Sun, 25 Oct 1998

Dear Mr. Wonderful--

Don't ask me how the hell I noticed this, but I recently realized that you changed everyone's nicknames on the Wonderful mailing list from comic book characters to lousy 70's bands. While I can't say I prefer one to the other, I must ask: do you really have THAT much time on your hands?



Dear Malcolm McLaren,

Boy are you gonna catch heat for calling ABBA lousy.

To be honest, no, I don't have that much time on my hands. I have nearly constant crises with Diego, our slim hipped Peruvian water boy, that require personal attention, as well as setting up the day care center, feeding Mister Dark's cats, testing the batteries, trying to find a ride to the Firewater concert on Friday, opening bottles, interviewing interns, and a whole host of other time-consuming professional activities.

What I do have is something that all great writers have, and that is an amazing capacity for procrastination. When a tough query comes up I can manage to compose an entire opera between coming up with a title and typing the salutation. Four-course meals are not uncommon in the midst of dispensing wisdom. Nor is a refreshing All-comers Lab-wide Orgy, but you could have guessed that.