Attention, Please

Holy Shit!

I still have a blog!

For those of you still listening, I'd like to interrupt our regularly scheduled radio silence to let you know that a) I still love you, even after you spit in my face on Cheaters and threw my dentures in the compost bin, and b) I have begun yet another freelance blogging gig which you may read and enjoy and where you can keep up with my "creative" pursuits.

The new gig is over at the Comedy Central Insider blog, run by my good pal and prison bitch Matt Tobey (it marks the fourth internet whizbang on which I've worked with him), where I'll be posting humorous items several times weekly about subjects of interest to comedy fans, such as:

• Sara Silverman: misunderstood genius, or misunderstood cleavage?
• Better to be sat on by: Brian Posehn or Patton Oswalt?
• Bob Odenkirk vs. Bill Odenkirk: which is the evil twin?
and
• Is South Park the new Simpsons?

... all while gently noting the potency of Uncle Viacom's Cure-All Swamp-Root Elixir™. (And it's low in trans-fats!)

My first post today takes aim at such sacred cows as indie rockers and Zach Galifianakis and features a challenging quiz sure to leave you panting for more. Which is good, because I plan to keep writing as long as I need money. (Note: the first comment after the post really makes it for me.)

So be sure to add CC Insider to your daily rounds (or if you're a jerk, you can even just read mine). And I may drop the occasional non-profit gem over here at WULAD as well. That's all for now!

P.S. Vote Ron Paul!*

*If you're an idiot.

I Am a Bad Person

... but you already knew that. Why? The reasons are many, but the specific thing that's got me flogging myself to sleep each night lately is the fact that several months ago, I humbly asked my readers to return to the golden shores of WULAD, while promising to resume regular posting of the sort of high-quality prose you've come to expect (in between long stretches of inactivity).

And for a few weeks, it worked--I was able to balance the requirements of my day job as a secret agent and freelance assassin with my other comedic commitments (such as this, this, this, and sometimes even this), while still saving up enough creative juice to crap out a WULAD-exclusive post about how awful California bagels are or why we should all vote for Lyndon LaRouche.

But maintaining this balance became more and more difficult as the days wore on, and posts here became more and more likely to consist of a short blurb, a handful of excuses, and links to all my other (occasionally paid) jokin'-nuggets from around the web. And eventually even those clip-show posts trickled down to nothing. For that, I do apologize, from the bottom of my black, black heart. (How black is it? Let's just say that the reason you're not reading a hilarious list of the funniest moments in Heath Ledger's corpse-wheeling video is that the poor guy was just too boring for me to come up with anything good.)

Anyway, the combination of the factors listed above, the fact that I'm about to take a 3-month sabbatical from "the Company" to focus on other pursuits, and my general sense of being burnt out on "writing about stupid shit" (as I told Glayne Stonewad), means that your friendly webnorhood WULAD will unfortunately be going back into creative deep-freeze until at least May. We'll see how I feel then--it's possible my satirical batteries will have been completely recharged, and I'll be raring to get my nose back to the blogging wheel. It's also possible I'll plant high-powered metaphorical explosives on said wheel and blow it to smithereens along with all the floppy vestiges of my blog "career." I honestly don't know.

But for now, I must leave you. I will, however, provide the following chunk of my writings from the past few weeks, which with proper rationing should last you through the coming months of desolation:

• Cracked Science Corner!!!!11!!


• The Cleaver Presents… The 2007 Dweezil Awards Year-End Spectacular!


• Late to the Party!


• What a Long, Strange Brit It’s Been (featuring excerpts from all 26 posts I've ever written about America's Princess of Trash)


• Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup


• Cracked Entertainment Corner!!!!11!!


• 2007 Dweezil Awards: The Results! (including farewell to Cleaver)


• Rob Lowe’s Brother’s Girlfriend Having Affair with Val Kilmer’s Mother’s Son?!


• More Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup (1/17)


• Economic Meltdown: What Can YOU Do?


• When LOLcats Attack!; and of course...


• Even More Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup (1/22)

So when shall we two meet again, in thunder, lightning, or at a joint Spears/Winehouse funeral bash? None can say; but until then, may all your days be sunny, and all your nights be wrapped up... like a you-know-what.

Wrapped Up Like a Happy Howling-day Seizing

Be not afraid, for I bring you news of a great joy, which shall be to all people who support my making a tiny bit of dough, so that I will not be reduced to crafting my family's Christmas presents from the boxes from other people's Hanukkah presents. I've got a new thing up at Comedy Central's InDesicion blog about how Fred Thompson the man stacks up with Fred Thompson the character:

• Comparison Shopping: Fred Thompson vs. "Fred Thompson"

... read it! Enjoy it! Share it with your friends and neighbors and neighbors' friends' pets!

Meanwhile, C-baby surprised me recently with a copy of Emmet Otter's Jug-Band Christmas, which as some of you may remember was a Jim Henson show done for HBO back in the olden days of yore. It had been a favorite of mine when I was a kid, but I hadn't actually seen it in twenty years or so, so I was curious how it would hold up. Here's the original introduction featuring Kermit the Frog, which was cut out when Disney bought it, along with several sarcastic lines which were apparently considered too cynical for modern tots:

However, it turns out that as a whole, the show is pretty depressing, and the message is basically that life sucks when you're poor. It's sort of like a Muppet version of "Good Times." I still enjoyed it for nostalgic reasons, though.

Finally, here are some things I wrote over at Cracked recently:

• Ian's Unnecessary News Roundup: Jamie-Lynn done got knocked up'ded, Huckabee wants to steal your soul, and yet another story about Pete Doherty and vomit.


• Fun with Yahoo News Photos: Wayward nipplies, terrorist scallops, and barbwire airports.


• A Knight to Remember: Knight Rider's back, and it's still a crappy American car with bad gas mileage.

Merrily, verily!

Serenade to the Mitchell Report

I'd just like to give a shout-out to the following baseball players:

Barry Bonds Jason Grimsley David Segui Paul Lo Duca Mo Vaughn Denny Neagle Lenny Dykstra Jason Giambi Jeremy Giambi Roger Clemens Andy Pettite David Justice Miguel Tejada Rafael Palmiero Larry Bigbie

Matt Franco Rondell White Chuck Knoblauch Todd Pratt Mike Stanton Kevin Brown Eric Gagne Rick Ankiel Paul Byrd Brendan Donnelly Jose Canseco Troy Glaus Scott Schoenweis Matt Williams ... etc., ad nauseum

... You guys suck! Fuck you guys!

Tids, Bits

Here's a new thing that Wayne of the Gladstones came up with and which Tobe Matty and I have been contributing some jokes for--the Boiler Room News. I think you'll agree that the camera loves Wayne's basement:

I think you'll also agree that it's better than 78% of the other fake news out there. And it allows for many long email threads about what the appropriate pause length before delivering the punchline of a panty joke is. You can view the entire series so far at the lovely Boiler Room News website.

And here are some things I've written for other sites which pay cash money (or as C-baby says, "More sandwiches for me!"):

• Ian’s Unnecessary News Roundup: Garth Brooks' amazing technicolor dream-hat, homophobic vampires, and the terrible truth about toad-smoking (it doesn't make you look cool).


• Eight Seven Crazy Nights: Hanukkah: charming winter festival for the yarmulke set, or source of impending global cataclysm? You decide!


• Led Zeppelin: Been a Long Time, But They Still Rock and Roll!: Exclusive footage from their triumphant, heart-attack-free reunion!


• A Blogger’s Dilemma: Gotta whole Liotta love.

Anywho, that's all for now. As those cool kids at the Renaissance Faire say, "More anon!"

Dinette Vignettes, Etc.(ettes)

In lieu of better ideas, I've decided it's time to bring back the ancient WULAD feature wherein I share stories, quotes, and what have you from the exciting and unpredictable world of public eating. That's right, it's the return of Dinette Vignettes!

Part the First: while I was eating my lunch in the park today, two women sat near me and conversed loudly about their personal lives. I was trying not to listen, but couldn't help but pick up the following quotes:

• "So he was always out late, never coming home, so she got so worried she had a miscarriage. I keep thinking though, some day that's gonna be my baby!"


• "So I says to him, 'You better understand, or else you not gonna be #@%$ing me anymore!'" (Reply: "Yeah, they always understand that!")


• "Sooner or later, everybody gets laid by a Mexican."

Part the Second: I decided to try a place near my work which specializes in hot dogs of various and amazing varieties called "What's Up Dog?" (Note: do not get the Chicago dog unless you can handle hot peppers. Those cute little yellow "sport" peppers are no joke.) Anyway, as I'm sitting there eating my Chicago dog (sweat running down my face and seeing spots), the phone rings. The guy behind the counter answers it and says, "What's Up Dog?"

---

Meanwhile, here's a trio of my recent contributions to other sites for your edutainment:

• As Fast as You Can Take Them Away, She Can Make More: Britney's pregnant again! Or isn't she?! Or is she?!! Or is she not?!!!!


• Ian's Unnecessary News Roundup: Steve Irwin's kid picks up the hip-hop torch, Amy Winehouse is a hamster-murdering skank, and Jessica Alba is the next Ethel Merman.


• How Far Is Too Far?: Wayne's all like, 'Dead kids are funny!' and they're all like, 'No they're not! You're offensive!' and I'm all like, 'That's not offensive, this is offensive!'

Anyway, enjoy, and tune in next week for the amazing story of "Anti-Icky Poo"!

Stuff, Things

I had a dream last night that I was riding in the casual carpool (a really good system we have here in Gomorrah-by-the-Bay which allows the drivers to save on toll money and skip the ugly toll plaza traffic, and the riders to avoid riding on the grungy odor-trap known as BART), but my dad was driving. I was in the back, and Carlos Beltran was in the front passenger seat, in his full Mets uniform and batting helmet. We must've made a wrong turn somewhere, because I didn't recognize where we were. I kept offering suggestions to my dad to get us back on track, but they were apparently all wrong, because pretty soon I realized we were on a narrow dirt road in the mountains.

I was really embarrassed, so I started making conversation with Carlos, like, "So, congratulations on the Gold Glove and Silver Slugger awards--that must be exciting..." but he was giving short answers and was obviously annoyed that we were lost in the wilderness when all he was trying to do was get to work. Then I somehow said, "so I guess this means you're the best first baseman in the league..." and he snapped, "First base?!" (since of course he's a center fielder, which I knew, but I was nervous and misspoke, so get off my back, OK?). Anyway, we continued to get more and more lost, but eventually I woke up. For all I know we're still there, and have had to eat Carlos to survive.

Meanwhile, here are some bits I've written in the past weeks which you should check out if you are the sort of person who enjoys things which are funny:

• Jude Is Never Having to Say You're Sorry: According to Jude Law, the only thing we have to regret is regret itself.


• Cracked Science Corner!!!!11!!: Three morsels of sciencey goodness, each of vital importance to you and your increasingly bleak prospects for a future as a non-dead person.


• And He Saw That They Were Good: Salma Hayek sez "Thank God for My Breasts!"


• Beatleohead, R.I.P.: Thom Yorke tells Paul McCartney to go suck a walrus.

...oh, and a Happy Turkey Day to all!

Time and Time Again

A group of renegade supernerds believe they may finally have discovered a way in which to develop the long-desired Holy Grail of theoretical physics and sci-fi TV show plot-holes---a time machine:

A new concept for a time machine could possibly enable distant future generations to travel into the past, research now suggests. Unlike past ideas for time machines, this new concept does not require exotic, theoretical forms of matter. Still, this new idea requires technology far more advanced than anything existing today, and major questions remain as to whether any time machine would ever prove stable enough to enable actual travel back in time.

Assuming the technical challenges can be overcome, the team's first priorities once the machine has been constructed include:

• Operation Buy Hitler's Paintings


• Operation Nail Marylin Monroe


• Operation Convince Lee Harvey Oswald to Attend a Short Presentation About the Benefits of Owning a Timeshare Resort


• Operation Barbara Bush Birth Control


• Operation Prevent Star Wars Episodes I-III... by Any Means Necessary


• Operation Beat Up Joey Schwartz, Take Suzy Benato to the 8th Grade Dance, Catch the Infamous Dropped Pass in the Championship Game, and Become So Popular and Successful That We Lose Interest in Science and Never Get Around to Inventing a Time Machine

[Note: originally posted at The Cleaver, but upon seeing it again, I believe you loyal WULADeers might appreciate it more.]

WULAD Web Wround-Up

Have you ever wondered, "What is the craziest shit I could ever possibly see?" Well, thanks to Boing Boing (which is the website of choice for people who resemble that condescending IT guy character from Saturday Night Live), here is a video which does in fact contain shit which I believe is the most crazy upon which you will ever lay eyes. It's like if you took your ordinary, everyday crazy shit and covered it in cocaine and plutonium and shot it into space and it fell into a black hole and exploded. Really, it's crazy:

... and in future news, these guys are dead.

Meanwhile, I have two posts this week over at Cracked for you to enjoy and/or ridicule: first, what do eight-legged girls, Kim Cattrall, and a giant Chinese Ferris Wheel have in common? Find out in Ian's Unnecessary News Roundup. And second, did you know that in the United Kingdom pregnant women are allowed to pee in policemen's hats (although presumably not while the policemen are wearing them), and that it's legal for John Cleese to kill one Spice Girl per year? These astounding legal facts and more can be found in Rule(s) Britannia.

Finally, when I read a headline like "Reporter Bernstein raps celebrity news," I really expect that it's going to be about Carl Bernstein actually rapping, with lyrics about Britney Spears and Brangelina and what-have-you (a la "Gr-Gr-Groin Injury"). Man, was I disappointed.

Are You Ready for Some Vote-Ball?!

Although I know that countless people have come to depend on this site to wade through the festering swamp of American political discourse and provide detailed instructions on what to believe, who to vote for, where to hide the bodies, and what-have-you, I confess that I've been a little bit out of the loop this year.

I guess I'm still suffering from the general politics-avoidance-syndrome I developed just about three years ago—I'm trying to remember what might have happened in November of 2004 to cause that... nope, can't think of anything—which means that I haven't seen any of the debates, and I don't watch political TV anymore, whether it be the Daily Show or Whoever/Lehrer or Frontline (which I believe could be renamed "Very Bad News Set to Oppressive Narration and Stressful Music").

I do follow the news online, of course, especially since it's part of my job to make fun of it—but on the web I have the advantage of being able to only read as much as I want, and ignore things that upset me (beyond my normal level of upset-ness, I mean). Which I guess is similar to the criticisms leveled at people who only frequent right-wing media, except that they are wrong about everything and I am only wrong about 60% of everything. (70%, tops.)

So due to my less-than-thorough (but still more thorough than 80% of the country) research into the candidates, I guess I've absorbed the standard narratives about the main Dems: that is, that Obama is inspiring and thoughtful but might not be "ready for prime-time" (and I wish his name was "Jack Strongman" or something), that Edwards is "electable" but smarmy and uninspiring, that Hillary could single-handedly unite the currently fragmented right-wing tribes into a powerful army of opposition, and that Kucinich believes in Space-Leprechauns. But I suppose it's still early.

Speaking of guys I wish were named "Man Powerstrong," I have a piece up at the CC InDecision blog today about Sen. Obama and suggestions for controversial, "Sister Souljah moment" messages he could take to crucial audiences like the NRA, the Sierra Club, WonderCon, NAMBLA, etc. So stroll on over and give it a read:

• Propaganza: No More Mr. Nice Speech

P.S. I've also got two other things up today: Brawlin' Baldwins at Cracked, and Dog is My Co-parent at The Cleaver. Check 'em out.

WULAD's Haunted Halloween Grab-Bag

I triumphantly survived the earthquake, thanks for asking. Now, I have three amazing things for you today—first, I have a post up at Comedy Central's InDesicion '08 blog which features a run-down of this year's crop of frighteningly realistic political masks, such as:

Hillary Clinton
Represented: Steely-eyed lust for power; gleaming teeth sharpened on the bones of political rivals; classy yet playful hairstyle
Missed: Genuine warmth and charm; giddy anticipation of all the fun the FBI can have with Rush Limbaugh once she's elected
Accessories: One Ring to Rule Them All; tasteful pantsuit

Condoleeza Rice
Represented: Petulant dejection of reputation in tatters; urgent need to go to the bathroom
Missed: Inner jubilation at all the Halo 3 she'll have time for once Bush is out of office
Accessories: Chevron supertanker bearing her name, which she will convert to tricked-out party-yacht in retirement

Barack Obama
Represented: Giant aural appendages evolved specifically to hear problems of troubled Americans; bizarre unwillingness to talk sh*t
Missed: Amazing campaign skills just waiting to burst forth... just waiting... any day now...
Accessories: Giant sandwich board reading, "Hussein Is a Very Common Name in Africa, Not That I'm From Africa... USA! USA!"

Bill Clinton
Represented: Almost pathological empathy; cheery satisfaction that this f#*%ed up country is no longer his problem
Missed: Knowledge that he just unhooked your bra with his eyes
Accessories: Cheeseburger hidden in shirt pocket

To continue reading "Halloween on the Beltway," click here. (And in case you're wondering, yes, this means I'll be invited to all the cool parties now with people like Carlos Mencia and Rita Rudner and the cast of that show about cops in shorts.)

Second, here's my list of last-minute costume ideas based only on news items found on Yahoo's Most Popular index:

• Mangy Pennsylvania Bigfoot-Dog


• Sexy Burmese Marching Monk


• Petra Nemcova's Cleavage


• Chihuahua in a Cowboy Hat


• Mrs. Jerry Seinfeld in a Chef's Hat


• Zombie Robert Goulet


• Dog with a Shotgun

Finally, what Halloween would be complete without a stroll down memory lane for your annual read of Terrifying tales of Halloween Dorkage Past? No Halloween, that's what. Enjoy your tricking and treating, and watch out for the razor blades and perverts!

Strike While the Irony Is Hot

Just in time for Halloween, I've got a post up at Cracked today in the theme of that very holiday:

I think I remember being told by someone recently that we live in "The Age of Irony"—possibly it was the ambulance driver who ran me over, or the doctor at Planned Parenthood who knocked up my girlfriend—and if the news media is any indication, it's true:

'Saw' Star's Son Has Ironic Halloween Costume
'Saw IV' villain Tobin Bell's creepy movie puppet sidekick Billy is such a hit in his household, the actor's young son will hit the streets at Halloween dressed like him.

Now, the son of the star of Saw dressing up as a character from Saw is about as ironic as the son of a fireman dressing up as a fireman, or the son of Dick Cheney dressing up as an asshole, or the son of Tom Cruise dressing up as a batshit-crazy gay dude. Which is to say, not ironic at all.

Now, with a little knowledge of what the word "ironic" means, it's not that difficult to come up with plenty of costumes that fit the definition more accurately. For example:

• Marion Jones' son dressing up as a urine sample


• Sen. Larry Craig's son dressing up as a men's room


• A nappy-headed ho dressing up as Don Imus


• Woody Allen's daughter dressing up as his wife, and vice-versa

... and you're not going to believe this, but there's more!

Workin' for the Man Every Night and Day

In another "Holy Crap, They Pay People to Do This?" development, I'm happy to announce that as of this week I'm going to be contributing semi-regularly to Comedy Central's Indecision '08 blog. My first appearance is a group effort, painstakingly compiled with fellow Junkiness alumni Messrs. Tobey, Gladstone, and DiClaudio:

You may be wondering why Chuck Norris has decided to throw his massive support behind Mike Huckabee for president. Turns out there's a bunch of reasons...

• When Mike Huckabee participated in the Iowa Straw Poll, they had to re-name it the Iowa Iron Pole.
  
• Mike Huckabee can cut taxes... with his penis.
  
• Stephen Hawking told Mike Huckabee the universe was 12 billion years old once. Once.
  
• Mike Huckabee lost 100 pounds of body fat by eating it.
  
• Jesus asked Mike Huckabee for career advice, but Huckabee was too busy body-slamming Satan.
  
• Mike Huckabee flosses his teeth with the bones of abortion doctors at least twice a day.
  
• Mike Huckabee is forbidden to interfere with human history.
  
• Top scientists believe global warming is a direct consequence of Mike Huckabee getting angry.
  
• Mike Huckabee opposes gay marriage because every man on earth wants to marry him.
  
• Mike Huckabee won't repeal the Estate Tax out of sympathy for the families of his victims.
  
• Mike Huckabee has completed six marathons, two of which aren't until next year.
  
• Fred Thomspon, John McCain and Rudy Giuliani all got cancer because Mike Huckabee looked at them too hard.
  
• If Mike Huckabee is elected, he'll bring all the troops home--he can handle this himself.
  
• If Mike Huckabee had been around in Biblical times, the symbol of Christianity would be Pontius Pilate with a cross up his ass.

But wait--there's more!

Spider-Man 4: Directorial Showdown!

I did another Cracked post today which you might enjoy:

After spending the past eight years developing his own unique ass-groove in the director's chair of the Spider-Man series, Sam Raimi has decided to give another ass a shot:

Raimi directed the first three movies and wrote 2007's Spider-Man 3---but the filmmaker is stepping back to let someone else create their own vision for the web-slinging adventure.

Since Raimi didn't mention any potential candidates, I decided to gaze into my crystal ball of smartass conjecture and envision how the next Spider-Man adventure might look under the helm of seven fine directors, and compile that information in a handy chart, suitable for framing. (You're welcome, Sam.)

To read the chart, which features potshots at directors from George Lucas to Woody Allen, and which I spent way too much time on, click here.

Star Wars, Episode VII: The Crappy TV Show

I've got a new article up at Cracked today, which is pissing off the nerds royally ("the other nerds, you mean"), and which you might enjoy:

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away... you respected George Lucas. Just when you thought he had finished defiling your cherished memories, the Star Wars creator (and destroyer) announced yesterday that he plans to exhume those memories, rip their heads off, and take a dump down their necks:

George Lucas is planning a live-action television series spinoff of the "Star Wars" film franchise... which will not include the films' major characters. "The Skywalkers aren't in it, and it's about minor characters," Lucas told the Times on Tuesday.

... So on the off-chance that he's still open to suggestions about this minor-character-driven show, and in gratitude for the good times we once shared before he blew it all to hell, I'd like to offer the following show ideas, absolutely free:

Catching Up with the Fetts
$25,000 Jedi Mind-Trick Pyramid
Womprat Manor
Are You Smarter than a Tauntaun?
Mos Eisley Vice
Akbar, P.I.
America's Next Top Jawa

But wait, there's more! Continue reading "Star Wars, Episode VII: The Crappy TV Show"...

Sometimes the Obvious Joke is the Best Joke

Canadian figure skating couple David Pelletier and Jamie Salé—who won their nation's hearts and a sort-of gold medal at the 2002 Winter Olympics—took on a challenge even more difficult than a triple-axel/triple-lutz combination this month by welcoming their first child. (Well, maybe a triple-lutz/double toe-loop.) Said Salé:

We are now on day 11 with our baby boy Jesse and it's the most amazing gift ever, better than any Gold medal that's for sure! He's really a great baby!

Although the family is doing fine now, things were a bit dicey at first, as Jesse Joe was originally born to a Russian couple before being awarded to Pelletier and Salé following a reversal by judges.

Cross-posted at The Cleaver.

Funky Robot Love

I've got my first official post up at the new Cracked blog today:

You’ve heard the arguments, of course—that gay marriage will lead to a moral permissiveness which will rip apart the very fabric of our society. What they fail to mention is that this slippery slope may also lead to a future filled with funky robot lovin’, according to one scientist:

“My forecast is that around 2050, Massachusetts will be the first jurisdiction to legalize marriages with robots,” researcher David Levy told LiveScience…

Assuming that Dr. Levy is correct—and let’s face it, if they can put a man on the moon, there’s no reason they can’t give us the infinitely more important robotic sex machines we all deserve—here are six sultry cybernetic models which I believe should be first off the assembly line...

Read the rest to find out which lucky robots made the cut, and which were left crying silicon tears on the hard metallic floor of rejection.

The Science of Sara(h)

Google is always trying to educate me. For example, today I read a short, not-very-informative interview with Sarah Silverman, whose TV show I enjoy (partly because of the unbelievable reactions it provokes). But that interview contained a reference to a longer, presumably more informative interview, which I attempted to access by searching on Google for "sara silverman vanity fair"--but then I realized she spells it "Sarah" (as in "Sarah, Plain and Tall," and not "Two Mules for Sister Sara," which should've been obvious, since she is arguably plain and tall and rarely accompanied by mules). I tried to quickly insert the "h" in the search field, but I guess I didn't quite type it correctly, because my top search result was this:



I guess the message here is that the good folks at Google think I should spend less time reading interviews with abortion-mocking insult comics, and more time studying Planck's constant and Hydrogen and other important brainiac-type stuff along those lines (perhaps with the goal of one day getting a job at Google, where the drinking fountains dispense Veuve Clicquot and velvet-robed helper monkeys feast on the bones of failed startup employees). Point taken; excuse me while I go rent "Cosmos."

WULADly World News

I have several items of interest to share with you today, my prodigal sons and daughters.

First, I have a new thing up on that fine website McSweeney's today called Horror Movies for Kids. This supplements my two earlier McSweeney's things, "Alternatives to Opening a Can O' Whupass for the Less Confrontationally-Inclined" and "Favorite Gerund Movie Titles, Un-Gerunded." (You'll notice I wrote them using my nom de plume.) One of those even ended up in a real paper book, for which I earned enough money to buy eight $2.99 daily sandwich specials at Subway. Please click on over and read and enjoy them forthwith.

Secondly, I have signed on to become a regular contributor to the recently relaunched (but currently buggy) Cracked.com blog. This is exciting for at least two reasons: one, it will allow me to spread the joy of WULAD to a wider audience, some of whom will hopefully come here for more and/or to tell me I suck; and two, it will subsidize my $2.99 daily sandwich specials at Subway. I'll be posting there on Tuesday afternoons, Thursday mornings, and alternating Fridays. (Kudos to Glayne Wadstone, a former Junkiness squad member and current Offsprunger, for his assistance in procuring this "gig," as those crazy beatnik kids say nowadays.)

(If you're justifiably wondering whether this means WULAD is going to go back to the state of empty suckage from which it only recently recovered, the answer is a full-throated NO. You people have shown me that freelance blog-gigs come and go, but WULAD Nation is forever.)

Which brings me to the last item on today's agenda: I have to say I am so—dare I say—stoked about the quality of everyone's fine Batman, Mi Amor contributions that I've decided they're too good to lie rotting in the comments box, festering in their own literary smut. Since I don't have the resources to buy each and every one of you a $2.99 daily sandwich special at Subway, they will all be featured in a future secret project about which I can't tell you anything yet, except that it's going to be 834,672.043 kinds of awesome. So if you haven't yet tossed your hat into the ring, there's still time.

Good weekends all around, and try not to get too shit-faced at "Al Gore's Nobel Prize Fiesta and Global Warming Beer-Bong Kegger"!

A New York Times Article on "Friends with Benefits," as Edited by My 13-Year-Old Nephew

TO SOME, it may seem like an ideal relationship, less stressful than an affair, longer lived than a fling or that elusive one-night stand. You can even sit around in your sweats and watch "Friends" reruns together, feeling vaguely horny.

Yet relationships in which close friends begin doin' it come with their own brand of awkwardness, according to the first study to explore the dynamics of such pairs, often called friends with benefits, or F.W.B..

Paradoxically, and perhaps predictably, the study suggests, these boot-knockin' friendships often occlude one of the emotional arteries of real friendship, openness. Friends who could once talk about anything now have an unstated taboo topic — the schtupping itself. In every conversation, there is innuendo; in every room, a boner.

One-tenth of these boinking relationships went on to become full-scale orgies, the study found. About a third stopped the bangin' and remained friends, and one in four eventually broke it off — the pipe-laying and the friendship. The rest continued gettin' it on.

Friends with benefits scored in the middle on a scale assessing sexcitement and low on passion and commitment, the study found. "When scores were compared to previous findings with romantic couples, scores on all three dimensions were lower, with the largest differences observed in commitment followed by humpty-hump," the authors wrote.

The relationships may be less common than reported. "Friends with benefits" appears to have become an umbrella term for a wide variety of ass-tappin' arrangements, some of which are quite awesome, Dr. Mongeau said.

In addition to budding booty-calls, he said, the "friends" may also be former ugly-bumpers who occasionally see each other or they may be people who hang out at the same places and now and then end up playing 'Hide the Salami,' even though they are not really friends.

Dr. Longschlong said the study seemed to have captured the dissonant, circular thinking that characterized what it felt like for a friendship to enter boning territory.

"There's clearly a strong desire to nail this other person, who fills important bras," he added. "But at the same time, it's as if I'm saying, 'O.K., I'm not going to get passionately involved — because then it's at risk of being a real hot beef injection.'"

[The original article can be found here.]

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By the way, kudos to everyone who's contributed to the Batman, Mi Amor contest. I'll be doing a summation/appreciation in a few days. And welcome back, my friends, to the WULAD that never ends.

The WULAD Also Rises

NOTE: Today, in an attempt to rekindle the smoldering ashes of the once-mighty WULAD Nation, I sent the following letter to all the members of said Nation who were foolish enough to provide me their email addresses. In case you didn't receive one, the sentiment still stands.

Hello Internet "Friends":

No doubt you've been aware of a vague emptiness in the pit of your lower left soul over the past year or so, a hunger which no amount of sugary confectionery, deep-fried lollipops, or cocaine-dusted teddy bears can fill. You'll be happy to know that through the use of highly-advanced scienceology, my team of kidnapped Iraqi germ-warfare researchers have identified the source of this sensation: you have rabies.

But also, you've been missing your beloved WULAD. Well, you're receiving this email because, at some time or another, you played a small part in the digital blog-odyssey known as Wrapped Up Like a Douche (or if you didn't, then I believe you would have had you been given the chance). And after a period of scattering my oats over the internet hoping one of them would sprout and grow into a mighty recognition-tree, I recently decided to come back home to the site that started it all, and resume posting semi-regular content. Naturally, my formerly vibrant community of rabid readers, cracklin' commenters, and starry-eyed stalkers had long since left the joint for dead.

To make matters worse, due to an infuriating SNAFUBAR on the part of the wonderfully mediocre blogging apparatus which hosts the site, I found that my legion of RSS subscribers had been scattered to the four winds, so even the loyalest of loyal readers had no way of knowing I'd picked up the torch once again. So here I am, cap in hand, asking for you to come on back and once again rule the galaxy at my side.

As a bonus, I'm kicking off Homecoming month with a challenging contest which I'm sure will tickle your fiction bones. (What's the prize, you ask? Not dying of boredom, that's what.) So, young men and women of WULADland, do you accept this charge? What say you?

WHAT SAY YOU?

Huggybunnies,

Ian

I Love Batman (Mi Amor)

This is a fascinating piece of vehicular finger-dust-painting I came across in the parking lot of the Santa Cruz Boardwalk. I feel there's a story in there, just waiting to burst out in all its Spanish superhero glory.



I'd like to invite you, the readers, to flesh out the story behind this inscription in the comments (which I will then fashion into a movie treatment and sell for a cool million). But seriously, after the strength of your entries explaining the plot of Toto's "Africa," I have absolute confidence you can figure this one out.

In non-Spanish-Batman news, I've got some exciting stuff on the horizon, which I will tell you about in the weeks ahead. In the meantime, please enjoy these recent efforts of mine from around the web:

• Brazil: Nuts?
  
• It's the Most Grobanful Time of the Year
  
• 6 Things You Really Need to Know About Ben Affleck
  
• When Freedom of Religion Goes Too Far
  
• China Pulls Ahead in Race to Conquer World... Records

Wait 'Til Next #$%@!

As my significant other said, "Well, now you can focus your attention on other things. Like what to buy me for Christmas."

Well put.

Covering All the Bases

This restaurant is opening up near my Dad's house. The phrase "all things to all people" comes to mind. Personally, I'm looking forward to sampling that Italian Barbecue--throw another lasagna on the grill, Luigi!

Speaking of all things to all people, I've got a post up at the new Cracked blog, which is beta-testing this week. Check it out.

Thank God I'm Not This Guy

... Found in my dad's garage. (No wonder the population was so much lower back then.)

Do Androids Dream of Electric Diapers?

Tired of temper tantrums, schlepping back and forth from preschool, and fishing Legos out of the toilet? Well, your days of waiting for the perfect child may be at an end. Ladies and gentlemen, meet Zeno:

At 17 inches tall and 6 pounds, the artificial Zeno is the culmination of five years of work by Hanson Robotics. They believe there's an emerging business in the design and sale of lifelike robotic companions, or social robots... Unlike clearly artificial robotic toys, Hanson says he envisions Zeno as an interactive learning companion, a synthetic pal who can engage in conversation and convey human emotion through a face made of a skin-like, patented material Hanson calls frubber.

Robotics, Hanson believes, should be about artistic expression, a creative medium akin to sculpting or painting. But convincing people that robots should look like people instead of, well, robots, remains a challenge that robot experts call the "uncanny valley" theory.

...or as one consumer asked, "If you could create any kind of artificial boy, why would you make one that looks like it's about to have diarrhea and cry?"

Another theory is that owning an artificial child whose unfeeling eyes exude the blank stare of a programmed killer will actually encourage parents to build better relationships with their own real child, if only in the fearful hope that he or she will eventually protect them on the terrifying day that Zeno develops a taste for human flesh, and the world must bow before the mighty frubber fist of its new robotic emperor.

Also, he can play DVDs!

[Cross-posted at The Cleaver.]

I Would Like to Return My $1.4 Million Car, Please

...this one appears to have been squashed.

Nader Say Nader Again

Cross-posted at The Cleaver.

The website Babble, which is sort of like Offsprung's sister site—the sister who got a boob job, married a real estate tycoon, moved to the Hamptons, and thinks your dilapidated one-bedroom shack is "quaint," that is—pulled off a humdinger of a scoop today, scoring perhaps the most sought-after interview this side of the Jolie-Pitt family's dog's acupuncturist. A tireless crusader, a hero to the downtrodden, and a man who could have led our nation into a glorious new era: that's right, it's Al Gore: Ralph Nader:

Well, [my siblings and I] watched our parents operate in the community. They stood up to injustice and falsehoods and bigotry. They weren't aggressive in any way, they were very casual about it and we learned that just by watching.

Q: Is that how you can keep waging these monumental battles and not playing it safe?

Sure. And my parents raised children who had a sense of purpose, who had an ever-developing public philosophy and felt that their major purpose in life is to try to improve life.

What an inspirational message for America's youth---work hard and believe in yourselves, kids, and some day you might grow up to ruin the world.

Well, time-travelers, your mission is clear: fire up the DeLorean, go back in time, track down that hard-working and inspirational Lebanese immigrant couple, and destroy their sense of purpose by any means necessary.

Down the Rabbit Hole

I had to doublecheck, but this isn't a fake story like the one about the lion-fighting midgets. (Thanks to C. Monks for the tip.) We really are kicking ass, though--kicking the ass of our worldwide reputation. Consider its ass kicked to the curb in a right royal fashion. It's laying there on the curb with a big ol' footprint on its ass, weepin' and blubberin' and beggin' for its mama.

But you don't come here to be lectured about things you already know. No, you come here to read entertaining stories of how I'm slowly losing my mind, such as the following exchange, wherein I described to C-Baby how I helped my injured father get ready for a dinner party:

ME: So since his arm was in a cast, I had to help him get dressed--there was a lot of struggling with the... zip... up... thing.

HER: You mean the zipper?

There were some other funny ones, but guess what? I've forgotten them.

FOR YOUR FURTHER ENJOYMENT AND WULADIFICATION: Here's a story I wrote about Paris Hilton's desire to populate the Earth in today's Cleaver.