David Thayer

Wellington Leg: When I was in school I shared a locker with a kid who shall remain nameless. After gym he’d rotate his sweat socks from one foot to the other in homage to personal hygiene; two months into the school year Joey ( we’ll call him Joey) smelled like a boy rotating the same pair of socks well into the Holiday Season. Joey took criticism poorly but as his locker mate I had to break the news to him. I told him he smelled bad. He punched me. I punched him back. We were dispatched to the penal colony of detention where off duty Drivers Ed commandos read aloud from the New York Post.

Via Ed Peschel I came to Tess Gerritsen’s blog wherein Tess confesses a secret: she wants to throw in the blogging towel after admitting an honest dislike for negative reviews and the reviewers they rode in on.  Tess is a successful writer who has raised hackles before with her blunt talk about her frustrations with reviews, best seller lists, what some see as complaints from the penthouse.

Because of her blog I’m a Tess Gerritsen fan. I don’t review her books for the same reason I don’t review Lee Child, Barry Eisler, Harlan Coben or Michael Palmer. Those ships have sailed. And commercial success tends to drain risk taking, leaving the elements that guarantee sales dull and familiar.

I admire her quest for more than just sales and wish her luck with that. Many of the writers I find interesting and challenging are struggling to stay in print, get in print, or find some footing in publishing’s modern quagmire. They are the reason I review books even as common sense tells me not to.

Wellington Leg: Eddie’s Book Nook has a list of mini-reviews posted today. Eddie has his thoughts on the latest from Alex Carr ( Jenny Siler) Steven Sidor, Jose Latour, Joseph Wambaugh, Brent Ghelfi, Kjell Eriksson and Cervantes.

THE MIRROR’S EDGE by Steven Sidor: Okay, you don’t like the horror genre. You don’t like scary books. This is one of the most well written novels you’ll read this year, so get over your genre angst and go get the book.

THE PRINCE OF BAGRAM PRISON by Alex Carr. This is Jenny Siler’s second Alex Carr novel published by Mortalis a Random House imprint. Your reporter is writing a full scale review for January, but I can tell you that Eddie liked it. He spilled coffee on his shirt and still liked it.

HIDDEN IN HAVANA by Jose Latour. Reviewed in January. Great story, wonderful setting, subtle sense of fun in the prose.

VOLK’S GAME by Brent Ghelfi. Picador has a wonderful list often overlooked by Big Box Candy Mountain. Let’s find a hero in Mother Russia.

THE DEMON OF DAKAR by Kjell Eriksson. We take terrible liberties with Eriksson’s work swiping blog post titles hijacking entire Swedish cities into Wellington Leg. I use the word “we” to spread the blame around. Sometimes I wish this were a group blog.

Miguel Cervantes: this is the guy who started it all. Well, he’s back in the form of spam. There’s a Dylan song with a reference to Cervantes but I can’t think of which one it is.

Editors Note: Almost forgot HOLLYWOOD CROWS by Joseph Wambaugh. If you’re a fan this is like coming home again. I’m not crazy about the acronymic title, but this has all the elements of his best work updated in the service of youth.

Mile marker 83: Business, sports, and book writing are suspended in Wellington Leg after a team of experts determined the Towne is too busy. The ban on these activities is expected to last until August calling into question the traditional start of the Literary Faire. Swimming and bicycle riding are also proscribed in a ten page memo called “Too Busy.”

Drawn and quartered from all walks of life the panel of experts spent eleven weeks in Wellington Leg although ten of those weeks were devoted to Chinese takeout menu analysis ( CTMA). Residents grumble that the experts never formally met to discuss their findings due to scheduling conflicts. One expert, a Mr. Mango, spent his days assembling a thirty foot apple fritter that he hoped might distract the naval forces arrayed in Gastropod Alley.

Petition to the Earl: Entitled, “We’re Not that Busy” the petition was delivered to his garconniere on Pouncing Adverbs Close. Unfortunately the earl had retired to his hammock after an exhausting breakfast meeting with his advisers.

However, the Duchess, resplendent in retro flannel and an Orioles cap, noted that “she was too busy to read the busy memo, but not too busy to refer the matter to her own panel of experts puttering about in a jalopy of her own design.”

Roman forces stationed in and around Costco in Goth are exempt from the activity ban. Four legions have departed winter quarters in preparation for an invasion of western Pennsylvania. The troops have mastered the English phrase “can you dig it?” in an effort to placate restive populations.

The sacking and burning of condo complexes is also banned, experts note.

Natasha, the Consort Royal, reporting.

Wellington Leg: Instead of watching the debate last night Legians were treated to a fifteen round battle between Smoking Joe Frazier and Mohammed Ali. This time Frazier Koed the champ in the fourth round courtesy of the W! Network’s Time Warped TV. Animator Nelson Trafalgar of Brooms Akimbo Lane in Henley Hornbrook utilized a number two pencil and a box of Crayolas to recreate the fight for a select audience of aldermen, nabobs, undersheriffs, Black Watch, and cucumber heiress Lady Jane. A Howard Cosell handpuppet was stolen during the second round but a Kathie Lee Gifford handpuppet saved the day.

Invented in 1954 by a team from Wellington Poly Time Warp TV aired the Kefauver hearings into organized crime during the 2008 Super Bowl. “The show was a huge success,” noted executive producer Wilder Capshaw. “Few people knew that Murder Incorporated opened a branch in Wellington Leg.”

Next week the W! Network plans to run the Nixon-Kennedy debate. “This time Dick is going to win,” Mr. Trafalgar vowed. “I’m going to erase the sweat from his upper lip.”

Skeptics point out that dwelling in the past is not healthy for Wellington Leg or its floundering economy. Such an economy, based entirely on Flounder Futures, is bound to wobble. With the Spanish Armada blockading Gastropod Alley and the secret aid of the Dauphin things look grim for GDP growth.

Geraldo reporting for the W! Network.

Crime Beat Update: Someone has drawn a mustache on the Dauphin’s fabled visage: The Flying Squad has seized a number two pencil and cordoned off four square blocks and one triangular shaped intersection. WLPD is issuing a traffic advisory.

Wellington Leg: After a whirlwind visit from shelving consultant Sarbanes Ochsley Eddie Parker of Eddie’s Book Nook has hired sports editor Mandy Rice-Davies to restore order. “I think Sarbanes meant well,” Eddie said. “But a whole section of ‘boring books’ seems self-defeating to me.”

Mandy agrees. “I’m putting the new Wambaugh under the letter I which stands for “I like it.” She has the latest release by Daniel Judson under I for “I haven’t read it yet,” and Danielle Steele under I for “I didn’t like it.”

The Is have it: Eddie’s Book Nook now has a Bulge near the midsection of the alphabet: “Mandy has everything under “I” so I’m moving the espresso machine and the fax machine, which is really one machine, over toward the Clintonia section of the store.”

Sending Coffee Over the Airwaves: the espresso fax machine was invented in 1897 by the Ninth Earl of Watership Down. The device fell out of favor until 1964 when someone reading LET US NOW PRAISE FAMOUS MEN fell sideways at a sidewalk cafe in Wellington Leg’s arty warehouse district. “An arc of coffee, much like a rainbow, flew southwest without delay or distraction into the offices of Herself, a Magistrate.”

Eddie faxes coffee along with his New Release tearsheets to subscribers in 44 countries. He recently jolted the Chinese Politburo with a Sumatra blend and the latest Richard North Patterson.

Not everyone appreciates faxed coffee. Boris Norris is a traditionalist. He faxes chocolate bars from his office on Rittenhouse Square. “I sent a Snickers to John McCain. He sent it back Fedex. It was forty three feet long,” he said.

Concetta Comedia del’Arta reporting.

Wellington Leg: There was a reference in a New York Times dispatch today describing American and Iraqi troops entering eastern Baghdad; the Mahdi Army uses carrier pigeons to communicate and the Iraqi commander asked if it was okay to shoot them. The American guy thought it was okay as long the Iraqis were pretty sure the pigeons were up to no good. As if on cue a flock or platoon of pigeons rose from the rooftops carrying their handlers’ urgent communiques.

Anyone who lives in an urban setting has mixed feelings about pigeons. They coo and rustle and flutter in buildings alcoves, on window ledges, above dark alleys and Fifth Avenue salons. Pigeons have little evident regard for humans and in return we aren’t excited by the majestic arrival of a pigeon on our red carpet; like the GIs in Baghdad we’re not sure if it’s okay to go ahead and shoot them.

There are pigeon people in every major city who keep rooftop aviaries and train the messengers who, being pigeons, are often shot at the earliest opportunity, if not literally then metaphorically. This is happening on a grand scale during the US presidential campaign as the pigeons are picked off one by one until two remain to confront one another in November. The final pigeon will fall and the survivor will become President. This person, this victor, will not be viewed as a pigeon or a lame duck until time and distance transform them into a swan or a Golden Goose. This person can give an executive order to shoot the pigeons of their choice or, with noblesse oblige, spare the pigeon whose wings flutter too close for comfort.

So, by all means, shoot the pigeons. Remember to gauge their intentions first, and once the threat assessment is complete, open fire. If the pigeon takes evasive action, then rest assured you made the right decision in the first place. If the pigeon shoots back call headquarters. Call collect. This is big news.

Wellington Leg: During a writers retreat at Canary Slough a mechanical owl was observed in the woods south of the campus not far from the Wallop Upgrade on Highway 61. The majestic bird flew over Maggie’s Farm before alighting close to Fourth Street. “It might have been Third Street,” said birder Marjorie Mayhew. “I’m not positive it was Fourth Street.”

If the owl has returned to the Leg it would confirm the migratory nature of Wellington Leg’s signature bird. The mechanical owl is a rare species with a white face and matching gloves, which, like a rolling stone, travels here and there in search of mechanical food.

Back on the endangered list? Great changes to its natural habitat have forced the owl to hitch rides rather than fly. “We saw one from a Buick 6,” noted Ms. Mayhew. “It may have been driving a small bore Lotus.”

Mechanical owls are quite large some weighing over twenty kilos. They favor leafy environs although a cave dwelling owl with a penchant for aluminum siding was studied by the forty third earl. “They left the caves,” he said. “They may have been suffering from subterranean homesick blues.”

Some believe the development of Vertiginous Pines, a condo community, may have influenced the sudden departure of the owls several years ago. The vast new tract called Desolation Row was suspended after Ophelia was observed “neath her window.”

Geraldo reporting for Wellington Leg Science and Birding.

Wellington Copse: Our latest television reality show fared poorly last night among city dwellers who rely on public transportation. “Copse” features a group of trees identified only by garish purple ribbons affixed to their lower branches. The highlight of the two hour opener: some of the copse bend slightly in the breeze. A hint of suspense came when Dick “Chainsaw” Cheney, a local lumber magnate, wondered aloud if clearcutting might enhance the otherwise barren hillside.

One of the writers for “Copse” is Waltraut Frothingmunster retired postmistress of Wellington Leg. Tanked up on Leonard Cohen lyrics Waltraut wrote the entire program in a single ten hour sitting. “I’m like a bird on the wire,” she said. “A drunk in midnight choir.” VP of Development Wilfredo Tagesblatt concedes the show is doomed. “Trees are boring,” he said. “But don’t quote me.”

The insertion of a forty minute infomercial livened things up but by then the vast majority of Legians were sound asleep. “The image of the forty third earl doing one hand pushups lingers still,” noted DCI Borchardt who watched the entire program in the swank loft conversion he recently purchased from My Hedge Fund.

In defense of the two hour drama it should be pointed out that an alien spacecraft landed near the copse shortly after a paid political announcement. Creatures not of this earth picnicked under the canopy of branches studying an “Obama 08″ poster. “We may have missed a dramatic interlude,” concedes Mr. Tagesblatt.

Several Leonard Cohen CDs were pirated by the intruders from deep space, sources report.  T. Rex Love-Handles reporting for Wellington Leg After Dark.

Field notes: Death by Jerry Vale: Certainly a close call. I didn’t know it was Vegas night at the Baltimore Grill or I wouldn’t have stopped by. You don’t expect ruffled shirts and sky blue tuxedos in Chelsea but that is no excuse. After the melee in the parking lot I reported back to Mrs. Ogilvie who was dressed as a supernumerary for an opera I don’t know the name of. The PI game is humbling sometimes.

The idea that Mrs. Julius is seeing Dr. Mudd remains the central thesis of our investigation, according to our source who prefers to remain anonymous. Mrs. Ogilvie suspects a rival firm has been hired to run a shadow investigation;  in fairness I should point out she thinks my ineptitude is driving our client away. I vow to do better. I keep my feelings in check although I do wonder about a boss wearing a four foot peacock feather tiara.

Back on station I see that Dr. Mudd’s waiting room is full. Nothing to do now but wait, catch up on the ball scores, see if any money center banks have collapsed since this morning. Plenty of Wall Street types in the waiting room speaking on cell phones and checking their Blackberries. No sign of Mrs. Julius or the mysterious red fog.

I may have dozed since the scent of perfume from the backseat is a new element in the Studebaker’s staid environment. “Don’t turn around,” a soft voice whispers in my ear.

I don’t know about you but when someone tells me not to do something my first inclination is to go ahead and do it anyway.

I turn around.

“Mrs. Julius?”

The back seat is empty.

Knuckles rap on my window. Il Vagabondo is back.

Wellington Leg: Tiring of the Goldilocks Economy the Dowager Princess declared a State of Siege this morning after learning the Yankees home opener had been rained out. Among her fiats and directives she ordered chief meteorologist Carl Icon beheaded and unveiled a plan to wrest control of Wall Street banks from local schoolgirl Eugenia Phaeton. Eugenia’s show and tell project My Hedge Fund now has a controlling interest in Lehman Brothers.

Treasury Secretary Henry Paulson believes that Wellington Leg may hold the key for a revamped oversight of the troubled banking industry. “We’re looking into an alternative reality approach to the crisis. But the White House will not accept alternatives that clash with the current alternative whatever that may be.”

Eugenia Grounded: adding to the angst comes word that Eugenia forgot to do her homework last night sending the futures market sharply lower, the dollar plunging against the Euro, and commodity prices through the roof. Trading curbs were imposed by noon and poetry readings held on the floor of the Piltdown Exchange. The Live Hogs Pit, always a source of trouble, enjoyed a respite after a foray by the Decima Fulminata Legion camped near Goth. “Roman troops apparently wanted to play dice with the traders and wrestle the hogs. ” Mall Security used Dr. Pepper Spray to end the melee.

The Footsie and the Dax collapsed briefly in morning trading perhaps unnerved by the return of Kathy Lee Gifford to the small screen. “You know when New York and Wellington Leg begin to resemble one another, it’s time to sell,” noted Gareth Panic of Number 44 Crutched Friars, the City. Mr. Panic has cornered the rutabaga market for April 1 delivery.

T. Rex Love-Handles reporting.