|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.
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,
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.