David Thayer

It’s not often that the opportunity to interview an actual mogul comes along. Moguls are scarce on the ground and we’ve had Marty before explaining why he bought up all the publishing houses and ruined the business. We caught up with him near Redmond Washington where he’s vacationing. Marty was dressed in the gear of a decurion in the Vicessima Claudia Legion reenacting the battle of Lake Trasimere.

How goes the battle?

Hannibal’s troops have camped on that hill over there past the Seven Eleven. Tomorrow they’ll attack out of the fog and slaughter us.

You ruined the publishing business in the wake of a bitter divorce: how’s the dating going? Do you think if you find the right woman you’ll sell some publishing houses?

My people are crunching the numbers on the dating scene right now. I’m reading a lot of chick lit in the hopes of understanding that side of the biz. Here’s my question: why should we pay writers anything? People should be happy to see their name on the cover.

Marty, what’s your take on crime fiction?

It’s expensive. My cost benefit analysis indicates serious inefficiencies; again the writer is the problem. Now we’ve designed a robot capable of writing 23,000 words per day. Granted, someone has quirt 10-40d on the bot but that job is entry level. This robot produces a novel every four days.

Wow. Are the books any good?

Well, they deal with robot themes. Like I wish I had real hands, stuff like that.

You mean The Tin Man Syndrome?

Good title. I’ll pay you a quarter for it.

50 cent.

Writers are greedy. Once this robot thing takes off you’ll be out of luck.

Wellington Leg, the 12th Ultimo: fearing scandal the cabal controlling this blog have assembled in a remote hunting lodge near the mountain village of Appalachia in the hopes of divvying up the media empire’s vast riches. Local sheriff Rico Fermi shared this insight from a duck blind a quarter mile from the lodge: “The first thing I noticed was all the limos. We only have one limo in town and it’s a Plymouth station wagon.”

The Plymouth has a flat tire according to Mechanic Mike who didn’t want to reveal his real name or Amazon Ranking. “A fat guy in a white shirt stopped for gas. He asked if I’d seen Paris Hilton. I’m like, what? Is she missing?”

Rumors to the contrary notwithstanding the gathering at the lodge includes the Boys from Philly, the Boys from Jersey, forty Lincoln Towncars and two guys from Cleveland. Some of them wore teeshirts that read “Blogger” and were observed playing bocce.

DCI Borchardt and the Flying Squad are standing by. Their late model Dodge Charger is in the shop so they may have to run to the lodge should the need arise. “I’m really backed up,” Mike the Mechanic said. “I hope Fat Joey shows up tomorrow. It’s like everybody in town is missing.”

Appalachia’s population is 456. In the summer that number rises to 457 for the Annual Cheese Hunt during which residents hide things from one another. Drew Bledsoe reporting.

Wellington Leg: Here in the Greta Garbo Room of the Hotel Faz tables are arranged to allow literary agents to hear pitches at the Tenth Annual Wellington Leg Writers Conference. It was here yesterday afternoon that The Earl swung from a chandelier in the direction of Ueberagent Angelina Scones, considered to be the most powerful agent in the Publishing World. Ms. Scones, famous for her list, was listening to DCI Borchardt as he droned through the plot summary of WELLINGTON LEG CONFIDENTIAL. Borchardt had reached the point in his narrative where he scales the Tower to rescue Faire Olive utilizing her golden locks as an impromptu ladder: “It’s Rapunzel meets the Usual Suspects” said Borchardt. “Ms. Scones appeared mesmerized.”

The Earl was accompanied by Sheriffs and Bailiffs from HRH J Mansfield Prison. Facing charges of throwing a turnip at a Roman sentry, The Earl purchased “a pitch session” with Ms. Scones. Clutching the entire manuscript of Rimbaud he raced into the ballroom, climbed onto a vacant table and seized hold of the chandelier. “He sailed across the ballroom,” reported Heather DeMedici whose roman a clef about her days as an intern at the Druidical & Literary is raising eyebrows in towne. “He showed remarkable quickness,” said a scout. “Great lateral speed.”

Dozens of agents streamed out of the Greta Garbo Room until order was restored. Prudentia Chalfont-Smythe, chair of the Organizing Committee, said that pitch sessions would resume this morning. Both The Earl and the offending chandelier have been removed. On a happier note Ms. Scones requested the opening two paragraphs of Borchardt’s novel. He plans to include glossy photos depicting his triumphant role as Lysander in last year’s Shakespeare in the Costco Parking Lot production. “The arrow through my head is real,” he added. “It’s not a stage prop.”

In a setback for The Earl, the New York Yankees left him off their expanded roster. Thus, any major league team can claim him according to Sports Editor Mandy Rice-Davies. The Earl’s role as set-up man suffered when the Duchess of Wey went yard off a cut fastball served up by the aspiring pitcher. “She turned on it,” Mandy said. “She smoked it.” The Duchess showed The Earl up by lingering in the batter’s box before making a slow turn around the bases. Some of The Earl’s teammates came to the dugout steps but seemed reluctant to brawl with the Duchess. She gave the crowd a curtain call while The Earl fumed on the hill. “There could be chin music next time,” said an unnamed coach. “She’s thumbing her nose at tradition.”

The Duchess favors a Manny Ramirez 44 ounce ash bat. “It’s a big stick,” said Professor Moriarity. “If she keeps her head down and her weight back she can generate tremendous bat speed.”

Brian Cashman, Yankees GM, gave no indication that the Yankees will sign the Duchess. With Matsui and Sheffield coming off the disabled list there is no room for her in the Yankee outfield. As for The Earl, Cashman wondered aloud about the clanking sound audible from the pitcher’s mound. “Nobody clanks, do they?” he asked.

Dateline: Foggy Bottom. Hizzoner Jimmy Stones has appointed Prudentia Chalfont-Smythe, heiress and poet, to chair the newly formed Wellington Leg Literary Taste Society. The Society will police the literary tastes of the populace at the grass roots level where Audit Teams will be dispatched to the homes of those citizens suspected of writing. Chalfont-Smythe will serve as Arbiter and report to former IRS Administrator and Bon Vivant, Graf von Sitzbaedchen. “We will emulate various tax authorities and regulatory agencies such as the SEC,” the graf said in a prepared statement. “Our enforcement division will conduct raids on various critique groups and book clubs in effort to elevate readers’ consumption.” Heir to the Sitz bath fortune, the graf has dedicated much of his adult life to the eradication of poor taste.

Eddy of Eddy’s Book Nook, Wellington Leg’s preeminent indy bookstore, said he welcomes the scrutiny of the new agency. He has no plans, however, to withdraw his forty foot cardboard likeness of Dame Pamela Anderson from the roof of his establishment. His “Babes of Baywatch Reading Series” has been a big hit. “We’re getting a lot of surfers who want to read a book,” he said. Eddy has been experimenting with three page novels that feature plenty of pictures. “Marge Tolliver writes them during her coffee break,” Eddy said.

Indeed Marge was taken into custody in a dawn raid on her Italianate Revival Townhome constructed by Hizzoner’s brother-in-law, Vasco de Gama. Marge is detained at HRH J Mansfield Prison whose outer walls have been repaired. Faithful readers may recall that the prison sustained heavy damage during the earl’s “Big Bust Out” an event sponsored by Big Tobacco. “Marge is behind locked doors,” reported Mrs. Chalfont-Smythe, author of Her Lyrical Poetry. “Let this be a lesson to us all.”

Wellington Leg: The quiet of a predawn shift change was shattered when the Earl of Watership Down, author and raconteur, escaped custody through a “gap” in the mighty walls of HRH Mansfield Prison officials admitted this morning. Warden Pico di Gallo, wearing a Boston Massacre 11 sweatshirt, reported the escape to Mrs. Anderson-Cooper, QC on the QT shortly after PT. The Prosecutrix, vibrant in a yellow slicker, said she was reading Albert Camus when word of the daring escape reached her. She ordered dozens of glazed donuts and threw a cordon around the neighborhood. “We will capture the earl,” she vowed. “Public safety demands it.”

Food critic Ildephonse Macaroni was driving home from the theater and had this to say: “I was westbound on the Boulevard of Broken Seams when I noticed a rotund fellow in chains hurrying along the sidewalk. I used my cellular telephone to summon police.” Mr. Macaroni was cited for cell phone use in a motor vehicle according to Deputy Chief Dick Cheney. “We smacked him around pretty good,” Dick said.

The north face of the prison suffered extensive damage in what is now being called The Big Bust Out although it isn’t clear why it’s so Big when only one man escaped. The Earl is wearing striped trousers with the word “prisoner” stitched into the seat. Gladys Rye of Alte Gasse is the seamstress who designed the garment: “One is alerted by the vertical piping and bold colors to the fact that the wearer, in this case The Earl, is an escapee.”

Prison official Donny Rumsfeld warned that the escaped prisoner may seek shelter among the towne’s population. “He may try to blend in. If you think you’ve seen The Earl, write an essay on the subject and submit it to: I HAVE SEEN THE EARL ESSAY CONTEST. Remember that your entry cannot exceed five hundred words. Type your name and email address on the bottom right corner of the face sheet.”

Thus far the only essay received is written in Latin. “It’s annoying,” admitted Hamilcar Frist. “We’re volunteers. No one said anything about reading Latin.”

With jury selection, adverse selection, and natural selection almost complete, there came the stunning revelation that Duane Parvenu, Juror Six, is a Googlebot. Mr. Parvenu was exposed during a meal break when he opened a panel in his skull to pour Gatorade into a reservoir behind his left ear. “I was showing him how to grip a two seam fastball,” reported Juror Nine, Mrs. Wendy Bulwer-Lytton, of Peekskill. “He said “excuse me” and poured Gatorade into his head.” “He also knew the capital of Lesotho,” she added.

Judge Hamilcar Frist ordered the band to play “Houses of the Holy” during Mandy Rice-Davies dramatic entrance into the courtroom. Rice-Davies wore a red leather miniskirt and a white pillbox hat according to eyewitnesses. Prosecutor Gonads demanded that a charge be appended to the bill. “Those spiked heels are a lethal weapon,” he cried. One of the fat guys fell out of the jury box when Mandy winked at him; a barrage of cabbages and day old Napoleons accompanied cries of “she’s guilty” from the gallery. Judge Frist performed a hand stand that settled the crowd.

A Motion in limine was filed. Political correspondents, Puffy n Scooter, reported that the Crown planned to add a Greek Chorus to the prosecution team led by local thespian and Walmart greeter Arthur “Boom Boom” Geoffrion. “Mr. Geoffrion will cry out from time to time to emphasize points of order, points of law, and remind the jury of how guilty the defendants are.” He will be backed up by the Inner Goth Chorale.

DCI Borchardt took the googlebot into custody. “He may have obtained the Gatorade through defrauding a vending machine,” Borchardt said. “He was in possession of several Canadian quarters,” he added. Alternate Juror, Graciella Pace, will stand in for the duration.

The Earl is not scheduled to appear for several days, according to Borchardt. He’s being held in lieu of bond at the Fillmore East extension of City Jail. His attorney, D&L cub reporter Anna Nicole, is having a fundraiser Saturday night at the Bingo Palace on Newbury Place. “It’s a Polka Night,” Anna said. The first five guests will be flown to the French Riviera. “Come early,” she urged.

In a scandal without precedent the literary blog “One More Bite of the Apple” has been taken over by characters whose existence is in doubt. Page Seven reporter Concetta Comedia della Arta asserts that reliable sources with impeccable literary credentials have confirmed her breaking story. Concetta has devoted weeks to analyzing various posts from the blog while lunching at the fabulous Chez Stadium, her only means of transport an AMC Hornet. “This is not about me,” she said. “This is about a scandalous deception and literary hoax.”

Concetta’s Page Seven Exclusive entitled, “Roman soldiers? I haven’t seen any Roman soldiers,” is a hard hitting look at the supposed invasion of California. “My friends on the coast tell me everything is cool,” Concetta said. “If LA were under seige would Brad and Angelina have returned?”

While it is not clear who Brad and Angelina are, Concetta’s next point is damaging: “The blog is supposed to be about literature, right? That’s like books and boring stuff like that. What does throwing turnips and emperor penguins have to do with books? If the Dowager Princess tried out for the Jets why isn’t she at mini-camp?”

The storm of allegations brought this rebuttal from Wilfredo Tagesblatt Vice President of Development: “i’m sure Concetta has no axe to grind even though she was fired from the Druidical & Literary. That’s the real scandal here.”

Waltraut Frothingmunster, Postmistress of Wellington Leg, and author in her own right, agreed with Mr. Tagesblatt. “These tabloids will stoop to anything to sell papers,” she said. “My front garden is knee deep in Marie Calendar Boston Cream Pies. Perhaps Concetta would like to stop by and help me clean this mess up.”

Ms. Comedia della Arta conceded that she did see an emperor penguin in police custody late yesterday afternoon. “That doesn’t mean that the rest of this stuff is true,” she said. Concetta also admitted that her appearance on Letterman may be on hold. “I’m standing by my story. The blog is out of control.”

Dateline Wellington Leg: With the runoff election looming none of the candidates have run off according to Prudentia Chalfont-Smythe, chair of the election commission and heiress to the Smythe Oven fortune. The incumbent, Hizzoner Jimmy Stones, held a slim lead after Sunday’s baby kissing fiasco wherein Hizzoner kissed the mom not the proferred baby. The unidentified woman retaliated with a bottle of Windex leaving Hizzoner’s glasses fogged although remarkably clean after aides and sycophants applied a damp cloth to his specs. Frankie Pins remains in second while writein candidate our own Anna Nicole has gained ground. Lobbyist Puffy thinks the race is too close to call.

The winner will be the master of ceremonies at this year’s Literary Faire. The long list for the coveted Snooker Award, won last year by Chalfont-Smythe, is sequestered on the Isle of Mitch visible from shore on Tuesdays with fair winds. It was Anna Nicole who discovered that troops from the Vicesima Claudia legion were constructing a causeway from the island. Causeway construction is a class B felony according to Constable AJC Constable of the Marine Patrol. “The Romans may simply be dumping large rocks into the sea,” he observed. Indeed skirmishers crossed the American River “offering taunts and challenges” to the Governor. “That’s not fair,” Constable Constable added.

With the weather clearing the invaders are emboldened said DCI Borchardt. Over the weekend elements from the Valeria Victrix legion were routed after Mrs. Chalfont-Smythe read from her epic poem “Wolfman Jack.” The 405 will reopen vowed Borchardt and outlet malls, a favorite target of Roman derision, will once again be operational. Borchardt’s “Wellington Leg Confidential” is believed to be on the long list if only because of his torrid affair with Chalfont-Smythe. Concetta Comedia della Arta reporting.

Special to Weekend Edition of the Druidical & Literary: these stories while based on fact, are not based on facts relevant to the stories but rather other facts such as the exact height of the Colossus at Rhodes. Your reporter, armed only with a thesaurus and a primitive map of the New World, can only speculate as to how these facts may influence the course of human events. Call it budget cuts, call it shoddy journalism, these stories are sponsored by Bill’s House of Cars on the Romantic Road. Need a car? Bill’s Pledge to You: Your credit history is not a problem at Bill’s House of Cars. Free loaners for life. Tell Bill the exact height of the Colossus at Rhodes and win a chamois! Here now the news:

Judges from the Court of Public Opinion were arrested in a dawn raid by members of the Flying Squad. Acting on an anonymous tip police and paramilitary units from Fort Santorum assaulted the residence of Judge Crater. Several of the jurists were discovered in the neighboring village of Flagrante Delicto according to witnesses. A crate of Richard Cheney masks were confiscated along with a quantity of knockoff French Perfumes. “The smell was terrible,” reported Mrs. Jolie of Portobello Court in Goth. Barrels of watered down Chanel fragrances floated ashore near the estuary late Saturday night. “Red abalone beached themselves,” said DCI Borchardt. “We’ve nipped this smuggling ring in the bud.”

Suspicion fell on the Earl whose high street emporium The Nose Knows has violated anti-witchcraft ordnances. Mrs. Anderson-Cooper, Prosecutrix, interviewed in a hot air balloon, believes that the master of MV Longueduc conspired with the earl to flood the market with cheap perfume. “This is a scene from Voltaire’s Miasma,” she claimed, referring to the earl’s self-published potboiler wherein a philosopher turns to piracy. “They’re guilty of barratry.”

Counsel for the Defense Mr. Putts reminded everyone that the earl was in possession of a “Letter of the mart” signed by the Dowager Princess. “He is an authorized buccaneer.” Opening arguments will be presented in a alphabetical order according to Judge Crater. “There will be order in the court,” he vowed.