This Explains a Lot

My colleagues and I were just discussing favorite shows from childhood when I mentioned a British classic called Chorlton and the Wheelies. This show never crossed the Atlantic and my co-workers were understandably vague on the concept of a stop-motion dragon helping a town full of wheel people thwart an evil witch, so I showed them the opening credits:


After viewing this for the first time in about 25 years, I really don't think it was fair of the British government and TV channels to do that sort of thing to me. Its like Jacobs Ladder except in primary colours.

Wouldn't it have been cheaper to just give us speed?

The Jairmans Bombed Me Chip Shop

Look Hans! The Assembly Rooms!
According to the BBC, a former German Luftwaffe pilot is going to do the old "Oops! My Bad" to the English city of Bath for dropping high explosives on it during the Second World War:

WWII pilot to apologise to city

Do you get the sense that some parts of British society are still having a hard time moving on from 1939-45? As for myself, I would much rather the Germans apologise for this:

They Thought It Was An Overcooked Thin Crust at Pizza One at First

I didn't even have to click on the link on the BBC news website to just know in my heart that this had to be Norwich Cathedral:

Cathedral emptied by Easter fire

To quote the story: "Reverend McFarlane said: "New Christians were baptised and confirmed by the Bishop of Norwich and the cathedral was filled with light from the candles and incense.

"Sadly, it was all a bit too much for the fire detection system and half-way through the Eucharistic prayer we were interrupted by the fire alarm and an automated voice telling us to evacuate the cathedral.

"Clearly fire detection systems can't cope with the Resurrection of Jesus."

Of course, we all know the real reason for the alarms:
The Health & Safety Executive: protecting Catholics from sectarian immolation since 1974
On an unrelated note, I'd like to see Paris Hilton play Joan of Arc, if only to hear her say "That's hot" in the ultimate scene.

Thank God for Beaker and Sooty

No child that ever lived, is walking the earth, or has yet to be born would ever consider this a comforting puppet experience

I was reading the BBC Norfolk page the other day when I saw that the Norwich Puppet Theatre- recently on the chopping block- was spared by an infusion of funding from a local charity.

I have mixed feelings about this.

On the one hand I strongly support public funding for the arts and feel that children should be exposed to as many different media and forms of story telling as possible because the imagination is the greatest result of evolution humanity has ever known.

On the other hand, I was taken to the Norwich Puppet Theatre as a seven year old to see a production of Pinocchio and it scared the crap out of me. To this day, I love puppets of all stripes with the exception of unpainted wooden marionnettes manipulated by black-turtlenecked arts hippies. These creations horrify me, thanks entirely to my exposure to them at the Norwich Puppet Theatre. My memory blocks most of the details so I may stay sane, but I have a vague recollection of a show resembling a wooden puppet version of Hostel.

So in conclusion- public arts funding, good; Norwich Puppet Theatre, get those things away from me you sadistic child-terrifiers.

Thank you.

The Business of Wisdom Weasel is Business

Tijuana: where Harlan Sanders found the inspiration for the Kentucky Fried Cocaine Mule
As regular visitors to these pages can testify, hardly a day goes by when I'm not trying to live the American Dream by hustlin' to make a dollah (or something along those lines). I've investigated numerous get rich quick schemes, tried out for Jeopardy, attempted to open a seasonal mall for the past three Christmases, and even offered to sell prints of a photo myself sporting a moustache sealed in ziploc bags- all to no avail. I am still perpetually short of the folding green and still have to resort to tricks like colouring my toes with magic marker to disguise the holes in my socks.

This Monday last I had an epiphany (which was a bit awkward, as the ecclesiastical calendar had moved on to Holy Week). Why was I busting my gizzards doing all the hard work myself when I could find some chumps (that would be you) to do the heavy lifting for me? I didn't need to work for a living, I needed to come up with ideas I could franchise!

So chumps, your time has come. Help ol' WW coin it well large by signing up today to bring one of the following exciting franchise opportunities to your community:

The Bunshole: Customers love approaching the little round window at this cinnamon bun-shaped drive-thru coffee 'n pastries joint, as the skidmarks in the parking lot demonstrate. Our franchisees ensure repeat custom by offering a cup of joe and a sticky one to go just like mother used to make back in ol' Liechtenstein (or country of patron's choice). As we always say at the Bunshole, its all gooey goodness in the end.

Big Papi's Schmears: Make your fortune servicing the ultimate niche market- baseball loving Jewish ladies in for their annual exam. Who wouldn't want a bagel before, after, or during having the groinal HVAC folks in? And to make things even better, David "Big Papi" Ortiz's beaming mug will be toasted on the outside of every delicious kosher bublik! Because as Ortiz says, Papi cares about good nutrition and Papi cares about healthy lady bits (points to sky, points to dugout, ducks down to get mobbed at home plate).

Popeye's Wiccan & Biscuits: Hubble, bubble, boiling, GRAVY! Yum.

Perv's: This is a true "fire and forget" franchise, and couples perfectly with the business profile of many north American strip- and mini-malls. Almost every town and community has a "Curves", the women-only no-pressure supportive gym. Perv's is the essence of simplicity. Where there is a Curves, there is usually either an empty Fashion Bug or Chinese buffet next door. Simply rent the empty storefront, slap some dark film on the windows, drill holes in the wall that abuts Curves, set lawn chairs in front of said holes, and watch as the dirty old men and their lovely filthy money roll in. You may want to wear gloves when cashing out.

Kentucky Fried Eggs: After signing up for a KFE franchise you won't care which came first- you'll be too busy counting your money! Eggs are cheaper than chickens and can be marketed either on their own merits or as "hen veal", exciting the traditional fast food customer and gourmet alike. And given that the word "egg" is four letters shorter than "chicken" your menus will be cheaper to produce too. Just buy a fyolator, a supply of our special blend of 11 herbs and spices (and occasionally bits of shell), dust the eggs, and cook 'em well! The only issue existing franchisees report is that their customers have difficulty getting past the gag factor involved in consuming the rapidly congealing contents of the "Family 105 piece egg bucket" but rest assured our marketing support professionals are working on it.

Remember these are limited opportunities- don't miss out on your chance to send Weasel's daughter to a good university!

My Favorite Spitzer Cartoon

By Pat Bagley.

Yet Another Thing I Never Saw Myself Doing When I left High School

My preferred bridal show emcee get-up
About a week ago my friend Rox asked me if I could do her a huge favor. As a consequence this afternoon I found myself in the exhibition hall of a large local resort, jabbering into a microphone about organza and tulle as I hosted a bridal fashion show in front of several hundred people. Who knew such a thing as a bubblegum pink vest and ascot combo existed, or that when properly motivated a handful of models can change dresses 5 times each in 45 minutes?

I wonder what I will find myself doing next. As I always say, stand still long enough and eventually everything comes past.

Is it time?

Move over Ronald, I want to get in too.

By Xenu!

I don't intend to be a water carrier for Scientology, Tom Cruise, or Katie Holmes but I must admit to rolling my eyes recently at one of the "Shock! Horror! Tom and Katie's baby is a freak!" stories the supermarket tabloids love to emblazon on their covers.

Apparently Cruise and Holmes are so kooky and intent on indoctrinating their toddler into the ways of Scientology that little Suri is not allowed to "watch TV or eat Happy Meals".

If that is the standard for way-outside-the-norm- cult-brainwashing-parenting- philosophies, then the majority of parents of my generation I know must be fully paid up Operating Thetans.

In reality the closest anyone I know has come to Scientology is the occasional eating of hubbard squash. Unless their reluctance to force nutritionally empty McDonalds food and Days of Our Lives onto their children reflects a secret adherence to dianetics of course.

Maybe the Name is Worse that the Side Effects...

a piece by Stephen Jon
A new pharmaceutical ad has hit the American airwaves, chums, this one for yet another compound designed to combat the excess of acidic bile that is a byproduct of our dyspeptic age.

Now that heart burn is a disease rather than a discomfort these products are to be expected. This one however has a most unfortunate name:

AcipHex

I'm sure it looked fine written down, but based on the way they pronounce it in the commercial I don't think I'll be rushing to guzzle handfuls of "ass effects" any time soon.

Their product sounds like either porn foley or a pair of lift-and-separate shorts for the terminally saggy. I'll have none of it.

Oh Joy Unbounded!

Newsnight has arrived on BBC America!
For those who are unaware how enjoyably, face-punchingly, intellectually-elitist sneer-wearing* a programme this is, please enjoy a little amuse bouche:



(*Which is a good thing in my mind, which is why I'm a bit of a friendless hermit)