Mon, 13 May 2002

Dear Mr. Wonderful,

What do you think about They Might Be Giants' John Linnell - Sex Icon or Average New Yorker?

Warm Wishes,

John Flansburgh

___________________

Dear James K. Polk,

Are those my only choices? I mean, be fair: John Linnell, the thinner of the two Johns what make up that zippy anti-pop pop duo They Might Be Giants, looks, to the average observer, like the product of a spectacular night's romp sans contraceptives between Steve Buscemi and a giraffe.

Which is both oddly attractive and a common sight in New York. At least when Buscemi gets to drinking, it is. I don't know if you've ever had to tackle a wiry pal who's sprinting towards a zoo, but that's the true test of friendship, let me tell you.

Most of the girls that attend Mister Wonderful's lecture series ("Grasping The Truth With Both Hands," Miskatonic University), would blast five holes into Mister Wonderful and trample his bloody body into the earth in order to get closer to John Linnell. And not just because I refuse to grade on a curve. I tell them it's because they'd keep slipping off, but nobody laughs.

Anyway. Point is. It is not his appearance that draws the Velmas of the world to him. Nor is he merely average Brooklyn. Linnell is almost mythological - something to aspire to. Linnell plays the accordion of Pan, he sings of elementary particles and rich food, he creates sui generis, a Promethean figure among musicians. He is a Geek God.

WONDER! HE IS OUR HERO

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