David Thayer

Henley Hornbrook: Towne officials are chagrined today as the Keeper of the Calendar, Wendell Todd, declared March to begin a day early. A delegation scurried to the palatial estate of the forty third earl armed with a Petition and a large quantity of Oreo cookies. The earl is believed capable of turning back the clock as he has done so often in his epic works VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA and RIMBAUD.

The delegation arrived just as the earl descended the Great Stairs in his ceremonial ascot and morning suit. After consuming a large bowl of Cocoa Puffs he was able to turn his attention to both the Petition and the brewing crisis of Leap Year That Wasn’t.

“Turning back the clock requires yeoman effort,” noted embittered dogsbody Urquhart Depew. He returned to his brooding pose on the South Lawn after expressing his skepticism. He later reported that long fly ball had been caught near the warning track, a positive omen in the calendar debacle.

In the end the earl, though not fully awake, devised a brilliant solution: “While it shall be March in these precincts for a tyme, it shall remain February until the twain shall separate upon twilight on Great Wellington Bog.”

Towne officials voted in favor of the earl’s proposal before rushing toward the bog. In their haste a Costco sized bag of Oreos was seized by the Flying Squad and mysteriously consumed. An angry mob shouted Leap Year Insults in primitive Latin as the official train passed through the fog enshrouded streets.

As lunchtime approached the towne remained divided between March Hares and Februarians; the earl prepared to sally forth to assuage the injured feelings but his late model Volvo sedan had a flat tyre.  Wellington Towing Service is dispatching a truck.

At press time your reporter cannot say whether it is February in Wellington Leg or March in Henley Hornbrook. Till twilight on Wellington Bog, I remain, Your Humble Servant, Wendell Todd, Keeper of the Calendar.

Wellington Leg: Independent publisher Wellington Tuna is courting Donald Rumsfeld sources close to the bay report. While the publisher is loathe to depart from tuna based works, books about tuna, loving tuna, or the political thriller series Ike and Tuna , the opportunity, however  remote, to sign Rummie is a challenge local mogul Marty O. Coin cannot resist. “I want to sign this guy,” Marty said. “I just don’t want to pay him.”

Skeptics note that since Marty gained control of the Fighting Gastropod Metropolitan Baseball Club, he’s traded the Duchess to Baltimore, dumped the forty third earl from the active roster, and closed the famous reading bleachers where fans could quote Balzac while paying eleven dollars for a beer. Marty also employs Certified Literary Critics as bellhops at the Hotel Faz, a disreputable place for commercial travelers.

Still having Donald Rumsfeld in Wellington Leg would dispel the lingering notion that the towne is a literary backwater. Until now the greatest living author to visit is a cardboard likeness of Carmen Elektra. Having Rummie at Eddie’s Book Nook would  change all that.

A “Sign Don” campaign has been launched in nearby Goth by famed publicist Lars Kierkegaard. “We are pulling out some of the stops,” Lars said. “Don is eligible for the free loaners for life program,” he added. A 1987 Volvo 240d wagon is at his disposal.

Don will be feted at the Spring Training Opener when the Gastropods take on the New York Yankees in Tampa. The earl will come out of forced retirement to pitch from behind second base.

Mandy Rice-Davies reporting.

Gastropod Alley: Indie filmmakers are in towne this week to evaluate Wellington Leg as Hollywood North according to sources close to the registration desk at the Hotel Faz. The arrival of the film people was heralded by several hundred professional mourners pressed into service as a cheerleading squad. “There was a lot of weeping at first,” reported VP of Development Wilfredo Tagesblatt. “Then they managed a Laker Girl Pyramid.”

The film is believed to be an adaptation of Cicero’s epic D’Amicitia set in modern times with the Spanish Civil War as back story. Parts of Wellington Leg will be painted to resemble the forum at ancient Rome while the backdrop hills will be canvassed to resemble ” a big bumpy down comforter.” Cicero will be played by eleven different actors some of them women as his days of struggle are rendered in a blistering drag racing scene.

It’s Okay to Think About Parking Here: to welcome the honored guests Wellington Leg’s draconian parking regulations will be suspended for the duration. Portions of the Historic Rotunda are open for special tours and the Roman camp at Carthago Nova will supply extras as needed. Wellington Catering is preparing a lavish radish themed lunch to celebrate the towne’s Bona Fortuna.

Hizzoner to preside: A freshly painted portrait of Hizzoner Refusing a Bribe will grace the marble foyer of Big Business Hall; a ribbon cutting ceremony will be followed by a ribbon repair ceremony outdoors, weather permitting. Legians are encouraged to duck work for the afternoon unless they are considered essential personnel. Flood control engineers at Great Wellington Bog will open all the taps promptly at five o’clock: a word to the wise.

Report filed by the Wellingtonienne.

Wellington Leg: Ray Legler is the Towne Council’s newest member after the results of a special election were announced late Sunday. Despite issues with Ray’s residency and his alien life form appearance he handily defeated 54 other candidates for the job. “Ray looks like a giant squid,” said towne official Ludmilla Mudhen. “So do a lot of people,” she added.

His Human Form: To “look human” Mr. Legler relies on the rabbit ears supplied him when he left the mother planet bound for Wellington Leg. By adjusting the ears Legler can draw on role models like Harry Truman, The Big Bopper, and members of the Oakland As brain trust. “We can sustain life on earth for pennies a day!” An alien life form brochure exclaims. His initial tasks included the formation of a vanity publisher, RABBIT EARS PRESS. “We received a lot of books by rabbits, books about rabbits, books nibbled by rabbits. They needed a lot of work.”

Helping Rabbits Get Into Print: Ray recognizes now that helping rabbits get into print is not why he was sent here. “I think that phase is behind us,” he says. To that end he no longer encourages fledgling authors to eat a lot of carrots. “I don’t think it matters what you eat,” he said.

Ludmilla Mudhen is a graduate of the Rabbit Writing Course but harbors no bitterness toward Legler nor does she mind her minor obsession with baseball stats: “I lost thirty five pounds on the famous writer course,” she says. “And, I sound like Harry Truman.”

Mr. Legler will attend his first council meeting on Wednesday. The hot potato issue of tubers wearing haute couture continues to confound Wellington Leg. Mr. Potato Head Goes to Paris is the featured film for the evening. T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: This year’s Literary Faire will seek submissions for theme based works on the subject of money according to Prudentia Chalfont-Smythe, Chaire of the Faire. Chalfont-Smythe took note of Wellington Leg’s dreadful finances during her semi-annual tuneup at Bo W’s chic literary salon and tire recapping Institute. “I think the mismanagement of Towne finances is a scandal,” she said. “Equally appalling is the realization that we owe vast sums of money to an eight year old hedge fund manager.”

Red Faced Officials: Chalfont-Smythe’s remarks were a reference to local girl, Eugenia Phaeton, a third grader at Wellington Elementary. Eugenia’s show and tell project, My Hedge Fund, controls a significant portion of both The Piggy Bank and Hizzoner’s Own Slush Fund. Her yen dollar carry trade position was unwound just as the credit crunch reduced the value of the Towne’s Collateralized Gummi Bear Instruments ( CGBI).  “In truth Eugenia cornered the gummi bear market forcing towne officials to pay exorbitant sums to reclaim a mere fraction of perceived value.”

Faire to be Scaled Back? Last year’s ten month long extravaganza cost the Bailiwick of Leg ” a small fortune.” There was ill will after Chalfont-Smythe swept all eight of the literary prizes, unprecedented in the long history of the Faire.  An impeachment movement stalled after Chalfont-Smythe hired T. Rex Love-Handles to “go about the precincts of Towne in a bellicose manner,” according to her press release.

Her power base secured, Prudentia has flown to northern California to discuss the San Jose Sharks with an audience of hockey fans. According to private investigator Arthur Murray, Prudentia flew coach. “She’s a fiscal tiger,” Arthur said. Natasha, Queen of the Universe, reporting.

Great Wellington Bog: Writers at the Druidical & Literary are back at work today after a week long lockout halted prose production at the D&L’s grimy headquarters near Enshrouded Bottom on the shores of Gastropod Alley. Legians deprived of content during the dispute are free to march on City Hall, to display signs depicting their displeasure, and chant slogans. “There will be hefty fines if alternate side of the street parking regulations are violated,” warned DCI Borchardt in his first memo since the lockout began.

What went wrong? Upper management has completed a rigourous even glamourous internal investigation during which several executives studied the on-off switch adapted from a Mister Coffee for use as an Internet Tool. When toggled to “on” content poured forth from the staff; when switched to “off” Wellington Leg was plunged into Darkness.

The Blame Game: while the investigation left no stone unturned, no piano untuned, no Visigoth unquestioned, human error is suspected as the prime mover of the debacle. Indeed, the third floor Mister Coffee is believed to be a modified cloaking device whose use is both dangerous and unpredictable. Thus, a Mr. Coffee is in fact a Mr. Cloaking Device mislabeled at some time by persons unknown.

Judge Hamilcar Frist, the Dancing Judge, has ordered the summary execution of the executive summary be expedited and forwarded to the Flying Squad for immediate effect. All of the towne’s Mr. Cloaking Devices are to be rounded up and thrown into Great Wellington Bog.

“Wellington Leg deserves Internet access,” a towne official said. Coffee futures rallied on the news while the price of Live Hogs at auction stabilized. The lack of visibility at the Piltdown Exchange was blamed on a member of the janitorial staff who turned a Mister Stock Ticker off during lunch. T.Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: While he doesn’t have a book deal Uno the Beagle has captured the Westminster Best in Show, an event that parallels literary ascension into Importance and perhaps serves as a model for how authors should be selected for stardom.

Under the current system soon to be famous authors are groomed at prestigious universities until they are old enough to watch Oprah. The ideal age for Prodigy is somewhere between Marissa Pessl and Benjamin Kunkel but not as old as Jonathan Franzen. Having read the collected works of these Prodigies I can safely say that MFA programs need Westminster Kennel Club’s fabulous sense of drama.

Madison Square Garden, which is nowhere near Madison Square, is the ideal venue for graduation ceremonies. Imagine the excitement as the authors and their handlers make the first orbit of the showroom floor: signs would indicate the number of years devoted to the current masterpiece: 4,8,12, 24 being popular choices. For 25 year old writers it is not wise to choose a number above 24. Let’s keep it real.

Aging prodigies who haven’t produced much lately but whose fame is secure might serve as a panel of non-voting judges to avoid internecine rivalries and fist fights. It might be good to have Bob Costas call the play by play and John Madden choose his All Madden Team based on lyricism, hair style, projection ( it’s no good if we can’t hear you) poise, and the juxtaposition of breeding, optional suffering and mandatory deprivation during the dark years when the only friend you have is Captain Kangaroo.

Uno’s victory proves that size doesn’t matter: Uno is just over a foot tall but graduated from Yale at age One, went on to be the American ambassador to the Court of St. James before returning home to take over as CEO of the Ford Motor Company. Uno loves rubber bones, old boxing gloves, Corvettes, and the works of David Foster Wallace.

That’s what makes a champion.

Wellington Leg: I like conspiracy theories and here’s why: the alternative is to accept my limitations as a person or concede that the Big Bang blew life into existence in a particle acceleration experiment conducted without any supervision at all, and, if that’s true, we’ve created a vast hypothetical construct reduced to the old adage that truth is stranger than fiction. If that’s the case then I’m really not at the dinner table when I’m at the dinner table, it’s an illusion, not a conspiracy after all.

More mainstream thoughts on blogging: like ironing, vacuuming, snowboarding, our ancestors did without this verb or participle or gerund whatever the hell it is in large part because they were fleeing from large carnivorous animals conjured from the depths of their subconscious minds. Now we blog ever mindful of the concern this activity creates in those whose task it is to both be concerned and to express that concern in a conspiracy theory sort of way, ie, that any idiot may now stand on a soap box in this virtual Hyde Park and say anything they want. When did this happen? They wonder.

Existential issues aside, they are dining on the stop sign having  forgotten the fundamental fact that we’re not actually here at all. You’re not reading this! It’s all an illusion. Save yourselves while there is still time. Stop blogging before a Designated Cultural Critic pulls you over and writes a really big ticket.

To add a note of hard news to this dispatch: “A fifteen inch beagle won the Westminster Dog Show.” Conspiracy? Illusion? Would a forty two inch high definition plasma beagle carry the day?

Wellington Leg: On the eve of towne’s long awaited caucuses ( as opposed to Caucasus.  What sense would long awaited Caucasus make? On the eve of what?) little Timmy of Goth broke his aquarium unleashing three gallons of water and a killer whale into the Towne’s fragile ecosystem. Before help could arrive the Orca, named Dusty, consumed four thousand gerbils at the Gerbil Emporium on Eve of Caucasus Boulevard. Also lost in the spill were an unknown quantity of Gerbil Accoutrement’s; Gerbil Gear, tiny food, little treadmills, a copy of EARTHLY POWERS by Anthony Burgess, and briefly, the forty third earl.

Elena Fontana of Helena Montana was an eye-witness: “I saw the whale swallow this guy who I guess is the earl. He looked a lot like Santa Claus or Richard Gere the way Richard Gere looks now, not like he used to look. Anyway, the whale spat the guy out but ate all the gerbils.”

Gerbils had a Kindle: Before the fish tank broke the gerbils were uploading the works of Anthony Burgess onto a late model flatbed Kindle. Elena from Helena recorded her thoughts on Your Blue Fin Tube shortly before leaving Towne: “There was a body snatcher vibe , I thought. I’m like, do gerbils need an ereader? Do whales eat gerbils in the wild?”

So many questions: The forty third earl was rushing along Great Rampling Strasse looking for a big dish of beef chow mein when he reported a Sargasso Sea of gerbils and literature blocking his pathe; when the great Orca struck, he said, “well, that really takes the cake.”

When spat free of the beast the earl sailed across Great Rampling Strasse  onto a stack of discarded mattresses believed to constitute  what police describe as “deus ex machina.” The earl suffered a mild concussion when EARTHLY  POWERS  struck his forehead. His  caucus group waited for him as long as they could: they elected the Dowager Princess to a fifty third term and ate all of the peanut M&Ms, sources report. Marvelous Marv reporting.

Wellington Leg: Tomorrow is Frank Wilson’s last day at the Philadelphia Inquirer. About a year ago Frank gave me a shot at reviewing Natsuo Kirino’s novel GROTESQUE for the paper. It was quite a break for your reporter who got another lucky break a few months later in my other job. Does luck beget luck?

There are voices more eloquent than mine saying farewell to Frank and his one man Age of Reason revival over at Books Inq. The blog belongs to the Inquirer so I imagine that someone will carry on because they don’t toss newspapers on your doorstep anymore. Even the Wellington Leg Intelligencer is a virtual reality a power failure away from oblivion.

Frank turned fights into discussions no mean feat these days. He turned bloggers into reviewers, shone a light on dark corners of the book world. I hope retirement includes blogging for Frank a blog to read every day just like the Philly blog.