Hillary Clinton Has Really Let Herself Go

WULAD's Wildlife Wonders!®

When you look at pandas in the snow, you can really see how dirty they are.

Two other things:

1. I've noticed that the hipsters are all growing beards now. I'd like to take this opportunity to go on record as saying that it only makes them look grubbier, and not in a "hard" way.

2. My girlfriend's new favorite insult is, "I hate [him/her] even more than I hate Tyra Banks." Try it out yourself! For example, you might say, "I hate bearded hipsters more than I hate Tyra Banks." See? Easy! And we just give these things away.

Secrets of The Da WULAD Code

C-Baby and I went to see that big whoopty Catholic thriller last night, and it wasn't terrible, as far as suspense puzzlers go. In fact, it was almost identical to that one with Nic Cage about the Freemasons that came out a couple of years ago, down to the ungodly hair cuts. (What was terrible was the annoying woman behind us who kept talking about the "cultural zeitgeist," prompting me to decide that some people are just too stupid to deserve an education.)

But if you've been following the hubbub surrounding the movie (and don't tell me you haven't, you hubbub-followers!), you know that the Grand Old Papacy is up in arms about the fact that millions of their impressionable followers are eating up the conspiracy theories of Mr. Da Vinci or whatever his name is, and now believe that Jesus was a Playa and the Church is evil and albinos have accents.

But why should they be surprised? Let's face it: excluding the rare few who actually have personal communications with God (i.e. schizophrenics and L.S.D. users), the only reason any Christians (or any other religionists, for that matter) believe what they believe is that it was told to them by some trustworthy authority figure--whether it be Dad, Father O'Shaughnessy, or Charleton Heston--so why should we expect them to stand fast in their faith when those great secular saints Tom Hanks and Gandalf tell them it's all hogwash? I think they know it's hogwash, but unfortunately they need some new hogwash (such as the stuff in the Da Vinci Code) to take its place. (I'm reminded of a family I knew who were devout Jehovah's Witnesses, but told me, "we used to be..." [hushed] "Mormons. But then we saw the error of our ways." By now, they're probably Zoroastrians or Neopagans or something.)

Anywho, that was the serious part. Now, to the entertainment: through a special arrangement with Sony Pictures and Papa Benedict's Opus Dei Café and Calzones, Inc., WULAD is proud to bring you this exclusive sneak peak at...

Further Secrets Revealed in The Da Vinci Code

• Contrary to the Biblical record, new evidence suggests that Jesus's real name was Louie, and rather than a carpenter, he was actually a licensed HVAC contractor.
  
  
• St. Forrest of Gumpathea wrote a suppressed gospel, a fragment of which reads, "Life is like a box of matzoh. It's flat and boring and tasteless, but throw some whitefish salad on there and it ain't so bad."
  
  
• Mary Magdalene may not have been a prostitute, but Toby's brother totally did her in the hot tub on that Disneyland trip. And that was while she was going out with Jesus.
  
  
• The Knights Templar started as a Journey cover band but branched off into Grail Questing one night after a particularly transcendent rendition of "Faithfully" at a club in Paramus.
  
  
• The Star of David is made from combining the ancient symbols for a phallus and a womb. Also, if you look at the cover of "Dark Side of the Moon" in the right light, it functions as a map to Denny's for some righteous pancakes.
  
  
• Remember when Opie was the "Keeper of the Flame" for his secret club, and Andy thought that he had burned down Jubal's barn, which was discovered to be an illegal still after Barney got drunk drinking out of one of Jubal's buckets? Well, Andy Griffith is a Grand Master of the Priori of Sion, so there you go.
  
  
• Get ready--this one's going to floor you. Are you sitting down? OK. Here it is: Jesus... was a Jedi.
  
  
• In 1956, a group of Vatican archaeologists digging in the Sinai desert unearthed an ancient scroll which, when translated using a secret decoder constructed by rumored Templar Knight Sir Isaac Newton, read: "Be sure to drink your Ovaltine."
  
  
• Tom, get your damn old hands off my Amelie.

News & Views & Jews & Gnus

I know what you're thinking. WULAD sucks is what you're thinking. And you're right. However, no criticism you could dish out could be worse than the tons of self-flagellation the intrepid WULAD staff dumps upon its own head on a daily basis. (I know, "dumps flagellation"? Pick a metaphor, right? This is exactly what I'm talking about, people.) So save your critiques for someone who'll really respond and adapt, like the president.

Meanwhile, another one bites the dust. Those of us who have been standing on the edge of the digital precipice really should've gotten organized, and we could've put together some sort of impressive group-blog-suicide, and you all would've been really sorry that you didn't treat us better when you had the chance. Instead, I'm left to soldier on ever more intermittently, whilst young whippersnappers who post ten times a day about hip indie bands like Foreigner and the contents of Bob Saget's stomach drown in easy money and women and snort lines off of Donal Logue's hairy chest. (Cocaine or chest-hair dandruff? You tell me.) Well that's not for me, suckers.

So on to new business. The Bible sequel. Well, I guess that's old business. Anyway, I've been putting it off, even though I got some outstanding submissions, because I was hoping to fill it out with some WULAD-spun brilliance. But the longer I wait, the better I feel it has to be, and before you know it we'll all be underwater, and you'll all be calling me on your brain-phones wondering where the Bible sequel and the dry land are. And I won't have any answers for you. Unless you're willing to barter with ammunition, beef jerky, life preservers, or rumors about the whereabouts of Paris Hilton's Ark, that is. (And don't think I'm afraid of your little floating armored Prius, either.)

In any case, what's really important is that the Mets took two of three from the Yankees this weekend, which tells me that God has finally stopped smiling down on the Bronx Bombers, and is instead preparing to unleash His wrath upon the tower of Babylonian hubris that is New York's American League franchise. And I will enjoy watching it fall, and the subsequent sight of Derek Jeter and Mariano Rivera and Hideki Matsui trying to speak to each other in their now-incomprehensible languages. Wait--I think it's started already.

So that's all for now, but just remember: I never said that Karl Rove was going to be indicted.

Getting the Word Out

... I always knew King Crimson was mixed up with Al Qaeda somehow.

I, the Floating Head of This Weird Cat, Will Destroy You!

Additional floating-head destruction available here, here and here.

P.S. Here is something both impressive and stunningly relevant to take you into the weekend.

I'm Not Dead!

That's the good news. The bad news is that I am dead. Ha! Got you! I'm not really dead. Yet.

In lieu of the promised Bible sequel, which is still in the works (hint, hint, submitters), I'd like to offer a few succinct thoughts on events in the news, which although lame and unfunny are nevertheless all you're going to get for the time being. Here we go!

• The Immigration Debate: What we're witnessing now is really only the latest incarnation of a long-standing trend. I lay the blame for this crisis on the criminals who started this whole immigration business--I'm referring, of course, to the so-called "Native" Americans, who were really Asians who decided to sneak over some land bridge 10,000 to 30,000 years ago (when the INS was woefully underfunded) in an attempt to steal jobs from decent, hardworking saber-toothed cats, wooly mammoths, and various other All-American megafauna. So when your children are forced to sing the Star-Spangled Banner in Esperanto, you can all thank Chief Paleolithic-Land-Bridge-Walker-Over. Speaking of ancient mammals...
  
  
• Bloggers Who Quit and Move to Peru: All I have to say about this development is that you should never start a blog unless you're willing to continue posting three or four times a day for the rest of your natural life. Quitters never win, and winners never quit and move to South America. It's that simple. In any case, say hi to Hitler and Tupac for me, you comment-disabling sumbitch. Speaking of sumbitches...
  
  
• The Colbert Controversy: In case you haven't heard, some jerk wasted an opportunity to address some of our nation's most powerful movers and shakers, instead choosing to take cheap potshots at a beleagured figurehead who wants nothing more than to do God's work and be left alone with his ranch and nuclear bombs. My feeling is that the Spoonbender should never have badmouthed Patton Oswalt like that. Speaking of nuclear bombs...
  
  
• The Ahmadinejad Communiqué: Was going to be the name of my spy thriller. You bastards. Speaking of thrillers...
  
  
• The Mets Are in First Place: And my jock strap shall be neither washed nor removed as long as they maintain this position in the standings. Finally, speaking of unwashed jockstraps...
  
  
• Thanks for reading!