HOME PAGE IS AT weekendwarrior.mexipost.com

Crawling right out of the woodwork, Wiley weasels his way into the beautiful, ambitious Caitlin's consumer reality show on San Diego's Channel Nine News... then parlays the bit into his own regular feature. The antithesis of media cool, Wiley is a striving scalawag who blends elements of Bad Santa, Hunter Thompson, The FlimFlam man, Wile E. Coyote, and Reality TV Everydude. Jolted into manic life by the "on air" light and launched into zigzagging, RobinWilliamsesque verbal arabesques by any whiff of intoxicants or strange tail, he spreads like a virus, wildly popular with the disaffected and childless yuppies of the area's increasingly young mobile audience, generating his own weekend show, jumping over to print when the station engineers a "hostile white knight" takeover of a struggling weekly paper.

The taking of Southcoast Week lands Wiley a print column, Caitlin an unwilling post as Editor In Chief, and Rollie Moon, the shaggy, rebellious previous editor, out of a job. And establishes Wiley, the disturbed lowlife supported mostly by fellow druggie/ drunkies at the Mimosa Club, as a print media hero. Attractive young women go out of their way (if not minds) to be seen dining, sporting and smiling with him, and his attempts to take advantage, whether successful or rebuffed, generally lead to a degrading time had by all. Worse, his columns--which run periodically in the text of the novel--have a way of sleazing into the subconscious of readers and making them nuts. Something has to be done.

But what? The obese, salacious zillionaire station owner backed by a mysterious group of investor sharks and Stevenson Yao, the bean-counter from hell, have a lock on The Week's stock and the pliant nitwit who used to own it. Or do they?

Caitlin and Rollie, driven by mutual desire to get her back on the air and him back behind the blue pencil, start poking at the situation and destabilizing the new regime. They find unlikely allies, including sexpot weathergirl Jammi, who has a bone to pick with Wiley for taking advantage of her lush body then writing it up. Wound up and aimed at the lecherous owner, she beds and bitches her way into being a major player at the quarterly stockholders' vote: which could turn things around if they can pull off a major proxy coup.

Meanwhile, the weird sex, creepy schemes and barrage of surrealistic, messed-up Weekend Warrior columns keep spilling out around the edges of the attempts to seize the media for the people who care about them.

PLOT SYNOPSIS
Crawling right out of the woodwork, Wiley weasels his way into the beautiful, ambitious Caitlin's consumer reality show on San Diego's Channel Nine News... then parlays the bit into his own regular feature. The antithesis of media cool, Wiley is a striving scalawag who blends elements of Bad Santa, Hunter Thompson, The FlimFlam man, Wile E. Coyote, and Reality TV Everydude. Jolted into manic life by the "on air" light and launched into zigzagging, RobinWilliamsesque verbal arabesques by any whiff of intoxicants or strange tail, he spreads like a virus, wildly popular with the disaffected and childless yuppies of the area's increasingly young mobile audience, generating his own weekend show, jumping over to print when the station engineers a "hostile white knight" takeover of a struggling weekly paper. The taking of Southcoast Week lands Wiley a print column, Caitlin an unwilling post as Editor In Chief, and Rollie Moon, the shaggy, rebellious previous editor, out of a job. And establishes Wiley, the disturbed lowlife supported mostly by fellow druggie/ drunkies at the Mimosa Club, as a print media hero. Attractive young women go out of their way (if not minds) to be seen dining, sporting and smiling with him, and his attempts to take advantage, whether successful or rebuffed, generally lead to a degrading time had by all. Worse, his columns--which run periodically in the text of the novel--have a way of sleazing into the subconscious of readers and making them nuts. Something has to be done. But what? The obese, salacious zillionaire station owner backed by a mysterious group of investor sharks and Stevenson Yao, the bean-counter from hell, have a lock on The Week's stock and the pliant nitwit who used to own it. Or do they? Caitlin and Rollie, driven by mutual desire to get her back on the air and him back behind the blue pencil, start poking at the situation and destabilizing the new regime. They find unlikely allies, including sexpot weathergirl Jammi, who has a bone to pick with Wiley for taking advantage of her lush body then writing it up. Wound up and aimed at the lecherous owner, she beds and bitches her way into being a major player at the quarterly stockholders' vote: which could turn things around if they can pull off a major proxy coup. Meanwhile, the weird sex, creepy schemes and barrage of surrealistic, messed-up Weekend Warrior columns keep spilling out around the edges of the attempts to seize the media for the people who care about them.