Friday, June 24, 2005

Wred Fright Marries!

Mr. and Mrs. Wred Fright
Originally uploaded by King Wenclas.

Lit groupies throughout North America and elsewhere are jumping off bridges and slitting their wrists-- or maybe just binge-ing on donuts-- at the news that the ULA's Wred Fright has "settled down." Wred, of course, will be appearing at the big Jack Saunders lit-event in Philadelphia on Saturday, July 16th.

Latest additions to the line-up that evening include local Philly poets Shawn Terreri and Devin D'Andrea.


Wred Fright's site is He mentions therein the Big Reading.

ALSO, Philly poet Michael Grover has a brand new site, He mentions the Big Event as well.

How great is it to see the print underground, fantastic lit-artists of all kinds, coming together in the cause of literature?!


J.D. Finch said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
the MP said...

(Hey Fred why do ya thunk I wear a masque, though I'm recognized in Las Vegas where I believe it does matter depending on the sobriety of all involved.)

Dear King just got wind of the pickle (a real dilly) you're in as regards the difficulty finding a worthy opponent to go up against me in the three round "read-off" conspired upon for July 16th at that most convivial of ratskeller style watering holes, the Medusa Lounge, 27 south 21st Street. All this is to be expected since my reputation proceeds me. Or is that wind aforementioned I got wind of the hot air issuing forth from Balefluff or Baroaf or whatever, that poser poetaster who periodically post on your Blog, recently emerged from a bout of bottom feeding to snap once again your heels concurrently like the common cur he be's despite his covertness?
Would have, I assure you Kng old boy, entered into the fray earlier but it's just that I've been engaged in a very pressing situation: my hand full of a couple of iresponsible young coeds, however how buxom, who had incurred incompletes in my creative writing sweatshops because they had rathered party than finish my final homework assignments (and at my own home, mind you!). So right in the midst of plotting their Bell Curves and satisfying the coarse rquirements of the poor young things, at least to my satisfaction, one of my petty valets interupted me (and I'm still sore about IT, I'll have you know!) to brief me on the tizzy when I had been so close to selflessly fulfilling these two girls' instructual needs! So needless to say your Masked Champion is not now in a very good mood. But be assure that even if I am in fact "mad" ( as some of your parsimonious faceless and spineless anonymitities are wont to misnomer him) I remain in the ULA's estimation the Masked Perfesser and have the verve and vim, apparently vacated the vicious vermissilitudes of your site's voyeurs, to discern that the rationales let loose by these various nameless non-entities are a furtive futile attempt to explain away the real fear and cowardice belying the lack of challengers to my pre-eminence in our read-off. For I make no carping claims, no expedient excuses, having all the confidence in the underworld that I am quite capable of "free-styling" ( even in fact hip- hoping if necessary as that form is easy enough to master for a person of my academic stature)-- what my detractors incorrectly refer to as "improv" (a nomenclature consigned to the stand up comedy clubs half a century ago!). Otherwise none of these low brow high lifes are worthy of an iota of invective, yet, to entertain and engender honour for the likes of a great undergrounder like Jack Saunders and the attending ULA luminaries I shall accomplish without a second thought!
Hence, I throw my gaudy gauntlet down at the feet, cloven hooves, or flippers, whatever the case maybe, of any McSweeneyite, crusty academic, MFA hack (do I need to name names?, that is stupid enough to pluck it up, in fact, I'll take them all on at the time, live, on the dias under the limelights, even with a schnapps shooter in one hand and a hookah in the other!
As for you Bowlfull, you need to be skalded severely on technical grounds. Your claims to being able (to which I in turn am more than able to raise Cain to)to pile on the Ole Anglisch alliteratrion, assonance, etc., etc., at will is pointedly pathetic. You have no clue about ceasurs any where since you're all over the place ( a defect perhaps rooted in chain smoking or watching too many smokers by your lonesome). Your alliteration is illiteration and assonance is asinine-- and unsynchronized with the stessed uncounted syllables you accidentally stumble over--
you wouldn't engage a single Pictish pike's-mun who expected his bards verse to bob and weave on the battlefield of the heart!
Your tiresome tomes simply mimic half assed limmericks at best (though you have somewhat unconsciously effectively given some sign of one of the powers of poetry to summarize a historical occurance). You want to enter my Eisteddfodd toe to toe, let's go, lets down and dirty baby!

Drunken Vikings wouldn't put up
with such a fop
nor gambol gamely in this one's screed
but mince again over their
mulled mead
and just quick lop his head off.

Grant said...

All my best to The Bride of Wred!

Oh my. I had better rush out and copyright that right now.

I'll make a mint!!!