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December 24th, 2003:
On Christmas Eve

NyQuil, DayQuil, what's the difference?: Some of my reader's realize that your Mr.Wonderful's body is the laboratory for both friendly and unfriendly governments crippling, (but not terminal) experimental viruses and bacteria. Under the terms of my contracts with these mad scientists, I am allowed to imbibe in medicines that lessen the symptoms only. The cures must incubate within my own inherited-from-WWII-Nazi-biological-experiments-immune-system. However I was permitted to receive my annual flu vaccine. Be that as it may, I have been injected with what most would call a cold-bug (and most would be intensive care, with tubes jutting out and EKG's and monitors scribbling, bleeping and blapping) while your MW hasn't missed a beat. During the day I had been enjoying a pair of Alka-Seltzer Plus Cold tablets every four hours. I hadn't used these quarter-sized concoctions since childhood and I was simply delighted with their 21st Century flavor. Understand that when you are obeying the strictures of the Atkins' Diet anything is delicious. Yes, even Alka-Seltzer. I was surprised at how efficacious the fizzy pills were. Regardless, in week two of my battle against the latest genetically altered bug, I turned to the less costly generic versions of Vicks NyQuil and DayQuil. Of course, everyone knows that you can take DayQuil during the day and stay wide awake while conversely two fingers of ornament green NyQuil will put most anyone asleep for about half the night. But, after sipping my NyQuil last evening, in addition to the the usual relief of my symptoms, and the normal contraction of my prostrate so tight that any attempt at urination took concentration and diligence with the final result resembling what happens when one puts a pin-hole in a red water balloon stretched so tight that it appears pink, I also could not get to sleep. I eventually turned the portable fan on in my bedroom and slept on top of the covers. On December 23rd. With the furnace turned off. But I didn't sleep. When I'm drugged, I make mistakes and last night I got married to Carmen Electra. No, not really, that could never happen, because I'm allergic to penicillin. After wrestling in the dark with the Sandman, I wearily awoke to the electronic crow of my blue-buttoned Timex alarm clock to once again assume my world-wide leadership position. As I stumbled out into the ultra modern MW kitchen, there I saw my unopened bottle of NyQuil. I had taken DayQuil in error and it had turned my night into day. Damn.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

December 14th, 2003:
Frickin' Frackin' Flu !

What was it? Four weeks ago when I stood in line for three minutes and received my seasonal vaccination against the flu virus? Click to Read How Lou Got the Flu! Being I am destitute, it was a delightful holiday surprise that the twenty dollar inoculation was covered in-full by the Bangladesh group health insurance (whose broker works out beneath the lifted tailgate of a 2000 black Cadillac Escalade sometimes parked on various less traveled avenues in tony Scottsdale, Arizona) that my employer contracts with. As I type this, the half-back-sized, teen Mr.Wonderful III ("III" read, "The Third") lays on the entertainment room sectional flattened, flatter than eff by the flu. Even though he had every opportunity, i.e., printed-out and taped to the bathroom mirror Yahoo!Map directions and schedules to every flu-shot location near the apartment and his school; he did nada. Now he got da flu. I myself believe and have heard it is the opinion of many learned scientists, that while painful and inconvenient to be struck down by illnesses, these same afflictions force the human body to build ofttimes long-lived antibodies or the capability to manufacture antibodies to combat the cooties should the same virus or infectious bacteria strike again later in life. At How Lou got the Flu you can scroll through a really cute artist's representation of how the flu virus spreads. Even public school kids can understand this presentation because, after all, it has colorful cartoon drawings and large type. I think it's hilarious that while all these cures on early morning weekend radio claim to come from China, so does the virus we know as the flu. And it festers and mutates every year because of the incredibly unsanitary conditions that exist in the Far East. And for you public school kids, that isn't where New Jersey is, but is where China is. And for you F.O.B.'s, in this case, it doesn't depend what your definition of 'is' is. (F.O.B. = Friend's of Bill Clinton)
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

December 4th, 2003:
"Book 'em, Danno!"

I finally organized the luxurious, but marrow-like, Mr.Wonderful apartment so that I might finally unpack my most treasured possessions. The weighty, twenty six, tan book boxes that comprise my permanent library. Agenda: Inside the Clinton White House I had to arrange to have three of my six bookcases moved from my secure underground and armed-guarded secret storage location, for which my in-laws, in exchange for a very expensive, Swedish manufactured, Husqvarna computerized sewing machine and oak cabinet, were more than happy to help me accomplish. Prior to moving from the 51st Street MW manse, I sold over seventy five hardbacks and paperbacks to Half Price Books. Which, while having decent prices on books they sell, tend to ream you when you sell them books. For the seventy five titles that now occupy the shelves or the Waste Management dumpster of this used books store, I received approximately thirty seven cents each. Not to bad-mouth H.P.B. (because, after all, they do have some attractive, slinky, intelligent and attentive Goth-inclined babes working there, who, adorned with inexplicable shiny metal face-piercings, would set off any airport metal detector in the country) I did purchase a huge 11 by 9 inch, four pound, used high school re-written-by-liberals history text book. This heavy-weight was advertised elsewhere, also used, at $34.95, but yet for a mere $7.95 placed in the soft hand of the buxomy red-haired lass behind the counter at Half Price Books, I lugged this shelve-sagging beauty home. As I was finally re-shelving my own hundreds of books, I was amazed at both the quantity and the eclectic subject matter of the titles I own and, more importantly, have actually read. So while my male peers (if there is such a thing) were memorizing Seinfeld episodes, and in a beech-wood aged, drunken stupor, mesmerized by Monday Night Football and ending the evening masturbating to the girls of "Sex in the City" (which is the reason I can't watch it) I was wasting my time simply reading. That is why I easily and summarily crush most anyone in any field of verbal combat. (That is, except for my four digit IQ equipped, older brother, affectionately known as "Crazy Brother Pat". Crazy Brother Pat, the Anarchist, being his nom de plume. And no, for you public school brats, an anarchist has nothing to do with Armageddon.) Many of my contemporary's knowledge base is about as wide as the narrow end of a stick of Juicy Fruit gum, while my own is as wide as the deck of a modern nuclear aircraft carrier is long. Well, okay, at least as wide as a football field. Fine, how about this: maybe as wide a a playing card? A matchbook cover? In any case, it is written, "He who does not read, is no better off than he who cannot read." Sadly, when debating with a liberal-socialist-statist, at the gym or on Capitol Hill, you must be aware that if the facts don't fit, they invent them. If the written history doesn't mirror their beliefs, they re-write it. On the spot. Sans footnotes. Nothing documents liberal mendacity more clearly than if one reads, "Agenda: Inside the Clinton White House" by the depleted liberalist author, Bob Woodward, followed by a quick reading of the thin, 238 page "Hell of a Ride: Backstage at the White House Follies 1989-93" (isbn 0-671-79648-8) by Johh Podhoretz. In these two books you will witness the two different political philosophies clearly delineated as, Blow-Job-Billy-Boy-Clinton, in the midst of the 1992 Presidential Campaign, is again and again quoted as asking, "Will they believe that?" While the social-Conservative, Liberal-spending George Bush #1 is constantly asking his team, "If I promise that, can we deliver?"
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

November 19th, 2003:
Liberalism Invades the Lunchroom

On Tuesday, November 18th, another pile of liberal, warm, feel-good, elephant dung was dumped on the American children unfortunate enough to be trapped in our public education systems. "Mix it up at Lunch 2003", sponsored by the far left "Fight Hate and Promote Tolerance" "A web project of the southern poverty law center" was forced on thousands of unarmed students across this great nation. (Keerist! Could they have a longer name?) Years ago, your Mr. Wonderful read the entire letter from Tolerance.Org requesting a donation to "fight hate and promote tolerance". I immediately and correctly pegged them as an incredibly intolerant organization attempting to persuade all (evil-Caucasian) American's to think and believe only one way. It's too bad they don't have a branch in Indonesia where Christian's are typically kidnapped and hacked to pieces.'s happy horseshit letter was answered not with the expected donation check, but with a pen and ink salvo of factual font from moi. Their begging missives never again smelled up the massive and hermetically sealed MW mailbox. However, I did thank them for the spiffy return address labels they had included. Japanese-style school lunch This year's "Mix it Up at Lunch" was engineered to strong arm students, for a single day this school year, to have a cafeteria lunch with pupils they would not of their own free will chose to congregate with. For the closet-Republican social studies teacher's, I'm sure this "Lunch" recalled the staged scenes of Stalin's Potemkin Villages that sold early 20th Century visiting American's on the superiority of Communism versus Free-Market Democracy. "Mix it Up Lunch" would have made a hell of a lot of sense at Cortez High School back in 1969, because, obviously, with the entire exercise being about the perceived and never-ending second-rate treatment of American-African-Blacks, sadly we had a single AAB cadet on campus to abuse. How would we have "mixed it up"? 1,500 kids spending 30 seconds each, eating one French fry with the AAB (sporting the unlikely name of Danny Thomas) and then moving on? I can see it now: Lunch room monitor, ". . . 27, 28, 29, 30 seconds. Time's up! Next, you Armando, sit with Danny. Hurry! Hurry! . . ." In Arizona, before the American-Mexican's realized they were "Latino's" and hence bore a heritage-greater-than-all-other-races-combined-times-three, we judged each other on our behavior, not our race or skin color. We judged each other by our accomplishments. We judged each other on our looks. 'Looks' as in pretty, or handsome, or not. I was a 'not.' We judged each other on our intelligence. (I was off-the-scale, hence, far more sagacious than many of my teacher's, I found school a study in stultification.) We sat among teens whom had we had common interests with. Mine at the time were, girls, females, ladies, my friends sister's, Playboy, cars, cigarettes, drugs and alcohol. What I thought was strange about American-Mexican's was that they sometimes displayed the letter 'Z' in their surnames. That, and the cute little cheerleader, Evelyn Jacobi, who sat front of me, and flirted with me, but would never go out with me. Consider what race faced the greatest discrimination, of the mild discrimination, any persons endured in my Arizona during the 1960s. The Asians. And since I hung out with fellow Cortesian, Ron Wattanabe, and we got thrown into Scottsdale jail together, judging by his actions, I knew most Asian's were probably all right people, just like our Senior Class VP. However, I'm not sure his parent's felt the same way about those of us of American-German-Finnish heritage.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

November 16th, 2003:
Identity Theft KO's Mr.Wonderful

October 3rd, 6:59PM with the phones trilling at the exclusive penthouse apartment of Mr.Wonderful. Scanning the built-in caller ID on my Motorola 2.4Ghz portable phone, I read the inexplicable name of "Moneymart". Moneymart is a check cashing service that owes it's existence to the fact that they will cash checks, after deducting an enormous fee, presented by known undocumented aliens. Art: by Robert Lucy - used w/o permission - click to see more! The people who own and the people who labor behind the bulletproof plexiglass of these check cashing services know as their forefather's the scum that forms around the water line in our toilets. Listening to the caller, I was told that a "Misty" was at the Mesa location and was offering a check that had my name, my former address and phone number imprinted on it. The check was made out for $2,000. Which was really odd, because at the time, my account had fifty seven dollars and eleven cents in it. The check was business-sized (mine are wallet sized) and had the correct account number of my personal checking account. However, it also had the no-longer-in-existence Norwest Bank name on it, and the incorrect area code for the phone number at my old address. The voice on the other end of the phone asked me if I'd like him to stall the lady for the Mesa Police. I said yes, and shortly received a call from the Mesa police where I confirmed my decision. I went through this scenario two more times as other illegal-alien pawns attempted to cash the phony checks. After the purchaser of my house dropped off some mail that failed-to-forward in November, I saw that someone had also been writing checks and providing my old address, but since I instantly closed my account that same October evening, they could not have been using my account. I forwarded the information to Sheriff Joe's office. How was my account number compromised? Your Mr. Wonderful got lazy and acted stupidly. In an effort to do my part to save the ecosystem <grin> I recently down-sized and squeezed myself and the teen Mr. Wonderful III, into an apartment. And into the huge dumpster I threw years of old checks and ripped up statements. I assumed any criminal would know that my checking account had no money in it, so why should they steal it? Duh. It's odd that the same day I received the Moneymart call, I had also purchased a low cost POS shredder. The 'mastermind' behind the check cashing scheme must be one of my neighbor's. Isn't that a comforting feeling? How do I deduce that? Because if the checks had been taken from the garbage in front the former MW Manse, I assume they would have been intelligent enough to use the correct area code when they printed up the fresh forgeries with my no-longer-in-service-phone-number. However, instead, they imprinted the different area code that MW, the apartment dweller, must now use. (I've got to break out my gun safe and practice opening it by feel in the dark. I must remember, like Phoenix & Scottsdale SWAT team members - phoned by desperate parents to rescue suicidal teens - to shoot to kill. Because, in that scenario there is typically only one witness.) Thankfully my Department of Defense approved bin Laden proof burglar alarm system complete with pin-hole camera's, vibration detectors and Window's XP controlled flesh searing laser beams is past the design stage and is ready to be installed.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

October 26th, 2003:
Dr. Dean Edell: Definition of a Liberal

(Read about more Dr.Dean's whackyness here.) When one turns to "liberal" in the "Webster's New World Dictionary" there appears the photo of the man millions of radio listener's know as Dr. Dean. As reader's of Mr. Wonderful realize, I hold the Doctor's medical recommendations in the highest esteem, however, like many of us he cannot keep unspoken his political convictions. Which is why I'm writing today's column on my normal Day of Rest. Dr. Edell is upset that "The Government" gets into "our bedrooms." He makes that claim because, in many states an adult man jamming his penis up the rectum of one man, two men or twenty men and vice-versa (sometimes within a 48 hour period) remains a crime. Go figure. But yet, at the same time, Dr. Dean demands the government to spend hundreds of millions of more of our tax dollars on AIDS research. What is the number one cause of AIDS and the spread of AIDS in these United States? Male homosexuals and their sometimes Sodom & Gomorrah level of promiscuity and illegal drug use. Much of the illegal drug use is for (white bloodcell destroying) muscle relaxants because, when stuffing a Wisconsin summer sausage into a Ball Park Frank sized bun, adjustments are obviously necessary. And lets not get into the condom controversy, because anyone who has used condoms, even in a male/female bout of bumpin' uglies, knows that condoms slip off, condoms tear and condoms do nothing to protect the 99% of the body, and specifically the crotch area, that isn't fitted into the rubber. Dr. Dean insists that spreading AIDS is fine for the 3% of the population that is whacked, but the rest of us, the 97% of us who insist on pairing up the old fashioned, Biblical way, ie., male and female, should foot the bill to cure the disease that only homo's spread. Dr. Dean moans about the Terry Schiavo Florida feeding tube controversy (and it appears that he is correct in his observations) and he demands the government to "get out of our death beds" when it concerns persistent vegetative states. But yet he has no qualms about the onerous Estate Tax that liberals love to use to "level the playing field" as financially successful scions die. And last but not least, Dr. Dean Edell, without mentioning the war in Iraq, mumbles, "We kill in the name of . . . all over the world . . . " But yet he has no concern over the death of thousands of totally innocent and certainly helpless pre-humans murdered every year who are the result of legalized abortion. Sadly, the scientist who held the cure to AIDS in his DNA, was murdered by his mother and a bloody-handed, profit-minded physician way back on August 24th of 1968.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

October 25th, 2003:
Blood, Bruises & Brake Marks

written by Dr. Hammurabi Malamud
"I want to thank everybody for coming out. Enjoy the season, enjoy the game. Thank you for your support. I love you all," announced the Laker's $74 million dollar man. Whether or not Kobe Bryant is convicted of forcible rape, we all know that this committed and married man went out and porked up the poop-shoot a woman he'd met only minutes prior. I wonder if he chose that particularly odoriferous method of intercourse because he also prefers young boys or was he simply in search of a higher friction coefficient because he is equipped similar to these English Sparrows I see wildly coupling each Spring? I cannot believe Sin-City's spasming sports sycophants greeting the Laker's basketball bus with signs of support, including, according to the USA Today, one proclaiming, "The underwear tells the truth - Kobe is innocent." Well, if the lady's underwear tells the truth then so does the fact that the honed woman's blood was found on Kobe's shirt. And in full disclosure, over the past thirty-six years, your Dr. Malamud, other than an occasion during the middle 1960s in the back seat of a post-WWII Chrysler, during a poorly lit night-time gynecological exam, I have never caused a female to spill her blood. But yet here we have this formerly sainted and sinless mega-sports-star who, rather than leaving behind the usual autograph, instead leaves behind bruises, bleeding and skid marked panties. As long as the sports fans get to sit on their flabby, fat, flatulent-filled asses, swill beer, remain broke and watch millionaire's play their favorite game (thereby stabbing a sliver of excitement into their own failed and boring lives) they're not much concerned with minor peripherals such as the morality or even the felonious behavior of the athletes they worship as gods. But let a conservative talk jock admit a self-destructive drug addiction and he is regularly and publicly blasphemed, judged, laughed at and sees everything he's done or said demeaned and discounted into perpetuity.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

October 21st, 2003:
Cancer, Julia, Delilah, & Mirrors

Breast Cancer 3-Day: You're hearing the radio ads about "Jeanine Baker" walking sixty miles to raise money because her (also fictitious) friend had cancer. What a crock. We know that many, many types of cancer are thought to be caused by diet and many more by genetics. If the cancer is caused by diet then each individual must monitor his or hers own diet. Which they typically will not do. Hell, they won't even quit smoking. And if the 'predicted' cancer is to be caused by genetics there still isn't much we can do. But what really ticks me off is all these victims of cancer or the disease de jour donating all this time and effort to raise money so doctor's and scientist's can drive limited edition sunflower yellow Corvette convertibles and live in $1.5 million (4.5 million in California dollars) homes with $60,000 faux finishes. Seems to me there is some sort of discrepancy or gross unfairness about that.
Ocean's 11: I loved the original Ocean's 11. Especially the way the crime team picked on Sammy Davis' Jr.'s black character, and that his Josh Howard was able to accept his 'Blackness' and come back with a myriad of very funny and also snappy lines demonstrating the hypocrisy that a few racist American's held those of African heritage in. Sammy, Joey, Frank, Deano & Peter. Star-friggin' Power Baby! This movie was packed with true stars of the silent era of Hollywood. Back then, we were innocent enough to eagerly believe whatever tripe was fed to us by the columnists on the dole of the Hollywood machine. While, at the same time, these screen idols remained contractually silent about their personal lives. In a hope that somehow it had morphed into a worthy update of the Lewis Milestone directed original, I've seen the 2001 Ocean's 11 several times. But it cannot morph, because offstage, these actor's have revealed everything - everything about their personal lives. They are about as mysterious as Pamela Lee. Don't get me wrong, the acting is fine and the screenplay is fine and everything is fine. And then I see Julia Roberts come tromping across that casino carpeting, splitting the line of slot machines like a two-legged bovine headed for the afternoon milking, I am totally drawn out of the movie. Every time. While Angie Dickinson, who was cast as Beatrice Ocean in the original, was never Michelle Kidman or Pfiefer knock-dead gorgeous, she was, at the time, one of the sexiest and hardest actresses in Hollywood. And while Julia Roberts is extremely popular and an exquisite actress, her age and more importantly bad lip job have removed her from the realm of ever being considered sexy when compared against today's breathtaking beauties.
Do you Listen to Delilah?: If you do and you don't live in Arizona, you've just proven my point. Local-sounding, in your neighborhood - Delilah is actually a nationally syndicated program. Listen closely and you will hear no references to where she is located or what the exact hour is. And while I enjoy the show (I'm lying, I'd rather be listening to talk-radio) Okay, while I listen to the show and somewhat enjoy it, I always find it odd that divorced people like "Delilah", Dr. John Gray and Barbara De Angelis (of whom John Gray was her third husband) dispense all this expensive advice on how to make love and marriage last.
Mirror Shortage: I know I've mentioned this before, but don't people look in the mirror prior to stepping out the front door? While at one time I admit, I did rejoice that today's young ladies felt comfortable exposing their less than Julia Louis-Dreyfus flat tummies, I've since grown weary of so many of them flashing me their innie's and outie's and body stabbing jewelry and hints of seeing cameltoe. All because more than often then not, these lightly furred female fawns are displaying a pouch not unlike that of a very pregnant two-legged marsupial. Add stretch marks to this already unflattering topography and one can visualize the territory that instead should be girded and forever remain out of the public view. Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

October 13th, 2003:
Fast Blasts

Surgery separates Egyptian Twins: Have you seen the 'before' photo? Now the parents will be forced to pay for two haircuts instead of one. And two $13 haircuts when you earn $300 annually is quite a burden. (Yes, I do have friend's who were born and lived in Egypt, so once again, and not surprisingly, I know far more about everyday life in the land of the pyramids than do 99.9% of American's.) In a day when unionized grocery store employees are manning picket lines because they feel that paying $15 per week for family health coverage is outrageous, we witness dozens of surgeons donating millions of dollars of their labor, but certainly not shying away from the media limelight, to crack apart the skulls of two Muslims. Just what the United States needs is two more Muslims. E g y p t i a n  M u s l i m ' s. Has the health care industry gone totally berserk? Do you realize that if this ping pong ball-sized sphere growing out of the side of my neck proves not to be a suburb of my massive brain, but instead reveals itself to be one of the various medical conditions that is not covered under the Bangladesh-based health insurance company that my employer has retained, I will lose everything I own and be sent to Sheriff Joe's Tent City Debtor's Prison for not paying every non-discounted cent of the snowstorm of hospital, physician, technician, MRI and X-Ray invoices mailed out to my tony Scottsdale address?
Rush hooked on OxyContin: Talking with Matt Drudge, I learned that the DeMedia, in a blatant and open attempt to destroy the career of the conservative Mr. Limbaugh, is manning a full-court press. OxyContinPun intended. (Speaking of liberals getting special treatment from the DeMedia; do you realize that Clinton advisor and close personal friend, Vernon Jordan, years ago shot and killed a boyfriend of his wife? You most probably do not, because this 'minor incident' in the life of a liberal black man, was not important enough for the DeMedia to talk about on the nightly news. The 'nightly news' which, on the rare occasions I watch it, appears to more like the nightly advertisements interrupted by commercials.) Unlike the spoiled, 'fragile', whack-job known as Winona Ryder, as least Rusty had an understandable reason, in the beginning, to ingest the most powerful pain pills on the planet. Physical pain. And what about the ex-housekeeper who accepted $200,000 from R.L. and then ratted him out anyway? How worthy will her sworn courtroom testimony be? I know my Scottsdale neighbor, G.Gordon Liddy, is steaming over that gutless and traitorous action. But sadly, I will never hear the G-Man spout because KXAM / 1310AM (the "235 Watt Giant of the Southwest") has replaced Liddy's afternoon program with a couple of liberal lightweights and bumped his high priced broadcast into the before-paperboy-hours. Even being a fan of Rush (because he holds virtually the same correct, conservative opinions I do) I always knew that he could not be one hundred percent squeaky clean. How did I know that? Because he's a sinner, just like the rest of us. And word has it, that he will be recovering in Arizona's rustic city of Tucson.
Kobe Bryant Rape Case: A few of my longtime friends know that back in the early 70s your Mr. Wonderful, as an incredibly intelligent student, was on the pre-law track. Thank God I was side-tracked into taking over the business my father and his partner founded in 1959. This allowed my lived-through-the-Great-Depression father to struggle along, during the last fifteen years of his life, on the (in today's dollars) $40,000 per month it ran to purchase his company stock and keep him out of the office. Today, I am mostly ashamed of the legal industry, especially many of the scummers who do criminal trials. Take Kobe's female attorney, shouting out in the courtroom that the victim, the rape victim, had had sex three times that week. If the victim had been a man, she'd been considered a stud, but since she's a woman she's a slut. And, pray tell, how many times, and with how many different partners, has Kobe had forced sex with? Did you hear that he made her kiss his B.B.P. afterwards? What an absolute pig. I'm sure the reporters from Sports Illustrated know and have known Mr. Bryant's entire, uncensored sexual history, but, like so many sports fans, they believe that Mr. Bryant is some sort of god because he plays excellent basketball and only occasionally suffers from the weakness of having to force sex upon women who are stupid enough to believe this NBA Professional is someone special. Someone good and decent. It's a good thing Mr. Bryant is not an evil, white conservative or they'd be lynching him right now using the very net snatched from the nearest NBA regulation height basketball hoop.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

October 2nd, 2003:
Rush, "The Emperor has no Clothes"

"I think what we've had here is a little social concern in the NFL. The media has been very desirous that a black quarterback do well,'' Limbaugh said. "There is a little hope invested in McNabb, and he got a lot of credit for the performance of this team that he didn't deserve. The defense carried this team." Rush Limbaugh

Negative reaction did not come immediately. "It's sad that you've got to go to skin color. I thought we were through with that whole deal." Donovan McNabb

According to my boy, who unlike your Mr. Wonderful, tracks professional sports, as far as judging McNabb's lack of multi-million-dollar-talent, "Rush was right". However, let us consider the quarterback's statement of, "It's sad that you've got to go to skin color." May I state that Mr. McNabb was articulate, spoke in an easily understood American dialect and displayed poise and intellect while at the same time communicating his dismay at Rush's comment as an ESPN employee. (I was also thinking to myself, while observing the good looking, six foot two, 240 pound Eagle, that in the good old days, the quarterback would just beat the hell out of Rush. And then they'd become best of friends. No cops, no lawyers, no racism.) Donovan's behavior is unlike so many professional sports stars, who collect more in forty-four minutes than your Mr. Wonderful earns in a year. These athletes then purchase expensive vehicles by the gross and houses by the half dozen, but yet had it not been for their proclivity for athletic endeavors (and the public's proclivity for giving up on their own dreams to sit on their asses affording a handful of sports stars to earn dumpsters-full of money) they would be behind the wheel of a city bus, or a push broom or elected as congressmen from Michigan.

Mr. McNabb states: "It's sad that you've got to go to skin color." Let's examine a few, very easily found, publicly promoted references involving skin color:

This Week in Black History
African American History Month
February is Black History Month
This Week in Latino History
Hispanic Heritage Week
Hispanic History Month

Simply replace the words "African", "Black", "Latino" and "Hispanic" in the above promotions, with the word "White" and you would be instantly branded as a racist. Branded as an insensitive racist and run out of town. Or out of the studio. So, regardless whether McNabb desires to keep skin color out of conversation, obviously, very many individuals desire to keep 'skin color' the surface tension binding together this nation's race relations. This never ceasing emphasis on skin color by the media and others, gulls all us evil Asians, Arabs, Europeans and other Person's of Non-Color, to believe that every blesséd Person of Color holds the same opinions, displays the same amount of intelligence, enjoys the identical food, achieves the same successes and of course, votes the same political party line as every other POC. To assume this sameness with Persons of Non-Color would be idiotic, because it obviously just isn't true. If all Asian-Korean's think alike, what caused the Korean War? If all Asian's think alike what precipitated the Japanese Rape of Nanking, China? If all White's think alike, what explains World War I, World War II and the Cold War? What explains the irrational hatred by other Whites, at various times in American history, of the Germans ("Krauts"), the Japanese ("Japs, Nips") the Italians ("Waps") the Poles ("Pollock's"), the Jews ("Kike's") the Bo(hemian) + Hung(arian) = ("Bohunks") the Arabs ("Sand Niggers") and other Caucasian-based peoples? Similar to the Liberal Chorus, that prior to 911, convinced us that every single airplane hi-jacker would never in a million years harm any passenger, much less anyone on the ground, they have convinced us that all Blacks and Latinos/Hispanics are nothing more than clones of each other. Completing the circle it's easy to understand what Rush meant. (Take a big breath here, my public school educated minions.) Limbaugh meant, that if McNabb, a blesséd POC, did well in the quarterback position in the NFL, virtually all POC's, of the African tint anyway, would also do well.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

September 21st, 2003:
Cox Cable Conundrum

After unpacking the massive Mr.Wonderful household and packing it into our new, luxurious, poolside, 984 square foot apartment, I was excitedly anticipating surfing the Net, at "100 times the speed of dialup" on the board of my ancient Pentium II 401 megahertz chip, shooting the Cox Broadband curl. Earlier in the morning, I had been disappointed to see that the only visual I could coax from my Cox Cable powered Zenith was the awful Cox guide. For whenever I selected a channel, I was presented with a totally black screen. I spent Saturday morning assembling the "Micro-Mini Mobile" computer stand I purchased at OfficeMax for 50% off. Not until I read the instructions (yes, your MW does read instructions) did I realize it was manufactured in Poland. An hour and one half later, after I had drilled out some dowels that I had glued into holes meant for bolts - my only problem with the Polish product - I was moving the computer components off of their temporary table onto and into the cubbies of my freshly assembled "Micro-Mini Mobile" computer stand. I read for the third time the "Cox High Speed Internet Quick Reference Guide" and hooked up the few cables, and eagerly plugged in the USB's and loaded the cable modem driver and Cox High Speed Internet software. Cox Digital Cable After turning the power off and on, and rebooting my PC and the Cox cable modem several times, only the 'PC' and 'Power' indicators were glowing green on the face of the oddly shaped Terayon modem. The all important 'Cable' light was dark. That indicated that the modem was not receiving a signal from the good folks at Cox. I stepped the eighteen inches from my bedroom into our television/dining room/den/living room area and fiddled, once again, with my room-dwarfing, Cox-powered entertainment system. It continued to display only darkness. I phoned the Cox Cable service line using the memory function of my new Verizon flip-phone. This was probably the sixth time I had called them. The CSR (Customer Service Representative) while speaking English, evidences such a strong dialect, I had to listen very closely as I angrily thought to myself, "Why, in a job that requires a clear and concise voice, do these corporations insist on hiring people who can barely be understood?" After thirteen minutes and twenty seconds into the conversation, I was advised that he did not detect a signal going out to my location. He then told me it would be a $35 charge if the problem was inside the apartment and no charge if the problem was outside the apartment. (There is no doubt it is outside the apartment, because I took the cable directly from the wall and plugged it into the back of my twenty seven inch Zenith and rather than witnessing 'Basic Cable' I just saw snow. 'Snow', which is the visual representation of the lack of signal the CSR spoke about moments before.) Then, this being Saturday, the CSR told me the earliest a technician could be out would be Monday at 5:00PM. Thank gawd my Cox Digital Phone service didn't go out too. For I simply dialed up my old reliable Earthlink server and connected to the net. I also discovered the only good thing worth mentioning about my interactions with Cox and that is that my telephone modem connects at 31,200 vs. the 26,600 Qwest allowed.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

August 22nd, 2003:
Unionized Carnies in the Checkout Lane

As I searched for a parking space at my local Fry's (Kroger's) store, I was greeted by fifteen or twenty empty orange-striped parking spots. Of course those are the federally mandated spots for handicapped driver's. Federally mandated by the soft headed President George Bush #1. My thought is, if businesses wished to lure and accommodate these cripples they would willingly invest their stockholder's dollars to do so. They would not have to be forced by our government to do it. (Remember, government's cannot be compassionate. For example, this compassionate government just killed thousands of Iraqi soldier's and hundreds of civilians.) Candidates for Fry's employI say cripple's because, I would estimate, that 85% of these individuals who 'qualify' for special parking privileges are handicapped not by unforeseen circumstance, accident or act of God, but by life choices they have made. So your Mr.Wonderful parks one hundred and fifty feet away and begins the trek to the air-curtained doors of the former Smitty's grocery store. My spring-steel body is fitted into "The Great Sun Devil: Frank Kush" ASU gold colored t-shirt I purchased at this very same location more than fifteen years prior. The only reason I'm here is to pick up a box of diatomaceous earth for my swimming pool filter. That, and maybe find a bargain on cheap meat. Which I did, spying a chuck roast for $2.00 off per pound. On my next cooking night I have decided to experiment with marinading this cut of beef which is typically tougher than Donald Rumsfeld. When I'm finally ready to leave, having filled my beige plastic shopping cart with six pounds of meat, earth, four liters of discounted Pepsi products, two bottles of marinade, two foil packages of marinade and a huge jar of Skippy's 'Extra-Crunch' peanut butter, I approach the check out lanes. Or rather, should I say, I avoid the two nearest checker's. One being a red-headed female thing, not much smaller than the vehicle that brought me here, the next being some huge butter-ball male creature. Hey, I'm sorry. I really don't want to go to the store and have circus freaks waiting on me. Unionized circus freaks. After a hard day on the job <grin> I only have the energy reserve to deal with, friendly, normal-looking human beings. Not creatures who I remember appearing in the last Men in Black movie. I work my fanny off to maintain my extreme good looks. I torture myself for seven sweaty hours a week at LaLa Fitness. I spend far too much time starching and ironing my uniform shirts and pants. And to manage my weight, I choke down more tuna fish than a school of sleek, shiny, silver-sided barracuda's. In addition, even though my agent prefers my hair to extend halfway down my ears, like it is in my head shot, I keep it clipped sergeant-short. This hire-anybody-regardless-of-how-they-look horseshit has got to be costing retailer's sales. And speaking of sales and sales clerks, years ago I noticed the attitude of the checker's, at the then Smitty's store,VidCam outside Albertson's changing for the worse the day after they unionized. I prefer the Albertson's across the street because their people, with the exception of the pygmy Bosnian refugee who utters no comprehensible English, are all presentable, and more important, usually friendly. And unlike Fry's, they will even hand you back a crisp twenty dollar bill after being presented with a personal check. The major challenge facing those of us wishing to shop at Albertson's, is that it now has a crappy OSCO drug store crammed inside. An OSCO, that left behind it's most attractive feature, that of incredibly cheap booze, and whose Third World produced crap has necessarily thinned-out the myriad of brands, quantities and varieties of grocery items a competitive fully stocked grocery store must have on its shelves. This forces your Mr.Wonderful and many other happy Albertson's 'guests' across the street to the hostile environment of Fry's.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

August 5th, 2003:
Make it Stop, Make it Stop

I was listening to the "Beth and Bill" morning show the other day and I heard something like five or six advertisements from car dealers. DriveTimeTM, Showcase, Mel Clayton, Brown & Brown, ABC Nissan, Lou Grubb, Pitre, Peoria Nissan and Showcase Honda. I love the latest ad, where the car dealer association or whatever (can you imagine being a member of that group?) paid for a promotion to encourage us to spend our Bush Child Tax Rebate check on a new vehicle. $400 on a new car. That sure would go a long way when the cheapest vehicle you'd dare park in your driveway easily runs over $15,000. Many people don't know that probably over 50% of the dealerships in The Valley of the Sun are owned by either (traded-on-the-stock-exchange) AutoNation or Mr. Van, owner of Van Chevrolet and hundreds of others. Lou Grubb Ford Bell Road Scottsdale, Arizona The latter has developed a most obnoxious method of selling cars known as "The Van Method." For some information on buying a car, feel free to check with Consumer Report's at Often it's quite easy to tell which dealer's are actually fronts for AutoNation because they use the same exact ad with just the makes and the locations being different. Long-time Valley natives really hated to see affable and honest Lou Grubb sell out to AutoNation. But hell, after a stroke and being that Lou is around 113 years old, I guess it was about time. DriveTime @ Bell Road, Phoenix, ArizonaI especially enjoy the DriveTimeTM ads in which they claim they can handle credit "blemishes", "hiccups" and "booboo's". They act like they're just good people who "Write all our own loans" without the evil banks getting involved. Right. All they are is an old fashioned used car dealer where they train ignorant individuals what it means to be upside-down in a vehicle. Two Valley dealers I know who are locally owned are Sunset Ford and Bell Road Auto Mall. The later being where your Mr.Wonderful purchased his mighty Hyundai for $2,888 less than the window sticker. The Mrs. Wonderful, located in Fort Worth, Texas (sigh) recently had a most pleasant experience buying an SUV at the fairly new CarMax Auto Superstore, which is owned by Circuit City.
Mr.Wonderful Talks Current Events @

July 19th, 2003:
Kobe Bryant Rape Victim

Twenty four year old NBA star Kobe Bryant was charged yesterday with felony sexual assault, the result of his early July 1st tryst with a 19 year old, former cheerleader, and current hotel worker. Kobe Bryant w/ex-wife. Used w/o permission She apparently went up to his lodgings after she clocked-out at the posh 56-room Lodge & Spa at Cordilla, on June 30th. (And don't give me the warn line about a female shouldn't go up to a man's room. Just because she visits a man in his room, that does not strip her of making her own choices about intercourse.) A huge three-pointer against Kobe's claim of innocence is that the teenager reported the assault the same day it supposedly occurred. She apparently had bruises or other physical evidence. And she was still packing his paint. If, after spending certainly millions of his way-too-easily-earned-dollars in his defense, Mr. Bryant is found guilty, he could spend the rest of his life shooting hoops for the Colorado Bar's team. Your Mr.Wonderful is especially interested in this case because his own 23 year old daughter works at a small, posh, 36-room hotel. I was stunned by the NBA's All Star's plea of " . . . I love my wife so much." Well, Kobe, didn't your momma tell you that one of the primary ways you show love to your wife is to keep your paint stirrer out of other women's buckets? You may be able to buy your way out of these charges, and you may indeed be innocent, but if you had listened to Mr. Rhythm (from the movie DC Cab)this would have never happened. And Mr. Rhythm says, "Don't let your dick run your life."

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