotsam of Wonder

Fri, 31 Oct 2003 22:00:17 GMT

Just because it's been a ding-dong-doodle of time since we, y'know, used this journal to reproduce the Wonderful Labs advice column like we said we were gonna, here are some Mega-Youth Awesome XTremely Silly Videos. Rawr! Righteous!

A Tour of Wonderful Labs (part 1)

A Tour of Wonderful Labs (part 2)

The Cypher of Rose and Wonder

Tue, 05 Aug 2003 09:30:49 GMT

	Been a long time man... Originally mailed on May 19th, this fluffernuttered epistle from Mister Wonderful contains one of my favorite bits, but it's right near the end, after all the stuff that reads like Charles Nelson Reilly dreaming that he's being eaten by a thesaurus. Enjoy! ___________________ Dearest Readers, GREETINGS FROM TOPPERMOST POTRZEBIE! Why do I love Potrzebie? Dig: the only cable channel they get is a 24-hour loop of Prince's 1984 film, "Purple Rain." Surely that means something. Means I need to lay off the Jacque Daniels. You may have noted an absence of abstruse absent-minded absinthe-soaked advice from your absurd answer man, namely moi. This is not due to coconut juice injection or muskrat delights, despite what that vile newsrag, The Daily Vole, insists on reporting about the most needlessly overdressed tourist to encamp on Potrzebian shores since Arthur Eskimo and His Knights of the Fur Pie - that is, me. Balderdash! I only taste of my own coconuts when no one else will. In reality, I have been engaged in fevered imagination. Several Potrzebian comic book companies have approached me in an effort to draw near. And what is it they wish to draw close to? Me! Pay attention. So, anyway. Point is. I've been doing interviews lately. Getting my gestalt germinated. Spreading my good spell amongst the youthful artisans of this island paradise that circles the globe like a silver-buckled halo of enchanted leather. "Well, what do you think?" came the question. "I'm glad you asked," I said. "I believe in the promise of technology and the primacy of magic. I believe that the Old Ones are the New Hotness. I believe that some girls' mothers are bigger than other girls' Marshall Mathers. I believe reality disguises illusion and fiction is the first path to the real. I believe that beliefs are laughable and that there is nothing so serious. I believe in cynicism, and have faith in skepticism. I don't believe anything." "Okay," said the makeup girl. "Ummm... I think they'll want this in the interview." So, tomorrow I'll answer a query, okay? Big buckets of love pouring over us all, MW **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Your Top Source For Quotidian Party Parley ****************
Tremendously, he began to laugh; there was no end to his joy; his private knowledge of the world pealed forth from purple lips, publishing to all who were aware the secret wisdom, the huge malevolent humour, the undreamed information that crouched concealed in that unholy head beneath that black slouch hat. - Jack Kerouac, Dr. Sax		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Not a science-fiction writer, Mister Smart Vonnegut.

Alles Klar, Herr Goo-Goo Muck?

Mon, 30 Jun 2003 21:12:45 GMT

Click to subscribe to wonderfullabs

Because an epidemic is only a virus until it spreads...

A Bit of the Old Bump and Wonder

Thu, 26 Jun 2003 09:30:12 GMT

	Let me assure you, this is merely the tip of the penguin on the iceberg. Mister Wonderful's episodic epistles have been mounting up in the back room like, well, penguins on an iceberg. ___________________ Dearest Readers, GREETINGS FROM GUZZLED POTRZEBIE! First! Let us have a haiku, or, as they are known in Potrzebie, a gesundheit: Stars nearly right now Strange fun tentacles writing Hold tight Wonderful I found that in my Alphabits this morning, but Mister Malice said the phenomena was nothing special as there had earlier been an infinite number of monkeys running through the kitchen. Mister Monkey pulled a laser gun out of his fez and called Malice a dirty yellow-hatted liar. Mister Dark quickly hooked Monkey's chair with his walking stick, spilling the simian onto the floor amongst the empty cans of nitrous oxide. Things seemed to be tending tense-ward. Me, with my cereal unconventional clutched in one hand, I was ready to kick over the heating lamp and grow a mustache when the boys all started laughing like a pack of grackles with an unhealthy secret. They're up to something. No surprise there. But they're up to something that involves faking a falling out, and I fell for their false fall out: I sense a "Reservoir Dogs meet Cthulhu" storm brewing. Reality hadn't better start any long books, you know? Still, you have to laugh. Maybe they'll think you're in on it. Yours in a tropical paradise, but keeping watch on the skies, MW **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Be Reborn In The Fiery Ritual Of Caramel ****************
There's no earthly way of knowing Which direction we are going There's no knowing where we're rowing... - Willy Wonka, Willy Wonka & The Chocolate Factory (1971)		Mister Wonderful Recommends: 24 and 5:15. Not the TV show, and not the Who song. Well, maybe the Who song.

The Battle of Mist and Wonder

Thu, 26 Jun 2003 09:17:44 GMT

	*It's like getting the DVD box set of season 6 WONDERFUL: The Potrzebie Years... don't try to swallow them all at once.* ___________________ Dearest Readers, GREETINGS FROM LUSITANIA-STREWN POTRZEBIE! Callooh! Callay! Mister Wonderful here, still enjoying my forced vacation in the spy-holes and ivory igloos of this island nation that circles the Earth like a puissant hula-hoop. NEWS: I received an alarming smoke signal from Miss Yakamoto back at the Labs indicating that the Wonderful Labs computer cannot be repaired for at least another week. Seems they're having trouble finding a qualified exorcist. In further Disturbance in the Force news, she says that if I insist on remaining at the Mesozoic Motel until then, she has no choice but to attend the *Matrix: Reloaded* premiere with Sven the Argentine Hamster Wrangler. What a pain in the data plug. RUMOUR: My chaotic companions continue to concoct Corsican confidence schemes. Mister Dark wants to sell "Maps to the SARS Homes." Mister Malice wants to kidnap George W. Bush and replace him with Mister Monkey. Mister Monkey wants to kidnap Pope John Paul II and replace him with Folgers Crystals. AMAZING FACT: While Potrzebie is technically a Constitutional Democracy, the Parliament on Haunted Hill remains empty. As James Gleick never tires of reminding us, this lack of leadership has not resulted in a lack of order. It has resulted, as it will in all societies of groovy hoopiness, in a funocracy. WASHED UP ON SHORE IN A GREEN GLASS BOTTLE MARKED "WONDERFUL": Hey W., How come Asian counties are called "Far East" instead of "Far West"? Globally, Car T. Ographer ___________________ Dear Marco "Polo!" Marco "Polo!", Because rare are the folk who want raw tuna and seaweed on their Bacon Western Cheeseburgers. Yours with happy noodles and eggroll, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Your Number One Super Mind ****************
A no-alee dream place where waves in my blood crash violent tone - Naked Raygun, Walk In Cold		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Defeating the Comet Empire! We only have a limited amount of time before something vague happens! Don't you get it? Risk is our business! No, really. Mister Wonderful doesn't just like science; he's doing something about it. Thanks to an astute reader, we now have another actual piece of NASA equipment carrying the fictional smarm virus out to the galaxy. I know it seems like a joke that they would name a comet probe "Deep Impact," but I'm assured that it's genuine. And you know that if I had made it up, it would have been "Deeper Impact: The Probe That Knows Where To Find It."

The Saga of Swamp and Wonder

Thu, 26 Jun 2003 09:00:19 GMT

	Those who subscribe to the Wonderfullabs mailing list received this missive on May the 9th, 2003. That means they've been able to send me hate mail on how their brains were damaged and lives irredeemably ruined for almost two months longer than you have. ___________________ Dearest Readers, Mister Wonderful here, and I want you all to know that any reports you may hear of rogue elephants rampaging towards Rome with terrible yet obvious secrets about the narrative nature of reality tucked into a false tusk have little to do with me. My real concern: this morning, Mister Dark and Mister Monkey had words. Words, as we all know, are the most powerful and dangerous drug on Earth, having killed humans in the millions and souls in the billions. In the right hands they (words) can be fairly groovy and improve the telepathically-deprived masses. On the other hands, they (Misters Dark and Monkey) have set aside their initial distrust and entered into a level of compadreship that makes bestiality look like a glance through the PetSmart catalog. I fear that the simian and the sadist are plotting mischief, and getting high on language for the inspiration. They're mad teenage rebels loose in the library. They do it for the linguiskicks, man. Such is the air in Potrzebie. It makes everything seem Potrpossible. Anyway. Point is. I had some Potrzebian gumbo the other night, cooked up by a real voodoo mama. You know what it tasted like? It tasted like destiny. Spicy, and potentially regrettable. So what? We never know what the future holds, but unless we move to embrace the real thing, we're left choking chicken. Tonight, more queries arrived, by various avenues, on this distant island shore. You readers are diabolically inventive, and your efforts appreciated. Although I be resting on this couch of softest laurels, know that I will give your requests for enlightentainment the most cursory glance technology allows. Provided, of course, my bunkmates with the evil grins haven't drained the Earth of resources and sold them (the resources) to the Martians before we wake. Yours for at least the time it takes to work out the currency conversion between here and Mars, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - When Better Answers Are Answered, They'll Be Answered By WONDER - He's Real Fancy. ****************
What's it like...? It's like breathing the electric air of the future. - Grant Morrison, New X-Men #135, "teaching children about fractals"		Mister Wonderful Recommends: The new look of the Pet President - now with fashionable gear for the kids! This ain't your momma's Aul and Callahan, this is your great-aunt's, or possibly a distant cousin's. Their demolition of the Hummer aesthetic is delightful.

The Quest for the Heart And Wonder

Thu, 26 Jun 2003 08:32:42 GMT

	An explanation for the highly jinked entries of late and a query of sorts await the intrepid below... ___________________ Dearest Readers, Previously on WONDERFUL LABS... We, that is, me, Mister Wonderful, and my two droogies, Mister Dark and Mister Malice, having fled the dreary confines of polite society, found ourselves in need of returning to said polite society in order to retrieve certain items of apocalyptic import from certain Middle Eastern cities before certain flight-suit-wearing yahoos stumbled upon them in their pursuit of certain empires. So we packed up and lit out of Wonderful Laboratories for the wild beyonder. And why not? ORGASMAX, the Wonderful Labs computer, had jumped upon the fritz and was likely to remain there until we lobbed great bucketfuls of cash down its maw. I knew I could best compensate for my inability to answer the dozens of queries now trapped in an 8'x10' silicon paperweight, queries from readers just like you (but with tousled hair and confused expression), by drinking a variety of liquors in their native lands, then visiting the native "facilities," and perhaps then seeing the inside of the native "police stations." Miss Yakamoto promised she would take care of things as usual, and then she kicked me goodbye. Along the way we met a monkey who worked as a spy for a foreign government, but he decided to join up with us heathens instead. We also went off-course (but on corset) a few times, and I wrote marvelously entertaining picaresque travelogues describing how Mister Malice couldn't be trusted to successfully navigate a pint of Guinness through an Irish priest. ~~Bastard.~~ Then, what with one thing and another, and time continuing to flow in one direction for these limited, ego-bound bodies, we found ourselves here in Potrzebie - an ancient civilization with modern "facilities," a nation spread across hundreds of charming islands that ring the earth like a neon mobius strip of kismet. AND NOW... Although I am working with borrowed computing power and slipshod communications networks, it seems as though the ingenuity of readers just like you knows no bounds. A shimmering lovebird flew my way as I sashayed down a Potrzebian beach, a band of silver around her tiny leg. Could it be? Yes! For I, even I, away in this arcane land, have received a fresh query. Although I have not my powerful Wonderful Labs research materials and my tab needs to be paid at Amelia Earhart's LAST FLIGHT bar, I am quite overjoyed to have this opportunity to enlightentain, if only for a simple query... Dear Mr. Wonderful, Did dinosaurs have feathers? Do you think their feathers were as pretty as my bird's? What is your favorite dinosaur? My brother's was a Stegosaurus. Love, Fluffy p.s. what fabric softener do you use? __________________ Dear Old Faithful, I'll tell you one thing: Mae West had a feather boa. I'm not saying she was a dinosaur, but the evolutionary link between a dinosaur and a battleship is so thin you could use it to pick a flea's teeth. I'm not saying Mae West had fleas, either. It's true. But I'm not saying it. Dinosaurs rarely had fleas. They had trilobites. Big Bird is pretty clearly the "missing link" between dinosaurs and avians, isn't he, though? I'd certainly say your bird's feathers are much nicer; mainly because they aren't coated with "Hooper-goop." My favorite dinosaur remains Abe Vigoda. He's like a coelacanth: they thought it was extinct, but it lives. It lives still! P.S. I soften my fabrics through wear and tear. Wear and tear, baby. yrs, MW **************** WONDERFUL LABS - We Strike When The Irony Is Cool ****************
Once we're alone in Cognito We'll remove all of our clothes very fast, But though we be naked as jaybirds, At no time will we take off our masks. - Tom Robbins, Villa Incognito		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Pirates. Well, good pirates. Or rather, fictional pirates. Or rather, pirates about whom tales are told. What I'm getting at is, there are greedy pig bastards, and there are pirates. Pirates have flair. And tremendous booty. And a shivery timbre.

The Ghost of Thieves and Wonder

Thu, 26 Jun 2003 08:17:02 GMT

	Mister Wonderful travels the world in search of the finest minds to compete in his Wisdom Stadium... well, actually he's been lazing about on an island paradise for the past month, sending these drug-soaked ramblings with chilling regularity. The FDA has finally approved distribution of the dispatches, so enjoy... ___________________ Dearest Readers, One pill makes you larger, and one pill makes you small, but the pills they give you in Potrzebie drop-kick you through the field goal of reality. Oh, man. Mister Wonderful here, cradling my coconuts and wondering what else can happen to three men and a little monkey when people stop acting polite and start acting Potrzebian. For one thing, they'll get meaningful stares from Amelia Earhart about their bar tab. FURTHER FUN FACTS FROM FROTH-FESTOONED POTRZEBIE: (plucked from the sodden verbiage haze drifting 'round the pub. take with a grain of salt, or several shots of Old Peculiar) * Due to parallel evolution and unnatural selection, the Potrzebian National Anthem is to the tune of Strip by Adam Ant. * The empty Parliament buildings of the central government are rumoured to be haunted by Richard Nixon and/or a giant slug. * The most famous Potrzebian movie is a series of woodcuts stamped onto a bedsheet with mare's blood and filmed with a dozen oatmeal box pinhole cameras. It depicts the ancient tale of King Hunkidori's trip through the 8th dimension and subsequent discovery of bedsheets. Title: Azimuth? I'm So Azimuth I Can Hardly Plotz! * Here, fleas are 20% more likely to work in a union circus. * The first wombat spotted in Potrzebie turned out to be an extremely angry frog. * As the islands that make up Potrzebie span the entire globe every citizen knows a little bit of every language, but no one can explain why the President of the United States can't pronounce "nuclear." * All Potrzebian wars, including the Sybil War (1475-1498)(in which twelve parallel-universe Potrzebies converged and argued over who got to use the beard trimmer), have been decided by surf combat. * Identity is fluid in Potrzebie; become anyone you want, but make sure you want all that you become. * Older Potrzebians miss the days when "Drunk-n-Bungle" music topped the charts. * The veterans of the psychic wars will really talk your pineal gland off. * If your muscles ache - it's because a few days in Potrzebie makes your whole body smile. There's more to tell, and tales don't tell themselves, but the hour is growing late and it looks like we are once again going to have to peel Mister Malice away from the karaoke stage (he discovered that they could do Voulez Vous and has since been incorrigible), so I must away. your man overseas until the seas are over, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Fun Like Being Eaten And Drunk At The Same Time ****************
We'll know how small we really are We'll be amazed we've come this far We'll rip the blinders from our eyes and truly see... - Cop Shoot Cop, "If Tomorrow Ever Comes"		Mister Wonderful Recommends: The 5 current skeleton keys of the universe. Be warned: by the time you read this, the moment will have passed and new keys will be activated. Your omnipotence may vary. Keep watching the skies! Hearts Clubs Spades Diamonds Jokers

Agenda Addenda

Mon, 23 Jun 2003 23:18:47 GMT

This is to note that the Wonderful Labs "Gussied Up In Blue" LiveJournal site hasn't been updated in nigh unto a month or so. Please visit the boring, text-based, version should chuckles be your aim.

yours in a bucket with lovely liquid music surrounding and fulfilling us,
MW
P.S. I'm getting to it.

Full Of Sound And Wonder

Fri, 30 May 2003 22:12:54 GMT

	Another long-delayed missive, snuggled, smuggled and dispatched by Mister Wonderful, our man in salt and sea. ___________________ Dearest Readers, Then we get up on the tables like this... and we swing our hips like this... Mister Wonderful here in terpsichorean Potrzebie, the island nation that rings the world like a glittering thong of mystery. As they say in the cattle prod industry, there have been stunning developments of late. Mister Dark, Mister Malice and Mister Monkey interrupted my Midnight Moonshine Meditation (tm) with the clatter of stones at my window and a bullhorn. "WAKE UP, YOU LOUSY PAEDOPHILE!" came the gentle voice of my entropic crew. "GET YOUR LABCOAT-COVERED ASS DOWN HERE. WE FOUND AMELIA EARHART!" "Fuck off. So what?" I shouted back scientifically. "SHE OWNS A BAR." Let me tell you, there are few 105-year-old lesbians who can make a really fine Mint Julep. Particularly at that hour of the night. I should know, having once spent a Greyhound bus layover in Albuquerque, New Mexico. Not that Amy's necessarily a lesbian - but apparently when she got here she thought she'd washed up on the shore of Wonder Woman's "Paradise Island." No one bothered to tell her different - it was more amusing to watch the aviatrix suck up to the "Amazons." Good for the tourist trade, too. So, yeah, the bar. THE LAST FLIGHT is a cool pad, man. Got a real "Casablanca meets Milliways" feel to it. Anyway. Point is. I wanted to bring to your attention some of the stuff they've got on the placemats. I don't know who wrote it, but it's an almost totally unreliable guide to Potrzebian culture. You must check it! --> IN SUNNY POTRZEBIE... ...the seashells sing shanties by the seizure. ...the government is a constitutional democracy, but no one considers themselves worthy of office, or even objective and informed enough to vote, hence the empty Parliament. ...the gods are near. ...so are the sharks. ...there are no gods. ...the hearing aids all whisper sexy French curses. ...we do not say that Money makes the world go round. We say that Language makes the world go round. ...We also say that Rotational Momentum makes the world go oblate spheroid. ...the massive hexagonal libraries stock pornography and Playstation games. ...folks are rewarded for their speculations, not their results. ...the pineapples naturally grow paper fortunes inside their fruit. ...a typical pineapple fortune is, "You should try a pear." ...the fish don't need bicycles, but they like to have them just in case. ...Death is widely regarded as a doorway. A knife-ringed, electrified doorway leading to an empty elevator shaft at the bottom of which are hundreds of broken bottles, but still. ...the highest form of literature is the "Locked Detective" mystery. ...the national motto is "Keep Watching The Skies." There's more, but the hour is late, and the dear Earhart woman wants to tell me another "Lindbergh snatched his own brat" anecdote. There's never a failure of intrigue here in lovely Potrzebie. yours until the colossal squid takes office, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Enlightenment In 30 Minutes Or The Wisdom Is Free ****************
Haven't I read all of this in a book? It seems the Romans were hung on the same hook We might lose a little bit in the translation But I think it's basically the same equation - Naked Raygun, Free Nation		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Feeding your head already. Information wants to be free, but so what, if no one bakes it a cake with a file in it, right? When evil rampages, things get lost. Don't let it happen to you.

The Myth Of Darkness And Wonder

Fri, 30 May 2003 21:43:45 GMT

	After a month's delay, the U.S. Customs Paranoiacs have allowed us to distribute these illuminating missives dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man on the flying tropical isles. ___________________ Dearest Readers, GREETINGS FROM UNTRAMMELLED POTRZEBIE! Here, dig: the most annoying thing about traveling to this remote island nation and discovering new cultures, seeking out new night life and new dramatizations, encountering thousands of interesting new people? Mister Dark will not shut up with his "Please allow me to introduce myself; I'm a man of wealth and taste," bullshit. Everyone. Everyone we run into. He just won't stop. "Won't you guess my name?"... and they look over at me like I'm the one who didn't tell him he was wearing a convention center name badge. I mean, it was clever for about half an hour in 1971, sure. Now it's just embarrassing. Anyway, I would have to say that the second most annoying thing about this chain of idyllic islands is that they don't seem to gather the strategic importance of showing first-run movies. "But Mister Wonderful," you say with your mouth full of marshmallow pies, "Surely you are not complaining of the opportunity to view Jaws 3-D the way it was meant to be seen?" Of course not. The annoyance arises when all psychic wavelengths are jammed with you lot telling me how you got free ice cream and blowjobs just from watching X-2: X-Men United. Yes, I understand it's a good movie. But I still haven't seen it, okay? It's like the film transmits an advertising virus or something. If people can't talk about it, their jaws lock up and they just smugly vibrate for twenty minutes. Folks are desperate to let me know how much I should see this film. I get it, all right? I keep expecting to see X-2 reviews appearing on the surface of the moon. As it is, the neon blimps do somewhat mar the romantic Potrzebian nights. I don't mean to pick nits, however. We are doing well here. Mister Malice discovered an hallucinogenic pineapple that should improve the profits at his franchised Icee Stand. The monkey I recently befriended has enlisted in the Dream Police to be closer to his girlfriend. Potrzebie, sweet Potrzebie. If only the world could accept you. I hear from Miss Yakamoto that we hope to have the STROKERACEX computer back on-line in two weeks. She's never let me down before. I was hoping to fit some more innuendo into that phrase but the hour is late, and hotel detectives are starting to wonder about the power drains. I will dispatch more, anon. yours with a bamf, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Where Johnny Quest And Lara Croft Get Their Grave On ****************
"These are writers for whom the 'fantastic' is not ethereal and wispy but tough and real, where 'magic' operates like science or science magic, and where the sense of subversion, of alienation, of sheer strangeness that saturates their work defies easy categorisation as SF or fantasy." -China Mieville		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Remembering that I love you. You already know this. There is no division between you, me, the past, the future, these letters in front of me, the tree outside that window, none of you. I love you, but you already know. We use the enemy. We shimmer, and here's the part of you that wrote about it in San Francisco.

The Case Of Blood And Wonder

Wed, 30 Apr 2003 19:50:20 GMT

	Yet more massive high-heated illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man on the star-studded streets. ___________________ Dearest Readers, GREETINGS FROM UNDULATORY POTRZEBIE! Oh, my precious dumplings of innocence, what a week we've had here on the charming global island chain of Potrzebie. Mister Dark finally found a white embroidered dashiki just his size and rushed out to "see how it may be accented with arterial spray." Mister Malice brought home a penguin that he thinks he can train to lie in wait and frighten pianists. I, myself, me, Mister Wonderful, I joined the youth of Potrzebie by attending a music festival in a volcano. Apparently it's some sort of annual celebration of the solar gods' triumph over the forces of good taste. Potrzebian life, as I've said, is often a mixture of the modern and the archaic. They have cell phones, but only with rotary dials. They like The Beatles and Oasis. Potrzebians tend to be spiritual without being theological. They believe stuff, but they're not married to it. The religions of the islands are myriad: some unusual alignment of the stars(or even the clouds, or the toadstools) happened to strike one's ancestors as groovy and worth chatting about once a week. That's it. You get a thousand new creeds every time a rock enters the atmosphere and burns freely across the skies. And when things go badly for the politicians of Potrzebie, they always blame it on the liberal meteor. Speaking of. You may recall that I had hoped to earn some moolah as a verb-wrangler in one of Potrzebie's many fine print factories. Turns out there are already a surfeit of columnists here, more's the pity. They have "romance advice" columnists who tell people how to solve their personal problems by pretending the world has not changed in fifty years. They have "practical advice" columnists who tell folks where to stick their grout. They have "trivia" columnists, who answer obscure questions, or present little-known facts. They also have Dan Savage. What I'm banking on is that no one does my whole "wisdom gestalt." Dig this column from The Omphalitic County Deranger, a daily paper published for the affluent hill people: TRIVIA by Horrabin Mos Eisley Q. What color is lobster blood? A. Mauve. * Q. Is there life on Mars? A. Not today, no. * The penis of the male warthog has a flange. * There are buckets of pus behind the Vatican. * Terrible stuff once happened. * For .01% of Swedes, the brain grows at a faster rate than the skull. * Q. Does lightning go up or down? A. Neither. You are having a seizure. * Q. Who invented the condom? A. Dr. Liebedich Bangzalot. * Jesus died for your sins - on accident. * A recalcitrant sephiroth can traumatize the works of Shakespeare! * The number one is a hoax. * Q. Who played 'The Flying Nun'? A. Who didn't? * It takes more muscles to tickle than to kill. * A guitar can't fit through a bicycle. * There are places where things are different. I know it'll be tough to beat that kind of rigorous journalism, but there's a place for me in the pulsing planet of Potrzebie periodicals. I feel it. Yours with a light heart and black fingers, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - We Also Service Those Who Stand And Wait ****************
Because I don't bend to reality, you see what I mean?" His eyes were more intense than ever, as though he were channeling Svengali. "Reality bends to me. - Donald Westlake, Money For Nothing		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Alternate history that isn't. Is it irony or is it memorex?

The World In Black And Wonder

Wed, 30 Apr 2003 09:14:27 GMT

	Yet another jim jam of illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man in the fez. ___________________ Dearest Readers, GREETINGS FROM SUNNY POTRZEBIE! We're staying for the duration: I can't get enough of the sigils and soundscapes in this ancient dynamo of a techno-paradise, Mister Dark likes the fact the Potrzebians have no word for "extradition," the monkey has a girlfriend, and Mister Malice sank our tugboat with a misfired .44 slug. I say "sank," but, really, he hit one of the oxygen tanks and "smithereened" might be more accurate. Caromed a piece of the foc'sle off a passing hierophant crab. Said white-hot piece then whanged into our caravan's gas tank, smithereening that as well. So, we lost all the stuff the we'd gathered on this trip, but had to admit it was for a good cause. Potrzebie is packed tight with antediluvian mysteries, yet boasts modern cities with full bars. It's kind of like Seattle by way of Mu. My point is that I was able to phone Miss Yakamoto back at Wonderful Labs and drill her as to the status of BABAORILEX, the Labs computer. She told me the parts we need won't be stable in this dimension for another few weeks. "Then you should come out here," I said. "It's fantastic. All the drinks are green and all the lizards are purple. They've got two Saturdays a week. There's a local gravity distortion, so you lose ten pounds just by showing up. Look, I think I can squeeze you in my hotel room. Come on! Shut down the particle accelerator, lock up the interns, grab a forbidden map, and jump in the invisible plane." "Sorry boss," she said. "I can't seem to find the invisible plane." It's always something with her. As I jauntily strode out of the lobby towards unfathomable destiny, a Potrzebian shoeshine boy stopped me. He wanted to know if I could sponsor him for the big sesquicentennial Pyramid Raising out in the Western Sea. Apparently there are costumes and chanting involved and it's all for charity. I explained that I had no local currency, but wished him well. He told me that if I wanted to earn cash, the local broadsheets were always looking for newly harvested word-clusters. Potrzebie! Turns out we're staying right down the street from the largest print factories in all of Potrzebie. They call it Synchronous City. Stories of stories, high stacks belching word balloons at all hours. A place where a man of letters might get mugged for his L's. I think I'm going to do all right here. Yours without query until the sea cows take me home, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - Sometimes You Feel Like A Nut ****************
The Artist having been taken in vision to the ancient republics, monarchies, and patriarchates of Asia, has seen those wonderful originals called in the Sacred Scriptures the Cherubim... - William Blake, from "A Descriptive Catalog" (1809)		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Haunting children playing at pop. Have a listen, you'll never sleep again.

The Song of The Salty Wonder

Thu, 24 Apr 2003 07:34:15 GMT

	Yet another pickled pack of illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man in the jam. ___________________ Dearest Readers, You know what's so fantastic about being me? Neither do I, but it's too late to stop now. If I wasn't me, I'd have to get rid of all my clothes. One can't wear some stranger's clothes, for Vishnu's bloody sake. I'd have to go naked. Nakeder. More often. But how did we get here? Here, to this point, now, so many days since last Mister Wonderful sent e-massages to your aching brain folds... it was not merely time that transported us, let me tell you. Time is on my side. On my hip, actually, in this attractive silver pocket watch emblazoned with the entwined MW lemniscate of Wonderful Laboratories. Sweet Wonderful Laboratories, when shall I see thee again? By the Waters of the Roger I sat and wept, thinking of my ailing DAGUERROTHRAX computer and the able-bodied Miss Yakamoto whom I've left behind. Could I wear my pocket watch if I was naked? Not unless Miss Yakamoto was around, I assure you. We were crossing the southern border of Macedonia, finally back on the road to Damascus (despite Mister Malice peeling back his eyelids and giggling "Dig me, I'm Bob Hopeless!" every twenty minutes), when Mister Dark announced that we could not continue on to Greece and Cyprus as planned. I announced that someone had better be fucking joking. "Our delays are not unknown to me, Wonderbubble," said Mister Dark. "We have, however, reason to believe that our hidden artefacts will remain un-cluster-bombed for a few days yet. I insist on a detour to Alaska, where I have to see a man about a, a... duck." It is perhaps no surprise that I was struck by the realization that his last word had not been intended as a noun at the same time as the boomerang. It was the monkey who chased away the assassins (with a bazooka!) and cared for me the next few days, as I sweated restless in hazy semi-consciousness. I remember he filled out the uniform nicely. I could feel the world rocking beneath the caravan and a dim knowledge that we were on the sea drifted over my mind's bloodshot eye. They tell me there was also a storm. And a shortage of compass-like things. And a bit of unfortunate squid business that resulted in a rudder-ectomy. When I finally recovered my wits, we were encamped on the north shore of the distant island nation of Potrzebie. Potrzebie! Is it not amazing? Of course, Potrzebie is actually only the name of the largest island in this chain which extends north from Argentina, up around Chile and all that, through the Panama Canal, all along the Gulf of Mexico, across the Atlantic, around the North Pole, and back, essentially crossing the entire Earth in a tremendous spheroid figure-8. Potrzebians are to Atlanteans what the Ancient Greeks are to a gyro. Potrzebie, dammit! If I cannot be answering the queries you, dearest readers, have sent, then dispatching postcards of wonder and experience from this arcane land shall have to be my fulfillment. yours with an umbrella in my drink and exploration in my pants, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - The Grits Aren't All You Can Kiss ****************
You disappeared rather mysteriously the other night, but I attribute this to your life of crime in the movies. - Groucho Marx in a letter to Peter Lorre, 10/05/1961		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Blacker than black. Oh, they can do it for physics, but when will they ever build me my Disaster Area stunt ship?

The Mystery of Dragon and Wonder

Sat, 19 Apr 2003 23:05:36 GMT

	*More is yet revealed at last, so mooooote* it be, in these illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man after midnight.** ___________________ Dearest Readers, I awoke this afternoon to the sound of hypothetical buzzing scales all around, like a zither played by a madman. Incense thickened the air above me, but I could still smell savory tea and oranges. Fumbling my way upright on the plush paisley couch, I found my spectacles coated in lavender hand soap. "Great googolfucks," I said. "Have we driven this macabre sideshow all the way back to Hong Kong?" Mister Malice looked up from the 3-D Chess cube, his pupils shrunk to black holes that no joy could escape from. "We're in Paris, Wonderfunk, but your monkey doesn't seem to know any French. We send him out for brie and baguettes. He comes back with cheap tarts and hookahs." That was my curious pal, all right. A real chimp off the old block. "Espionage," I said brightly. Mister Dark flung a butter knife into the tasseled lampshade by my crotch. "Cease your prattle, Mister Mongoloid," he said. "'Espionage' is from the Old Italian 'spia,' for spy. Your simian simpleton speaks no French, and will only be useful if we hollow him out and use him to smuggle white babies to the slavers we met in the Sudan." Miss Yakamoto has sent word that the Wonderful Labs computer remains unready for operations. When they booted it up last night it asked where Batman was, then started weeping uncontrollably. An eerie thrill grips me, as she says she wishes I was there - but that might have just been the postcard. Anyway. Point is. Seeking the undercover monkey, I toured the City of Lights in disguise (having gained a reputation some time ago thanks to that bitch Nostradamus). Within hours of drinking heavily I learned that a giant man I suspected to be rock musician Rob Zombie knew how to contact the Resistance fighters living in the Parisian sewers who had never received word that World War II had ended, and still believed Germans occupied the city. "These are old men," warned Mister Zombie. "Honorable heroes. You mustn't disturb their notions. It could kill them." I smiled my best lubricating smile and adjusted my feather boa. "Never fear, mon capitan. I'm a servant of the double serpent, the caduceus of Hermes, the trickster, the DNA gods. I'm a hidden magus with a twisted rod, the entwined M and W doubling back on itself. I'd no sooner spill a mere fact than uncurl myself from my own mouth. The Wonder reflected is red now, dig? Cosmic commie, that's me. Red snake and blue snake playing purple cat tag. I DJ mix the facts and fancy, spinning them into a truth spiral. Mister Wonderful is your Man Willfully, Mystery Worshipper, Mad Wizard, Weird Maker, Wisdom Monger, Wit Machine. Those wee monsieurs have my word." I think he would have bought it, too, if the monkey hadn't suddenly shown up riding the back of a frightened gendarme, threatening to pummel "all you Tarzan motherfuckers." There's so much more to share, and we will, for I remain, yours, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - The Passion Fruit In Your On-Line Jungle ****************
It is probably true quite generally that in the history of human thinking the most fruitful developments frequently take place at those points where two different lines of thought meet. These lines may have their roots in quite different parts of human nature, in different times or different cultural environments or different religious traditions: hence if they actually meet, that is, if they are at least so much related to each other that a real interaction can take place, then one may hope that new and interesting developments may follow." - Werner Heisenberg		Mister Wonderful Recommends: The long-suffering ha-ha guy Marc Maron. He smart guy.

The Skull and The Wonder

Fri, 18 Apr 2003 20:38:35 GMT

	You may have noted a lack of Wonder in your box lately. At last, all may be revealed, and is, in these illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our mensch in the fielshpikus. ___________________ Dearest Readers, As I walked through Istanbul's streets this afternoon, a small monkey in a large fez came up to me. "Electric delights can be yours, fine sir," he whispered. "Experience the lixivium of a malleable black bird. Dip your renegade claw in strange passions." I smiled, my eyes jittering like fireflies from the coffee. "Can I get a receipt?" The little simian twisted up his face like a bottlecap and removed his paw from the pocket of my travel-stained labcoat. "You're not CIA?" "Sorry, old son," I said. "I left them all back in the Cafe Americain, rubbing heroin on their nipples. It'll be weeks before they can walk again, let alone remember the passwords." "Damn." The monkey looked tired, fingers contracting uselessly for a few moments as his eyes scanned the wall behind me. "I, uh, don't suppose you've got a microfilm hidden in a peanut shell for me if I mention 'The Zeroth Amendment,' eh?" I shook my head. I had to get back to the caravan Mister Dark had hired before the diamonds in my pants turned back into pumpkins, but there was no point in explaining that to the monkey. He'd only sell the information to the Russians, and it was their caravan we were going to turn into a roving Disneyland of Interpol violations. "Listen," I said, patting the beast near his garish "666" tattoo. "I know times are hard, but you have to understand that the United States has no need for dirty tricks any longer. Nothing underhanded or sneaky, not for them. It's all out in the god-damned open. The Emperor has no clothes? Hell, he's only gone and declared 'Kiss My Naked Ass Day.' There's no place for skulking with these fuckers in charge. Pistols worn on the hip, bwah. Show the natives who has the big mojo. Covert Operations get results, but you can't do business in the shadows." I leaned in until I could smell the copper of his hoop earring. "Word on the street is -- next time they kill a Kennedy, they're going to sign it." The monkey sighed. "You know of any good organ grinders, sahib?" I held out a hand to help him up to my shoulder. "Well, I don't know about that, but let me tell you: back at the Labs we have an excellent knob polisher..." Yours with borrowed time and blue genes, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - We Don't Even Need To Stop The World To Melt With You ****************
All you people are so scared of me - most days I'd take that as a compliment. But it ain't me you gotta worry about now. -Riddick (Vin Diesel), Pitch Black		Mister Wonderful Recommends: People who seem to care about books, as opposed to just selling them.

The Blinding of Science and Wonder

Fri, 18 Apr 2003 20:30:49 GMT

	You may have noted a lack of Wonder in your box lately. At last, all may be revealed, and is, in these illuminating missives, recently dispatched from Mister Wonderful, our man in the feel-good fields. ___________________ Dearest Readers, Mister Wonderful here, once again. I write to you now from the back of a yam wagon trundling along the shores of a Shanghai river. Mister Dark sits above me, steering the mules. He's wearing some sort of bamboo speaker cone on his head, but keeps blowing the disguise by singing "Sympathy For The Devil" over and over in that unsettling falsetto. We're doomed. How our merry merciless band (last seen on a quest to delay Armageddon until our book deal comes through) found itself blown off course is a tale for another time. But - rest you assured that for once I was certainly not the one most blown. Go ask Mister "We Need To Drop By Thailand" Malice. Three white mice formerly in my employ caught up to us this morning, kindly passing along a telegram from Miss Yakamoto back at the Labs. "FEDS SNIFFING AROUND STOP" she writes cryptically. "DUMP THE CORE QUERY" Ha! Ha! what a cutup she is, to be discussing these things on an open channel. She continues: "COMPUTER NOT READY MAYBE FRIDAY STOP NEEDS EFFLUVIUM PUMP STOP KEEP WATCHING SKIES STOP IF YOU STILL THANKING THAT GIRL BETTER STOP" So I know she cares. Further, I know that the kitchen at home, she is too hot for this mad journey to end soon. You know, I was admiring the lapels of the tiny Tibetan who set up this mobile satellite uplink in my rice bowl, thinking that his resemblance to Elvis Costello could hardly be coincidence and wondering if he'd ever get the chance to fulfill his life's goal (drunkenly confessed over fermented yak milk shots) of hosting his own "Girls Gone Wild!" video like Snoop Dogg when it occurred to me, Mister Wonderful, that the mice had made off with my credit cards. What I'm saying - what I've always been saying - is that life can too easily bog down with facts... become heavy, and crusted. Wonder lightens the soul, illuminates the bones of truth inside the mundane. Wonder excites and animates the hidden dance you knew the steps to before you were born. Wonder shocks the synapses with cold, clear joy and laughter and confusion, the better to widen the third eye and appreciate the Real. Microscopes and telescopes can only tell you what's there. A kaleidoscope can widen the roof of the world. Wishing to always be your pop collide-o-scope, yours truly in queries and essays, Mister Wonderful **************** WONDERFUL LABS - The Fine Line Between Dot Matrix And Dominatrix ****************
as the radio man says it is 5 a.m. and the sun has charred the other side of the world and come back to us and painted the smoke over our heads an imperial violet it is 5 a.m. and you are listening to Los Angeles -Soul Coughing, Screenwriter's Blues		Mister Wonderful Recommends: Fighting fire with fish. Let the Spinal Guffman Show give you something to gurn about, remind us why we breathe.