Found Wisdom
Taped to a light pole on 4th St. between Harrison and Folsom, in The City That Never Sleeps, Except From 9pm to 6am (10pm to 7am on weekends):



The truth is out there, people.

Dinette Vignettes: The Sidewalk Edition
Scene: Harrison St. between 3rd and 4th, 10 a.m. A white guy and two Asian girls are walking, coffee in hand, presumably back to work in their cubicles and what-have-you. “Huh,” says the guy, reading the sign on a building as they pass, “Bellagio—is that a casino or something?”

“It’s a Korean nightclub,” one of the girls answers.

“Well, why is it a Korean nightclub?” he demands indignantly.

The other girl immediately chimes in: “Because it’s owned by Koreans...”

Then the first girl: “Because they play Korean music...”

Then both together: “Because Koreans go there...”

They laugh, and so do I, at this guy’s implication that he’s being excluded from this club (probably as part of a Korean conspiracy to take away white guys' entertainment options on a Friday night). In fact I wish, and so do they, that I could see Mr. Cubicle resolutely show up some weekend to confront this injustice, and watch as he’s ignored by all the clientele who are too busy clubbing to notice they’re making him feel awkward for not being Korean.

Just another way the Asian-American elite is keepin’ the white man down. We shall overcome, Cube.

For Whom the Blog Rolls
According to today's Left Pedal, Ernest Hemingway compulsively recorded his blood pressure and other medical data in his copy of Wuthering Heights. In keeping with our tradition of parasitically riffing on ideas from other people's creative labor, we would like to present...

WULAD's Great Works of Literature, the Vital Statistics Which We Will Obsessively Record Inside Them, and the Frequency of These Record Entries

Fat Men From Space, by Daniel Manus Pinkwater: size (in mm) of mole on left thigh; twice weekly.

Y2k: It's Already Too Late, by Jason Kelly: weight (in oz.) of giant prize onion bagel growing in garden; four times daily.

Jim McMahon's In-Your-Face Book of Pro Football Trivia, by Jim McMahon and David Brown: value of retirement savings stored in impregnable LEGO fortress in attic and guarded by no fewer than three Voltron sub-lions; once per fortnight.

The Fourth Instinct: the Call of the Soul, by Arianna Huffington: number of times KRON 4 Morning News anchor Darya Folsom's name whispered accidentally in heat of passion; every two orbits of the Martian moon "Phobos."

The World's Largest Cheese, by Christopher Cerf: weight (in lbs.) of artifacts, clothing, or mulch removed from KRON 4 Morning News anchor Darya Folsom's garbage under cover of darkness; once per trash collection cycle.

The Great Reckoning: How the World Will Change in the Depression of the 1990s, by James D. Davidson: number of X-rated limericks with first line, "There once was a woman named Darya," crafted mentally while in food stamps line before realizing I do not qualify for food stamps; every third turn of the tide.

Being Your Best: Tina Yothers' Guide for Girls, by Tina Yothers, with Roberta Plutzik: articles of fashion-forward yet surprisingly non-water-resistant swimwear created using only scissors, glue, and recycled issues of Black Tail magazine; daily with the rising of the morning star.

General Electric Microwave Guide and Cookbook, by General Electric: amount (in gallons) of Orville Redenbacher's Gourmet Zesty Cheddar Cheese Popcorn® and sliced rutabagas delivered daily to the set of the KRON 4 Morning News, minus number of legal documents delivered to me by attorney of Darya Folsom, plus number of envelopes filled with dried pigeon poop from driveway and pictures of self in Girl Scout uniform mailed to said attorney; once hourly.

Jesus CEO: Using Ancient Wisdom for Visionary Leadership, by Laurie Beth Jones: time spent (in min.) doing job actually paid for, once annually.

Note: To the person who accessed this site while searching for "Condoleeza Rice wet panties"—I just don't know what to say.

One Nation, Under The Void
The Times published this excerpt from the interchange between my new favorite Supreme Court petitioner Mr. Godless and the Holy Defenders of the Sacred Truth. It reflects pretty (no-)Goddamn well on Joe Atheist and pretty badly on Justice Ruth “The Kid Doesn’t Have to Say it, And Plus She Ain’t Your Kid Anyway” Bader Ginsburg.

Highlights include:

JUSTICE O'CONNOR: Yeah, but I suppose reasonable people could look at the pledge as not constituting a prayer.

MR. NEWDOW: Well, President Bush said it does constitute a prayer.

CHIEF JUSTICE WILLIAM H. REHNQUIST: Well, but he -- we certainly don't take him as the final authority on this.

…and:

JUSTICE BREYER: But what I'm thinking there is that perhaps when you get that broad in your idea of what is religious, so it can encompass a set of religious-type beliefs in the minds of people who are not traditionally religious, when you are that broad and in a civic context, it really doesn't violate the Establishment Clause because it's meant to include virtually everybody, and the few whom it doesn't include don't have to take the pledge.

MR. NEWDOW: I don't think that I can include "under God" to mean no God, which is exactly what I think.

Also check out a nice op-ed on the subject from William “I Love Making Liberals Uncomfortable by Agreeing With Them” Safire.

WULADzarus, Come Out!
It’s true, your daily douche has been absent for a while. ¿Por qué? The Executive Cleverness-Wasting Squad was busy recharging its batteries, that’s por qué. With burnt-out bloggaz all over throwing in the towel on a near-daily basis, it was apparent that we at the ‘LAD best be pacing ourselves if we don’t want to run out of originality-gas and be forced to perorate endlessly about other blogs or beat the dead horse of this or that played-out current event just to keep up the posting frequency (Kenneth). It’s quality, not quantitativeness, people.

So if I may gaze into the hazy, crazy, lazy, schmazy crystal ball of internet punditry: I see a blog... a blog with a clever name and eye-catching design... it’s being updated two or three times a week…

... and I see a mailing list... a mailing list that may be subscribed to at wulad AT aol.com ... it will notify people when the site is updated so they don’t have to check every day if they have better things to do, which they probably don’t, but in case they do... and I see legions of happy readers... they’re filled with blissful contentment because there’s so much other crap out there to read, and more than three doses of WULAD per week would just be too much to digest...

... and now I see a millionaire heiress and amateur adult film star... she’s falling off a horse... and as she’s falling, she’s thinking, “I just know I’ll hear about this over at WULAD, my favorite stop on the information superhighway, and the website that taught me to love again...”

Beyond that I cannot foresee.

WULAD Web Wround-Up
The Sneeze expectorates a new edition of the critically-acclaimed Steve, Don’t Eat It! This don't-miss episode: breast milk.

C-Baby alerted me to this profound New Yorker bit, where The Passion of The You-Know-Who meets Sweet Valley High.

His or Her Filthiness is back to gettin’ funky (as in, "these socks I've worn for eight days straight are gettin' funky,") on a pretty regular basis now. He or she is not to be ignored, lest you miss out on words like “turd-sicle.”

Lastly, in the Things to Do in Devner When You’re Procrastinating Dep’t., here are many cute games that are so cute-ing cute you’ll cute your cute cute.

Democracy in Action
As part of a new series entitled “E-mails I’ve Received From Famous People, As If Anybody Cared,” I’d like to share with you, the reader, an intriguing correspondence I had with the Senior Senator from this sprawling state, one Dianne Feinstein.

This was back in the winter of 2002, and—concerned citizen that I am—I was peeved about some action or inaction on the part of President Action Figure and his Collectible Playset. So I dutifully fired off an e-mail to Her Royal Fein-ness requesting that she support the Clean Air Act or oppose the war in Whatever-istan or vote against a judicial nominee or give McCain a wedgie, or some other such idealistic crusade.

Lo and behold, not a day later my face lit up as I spied a fat, juicy reply message in my inbox—no doubt the Senator agreed with me completely, and wanted to hear more from me; perhaps she even wanted to hire me as a speechwriter or illegal housekeeper!

My pulse raced as I rushed to open and read the e-mail…



In the esteemed public servant’s defense, I got a more fleshed-out reply about a week later; but the simplicity of her message in the e-mail above, I believe, speaks to the issue more than any three-paragraph form letter filled with policy statements ever could.

Jingle Bells, Batman Smells, WULAD Laid an Egg
Meanwhile, elsewhere about the internet, M. Smartypants does some web-footed word-weaving today on the subject of platypuses (or -pi). WULAD Wregulars may be aware that Ornithorhynchus anatinus is my favorite animal not living in my apartment; however, there is more to the story.

What even fewer initiates know is that, when your proto-WULAD lad was a sprightly 11 years old, he was the president and founder of the Platypus Lovers’ Committee (PLC, no longer listed on NASDAQ), an organization which at one time had as many as ten members (all officials and sub-officials of the Committee, of course), but now has only one—my dad. I know this because his membership card still barely clings to life in the deep recesses of his wallet, and makes an appearance on special occasions.

Am I proud that I devoted so much of my pre-adolescence to the appreciation of egg-laying mammals, at the expense of activities like learning to catch or to interact effectively with my peers? Absolutely.

Was it worth the beatings? Ask my quote-tennis instructor-unquote.

This Counts as Tomorrow's Post
I've noticed today that some other bloggers (such as IATMWWFFYO) have a problem with the name of the newly discovered "planetoid," or weak-ass planet. Scientists have dubbed it "Sedna," after an Inuit deity, which brings up many intriguing questions; for example, will the mnemnonic device now need to be amended to "My Very Educated Mother Just Served Us Nine Pizzas, Stupid"?

However, WULAD's undercover NASA spies tell us that there were as many as ten (top!) other names in the running. Therefore we proudly present, with all appropriate copyright infringement precautions...

The “I Can’t Believe It’s Not the Top Ten®” Runner-Up Names for the New Planetoid, Sedna

10. Seddonit

9. Segway

8. Sajak

7. Sedgwick

6. Right Sedna Fredna

5. Sezyou

4. Earth 2: Electric Boogaloo

3. Oprah

2. Smegma

... And the “I Can’t Believe It’s Not the Number One®” Runner-Up Name for the New Planetoid, Sedna:

1. Edna

Addendum: According to scientists, "Very little has happened to this object since the beginning of the solar system... It really has just been sitting out there at 400 degrees below zero for the past 4.5 billion years." Sounds a little like my sex life in college! Ba-dum-bump!

You Ignored It Here First
Among the attendees at last week’s show was WULAD’s Dad (WU-DAD?), who said, among other interesting things*, something like: “Now, me, not being a maven of pop culture like yourself...” which of course caused C-Baby to erupt in paroxysms of laughter, and to reiterate My New Title many times throughout the weekend.

*Such as—Arnold Schwarzenegger has a private bathroom at the Capitol, filled with pictures of himself, including a big one directly over the john.

But after some introspection, I realized that perhaps WULAD has not been living up to said status as Maven of Pop Culture, at least not as much as it could if it really put its collective mind to the task.

So, in an effort to honor the title which has been bestowed upon us, we gaze into the crystal ball of Pop Mavenhood and proudly present...

WULAD’s Pop Culture Predictions, Summer ’04 Edition!

• Game show audiences will go crazy for Name that Infrequently Updated Blog!, hosted by Gen. Wesley Clark, with color commentary by Screamin' Howard Dean in a Hawaiian shirt.
  
  
• Dick Cheney will enjoy a brief tenure as America’s teen heartthrob after his scorching shirtless appearance on the season finale of The O.C., but White House doctors will later reveal that the “heartthrob” was actually a minor cardiac arrest, the vice president’s third of the day.
  
  
• 80s sensation Max Headroom will enjoy a return to the public eye when he is captured fighting alongside Taliban insurgents in Afghanistan. His public trial and execution will be the hit of the SciFi Channel’s "sweeps week."
  
  
• Britney Spears’ 115 minutes of fame will end suddenly when audiences realize, mid-Pepsi commercial, that she looks exactly like the butch softball player who threatened to beat them up in 11th-grade P.E. (Thanks to C-Baby.)
  
  
• Martha Stewart, etc.
  
  
• Bill O’Reilly will be forced to transfer a maggot and ox-testicle sandwich to Al Franken by the mouth while competing on Fear Factor: the Pundit Edition. However, O’Reilly’s lack of jet-ski prowess will eventually be his undoing, and viewers will watch him weep silently as host Joe Rogan awards Arianna Huffington the $50,000 prize, and proceeds to engage in a threesome with her and Franken right there on the boat dock.
  
  
• Philosophy celeb-watchers will be knocked on their keisters when it is revealed that, contrary to his fundamental idea that the 'logical constants' are not representatives, Ludwig Wittgenstein actually believed that there could be representatives of the logic of facts!
  
  
• There was going to be a joke here about Bush wanting to put a man on the Sun by such-and-such a year, but somebody’s already done it. Figures.

If You’re Going to San Francisco...
Be sure to wear some WULAD in your hair. Come one, come all, witness the spectacle. Free commemorative Thelonious Monk bobblehead doll to the first zero attendees.

Still More Baseball
Apologies to the non-faithful while I get a little more of the preseason baseball bug out of my system. Hilarious non-sports-related material to return before you know it...

It was fun watching Donald Fehr and Bud Selig this morning telling Congress that it was unfair to test players without “probable cause,” as if we were suggesting that ownership search the players’ homes and monitor their library activity. Earth to Suits: this is not a privacy issue. It’s cheating.

Imagine if, when Sammy Sosa’s broken bat showered the infield with cork in Chicago, he had been immediately protected from sanction and ushered into a Bat-Corking Treatment Program. This is not a drug abuse issue. It’s cheating.

And imagine if, in the course of labor negotiations, the union argued, and ownership concurred, that checking to make sure no one was corking bats or spitting on balls or skipping second base and running directly from first to third or even coming to bat buck naked, was somehow unfair to the players and detrimental to the game. This is not a labor issue. It’s cheating. Cheating, you idiots!

And Just a Little More
Meanwhile, the Times takes a look at the lawyer representing the infamous Pizza Guy who tussled with outfielders Karim Garcia and Shane Spencer—the Mets’ two new “Yankee thugs,” as my boss referred to them. (“And they weren’t even good enough for the Yankees,” I replied. “I mean, they were good enough thugs, but not good enough ball players.”)

Vidal plans to file a civil lawsuit. He said he had hired Willie Gary, a lawyer in Stuart, Fla., who goes by the nickname the Giant Killer. ... On Gary's Web site, he poses outside a mansion, flanked by classic cars, and advertises his two jets, Wings of Justice I and II. The second jet cost $11 million and includes an 18-karat gold sink.

Sounds like a fun spring for those guys.

WULAD Web Wround-Up
Get your Spalding Gray memorial saturation here:

• A fairly long interview from a couple of years ago. "There is no room to go back—change is happening too fast. I fantasize about going back to high school with the knowledge I have now. I would shine. I would have a good time, I would have a girlfriend. I think that's where a lot of my pain comes from. I think I never had any teenage years to go back to."
  
  
• Here’s a shorter one, from 2002. He talks about New York, 9/11 and a car accident. "Everything was fine and then five seconds later, I was lying in a puddle of blood."
  
  
• A series of short but good quotes from WNET. "The fact that New York continues in the face of all of the chaos, of the crime, of the madness, you just think that it would just pop and vanish, just explode."
  
  
• And yet another one, from 1998, touching on the creative process, fatherhood (sad), and other topics. "You know, I say that I can't make anything up. I think of myself as a collage artist. I'm cutting and pasting memories of my life. And I say, I have to live a life in order to tell a life."
  
  
• A pre- (but unfortunately now post-) mortem appreciation from John Perry Barlow.

As a piece of “found” internet poignancy, I noticed that when Googling his name, one of the links that comes up is “MovieGoods—Search for ‘Spalding Gray’”.

Take Me Out to the WULAD
On a lighter note, even with the looming mass distractions of steroids, evil empires, and the usual nefarious characters, corruption, and hooliganism, the indefatigable 162-game baseball season approaches undaunted. (27 days, 11 hours and 30-odd minutes as of this writing.)

In anticipation, WFAN is currently chock full of interviews pertaining to the Mets, the Other NY Team and the state of the sport in general. WULAD will personally be very glad when the first pitch is thrown and there will be actual baseball to go along with (and hopefully drown out) all that yammering.

News You Can Abuse
Regular readers have probably noticed that it's been a while since WULAD has mentioned our favorite local morning news personality, Darya Folsom—and though she’s slowly begun the process of forgiving us for spilling the beans about her altercation with our then-significant signifyin’ monkey Paris Hilton, there is still a long way to go before all is right between us.

So in the spirit of this reborn camaraderie, we would like to present, in our best recollection, an example—originally aired Friday morning—of just how excellently Ms. Folsom still does her job, despite the constant haranguing from yahoos like me.

A little background: Darya and Talking Head #2 had just finished some story about kittens or something, when TH2 suddenly makes an urgent announcement...

TH2: And now we’ve got some breaking news, from Miami—look at this boat on fire!

[Shot of boat on fire.]

Darya: Wow! Look at that!

TH2: And we’re told they’ve cut the boat loose to let it float out to sea—

Darya: Wait, now there’s somebody swimming out! They’re trying to bring it back!

[Shot of guy trying to grab the boat’s line and drag it back to the dock.]

TH2: Well, that takes a lot of courage.

Darya: Yeah, either that or stupidity!

[Man pulls the boat back to dock.]

TH2: OK, actually we’re being told that it’s a firefighter who’s pulling the boat back.

Ha! Stupid firefighters! I found it very reassuring that despite the sometimes overwhelming array of tragedy and intrigue that comprises current events, people like Ms. Folsom and Mr. Head can still find the time to share those stories that, while not momentous on the level of national politics, global affairs or scientific breakthroughs, still speak to the basic human interests of the common citizen—like a boat on fire!

Bonus tidbit quote from the other morning news show, this morning:

Talking Head #3: Would somebody really mail in a winning lottery ticket?

TH-on-the-Scene: Yeah, it sounds crazy. Of course, not to disrespect the Post... um... uh... office.

Wrapped Up Like A Public Service Announcement
Day job requirements will unfortunately prevent any further posting this week; come back next Monday for the return of a rejuvenated WULAD. Before I leave you for the week, just a few brief notes on items in the news:

• The correct response to the steroid debacle would have been for MLB and the players' union to get serious about testing a long time ago—track and field was all over that shiznit back in 1988 (if it were up to MLB, Ben Johnson would be a gold medalist)—or by last year's agreement at the very latest, when it should have been clear that the writing was on the wall. Instead, they dodged the bullet, and now the public's demand for martyrs and scandal will bring down some of its most brilliant stars, who were after all only doing what practically everyone else was doing. The game will be severely damaged, again, and it will have only its own institutions to blame. Cheers!
  
  
• Hey Californios—if you haven't already, get out and vote for My Main Man John Kerry in the primary today, and vote "Yes" on Propositions 55–57.
  
  
• Happy Birthday to C-Baby! This isn't in the news, but it should be.

Back in a flash...