|An explanation for the highly jinked entries of late and a query of sorts await the intrepid below...
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.
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,
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,
|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.