Dear friends, 

Have you ever secretly wished that a group of swarthy mustachioed gentleman would follow you around playing accordions? Then you are not alone. Come to WONDERLAND.

As we sit on the eve of the new millenium, contemplating not only the oddly non-hermeneutic media that constantly flies in our faces as we watch Gap commercials featuring youths dressed like characters from West Side Story, then Mountain Dew commercials with Xtreme sports and cheetahs, but also how it is possible for one to sit on the eve of anything, we think, if only someone understood our pain. We could get together and lament in a group, contemplating Prozac and the media and the Hegelian dialectic - what is this all a synthesis of, we could ask ourselves, as we sipped lattés and scoffed at people who haven’t heard of Stereolab and don’t know that the Smurf comeback is passé.

Did that paragraph make sense to you? Come to WONDERLAND. Or, come to WONDERLAND if you want to be cool. It’s the hip medium project that no one’s talking about because it’s so damned underground and unknown, and if you come you’ll be in the know, you’ll be cool, and you’ll get to see Bill Francisco stroke his lips lasciviously and Richard Vann twitch like a mouse. 

Do you ever worry about media saturation? It seems like you can’t get through a WONDERLAND without WONDERLANDing about WONDERLANDS constantly. It’s hard to be your own WONDERLAND when you’re constantly bombarded by images and WONDERLANDS that come and go before you have time to WONDERLAND about them.

Don’t sit around on Sunday afternoon hoping that the Simpsons will bounce out of its postmodern, self-referential funk. Don’t languish under the weight of your millennial ennui. Come to WONDERLAND. It’s more fun than a barrel of marmots.