David Thayer

Wellington Leg: Unable to attract the actual candidates the Wellington Leg Historical Society sponsored a debate between surrogates for Barack Obama and John McCain during the seventh inning stretch of the Fighting Gastropods most recent thriller. Obama and McCain met on the pitching mound where the forty third earl recited the ground rules not only for the debate but foul line and white chalk issues that lulled the crowd into a stupor, sources say.

Little John Strikes first: Perhaps over eager McCain tackled the earl while he was droning on about balks. The earl in full umpire regalia is not easily toppled but the feisty Arizona senator got the better of his opponent applying a half nelson, full nelson and Admiral Nelson before Obama could react. McCain vaulted the pitching rubber with the earl in a headlock while Obama reached for the resin bag.

Inexperienced in Brawls? McCain showed plenty of vigor as he circled the bases in a golfcart while Obama tried to mediate an immediate end to the bench clearing rhubarb. Obama sparred with Gastropods manager Tuffy Tuffington in shallow center field, territory McCain claimed as he zoomed in from right.

Historical Society Denies Blame: “Perhaps the central figure in this debacle is the forty third earl,” said Anatoly Romanov. “Since when does the home plate umpire venture beyond the pitching mound? Why would he pursue and tussle with a senior citizen?”

It’s Not Uncommon: Former Soviet Premier Leonid Breshnev is said to have to wrestled with umpires well into his golden years. Many observers expressed the feeling that the McCain surrogate went “off message” and failed to expound on his views regarding alternate side of the street parking regulations.

Senator Obama wants the definition of alternate side of the street expanded to include avenues, boulevards, and dual carriageways. Senator McCain advocates festival rules, a position endorsed by the Tow Truck Drivers of Wellington Bailiwick.

The forty third earl reported damage to his clicker, a mechanical device used to keep track of balls and strikes. “There goes half the strike zone,” Manager Tuffington fumed.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: Rumors that the forty third earl is writing a fashion novel are circulating through the literary and hair salons on Great Jones Street once an edgy urban street now gentrified and trendy. Never one to chase literary trends the earl has often shot himself in the foot with bulging novels of dubious merit. “He is a kind of literary Yugo with four flat tires,” said an unnamed literary agent. “If he’s reinventing himself I hope he remembers that the publishing industry has a long memory and captured in that are memory are stark and frightening images of his ridiculous escapades.”

Wardrobe by Wolfe: The New Earl will sport Tom Wolfe ice cream suits accented by peach colored scarves, paisley ascots and “le chien du jour” whatever that may be. Although he will continue writing on his late model IBM compatible machine he recently bought a typewriter at a garage sale. “He is both modern and ancient with various props to remind him that success in the publishing world sometimes demands a modicum of personal humiliation.”

Typewriter falls on his foot: Urquhart Depew reports that his Remington landed on the earl’s big toe at a critical juncture in his latest “writing frenzy” after the fashion dog bit his thigh. Bleeding but still typing his ascot then became jammed in the keyboard necessitating a visit from the Geek and Neckwear Squad who also delivered a critique of his pages. Upon completing his work session the earl was struck by a framed photo of James Wood; slightly off balance after the blow he tripped over a Hall & Henshaw designer ottoman and was rushed to Fashion Hospital.

Eddie Falcon, bathed in Brylcreem and Aqua Velva moved with assurance toward her royal highness who looked smashing in her Vera Wang casual armor. When she hesitated Eddie urged his steed forward…smashing an assassination plot by poorly dressed men and Bolsheviks.

What’s Brylcreem? I wonder…Tuffy Tuffington.

Wellington Leg: A bailout plan for Fannie and Freddie has been expanded to include Frannie and Zooey according to unnamed sources far removed from the matter. Billions of “silly dollars” instruments that resemble real dollars are to be funneled through the Z Window to assist fictional duos whose fame may have withered over time. This is not going to cost the American taxpayer a penny because silly dollars are issued in lieu of real currency. “Eventually the silly dollars will be gathered or harvested and placed in grain silos where they will gradually decay,” said Treasury Undersecretary Lars Lander. “in exchange holders will receive colorful documents with stamps and filigrees and swirly things.”

Good Deal: Though popular with students of literature Frannie and Zooey are not backed by the full faith and credit of the United States. Under new omnibus legislation literary couples may be eligible for federally mandated programs such as Oeuvre Rehabilitation. Originally designed to enhance the performance of chickens many close to the legislation feel that chickens have enough on their minds. “The stress of being a chicken or being a writer is compounded by Oeuvre production quotas imposed by the marketplace,” Mr. Lander said. “We now have the means to permit these creatures a margin of error should the unthinkable happen.”

Lars Lander is no relation to Mars Lander, Mr. Lander added.

Harold and Maude? The federal intervention is not specific to the film industry although no exclusion exists to prevent a similar program for Hollywood. A Starsky and Hutch Proviso is stalled in conference and may not be enacted before the August Recess.

A Chicken in Every Plot? Technically only books that feature chickens are eligible for the Fannie and Freddy subsidy. “I think a character could eat chicken if it makes sense to the story,” Mr. Landers noted. The legislative anomaly may lead to a groundswell of chicken protagonists similar to the Giant Squid Situation a few years back.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting for Wellington Leg Legislative Spotlight.

Great South Bay: Hizzoner declared a state of siege this morning as his reelection campaign entered its third grueling week. The mayor spent part of the weekend hugging trees and kissing babies before rolling up his pantleg for a photo op at the shore. Dogged by Papa Razzi and his gang of hecklers, Hizzoner christened a new edition of Jayne’s Fighting Ships in the traditional manner with a bottle of champagne. In a theatrical moment he walked the plank blindfolded after vowing to raise taxes on the Big Fat Guys who unleashed a twenty one gun salute.

A Tuffy Exclusive: While the mayor was at the beach I was with the Wellington Leg Defense Forces who fought a running battle with ravenous flavinoids. The Noids stormed a hillside redoubt hoping to seize control of the Little Pink House so emblematic of our Bailiwick’s enormous military power. This is not the first time flavinoids have attacked the Leg: it’s the second time, and well, this could be the last time, maybe the last time, I don’t know. I do know that the tambourine has fallen out of favor as an instrument and the flavinoids seemed determined to restore its popularity.

Who are They? What do they Want? Informed of the attack Hizzoner consulted renowned political advisor Mister Prawns whose flow charts, pie charts, eye charts, pop tarts, and go carts often reveal the electorate’s current mood. “We’re banning the tambourine for the foreseeable future,” Hizzoner proclaimed. The crowd cheered despite the distant rumble of artillery.

Hey Mister Tambourine Man: I don’t like to editorialize during the Tuffington Post because I respect the difference between hard news and opinion. I have to say, however, that whether or not we ban tambourines here in Wellington Leg, I hope it doesn’t become permanent. I have a tambourine in my basement. Am I a criminal now?

This is Tuffy Tuffington asking aren’t the flavinoids the real enemy here?

Wellington Leg: To celebrate the Towne’s Third Anniversary dignitaries will gather on the South Lawn to discuss the future of this blog. A mere three years ago Wellington Leg was a crossroads between a corn field ( so valuable now) and a babbling brook once believed stocked with piranha. The rumor about the piranha have proven false as lead editor Wendell Wilkie remains standing in the stream with his pant leg rolled up, no worse for the wear. Three years, Wendell. Well done.

A Mighty Institution: We built the Piltdown Exchange to provide a marketplace of ideas where traders have moved beyond live hogs at auction to literary futures, largely spurred on by the irrational fear that the Forty Third Earl will write another novel. His monumental work VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA remains as ghastly as ever twelve hundred pages of remarkable nonsense about the Black Plague, whether Voltaire drove a Volvo, and a wicked witch who puts a hex on the American banking system by refusing to pay her mortgage.

Despite a war with the European Union and the Roman Invasion, Wellington Leg is a book lovers paradise offering an investment opportunity to anyone who yearns for wide open spaces. Yes, there is a Space Monster parked in the middle of towne but the gated community of Fumbling Oaks has never been safer. Sooner or later the Martians will tire of us, and move on! That’s what Martians do.

Our new Sister Cities Program holds much promise. Wellington Leg will swap your tax receipts for ours for thirty days! Berlin, Germany, we’re looking at you. Send us your hard currency.

Thank you, or Vielen Dank.

Wellington Shale Formation: When last we saw young Tuffy Tuffington he was scraping the hardpan with a greasy spoon. Unable to file his story Tuffy did what any intrepid writer would do: he dug a hole for himself. Yes, not even the use of a reflexive pronoun, certainly a weakness of Tuffy’s, could prevent what happened next. Sometimes missing a deadline is a prelude to enormous scientific progress although most of the time one has nothing to do with the other. On that cautionary note we continue with our saga Tuffy in the Desert.

As Tuffy digs he notices that the soil is darkening, bubbling, spitting. He’s found a gerund deposit a few feet down. Not a wildcatter by trade Tuffy digs deeper striking an entire strata of what appears to be Cormac McCarthyite, a rare earth mineral so precious that some reviewers and critics want us to drill in the Outer Continental Shelf but mean green liberals won’t let us!

Tuffy Rents a Drill Rig: This is a long interlude wherein our hero encounters T. Boone Pickens in a peyote induced nightmare that should result in a three book deal if Tuffy can remember his memoir. Take notes, Tuffy! We cry from the balcony.

The Prose Begins to Flow: after injecting hot air and boiling water into the hole, the wildcatters strike a McCarthyite gusher and the prose begins to flow, the road becomes a menacing wasteland where only the strong survive. In a land of dessicated pickup trucks and peeling paint we sense that a great calamity has befallen the people, and Tuffy must chronicle their demise or be laid off.

Capping the Wellhead: what appears to be an armadillo is a laptop computer with wifi and hifi and a carapace so thick even airport security cannot destroy it. Tuffy’s fingers are on the keyboard, the ground trembles as the precious stuff hurtles skyward in an eruption rivaling Krakatoa.

Tuffy has broken through.

Wellington Falls: Where does electricity come from? I asked that question at an editorial meeting of the Druidical & Literary early yesterday. My boss told me that electricity comes from the light switch and sure enough he was right. After the meeting he took me aside and said, “That was a good question. Turn it into a hard hitting Tuffington Post.”

Water Feature: I’m embedded with a crew from Consolidated Steam as we seek the source of the Rhino River. After leaving Wellington Leg we pass the earl’s magnificent estate near Basking Shark. The grueling drive and close quarters make the crew edgy so we stop at a greasy spoon where bikers sip chai and throw darts. Everyone knows we’re from Consolidated Steam, but I think the bartender suspects I’m a reporter. My chai came in a regular cup with a Disney World logo on the side. The other guys got cardboard cups. No one asked me to throw a dart.

How Now Brown Out? Lots of customers are complaining that they have no electricity between eight in the morning and three in the afternoon. I’ve noticed that too because we use candles at the office. We’re in the high country now nothing but big horn sheep and McCain billboards shell casings and scorpions. The foreman warns us to wear our Con Steam hats all times now. Danger lurks behind every hanging basket where the hanging judge bangs his gavel demanding electricity.

One of Our Turbines is Kaput: “Probably damaged by a meteorite.” I’m reading my notes by flashlight…I think I’m on deadline. “This will take days to fix,” the foreman says. “We’ll make camp for the night on that ridge.”

It’s Very cold. It’s very dark. Coyotes howl. They say the outlaw Josie Wales camped here once. Oh man, here come those dart throwing bikers. Where’s my Con Steam cap? Where’s my chai?

Why did I take this assignment?

Tuffy Tuffington reporting.

Piltdown Exchange: A sharp rise in Hair oil futures caught traders flatfooted as the monthly inventory report showed a dip in supplies. Trading curbs imposed at noon prevented a blow off in the vital commodity as circuit breakers blew. Rumors that Daniel Baldwin had a buzz cut curtailed some of the panic although the possibility of a remake of WALL STREET drove the price per barrel of West Texas Intermediate Hair Gel to an all time high.

Light Sweet Crude: With his hair slicked back a young man may pursue numerous careers especially those requiring an aura of ruthlessness. Nowhere is this more evident than on the trading floor where those with limp dry hair are pushed to the rear of the crowd helpless to prevent financial ruin.

Speculators Blamed: Professor Moriarity has studied the markets for years and believes that speculators are manipulating supply. Hair Oil Reserves represent a stockpile of the strategic stuff stored in tank farms in the Mojave Desert. “During the 1980s the reserves were low as demand crested,” Moriarity said. Supplies rebounded in the ’90s but now emerging nations are net importers of the precious pomade. “Indian and Chinese men want to look ruthless too,” he said.

Refining Margins Squeezed: Having survived the writer’s strike, Hollywood faces a new threat: actors with crummy hair. Villains on the Lifetime Channel alone require 400,000 barrels of hair oil a level of demand now exceeded by Bollywood. Some have proposed drilling in the Santa Barbara Channel while others see the La Brea Tarpits as a short term solution. Actors could be dipped in the Tar Pits semi-annually for hair maintenance.

Hybrid Hair? Professor Moriarty may have an ingenious solution. After studying Baywatch reruns he realized that water may be a substitute for Hair Oil. “When I saw Pammy on the beach I saw hair oil independence,” he said. The professor demonstrated by pouring a bottle of Evian water onto the head of volunteer Alfredo Garcia. Alfredo’s hair glistened for eleven minutes before evaporation took its toll.

Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia: the professor will repeat his experiment near the New York Commodities Exchange after the market closes.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.

Wellington Leg: The Forty Third Earl strolled Wellington High Street late Wednesday signing autographs and waving to passersby near the fashionable Arcade of Numerous Stores. His stunning appearance after so many weeks in absentia caused severe congestion where the major roads and byways cloverleaf into a thirty two lane Gordian Knot. Such was the outpouring from the citizenry that a phalanx of Volvo pursuit vehicles or VPVs, formed a flying wedge or wing T formation to relieve the snarl. “He’s back,” said Lars Kierkegaard, Publicist of Doom. “He circumnavigated the globe.”

He Says ‘Hey’ to Klatu: When asked what was new in the Leg, the peasants and serfs carried the earl on their shoulders to the Mars Lander. The crowd stood back as the earl approached the Space Monster, Klatu, who only yesterday devoured Henley Hornbrook’s famous brewery. With the field open before him the earl crossed No Man’s Land until standing nose to nose with the robot. After a brief pause for tea and a Fig Newton, the earl suddenly drew his sword, which Klatu promptly vaporized.

His Orderly Withdrawal: Swordless, and perhaps a little rusty after so long at sea, the earl parried numerous laser thrusts with his well worn copy of John Barth’s masterpiece THE SOT WEED FACTOR. Klatu hurled bolts of lightning and finally great balls of fire, to no avail. Unscathed the earl dashed backwards until the Space Monster’s glowing eye extinguished.

In an exclusive to the Druidical & Literary, the earl explained that his captivity by a blue whale was a “dream sequence.” Not his dream, but our dream, or as he put it, “your dream.” He went to say that Klatu is a menace, but as long he stays in Centennial Park, the danger is probably minor.

The Literary Fraud Squad is not amused. “Litmo is far from over,” huffed Mad Henry of Densmore. Sales of VOLTAIRE’S MIASMA have spiked since the earl’s mysterious disappearance. The eleven pound tome is a popular choice for the men who operate the Towne’s seige engines. “We launched one of those bruisers during the war with the EU,” said Gunnery Sergeant Virgilio. “That book is fabulous.”

Bureau Chief Bernita Tornado reporting.

Wellington Leg: This year’s Literary Faire will feature addresses from both the major candidates according to Faire Insiders who spoke to this reporter incognito. “There are preconditions, of course, and Wellington Leg, a forgotten backwater, has a long way to go before McCain and Obama visit towne.”

A Civic Action: Prior to McCain’s arrival the entire area will be miniaturized, according to Eddie Palmer, owner of Eddie’s Book Nook. “The Republican candidate is short so we’re shrinking my store, the hardware store and the local high school. We will become Lilliput to his Gulliver.” A team of Intel scientists is working on a chip that will cram more of Wellington Leg into a smaller space so that eventually McCain will appear to be a giant among the tiny citizens.”

As always McCain will freewheel through the crowd with a portable microphone courtesy of the Flying Squad. “We hope that John punches a few drunken hecklers during his Q&A,” said DCI Borchardt. “We want to see his youthful side.”

Inflatable Fans: With Barack Obama scheduled to address the coveted Award Ceremony following an introduction by the Forty Third Earl, or someone pretending to be him, an array of bicycle pumps will be deployed to restore Wellington Leg to regular size. “We are Brobdingnagian,” Eddie said. As a demonstration Eddie pumped Fresh Air into the Historic Rotunda where towne officials often gather for a holographic visit from Rush Limbaugh. “No one is bigger than Rush,” Eddie said. Mr. Limbaugh is believed to be several stories high.

Obama offered this comment: “I understand that a prominent citizen of Wellington Leg has been swallowed by a whale. That’s the kind of thing we just can’t have anymore. That’s old school. We’re better than that.”

Bush Country? Ms. Lydia Careerbreaker, a local business tycoon, plans to heckle both candidates. She owns a terrifying collection of Dick Cheney outtakes as well as a pair of Li’l Dubya Sixshooters. “Don’t bring those guns to Towne,” DCI Borchardt warned. The miniature lawman is currently six inches tall.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting for Reductio ad Absurdem.