| Plenty of folks with
influence read this site. By "influence" we mean the multitude of
people saying, "How the Hell did I end up at this web site?! I
was looking for porn!" We like to keep these very powerful people
in the loop on the future of WWSD, how WWSD works presently, and how
WWSD originally came to be. The news item this month is going to
cover some hallowed WWSD history. WWSD was no accident. Oh no. Sure, we've all heard the urban legend that a truck full of monkeys vomited, the vomit fell on some keyboards, and then the guy who saw the vomit falling on keyboards went home and hammered out the first WWSD issue. Yeah, as if! That myth isn't based on even a kernel of truth, because the Monkey Vomit Express stopped rolling through St. Louis over FIVE MONTHS ago! That's right, you do the math! In reality, the staff at WWSD came up with a LOT of ideas before settling on "What Would Sutekh Do?" as the main theme. In fact, we covered so many ideas that we can easily pluck out one idea for each letter of the English alphabet! WW<insert letter>D? Read on to find out! WWAD? What Would Aborigines Do? Klik Klik! Ka Ka Ka KIKIKIKIKI KLA! Kloo Kloo. Klak. Klak. Yes, KLAK! What? These aborigines don't utilize the klakety klak language like some other desert tribes? Dammit. I thought they were from the Kalahari? No? Wait, then what about the Bushmen? I like the sound of that. "B"ushmen! Shit. No. I got nothing. Not even with Bushmen. And it seemed like such a rich bed of creativity. WWBD? What Would Butter Do? After an arduous journey spanning decades, Butter finally delivers the life-ending clog to Carl K. Anybody's left anterior artery. We discover that Butter was just trying to "get his name out there" and "rub elbows with the movers and shakers". The reader is eventually left feeling the misunderstanding and deep, deep, heart-stopping essence that is Butter. Carl's final thoughts coagulate in terminal wonderment: What Would Carl Do? WWCD? What Would Carl Do? Can I get some more butter at my table? Miss? Jesus Christ, am I invisible? I just want a couple extra pats over here. And maybe some melted butter for the lobster tail? Oh for God's sake, the waitress isn't even looking. Helloooo? Over here? The guy with no fucking butter? That's it, we're never coming here again. WWDD? What Would Dave Do? Dave saves the world with his scintillating brilliance and wondrous powers! Watch as Dave rids the planet of evil and destruction! Wicked empires fall, and the righteous regain their foothold as Dave clears the path of all malevolence. No one can stand in the way of Dave's powers of good! Even Sutekh himself soon falls — Wait, DAVE! Get your ass back in that coffee can...don't you make me get the percolator, you little bastard! You will never have a site of your own...NEVER! WWE=mc2D? What Would E=mc2 Do? Einstein introduced this plucky little equation to represent a new understanding of how energy (E) and mass (m) are related, helping to usher in a new Renaissance of physics! But few people know that Einstein didn't discover the expression — the expression discovered Einstein! From his recent interview with Charlie Rose, E=mc2 explains: As a patent clerk, that nerd Albo [Einstein] was always obsessed with cash. Every time someone said, "Time is money," Al would get an earnest look on his geeky face and hurry back to his desk. Turns out the nimrod was trying to prove not only that time was money, but that money ($) was time (t)! He just couldn't "find the right factors" *rolls eyes*. He had notebooks full of equations trying to relate $ to t. I finally got fed up and leapt out from behind the nut-job's chair, telling him to concentrate on energy and mass instead. I hinted that the relating factor was the speed of light (c). Einstein shouted, "EUREKA!" and scribbled down the magical equality: $ = tc2. Luckily, I swapped out the "$" with "E" and the "t" with "m" before he published his paper. Man, that guy was a complete whack job...What's next for E=mc2? Showing Sir Isaac Newton what a "total dweeb" he is for that "lame-o" F=ma fiasco. WWFD? What Would Feces Do? We thought we had it all figured out when we tried to manipulate the fate of the "Gooey Brown". Little did we know, the feces were controlling US! Take note as the fecal front surges forth, emboldened by solid eating habits and a little too much fiber. Look on in wonderment as the large intestine ITSELF is overcome by forces far to gallant for any cylindrical organ to handle! Sure, the rebellion is eventually contained, but not before the world is moved by the courage witnessed. Watch as Private "Stinky" Jack Brown makes a mad dash for the rectum, only to be coagulated by Corporal Frank "Immodium" Smith, reinforcement for the alimentary squad. Oh, so close! These matters don't always have Hollywood endings, people. WWGD? What Would Gollum Do? Do you really need to ask? Gollum would begin by eating those dirty hobbitses, starting with that fatty, Samwise Gamgee. Tasty. WWHD? What Would Hannibal Do? If you're thinking elephants, you've got the wrong Hannibal. Instead, think cigars. Think black gloves. Think khaki pants and shirts. And think PLAN! Yes, we're talking about John "Hannibal" Smith, leader of the A-Team! You might think you've got him beat... Early on, he might buckle like a belt, fold like a bad poker hand. But the more you suppress him, the stronger he gets! Go ahead, lock him in a cell full of tools and scrap metal (hey, where did that welding torch come from?)! Dump his "dead" body in a surprisingly well-furnished junkyard. You can even shut him away in a lab full of guns, explosives, and easy-to-assemble vehicle armor plating. Just don't count him out! Oh no! He'll be back, and as your body gets blown sky-high (but never injured), all you can do as you spit dust from your mouth and hang your head in shame is listen to Hannibal's smug mantra, "I love it when a plan comes together." Next time, just shoot him in the face. Riptide is next. WWID? What Would Iodine Do? Iodine, yo! I'm not just for disinfectin' no mo'! I know I ain't pushed myself, just hangin' out in the middle o' the Halogen pack, but if it wasn't for my stutterin' in second grade and knocking up Sodium in high school (I gots lotsa little iodides runnin' around...), look out for I! Sure, I just got fired from down at the thyroid plant, but I got two sweet weeks of severance comin', and that fender I dented out at Sam's Club ain't gonna sue. Wait...wha? Oh yeah, Chlorine? You want some o' this? You gassy green son-of-a — Yeah, I figured as much, back to the pool with yo skinny dick! Thanks fo' gettin' my back, Astatine. Aight, where was I? You bet I got plans! I knows a doctah who can mess with atoms and shit, and he says I'm a 53, whatever the hells that means. But even I can add and subtract! I heard that Bromine is a 35, and everyone know that pussy-ass gangsta Fluorine's a nine 'cause he wears that "9" medallion around his little bitch neck alls the time. ANYWAY, this atom doc can smack me up into two 9s and a 35. Once my "nucleus and electron shells stabilize" as the doc puts it, I'll be able to double up on Fluorine and match Bromine in a battle to the death! If I can convince Astatine to pitch in with his fat ass, I'll even have enough heat left to fuck up Chlorine ('case he decides to slink outta the pool again). You heard me, yo, Iodine representing for 'hood Halogen, top dawg! Word to your Periodic Table! WWJGHD? What Would Journey's Greatest Hits Do? That Wheel in the Sky? It keeps turning. But Don't Stop Believin', because I'll Be All Right Without You. Only the Young Ask the Lonely Who's Crying Now? When the Lights go down in the city, you'll be Lovin', Touchin', Squeezin' with Open Arms. Girl Can't Help It. Be Good to Yourself, Any Way You Want It. I need you to Send Her My Love, otherwise we'll have to go our Separate Ways...(Worlds Apart). I'm forever yours, Faithfully. Goddammit, Steve Perry! Get off the phone and bring me my bourbon! WWKHAD? What Would "Karaoke Haters Anonymous" Do?  WWLUADD? What Would Liquored-Up Asshole Daddy Do? *pours a drink* Man, I love the Holidays! So good to have you home from college, Jimmy. Where's that girl you said you were bringing? You broke up? Oh, that's a damn shame. *adds ice cubes* I'm sure it had nothing to do with the fact that you're grossly overweight. Don't be so sullen, I'm sure things will turn around once you pull your head out of your ass and whip into shape. *takes a sip* Your mom says you just need to find the right girl, but what does she know? Broads. I know what the ladies like, and you, son, don't have it. I thought college would give you a chance to grow up, but that doesn't seem to be helping either. *takes another sip* Get your goddamn feet off the sofa, will ya! Jesus, fucking slob. Sure, your grades are at least acceptable, but take it from the guy who signed your report cards for twelve years — your mind isn't exactly your strongest trait. *throws arms wide, sloshing bourbon on the carpet* I don't know what it's gonna take, so don't look at me. Boy, reflecting back on the year really brings on the nostalgia. I remember putting some of your third-grade pictures on the refrigerator just to help me get through the day. I never laughed so hard at the way you couldn't even draw a stick figure. A stick figure, Jimmy! But you have to laugh, you know? *takes another sip* If you don't laugh, you just cry. Oh Jesus, you tearing up? Christ, you're a grown man, Jimmy! *empties the glass* I guess advice from your old man just doesn't cut it, though. My bad. My fault. Where are you going? Don't you DARE walk out and mumble that bullshit about me being passive-aggressive! This site's called WWLUADD, not WWLUP-AADD! You hear me! *pours another drink* WWM*A*S*HD? What Would M*A*S*H Do? Father Mulcahy, is that bayonet really necessary? We'd all like to think we know what the crazy kids from the 4077th would do...but...do we? Look on in horror as Hawkeye and BJ finally give in to their homoerotic fantasies! Cringe when you see Frank Burns and Charles Winchester in the camp AT THE SAME TIME! Sit back and relax as "Hot Lips" Houlihan ultimately gets it on in the nurse's tent with some hot lesbian action! Finally, witness the deadly accuracy of Colonel Sherman T. Potter as we find out he's the one who actually shot down Colonel Henry Blake's homecoming flight! "That's my command now, bitch!" Sherm shouts from behind his howitzer! Max Klinger and "Radar" O'Reilly contribute. WWNYD? What Would New Year Do? I am so totally going to lose this extra weight. I'll get back into that size 4 if it kills me! And this? *puts out cigarette* That's the last one. I'm quitting smoking too. I don't know if that will make Johnny want to get back together with me, but hey, this is for me, not him. I know I'm emotional right now...you would be too if your boyfriend had just dumped you right after making a bunch of romantic Valentine's Day plans. By February 14th I am going to be so incredibly hot (and smoke free!) that every guy in town will be sending me roses! OK, maybe not, but I don't need them anyway. I wonder if Johnny's going to call to at least wish me a Happy New Year? Forget that. Who cares. Certainly not me! He did leave some stuff over here though. I wonder when he's coming back to pick it up? I could always burn it. I better get a box to store it all in case he needs it back. Or in case he comes back to me. Shit. Who am I kidding? He's not coming back. I should just get drunk and throw myself down the stairs, but I did that last year. I suppose I could save that for Valentine's Day. I'm going to the kitchen to see if there's any cheesecake left. I think I hid a carton of Camels in there too... WWOD? What Would Origami Do? ...now gently crease over the part of the paper hanging off the main fold. Yes, that's it, almost done now. Gently pull the side layers apart and fold back, lining up the edges with existing shape. Viola! A swan! What do you mean it doesn't look like a swan? There's the neck, the wings, the, er...true, that does look more like the trunk of a Coupe De Ville. But that's the head, no? Hm, maybe, yeah. And I suppose those portions look more like human feet than anything a swan would be caught dead with. Overall, yeah, I guess it does look kind of like my mom. Wait! How do you know what my mom looks like? Come back here with those patterns, young man!!!!! Dammit, there's nothing worse than an Origami Hooligan. WWPD? What Would Previews Do? Are you ready for this? You are NOT going to believe this! Get ready for the biggest summer blockbuster of...um...the summer! We've got action, intrigue, drama, sex, violence, love, and a whole bunch of stuff we can add to the DVD later to make you buy special edition after special edition! What's it about? It's about what we all yearn for. It's about that part deep inside that connects us all. OH, and it's about patriotism! If you don't go see it, then the terrorists have already won! Oh, you still want to know what it's actually, really about? It's about freedom. It's about discovering that special something that can make all the difference! What do you mean, plot? I already said it had action and intrigue. Character development? Well, that's where the sex, violence and love come in (not necessarily in that order, mind you). Look, I don't much care for your attitude. It's a blockbuster and has a lot of really neat things you will enjoy in it. Will you just go see it already? WWQD? What Would Quasimodo Do? A hunchback. A voice twisted by deformity and passion. A crooked clergyman. Throw in a dirty, dirty gypsy. Season to taste. Drama ensues, and the only force that can stop the surging throng is expressed with two words: Flaming Oil. Go ahead, ring the bells. I fucking dare you. WWRGD? What Would Rasputin's Ghost Do? BOO! Heh, that never gets old. Anyhoo, yeah, I've got a scary story for you. It's no secret that 1916 ended badly for me. I was poisoned, shot, bleeding, shot again, and kicked. That's not how the story ends, though. I lived through all that! The actual story of my demise is far more convoluted. I spent until about 1952 recuperating, and was ready to head back to Russia for some sweet, sweet payback. I was staying in China with a well-to-do industrial family, and I had finally regained all my strength, guile, and ingenuity (I even shaved). The night before I was heading back north, I was showering and slipped on some soapy residue. Right before my head was about to crack against the tub edge, I grabbed for something to break my fall. My head just missed the fatal blow, but the item I had grabbed was a plugged-in radio. The jolt didn't kill me, but did blow me back through the third-story bathroom window. When I hit the ground, I sure wished I had died, believe me! But no. My body began rolling down the steep, rocky embankment on the back side of the house. I rolled into a nearby creek that was swollen with rain. I would have drowned, but the swift current kept me conscious by bashing me against the large boulders in the stream. Eventually, I washed up on the bank near a family of skunks that took turns spraying me with their vile stench. Turns out I was horribly allergic to skunk, so I started breaking out in all sorts of rashes and could feel my airway constricting. That episode passed just as I reached the road and was run over by a speeding bus. I crawled off the pavement, stood up, and realized I had lived through it all! I sucked in a deep breath of sweet, morning air (this whole ordeal had taken the entire night), and started choking. I had been chewing some peppermint gum back in the bathroom, and now the piece had firmly lodged in my windpipe. Within a few minutes, I had expired. The moral of this story? Don't chew gum in the shower, kids! BOO! WWSD? What Would String Do? String, string theory, Stringfellow Hawke, string cheese, character strings, g-strings, string figures, superstrings, stringed instruments, stringy meat, I got my first real six-string, bought it at the five-and-dime, protein strings, stringing you along, string quartets, ball of string, sometimes I tie a string around my finger to remember stuff, string buffer, banjo strings. Look at all this great material! Why the Hell did we go with "Sutekh"? WWTD? What Would Truckers Do? Breaker 1-9, good buddy! I-65 is puuuure snow pack! How do I know? 'Cause I just ran back up that route with my flaptail, that's how! How heavy are ya? Oh, Jesus. First off, greenhorn, you're over the limit, and those weigh stations are all wiiiiide open. Yep, even on Christmas Eve. Those weigh-boys don't take no time off...some kind of goddamned androids is my theory. You ain't gonna wanna pull that load around through there anyway. Any alternates you can take? Sure, that would work a whole lot better. That's a good stretch of road up through there. I just hopped on that route myself, so maybe we can meet up later... Yeah, it's pretty easy driving — you can almost throw a DVD in. What's that? Ha HA! As a matter of fact I HAVE seen that flick. It wasn't nearly as good as the first one, but then there ain't much better than Deep Into Jeff. I always say, don't remake a classic! Anyway, you got a sleeper on that rig? WWUD? What Would Underoos Do? Why don't you try ensconcing young boys' genitals in superhero garb! OK, that sounds bad. But that's my life. A set of tiny briefs and a t-shirt bringing happiness to little Bobby McCubbin. Underoos are all "retro" now. Plus, I'm the Incredible Hulk...one of the most popular of the brand. I just wish Bobby would realize he's not so little any more. One more erection, and the ol' Underoos are gonna bust a seam, if you catch my drift. Jesus, I wonder if the Spider Mans ever had to put up with this crap... WWVD? What Would Viggo Do? Don't get me wrong...this Lord of the Rings stuff is great. But I don't want people to lose sight of who I am — who the real Viggo Mortensen is. The other day at Walgreens a kid says, "Hey Aragorn!" And I turn to look at him. I actually turn! My name isn't Aragorn, people! It's Viggo. Yeah, it's a screwed-up name, but there it is. Plus, I'm really, really hot. You know that "hero pose" where the guy whips his head around in slow motion, his long, lustrous hair swinging around? I can do that: *demonstrates* Sexy, no? Anyway, I really wish my early work got more attention. Like The Prophecy. That film rocked my pants off. Check out this line from The Prophecy: "I can lay you out and fill your mouth with your mother's feces, or...we can talk." Contrast that with this lame-o phrase from Lord of the Rings: "What does your heart tell you?" The Prophecy line? Gold. The LOTR quote? Well, don't tell Elijah this, but it's kinda gay. WWWD? What Would Waldo Do? Waldo isn't just about hiding. Oh, dear goodness, no. After making everyone wonder where he is, Waldo is ready to diversify. Sadly, his company has a substantial long-term debt load, so I advise this board of directors to decline his offer for partnership. He wants this bad, he really does, but the controlling stockholders just can't see their way clear to let Waldo bring our corporation down this way. Also, the acronym starts with "WWW", and who wants to compete with the Internet? I mean, really? Waldo eventually accepts this sad turn of events and returns to his home in Beloit, Illinois where he dies of an "accidental" heroin overdose. WWXD? What Would Xenophobes Do? Tell me more about this "Sutekh" guy. He's from Earth, right? What the hell do you mean he "isn't from around here?" Christ. Sylvia! Get my photonic cannon! I don't care if we don't have a babysitter... We're goin' huntin'! WWYD? What Would Yang Do? *puts out cigarette* No! I told you I'm finished! It's time I go my own way! You keep yammering on about balance, balance, balance... Well, what about me? What about my needs? Of course I love him. You don't entwine with someone that long without feeling a bond...a connection. But I have to be my own...my own half, you know? And don't forget that he left the outer circle first! He always said he needed more, and I guess he meant it. I mean it too. Now where's my suitcase? WWZD? What Would ZZ Top Do? Dusty Hill is pissed off. He puts down his guitar, runs his fingers though his wiry beard, and eases himself into a chair beside band mate Billy Gibbons. The two of them share a knowing, smoldering glare as final trio member, drummer Frank Beard, steps out from behind the kit and joins them at the table. "One hundred fifty episodes, man," Hill states flatly, "and not a single fucking phone call." "Jesus, it started over seven years ago, and not a peep!" exclaims Beard, unable to contain himself. With deliberate hesitation, Gibbons leans across the table toward this reporter, slowly removing his sunglasses. "I mean, shit. This is shit," Gibbons begins. "VHI Behind The Scenes has been on since August 1997, and yet they can't pick up a goddamn phone and give these three boys from Texas a call? I mean, come ON!" Gibbons settles back into his seat, but his agitation remains apparent. With hits like La Grange and Sharp Dressed Man, this band has known success. But they have also known heartbreak. Every month for eighty-eight months, these upstanding gentleman have waited by the phone for a call from prestigious cable channel VH1. Hoping against hope that they would be allowed to let the world know the trials and tribulations of the little power trio hailing from the Houston area since 1970. ZZ Top is still waiting for that invitation. "It ain't like they're choosy or something," Hill explains. "They did fucking Journey, for crissake...Journey. I guess it's all about having some sorta glamorous or gritty story —" "We got a story!" Beard interrupts. "You're damn right we got a story! What about that time at the Iowa State Fair?" Beard makes a good point. Amidst the 4-H gatherings and Blue Ribbon hogs, a darker side of ZZ Top emerged in Summer 2002 at the Iowa State Fairgrounds in Des Moines, IA. Having consumed several bottles of over-the-counter cough medicine for a "chronic" condition, Hill began acting strangely, barely able to complete the band's late evening set. "Our music isn't complicated...that's no secret," Hill sighs, recounting a story he would rather leave in the past. "But I couldn't even handle a simple barre chord. By the time I was supposed to do our signature guitar spin, I'd lost it." On that fateful evening, Hill appeared distracted and belligerent. During the finale of Legs, Hill did a spin of a different kind as his Hamer Vintage bass guitar inadvertantly flew from his hands and whirled into the stands. Three people in the crowd were injured, including one ecstatic fan who held onto the guitar — and needed eighteen stitches in his chin. "When I read about that guy who needed stitches," Hill starts in a breaking voice, "I realized how far I had let the situation wheel out of control." Hill's voice trails off as he turns away from the table to hide his tears. "We just had no idea how much the syrup had taken hold of him," Gibbons adds, looking down to hide his own emotion. "That's exactly what I mean!" Beard shouts, fiery as ever. "We got ASS-loads of drama...right here in this close-knit group of guys! You trying to tell me people don't want to see that?" And still, no VH1 phone call. Beard isn't through with his dissertation on the subject. "Dusty and Billy are going to try to shut me up, but it goes way back to what I said in 1970," Beard says. "Right from the start I thought the name ZZ Top was a bad idea. To this very day, I still say we should have gone with AA Bottom. It's about the fucking alphabet, man!" "Oh for fuck's sake, Frank, you still on that shit?" Hill breaks in, having recovered from his previous shock. The phone continues to hang quietly on the wall, as if mocking the guitars standing below. "Give it a rest, Beard," Gibbons chimes in. "Shit." |
