Wed, 04 Feb 1998
WONDER CATSUP
OK, Here's one for medical wonder.
Having come back from my Vacation over the holidays, I have noticed several things happening to my person. I was severely congested for quite a few days, but seemed to be making headway when all of a sudden, my wife returns from her trek, and my immune system, apparently gone and leaving no note as to its return, lets me get sick again. Now, I am not only congested, but my voice is gone, and I may even have pink eye.(not a joke) My question, as I'm sure you're thinking is, What the HELL HAPPENED TO ME? Is my immune system still on vacation? Did the airlines lose it on my return trip? Am I turning into "The Fly"? Is there any known cure for all three ailments, or do I have to pick them off one at a time? Is this virus in use by the government?
Just Wondering
_______________
Dear John Merrick,
Let me ask *you* some questions:
1) Have you heard the phrase "Curiosity killed the cat"?
2) Did you know it derives from an older sentiment which roughly translates as "Asking a lot of questions every week gives wiseguys laryngitis and pinkeye"?
3) Aren't you feeling a little silly now?
As much as I love you, J. W., you have to admit you brought this on yourself. Well, either that, or your wife is doing you in for the insurance dough. Be sure to write soon, Mrs. Wondering, and let us know how it went.
**************************
LOOK! WONDERFUL IN THE SKY!
**************************
Wed, 04 Feb 1998
TORN A-WONDER
Mr. Wonderful-of-yourself,
It's happening again. Remember me? I'm the one who wrote in about the guy who wouldn't reply to me but would to the masses? Well, he's back. Only this time, I've written countless letters which I know are interesting to him. It couldn't be dislike, I just spent a bit of time with this person and it was amazing. Could it be he just had too much of me? Can't he handle it? If so, why doesn't he let me know?
Tired lonely fingers
_______________
Dear Three-times-a-lady,
Did you know that there are actually people out there with the last name "Cluck"? They have spend their entire lives sounding like refugees from Colonel Sander's pogrom. They probably never get dates. People would be afraid to fall in love with them. Who wants to look deep into someone's eyes on a moonlit night and murmur fiercely, "It's you I love, Henry Cluck!"? And who would want to marry a Cluck? People named "Bosom", I guess. Or "Gonorrhea".
Anyway, the kind of stress dealt with by these "Cluck" people on a yearly basis (filling out forms with dread, bearing the giggles of arresting officers, cringing at roll call) is probably very nearly the level of stress hitting your man every single day. What else could explain his behavior? Clearly he is trying to escape into a fantasy land where he is a multi-talented entertainer of thousands, rather than deal with the painful details of his own life. It's not you yourself, it's just that no one (no matter how 'bedable') can compete with the sheer heroin joy of a self-indulgent column mailed to unsuspecting cybernauts. It's a world beater.
When things calm down for him, I'm sure you'll be back in the saddle.
************************
SQUARE PEG IN A ROUND WONDERFUL
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Wed, 04 Feb 1998
MOTEL WONDERFUL
Dear Mr Wonderful,
Ever wonder what kind of people knock on your door when you're staying in a motel in a city where no one knows you? When they have nose piercings and dark bags under their eyes? They smell like cigarettes and have slutty mascara on, giving you looks of expectation and apathy, betraying their disatisfaction with their lives of pointless sex and drug use?
Yours truly, Stellar Q
_________
Dear Norman,
PICK YOUR ANSWERS FROM THE LIST BELOW ($2.95 for the first answer, $.99 for each additional)
A. Wonder? Hell, I order 'em.
B. So you've met my sister, then.
C. You didn't tell me you thought my mascara was slutty.
D. Maybe it isn't that no one knows you. Maybe they're all just hiding, hoping to surprise you for your birthday and they got you this person in a cake, only all the bakeries were closed for a Viennese holiday and the chickens had gone on strike so no one could whip up a dozen boxes of Betty Crocker and so there wasn't a cake and then they remembered they had something else to do, but the person showed up anyway. Ever think about *that*? Hmmm?
E. You never should have written that letter to DC Comics complaining that "Sandman" was just a pretentious comic for haircut-impaired morons who refused to stop liking the Cure even though they're way past their prime.
F. I'd say they were the kind of people you just want to hug and give big noogies to. Then haggle over the price of the crack.
G. Yeesh, the Boy Scouts have really gone downhill these days, haven't they?
H. Mr. Wonderful rejects the notion of pointless sex. Even if the point is just sex, that's a still a debate-winner.
I. Well, see now, what you've got there, basically, is a writer. We know. It's the dark bags under the eyes that gives 'em away. Read the poetry, then lock the door. If it's an emergency, mention that all you have is decaf and they'll soon flee.
*********************
EVERYONE NEEDS A LITTLE WONDERFUL
*********************
Fri, 06 Feb 1998
CRUSHING WONDER
Dear wondering man,
What determines a person's tolerance of physical, and separately, mental pain? Environment? Genes? Annoying spouses who keep calling you a Big Baby?
Please do tell, as I am in physical pain currently, and evidently "shouldn't" be.
Danka, Mrs. Rogers
_______________
Dear Madame Wuss,
Your problem is obviously that even though you are a broad-shouldered, six-foot-three, sandy-haired linebacker of a girl with arms like oiled clusters of ball pythons fighting for attention under a rubber tarpaulin, you have been posessed by the free-floating nervous system and memory emplants of Jessica Tandy.
You would be fine, were it not for the "ghost who walkers" manipulating your pain centers and shooting phantom ailments directly into your brain. Your spouse is quite correct in assuming that *you* should not be in pain, but unfortunately your unwelcome academy award winning guest *is*.
Under normal circumstances, the amount of pain you can take is measured by the size of your spleen, divided by the length of your instep. Complaints about any lesser amount are considered grounds for divorce in seven states.
*******************
JUST WHEN YOU THOUGHT IT WAS WONDERFUL
*******************
Sun, 08 Feb 1998
WONDERFUL LOST
************* The howls of serpents and the bleats of lions are as nothing compared to the mail we get at Wonderful Labs....
************* Kicking off the festivities is MY MOTHER, as she prepares to assault southern jungles and advises the home-bound Mr. Wonderful:
> Mr. Wonderful finds a mate somewhere between "matador" and "mattress".
You know, you'll never start getting a *real* social life until you get your nose out of that Gol-darned dictionary, young man.
************* I'm pretty happy with my fictional social life, actually. Except when the Mad Hatter drops his watch in my jambalaya.
************ And commenting on the slow pace of Wonderful production these past few anxiety-laden weeks is every lady's dream Ukelele Player, JUST WONDERING:
Whither my Wonder? I wonder. Why wonder where Wonder went? Has Wonder wandered? Wherefore? Is Wonder a wascal wabbit? (sorry, couldn't help myself) Welcome, Wonder, when wandering's done.
WONDER-HAIKU (gesundheit)
Just Wandering - um, Wondering
************* It brings tears to my eyes, it really does.
************* From the rain-soaked gutters of California to the ice-laden sphinxes of Connecticut I wish you all safety and drama this holiday week. I have no idea why I wrote that except that I've got some actual work I should be doing and this seems like an opportune time to avoid it, i.e., before I've started.
*************************
I'VE GOT A WONDERFUL THIS BIG
*************************
Sun, 08 Feb 1998
BOMBASTIC AND WONDERFUL
Dear Old Man,
So I sat down seven months ago and applied to the Peace Corps, you know, serve the world and do some good and all. It's been a long and complex series of paperwork hoops to jump through, most of which I managed to inadvertently set on fire. I got used to this pace of endless walls of complex paperwork sent to me so I could track down a complete stranger (or five) to have them fill it out (incorrectly) for me. So of course the bureacrats have laid out a speedbump: silence. No hoops, no information, nothing. Dear old Nursey has been reviewing my medical file for almost 3 weeks now. The information in this medical file says that I am in really good health but I am not that good at paperwork. The silence is starting to grate on me.
My question for you is, how do I get my father to stop farting loudly in my presence? Silence is far preferable to his outbursts.
--green
_______________
Dear Albert Schweitzer,
Obviously, patience is a virtue. If you put something off long enough, eventually conditions will change and you can get away with nearly anything. Say you owe money: ignore the pounding of bill collectors long enough and the sun will go supernova. After that, it should be fairly easy to claim your Book Club balance is in error, due to electro-magnetic disturbances affecting computers. Also, you could say that your College Tuition money was embezzled by "Family Ties" star Tina Yothers, who should be quite senile by then. This also goes for advice columnists who have a huge backlog of questions. After time, you'll know that your querent is happily ensconced in the altruistic bosom of an international organization and not have to worry about making a joke in incredibly poor taste.
Your father farts because he does not know how to show his affection otherwise. Stifled by decades of manliness training, he cannot allow his emotions to surface as words or physical gestures. He is very proud of your efforts to get out of the house and wants to let you know. The only way to get him to stop is to become an abject failure, which we know you won't do. Just move. Soon.
*********************
A SHOWER OF WONDERFUL
*********************
Tue, 10 Feb 1998
NOLO CONTENDRE WONDERFUL
Dear Wonderful,
You've known me for many years. So I need you to bottom line it for me. Chow-Yun Fat vs. Yours Truly. Death Match. Anywhere, USA. One rule: NO GUNS. Who would win?
P.S. Don't forget the RAGE factor.
_______________
Dear Sorry, Sorry Man,
In all honesty, if it were a Vocabulary Match and not a Death Match, you might - *might* - stand a chance.
Chow-Yun Fat, the Hot Handed God of Cops and star of over 70 films, not only has a better tailor, a better director, a better hairstylist, a better manicurist, a better brand of toothpaste, a bigger shoe size, a higher tolerance for alcohol, a faster car and more powerful thighs than you, he also has something that always gives him the advantage, twin .45's or no: A beautiful, charming wife that loves him.
And a nuclear-capable nation of one billion at his back. Make no mistake: We'd cut you loose like a fat debutante at a hayride.
*******************
IT'S THE GIFT OF WONDERFUL
*******************
Fri, 13 Feb 1998
LOWER-CASE WONDER
dear mr w,
my wife and i are on a hard-core ee cummings kick. tell me, was he the one who did those brilliant poems about archie the cockroach that jumps up and down on a typewriter at night to write very insightful messages? i feel the need to get back in touch with the cockroach prophets of our time, and have as yet been unable to re-locate these poems that i ran into in 11th grade english class.
thanks,
el monstruo
_______________
Dear Bug & Buggerer,
Wouldn't that be a great porn video? "Hard-core EE Cummings!"
Anyway, no, 'twas not he who wrote the tales of archy and mehitabel. Cummings was busy figuring out rebuses in the back seat of a Memphis-bound Greyhound bus during that whole period because he done shot his old lady in Kansas City for messing 'round with another man. Or was that Burroughs? No, wait, it was the song "Hey Joe". Yeah. So, you see, there's no way Jimi Hendrix wrote those books.
Don Marquis is the name you're looking for, he said in a rare moment of literalness. Why the man was chosen to receive wisdom from the coprophages is a secret that only Johnny Cash knows, cuz he's the Red-Headed Stranger...or is it Killer? Wait, that's Willie Nelson. Johnny Cash is the man in black. That's right. The Men in Black are the Hidden 49 that Rule the World and they are in league with the Cockroach Nation. Glad *that's* sorted out.
****************
HERE WE GO A-WONDERFUL
****************
Fri, 13 Feb 1998
SNOW WONDER
Dear Wonderman,
My name is Snow White. I wish not to be so angular in my presence and am stuffing my face with cheese and chocolate but I am going to get high cholesterol perhaps. Are men repulsed by angular Snow Whites? I saw a new Snow White book that had someone that looked more like me. I am a mess. What to do?
And, did Mr. W get a chance to see Chasing Amy? Did he like it? And why is it called Chasing Amy? And why aren't peeping Toms called peeping Henrys? Please answer all my questions. I am in great angular pain and frustration that I am not a lesbian.
_______________
Dear Miss Plummer,
Mr. Wonderful is going to have to start picking his words with more care. You never know when an off-hand comment is going to rear up and sink its saber-teeth into your spine, neatly ripping out a vertebrae and leaving you all wonky.
To answer your queries:
Men are not repulsed by anything. This is a fact. They may sometimes pretend to be, but they're really just afraid of public opinion. This is why men are so eager to start Nuclear Wars. Fewer witnesses when they date Charo.
The best method to a better self-image is to smash all the mirrors. Then there's nothing to contradict you.
Yes, Mr. Wonderful saw "Chasing Amy". Yes, he liked it, being a big ol' comic-book softie. It's called "Chasing Amy" because director Kevin Smith wanted to make sure you paid attention during his cameo as Silent Bob.
Peeping Toms are named after Thomas Jefferson, who invented the first binoculars. Peeping Henrys would have to be named after Patrick Henry, and that would be silly.
***********************
FINGER LICKIN' WONDERFUL
***********************
Fri, 13 Feb 1998
WONDERFUL FLASHBACK
Dear Mr. Wonderful,
Speaking of archives, some of our gentle readers may not be familiar with the concept of *dangerous liquids*. MWAA archives deal with this subject rather nicely, the main worry being that most mysterious of liquids, glass. Well, I was driving along the street in my father's giant ugly Suburban when all of the sudden *KERPLINK!* the entire back window had shattered into a lovely lacework pattern. I pulled over and inspected, but neither me nor my passenger could find any tiny trace of impact, at all. (And we forensic anthropologists know all about traumatic fracture patterns, let me assure you!) So all that remains is spontaeous shattering-- like the shower door and glass bookshelf-cover- thingies of yore.
Should I be afraid?
--the little nipper
_______________
Dear Ghostrider,
Yep.
*****************
IN THE NICK OF WONDER
*****************
Fri, 13 Feb 1998
YOUR OWN PRIVATE WONDERFUL
************* A whole train-load of comments and questions coming down the pike, friends! Saddle up the cats!
************* Our first contestant is DANGER GIRL, who seems to have noticed a trend in the wonder:
Dear Mr. Wonder,
Why can't columnists keep their personal life out of their writing?
-Ms. Andersen
************* It's in the Writer's Guild Charter. Sorry.
************* Edifying the masses yet again, here is THANATASTIC:
On (random date) Mr. Wonderful mentioned: "Well, either that, or your wife is doing you in for the insurance dough. Be sure to write soon, Mrs. Wondering, and let us know how it went."
In the interest of disseminating my arsenal of completely useless (except to the criminally insane, natch) information, we would offer Mrs. Wondering the following suggestions on spousal removal via poison.
1. Arsenic is probably not a good idea, since it is far too common, easily recognizable, and difficult to disguise, taste-wise, although I hear mustard helps.
2. Cyanide is pretty good, although it is not always easy to find in solid form, and you will need to mask the distinctly almond-like smell it produces.
3. If you are a nurse or doctor and have access to succinylcholine, a large dose will stop the heart like it hit a wall, and pathologists usually don't think to look for it.
4. And finally, if you don't really want to kill him, but just want to make him extremely uncomfortable, put a couple drops of Visine into his beverage of choice. It causes severe diarrhea, and is apparently waitresses' number one revenge of choice against bad tippers and otherwise irritating customers. No more than two, though, three will probably send him to the hospital for dehydration. But if that's what you want...
And remember, I get 10% of the insurance policy.
*************** Yes, it's Federal conspiracy charges for us all, now!
*************** Remember the woman who wrote in asking about what kind of pain tolerance she "should" have? You're not alone. CHARLES ATLAS chimes in:
Dear Wonderful,
Normally I'd supply an all-too predictable response to Madame Wuss and her Monsieur Projection. However, the lovely Wonderfulette has amazingly soothed my inner rage. Frank Jr is dead.
Remember kids, love...not hate....love.
*************** It takes a tough man to make a tender chicken, you know.
*************** And for sports news it's over to JUST WONDERING, the world's most cuddly atom smasher:
OK, So now we know that Chow-Yun-Fat is THE SHIT. But we also know that there does exist ONE man that can take on the Chow mano-a-mano. One man who with or without guns could take on the Hong Kong Hurricane and with every ounce of his being turn it into a Superman/Doomsday title bout. One fight that he may not win, but it's for damn sure the opponent won't make it out alive either.
Arnold? - A girly man.
Sly? - Still trying to shed that extra weight
Jean-Claude? - Such a puss, he only beats his wife.
Steven Seagal? - Not since he started looking like Buddha.
Eric Bogosian? - Sure, if it were a battle of words.
I'm talking about someone unbalanced enough to take Chow on, and the world be damned.
Nick Cassavetes.
In the words of Darth Vader, "Search your feelings, you KNOW it to be true."
*************** Oh, now you're talking about Homeowner's insurance *nightmares*...
*************** But with a dissenting opinion is the man who proposed the fight (and who I thought Chow would just eat for breakfast), THE DRAGON :
You're wrong...and now I have to go to all the bother to prove it you. Look for me on the post office wall.
Signed,
Man on a Mission
*************** You and THE MAN WHO SHOT RASPUTIN should team-up. Celebrity Death Stalk '98! We'll bury you in matching coffins.
********************
FOUR WONDERFULS OF THE APOCALYPSE
********************
Tue, 17 Feb 1998
THE CONTINUING WONDER
Mr. W,
It's worse than I thought, he has now replied to my boyfriend. My problem by now is, the magic has slowly dribbled away and I'm back to an uneventful life. Please tell me, do I just need to get over it and get on with my life? I could do that, but something tells me that's not what he really wants.
Please advise.
_____________
Dear Lady,
Replied to your boyfriend, eh? Maybe this guy isn't strictly "ten items or less", if you know what I mean.
The important thing is to clean your poultry thoroughly before cooking it. I wish that was some sort of lewd metaphor, but it's not. It's just good advice. The lewd metaphor is "Don't butter your toast if you're not going to eat it." And I think that's all there really is to say about that.
Mr Dark says, "Patience is a virtue. I therefore abjure to have nothing whatsoever to do with it."
******************
GOT A WONDERFUL IN THE TRUNK
******************
Tue, 17 Feb 1998
TONES ON WONDERFUL
Dear Wondermeister,
What good are huge, flabby tits on some women who are actually fat yet think they are voluptuous? Why do some women feel the need to flaunt their excess girth while attempting to make more svelte women feel bad?
Signed, Appreciates Fit and Firm
_______________
Dear President of the Teri Hatcher Fan Club,
Occasionally, Mister Wonderful will have to consult an occult book or encyclopaedia in order to fully answer a query. In order to answer yours, we watched Jerry Springer's "TOO HOT FOR TV" video.
We learned a *lot*.
Mainly, we learned that women hit just as hard and as swiftly as men, so if you think we're going near your query with a ten-foot pole, you are much mistaken. Using our emergency back-up divinatory aid, we find your answer is, "CONCENTRATE AND ASK AGAIN"
*****************
HIKE UP YOUR WONDERFUL
*****************
Fri, 20 Feb 1998
BITTERLY WONDERFUL
Dear John Jacob Wonderheimer Smith,
I'm trying to grow pansies in my home and am worried that they might not like the cold weather we're having. Any thoughts on how to keep them alive?
And, while I'm thinking about it, I wanted to know why it is that only the weird new guy at work and a grandpa at a rock concert approve of my new steel-toed boots. They are the most comfy things that I've ever had on my feet, but all of my friends, lovers, and countrymen (except the aforementioned two weirdos) seem to disapprove somehow.
Thanks a heap,
A. Toxico
Throckmorton, Texas
______________
Dear Skank Dick Skank,
Just so you know, I am *not* going to make a joke about pansies and Barbara Streisand records. It just wouldn't be right.
Nor will I joke about a salt cream rinse. Although it is tempting.
Keep your pansies alive through the chill by really *listening* when they share with you. Don't just nod and say "Uh-huh". They can tell when you're not being sincere and it causes despair, which often leads to dry rot. Pay attention. Show some empathy. Stroke roots. And if you don't have the time, just say so. They understand.
Everyone else can see that your boots are the arch-supporting work of Satan. Faust himself had them fashioned in 1653 to attend the Round-Heidelberg-Kometes-Aster-Rave in style. Here's an amusing trick: try walking into a cathedral wearing them. Stand near an old lady for maximum laughs.
******************
EATEN OUT OF HOUSE AND WONDERFUL
******************
Fri, 20 Feb 1998
WONDERHEART
Dear Mister Wonderful,
If two people love each other very much and are committed partners for life, and one is feeling very platonic now and is perfectly comfortable with that but the other is not, and is in fact feeling great frustration and confusion, and they are open and talk about it, but still can't find a solution that would make them both happy, what is there to do?!
Is having sex with someone just because you know it would make them happy to be caressed and loved and passionate once in a while, even though you aren't experiencing sexual desire for them, but you do love them very much and want to make them happy and it wouldn't be a BAD experience for you and it would probably feel nice once you got started, inherently wrong or bad?
If it isn't and you do it, will it make the other person feel lousy that you're "faking" it, or should they feel appreciative that their partner is doing something nice for them and just accept it as that and enjoy it?
If it is bad - that it would be having sex for the wrong reasons - then what is the frustrated person supposed to do? (Especially if the frustrated person is still young and considered pretty desirable by some who would call the platonic one insane for not feeling sexual attraction toward the other).
Help!
- In a platonic pickle.
_________________
Dear Mr. Hawking,
I haven't had a good platonic pickle since Jilly's in New York closed down.
In answer to your query, it sounds like Mister Wonderful needs to call up a few friends and make good on a certain threatened "Symposium", complete with togas and wine. Just as soon as we get finished reading this "Clerks" comic book from Oni Press.
The long version: what Plato and his love need is to attend some sort of free form sexually invigorating caucus. One with about a half-dozen or more other good-looking, clean, socially lubricated couples. You know, like a naked Tupperware party, or something. As the festivities ensue, inhibitions wane, libidos enlarge and congress commences. Now, it may be that in such a situation the Frustrator will find that they aren't feeling so "hands-off" after all, and happy union will bring life-bliss to all concerned and they can go home without anyone feeling like they did it for their country or won one for the Gipper. Elsewise, it may be that the Frustrator will truly enjoy the view and the Frustratee will find a great-gosh-a-mighty back tickler to relieve those loved-but-unscratched blues.
The important thing is to stick together, or you will most assuredly stick separately.
******************
37 WONDERS?
******************
Fri, 20 Feb 1998
TRANSIENT WONDER
Dear Mr. Wonderfun,
True story: I was walking to the bus stop the other morning and passed the campspot of a homeless man that had settled down by the back door of a church. I noticed that he had a lot of blankets and such, and felt a little pleased that at least he was probably pretty warm that night. Then I noticed that he had a small crate set up near the head of his bed, and on that crate was a smallish grey television set. A televison set? I couldn't tell if it was plugged in or not, but it was set up so that, if it was working, he could watch it comfortably from his bed as he fell asleep.
What does this mean? Is it an omen? A reflection on our society? Please interpret.
Yours,
Pobre Teevee
Apishapa River, Colorado
_________________
Dear Marshall McLuhan,
Rest assured, compassionate one. What you have stumbled upon is no omen, no mark of decay or vapidity, no curse of materialism, no apocalyptic sign, no waste of a good set, no indeed. Let me tell you what it is:
Wizardry doesn't pay like it used to. How can the careful craftsman compete with mass-produced horoscopes, fortune cookies and Walter Mercado? The Master Augur takes more time, has to charge more and must pay for his own insurance. And so times are tough for the modern-day Maerlyn, a sad victim of the McDonald-ization of Prognostication.
So the gentleman you saw, with his cut-rate robes wrapped around him, was probably preparing to do a little scrying in the only crystal ball he could afford in this day and age, what with all the 'occult' bookstores. You'd be surprised what a cathode ray tube and a modicum of willpower can do.
****************
THE MEDIUM IS THE WONDER
****************
Fri, 20 Feb 1998
THE OCTOBER WONDERFUL
Dear Mr. Wonderdrug that works wonders,
(Speaking of the man who shot Rasputin . . .)
Have you deigned to see the new non-Disney animated classic, Anistasia? I've seen the previews and am wondering how they could make a children's musical about the Russian Revolution, with singing peasants in the snow . . . I'm sure Fartboy/Dr. Necro can back me up on the gristly forensic details of how these singing peasants took their rifles and gunned down the whole royal family (which took a while because the priceless jewels stuffed into their clothing acted like bullet-proof vesties), bayonetted them for good measure, and dumped their corpses in a mine shaft, then removed them at the fully bloated stage and re-buried them in a peat bog or something . . . It just seems a little odd to be singing and wearing pretty dresses and having cute bats tumbling about to this particular bit of history, doesn't it? But then, I haven't seen the film, so maybe I'm interpreting wrong? Please enlighten.
--st. valentine
______________
Dear Ralph Bakshi,
Yeeesh. No, you're right. The whole thing gives me the screaming meemies. As I was saying to Adolf the Hungarian Carpet Cleaner (a frequent visitor to Wonderful Labs), "If I wanted to see a con man and an amnesiac spiral into insanity and drag out the details of a horrible mass murder I'd just watch my summer vacation videos."
To which he replied, "Move yer godsdamn chair, nutbag!"
Granted, you can't really blame the animators, as the original "Anastasia" had Yul Brenner and Ingrid Bergman. Believe me, if Mister Wonderful had been dispensing advice in the 40's it wouldna been Salma references dripping over these pages; it would have been icy-cold swedish love drops punctuating every sentence, as we yearned and strained for a Bergman kiss. And Yul's no small potatoes, either. So I can see the temptation to bring back a little of that Hollywood glamour, but...
Singing bats drinking Romanov blood is just plain wrong.
****************
ROCK AND ROLL ALL NIGHT-WONDERFUL EVERY DAY
****************
Sat, 21 Feb 1998
WHAT THE WONDERFUL
Hey Mr. Wonderful,
Before I begin, I want to respond to that Mother Fucker who responded to my future wife's question to you regarding "pain tolerence". (I'm sorry, I just read that and the other...punish me if you will) Anyway, I want the name and address of that fuck, ..me irrational?..you bet!! I can only be cool as a cucumber with nerves like Batman for so long; but when it comes to shit like this.."grrrr, Hulk smash!!"
I'll show him pain tolerence. How 'bout 190 lbs. of rage speeding behind a fist that is regularly hitting walls and metal for fun grab ya? Not to mention what I can do to the limbs of a human shit-head. I've been training 13 years(can you believe it..this coming Tuesday.. I'm so proud) and paying big bucks so I can learn how to break an arm 1500 hundred ways! To hell with "martial arts is for defense onry" .. (you have to read that like Mr. Miyagi) Did you ever see what fried chicken looked liked after it was partially consumed, thrown into the street, to be kicked around by a bunch of junior high kids, that sits against a curb for about a week 'cause every body on the block hopes the "next guy" will pick it up due to the rancid odor of the decaying meat, only to be run over -making a CRUNCHING sound much like a skull being smashed by a paper press--by a parking car??
Well that is what I can do!!! Him being the chicken and myself being all the awful things happening to the chicken..that explanation is for the viewers at home that are metaphorically inept. I hope he does not get kicked by a bunch of junior high kids though, that would be mean.
But then again, I could have misread the entire thing...silly me. By the way, Happy Valentines Day Everybody!!! I've been eating my weight in M&M's this morning, forgive me.
Speaking of fighting, how does Mr. W kick some ass?? Let's say you were going mano to mano with: 1. Chow-Yun Fat; 2.Batman; 3.Steven Seagal; 4.Bill Gates or; 5.Salma Hayek. How would you beat these dynamic personalities on an individual basis? Also, what is the current status on Wonderful Labs? Oh, what is my punishment for reading two Mr. Wonderful's outside of the lab & presence of Mr. W himself?
Be Kind,
Cupid
____________
Dear Sean Penn,
I'm going to skip your Emily-Litella-like rant (what *are* you talking about?) and move right into the question of Mister Wonderful's combat style.
a) vs Chow: Take him to a bar. Get him drunk. Slip a little red book into his pocket and call Immigration. Let *them* sort it out.
b) vs Batman: Hold out the cellular phone and tell him it's a call from his mom. While he's crying, blow up Earth.
c) vs Seagal: "Candygram for Mongo!"
d) vs Gates: Get him busted for Anti-Trust violations, then beat his punk ass with a broomhandle in the stir.
e) vs Hayek: Take her to a bar. Get her drunk. Wrassle. Let nature take its course.
Wonderful Labs vers. 1.0 is gone in a week. We'll keep you posted.
Your punishment for reading MWAA without dispensation is that I printed your whole letter.
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WONDERFUL OR SHINE
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Sat, 21 Feb 1998
VAGABOND WONDERS
Dear Sir,
Can you offer us a detailed road map of our quest for meaning and self-discovery?
B. Crocker
_______________
Dear Lewis and/or Clark,
Sure. First there's you and not-you, right? You go a little past that and you'll see God. Don't stop there, that's just a ritzy section of not-you. After a while it'll just be you (or rather, you'll realize it always was you, you just had the signs wrong). Make a right, then another, then turn right, then make a right: now you should just be. Then just.
Call if you get lost.
********************
YOU MAKE ME FEEL SO WONDERFUL
********************
Sat, 21 Feb 1998
BIG BEAUTIFUL WONDERFULS
*************** Controversy storm! Courtesy of El Nin~o, the weather pattern with a PR man.....
*************** Remember the question of voluptuous women and flaunting and me taking the high road with my Jerry Springer video tucked under one arm (TONES ON WONDERFUL)? Don't I wish you didn't. It starts off well enough with a comment from SENSIBLY SHOD:
Nice dodge of that "fit&trim" nonsense.
**************** I thought so, too.
**************** But then the stakes were upped by BLADE THE HUNTER:
Wonderful,
I respect your diplomacy (my nice-nice word for cowardice). I offer my services as your protector from the slings and arrows of any attacker be it man, woman or even Ken Starr so that we all may enjoy pure, unadulterated Wonderful.
Signed, Steel Umbrella
**************** Oh, it's not just women that hit I'm worried about. It's those that won't cuddle if you're unsufferably sexist. I gotta *live* in this town.
**************** VOCAB LAD brings his well-informed two cents to the table with this quote:
>What good are huge, flabby tits on some women who are actually fat yet think they are voluptuous?
What is wrong with this sentence?
*Jeopardy theme*
There are no such things as "...huge, flabby tits..." As I have explained to my own lovely nymph many times:
Huge, flabby = bOObs Small, perky = tits
I think the explanation is pretty simple for this (prepare for analogy captain)... For instance when a 10 kiloton RAD-U238 bomb goes off you don't say, "Hey, that sounded like a mouse fart."
On the same note I'm willing to bet that the majority of people in the english speaking cosmos don't think of a mouse fart when they hear the London Philharmonic Orchestra fall into the Grand Canyon.
So when I hear adjectives like huge and flabby used to describe a petite word like tit, it makes me sad. So either stop jumbling your breast descriptions or apply the same logic to all of your daily descriptive conversation. Instead of asking for a ball point pen from your friend, ask for a "huge, flabby ball point pen". Instead of ordering a triple cheese burger with bacon, barbecue sauce and six slices of cheese, order a low fat and delicatly balanced triple cheese burger with bacon, barbecue sauce and six slices of cheese.
Thank you, and goodnight... The Midnight Bomber what bombs at midnight
*************** Which is probably what *I* should have said. Sigh.
*************** Batting clean-up for this conversation is REGINA ANGER, who has this to say to the original querent:
poor baby. a handful of women who, despite the best intentions of the fashion industry, Hollywood, magazines and television, manage to feel good about their bodies and don't feel bad about letting the rest of the world that they are sexual beings come out and say so and you feel bad? Hahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahah!
Fat women can and SHOULD be voluptuous.
*************** Listen: can you hear that? Just under the applause... the sound of Mr. Wonderful scampering out of the way.
*************** Point is this: I think the original question can be broken down to, "Why do some people have to put other people down because of their body types when no one is perfect?" and the answer is, of course, Rank Stupidity. The querent also asked, basically, "Why do people put so much emphasis on the physical body when all we need is love?" and the answer to that is because love doesn't let you outrun the saber-toothed tigers.
********************
GREAT CAESAR'S WONDERFUL!
********************
Sat, 21 Feb 1998
MORE WONDERFUL?
Dear Mr Won-at-a-time-der-ful,
I have several questions tonight:
1. I'm used to Xmas being hyped up months in advance, but today I was hit with the first wave of Easter propaganda. It's only 3 days after St Val's! Now I enjoy Easter, with the nauseating little chicken marshmallows and beagles finding and eating all the eggs before the kids do, but it's still 2 months away. Have you noticed this or other holidays getting this Kringle-ified before?
2. Tonight after dinner I was hit with a sudden strange fit of insanity. I climed up onto the still-damp kitchen counter in my socks and started wiping the dust off of each individual blade of my Venitian Blinds (las persianas) with an old paper towel. I made it halfway down the window before my senses returned to me and I quit it. Can you explain this odd behavior?
3. How come I always need to eat the whole pot of mac & cheese?
As always, thanks for your kind assistance.
--Mr. Osho Yazoo City, Mississippi
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Dear Kurious Kat,
1) Easter, as long-time readers of MWAA know, is a real bugger of a holiday. I wouldn't put *anything* past it. Certainly not anything I wanted to remain attached. I think, however, the prize for most pre-hyped holiday has to go to New Year's Eve, 2001. They been selling that for *years*.
2) 30,000 years ago on Feti Chpi, fifth planet from Omericron VI in the Blastapul system, the many limbed, but lazy, citizens of their richest continent developed sophisticated radio-controlled robot technology. A central remote box could beam complex instructions and itineraries constantly to thousands of mechanical menials. Just think madam homemaker, the future at work in the past! Anyway, those command beams are still arcing through space unhindered like Lucy re-runs and occasionally strike deep within a human brain, causing just the sort of behavior you describe. Get a hat.
3) Penance for errors committed in a previous life. My sense is it had something to do with a gazelle.
******************
HOLLER FOR YOUR WONDERFUL
******************
Sat, 21 Feb 1998
MOST WONDERFUL
Wonderful Dear,
Do you get a weird feeling in the pit of your wonderful gut when you read the phrase "Martha Stewart Strikes Again?" I know I do.
Respectfully yours,
la gringita del altiplano
_______________
Dear Emerilla,
Nothing like the warm glow I get when I read "Martha Stewart Was Struck Again".
I've been having a lot of weird feelings in the old wonderful gut of late. Some say it's the approaching apocalypse, some say it's the frozen foods, some heathen blame Taco Bell and booze, but lemme tell you: if it's not a tapeworm or an ulcer (or a tapeworm named Ulcer) then I bet you it's this damned fresh fruit I've been trying lately.
Let me tell you about fruit: it rots. It's designed to rot. Nature made a seed with a cover that would decompose and feed a tree. It's not for us! It's a time bomb of pestilence and disease. The only ambulatory things that should eat fruit are cockroaches and other expertly evolved creatures that can stomach pure poison.
Fruit is an accident destined to happen. You know what a fruit's biggest thrill is? You eat it, walk around for a day or two, get good and far from its original tree, then keel over and die of gastroenteritis. Bonus decomposition! Die for the father tree!
It's disgusting, that's what it is. You can call me a kingdomist if you want, I don't care. I think we should only die to feed other Animals, like molerats. In fact, I can think of a couple people I'd like to feed to the molerats right now. Make the Martha Stewart joke on your own.
**********************
IT'S SO WONDERFUL IT'S A CRIME
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Tue, 24 Feb 1998
SELF-WONDERFUL
**************** Home-grown responses and quips from readers who love to give and take...
**************** MURDER ONE starts us off, with this *solicited* tidbit of gore-formation:
In response to the query regarding the animated "Anastasia," I would like to add that all the women, because their diamond-filled bodices deflected not only bullets but bayonets as well, were finally executed by having their lovely imperial faces bashed in with rifle butts. Although I have not seen the movie, a friend reports to me that "Anastasia" skips around this messiness by having the family drop off Anastasia as they drive off to some unspecified but ominous destination in the night, proving that Don Bluth is no less guilty than Disney of rewriting history and literature to make a buck off millions of greasy kids.
-Butt-Munch
****************** Nothing like the twinge you get when watching "Nicholas and Alexandra" and that red poppy blooms right in the youngest's hand, and you know that the bullet's gone on to his dad's face, but you can't help but think, "Man, that's just gonna bleed *forever*." Right? Am I right?
***************** And HIGH PLACES sends this along:
Dear Mr. Wonderful--
Regarding your response to the President of the Terri Hatcher Fan Club, we applaud you on your superb diplomacy. May we hire you?
Sincerely,
Dan Important
Speaker of the U.N.
***************** Sorry, but it'd just be another sign of the Apocalypse. Novus Ordo Seclorum to Novus Ordo Magister ain't big enough a leap for Pat Robertson.
***************** And watch out you don't scratch yourself on the sarcasm here, as TEXAS RANGER responds to his respondents:
To Mr. Roid-Rage,
You think it's cute to talk make fun of how Asian-Americans talk, eh? You like to use profanity 'cause you think it makes you cool. Consider the gauntlet dropped, pally. Problem is you won't when I'll redeem my coupon of one FREE ass-beating. Maybe you'll be asleep in bed, wake up with your throat slit and the last thing you'll see is me cleaning my Cold Steel Trail Master bowie while I comfort the fiancee who is obviously too good for you. Or perhaps you'll come out stumbling drunk from your favorite tavern and I'll crack open your skull with my black-lacquered oak hanbo.
Actually, since I'm beginning to shake so much at the prospect of standing face to face with your 190 lbs of chop-saki fury, I think I'll just backshoot your sorry ass from about 500 meters away. My suggestion to you...get friendly with your local Kevlar dealer.
Of course, I also may have misread your response to Wonderful as I am learning this morning that Robtussin DM is not a suitable substitute for milk over your Wheaties.
****************** Boys, boys, stop it before someone gets lead poisoning from all the irony.
****************** Going for the triple-crown this missive, it's GAME-BOY:
Shame on you. You mentioned molerats and feeding people to molerats without mentioning the frenzied masses (Mr. Wonderful being who he is) who desire *your* naked molerat. Don't you know the penalty for passing up a double entendre? I believe it involves being caned by a coathanger-wielding Lawrence Tierney...
****************** That's only if James Bond misses a double entendre, because he's bound by the Berne Convention. Mister Wonderful is bound by Drew Barrymore.
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ONCE MORE INTO THE WONDERFUL, DEAR FRIENDS
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