The 2nd Annual List Issue

12. THE UNMENTIONABLES. Eight orchid hunters arrived in the Philippines in 1901. According to a Nova documentary, one was eaten by a tiger, one was doused in oil and burned alive, while five others "mysteriously disappeared," leaving one hunter to stagger out of the jungle with some 7,000 unnamed orchids.

—Gendy Alimurung

AIRPORTS

1. Ontario International Airport. Much quicker to get to from Hollywood than you might think, and decorated with entertaining paraphernalia from 19th-century Cucamonga vineyards. Still, this is one scary, humongous, empty place, big enough to grace a major European capital yet hosting only a few flights a day. The airport of choice for the Final Days — and for goateed pop-punk bands traveling on Jet Blue.

2. Burbank/Glendale/Pasadena Airport. Easy to get to and equipped with valet parking, yet . . . disappointing, like a Target store a couple of days after Christmas. Unless you're going to Oakland, and who isn't these days?

3. LAX. Nonstops to Australia, a branch of the Daily Grill and, in some terminals, the local version of Waterstone's, which manages to be one of the best small bookstores in the city. It's also the ninth circle of Hell, but you already knew that.

4. Long Beach Airport. An outdoor baggage claim, jerry-rigged terminals and palm trees for days. Also, dirt-cheap flights to New York and Dallas, as American Airlines tries to keep up with the Joneses. You could almost believe that you've landed at an island resort. Except that's not a smoking volcano in the middle distance — it's only Signal Hill.

5. John Wayne Airport. The last time I changed planes in Munich, I was searched three times, poked with a policeman's stick, and hypnotically induced to buy a lederhosen-wearing bear that yodels when you squeeze its tummy. John Wayne isn't quite that bad.

—Jonathan Gold

You Can Calls Me Dubya, You Can Calls Me Bush, but Ya Doesn't Have To Calls Me:

~1~ "Moron" —Françoise Ducros, aide to Canadian Prime Minister Jean Chretien

~2~ "Liar" —Jim McDermott, Democratic congressman, saying the president will "lie" to secure his war agenda

~3~ "Country Club Idiot" —Simon Kahn, Canada-Israel Committee associate director

~4~ "Mayberry Machiavelli"—John Dilulio, former high-ranking Bush-administration official, referring to Bush's staff

~5~ "Dangerous" —Chuck Hegel, Republican senator

~6~ "Hitler" —Herta Daeubler-Gmelin, German justice minister

—Bill Smith

COFFEE BREAK:LUCY, STRIPE, VISOR, DAEMIA, ORB, HOMER, MAJOR, WRACK, PHOBOS, BONES, SARGE

My Two Favorite Phone Messages of 2002(OR, WHY THE COMICS EDITOR'S GOING TO HELL)

A "Yes. Regarding a comic strip on Page 189 of this week's L.A. Weekly, 'Beat Your Children.' The first scene is a young man being smacked. The next scene is a little girl being beaten in the rear end. The next one is a little boy's head being cracked against the wall. And the third [technically the fourth] one is a little girl about to be whipped. There is no punch line. There is no moral substance to this. There is no actual intelligence, even humor, whatsoever. There's not any sarcasm. It's just a blatant display of idiocy. My name is Julia, and I will be taking this to the attention of all the nonviolence committees I can find in the city, and all intelligent, responsible citizens of Los Angeles County. Besides the fact that I have an issue with you people advertising all kinds of fake, fraudulent mail-order schemes, I've seen there is no ethics with the L.A. Weekly whatsoever. There's been several complaints we've had, so please follow up on this. My name is Julia, and my phone number's [wouldn't you like to know] and I have to say, again, I AM APPALLED, and I feel this violates my rights to no cruel and unusual treatment. I was an abused child, and I know several people, if they saw this, would be extremely offended. Therefore, I'm going to be running it off today, putting it on a flier, and I'm going to be asking that question, as a poll. Thank you! . . . PARASITES!"

B "Yeah, hi. This is Mere One [huh?] from Los Angeles. I'm an artist, and I usually do some pretty, you know, outrageous artwork and stuff. But I just looked at your back page of the recent L.A. Weekly, and I've recently licensed my company where I have a lot of money for advertising budget, and I'll never advertise in your magazine, because you all are some sexist, racist pigs. I'm disgusted that y'all are gonna put out a "Fuck a Woman With Your Hands" on your back page when, like, little kids pick this shit up and they grow up to be fuckin' idiots just like you fuckin' lame fuckers. So for Marc Cooper1 and all the fuckin' lame fuckers up there, I hope I see you on the street so I can paint you white, the color you really are. Empty and fuckin' selfish and just ignorant and fuckin' lame people. You people make me sick. And I'm gonna let everyone in my community know about it. I'm gonna get on the radio and tell people about it. I'm gonna start calling up KPFK and demanding that they make a big deal outta this, because you used to have La Cucaracha on the back page [he means Mexiled, but all Latino columns look alike, we agree], and it was interesting, it was informative. This is just erasing. You're just subtracting our abilities out here. And you FUCKING SUCK because of it. And I hope to God I bump into one of you people in a dark alley there one day so I can SHIT ON YOUR FACE!"