We Growled to a Halt
We were temporarily put out to pasture for a little bevy of days, a time for temporal reengineering and defending the quality of our thinking, writing, jiving, trumpeting, or just plain honesty. We got checked out by the Big Blog Boss in the Google Sky and we seem to be OK for now, and our motto is "NOW is all you've got," so NOW we are back...but...
We can't find thegrowlingwolf. He put on his cape and flew off to some jaundiced isle in some far off unlinked hole of a half-ass Paradise, like Burgler's Sink, a small island in the Archiepelago of Betty and Veronica--someone (his illegal immigrant cleaning person) got a postcard from him and it was postmarked "Jughead, A of B&V," which is the capital of the Archiepelago of Betty and Veronica. We think we know why he loves Burgler's Sink so patronizingly. He keeps buried there, in the backyard of the only trailer house ever brought there, a huge cargo net full of 75-year-old Armagnac that washed ashore after a French floating wine bar was sunk just offshore by some Japanese Imperial rowboatists in the early days of the Pacific conflab, Xmas 1941, to be exact, and we know how thegrowlingwolf loves being exact. Exact. Ex-Act. Exlax. Besides, when the Wolf Man is not there, the nativos, as they are called in Archiese, the official language of the archipelago, worship this cargo of Armagnac, so the Wolf Man, as head priest of the cult, makes a substantial tax-free sum of good ole US dollars on the side; plus he's the only person on earth who can drink the sacred blood of A.R. Magnac, as the Jesus Christ of the brandy bottles is known on Burgler's Sink, the only island where this cult flourishes. The rest of the islands worship a cargo of full helium tanks from a wrecked Nipponese Republic of Alaska freighter (you didn't know the Japanese took over Alaska for a brief time in WWII?). This helium has grown to such importance that the only way they can speak their nativo language, Archiese, is to chug down several hits of what the nativos call "hellyumjewce" (Americanized: "the Yummy Juice from Hell"). This strange pipsqueaky language can only be written in cartoon balloons and can't be read until some more hellyumjewce is taken in. It is thought that the Japanese believed helium aided in one of their Shinto priest's efforts to get his fingernails to grow to enormous, close-to-Guinness-world-record lengths (the title then being held by an India Yogi, Sambastard'n'Bangthedore, whose fingernails were so long, he could fish with them. This Yogi also holds the Guinness world record for catching more fish by fingernail fishing than any other person who ever lived). There may be some truth to this legend as one of the things a visitor notices when landing at Jughead International Cargo Plane Big Road Come-down Spot are how long the nativos's toenails are; so enormously long, they cannot wear shoes. General Douglas McArthur once visited Jughead and the only comment he had about the nativos was "Jesus, did you see the toenails on that ugly baby?" A lot of the nativos can be heard praying for a cargo of toenail clippers ("clippy-tips-nailed-toe-ers" in Archiese) to fall on them; so far, the Cargo gods have no ears, a statement being perpetrated loudly by a couple of Archie Islanders who attended Harvard in the thirties and are now the archipelago's agnostics, whose new book has just been published in Archiese by the Jughead Metal Objects Kissing Paper Press, entitled Goddie No Earums Hearums No Can, and at last report, it is shooting way up in the Jughead Newyorkshire Puddin' Semit's bestseller list.
'Nuff said.
We will continue the normal diatribe in tomorrow's post. There is so much to chew on. The "president" as he nears the coming diastrous elections for his henchmen Repugnicans is flipping totally out, giving the rich more tax breaks, putting the military in charge of the CIA and giving John Negroponte free reign at the NSA, which today told the Justice Department trying to investigate Georgie Porgie's illegal wiretapping fiasco that it cannot supoena any papers or people from the NSA in its investigation because, listen to this, THE JUSTICE DEPARTMENT HAS NO POWER OVER THE NSA, so case closed. The Justice Department, like the cowards they are, said, OK, case closed. What a bunch of jackals. Georgie Porgie has been busy with his little fountain pen and during his reign signed into law over 750 new bills, attaching to each his monkey-style assessments of the bills, adding a note on every one that since he is "president" he can overrule them and not respect them in anyway and will ignore them at his leisure. What a great "president" we have. Ain't'cha proud! "Damn your eyes, damn your eyes," as Sam Hall cursed out everyone as they were leading him to the gallows in the old bawdy song. Here it is: "My name it is Sam Hall, it is Sam Hall, and you're a bunch of buggers all, you're buggers short and tall, damn your eyes, damn your eyes, you're buggers short and tall, damn your eyes." "There's sweet Molly in the crowd, in the crowd, and I'm laughin' right out loud, 'Hey, Molly, ain't ya proud?' damn your eyes, damn your eyes, 'Hey, Molly, ain't ya proud,' damn your eyes." "Now in heaven I do dwell, I do dwell. And for me, I swear to God, it is a bloody spell, all the whores are down in Hell, damn their eyes, damn their eyes, all the whores are down in Hell, damn their eyes."
We are glad to be back. We were off three days. During that time we did nothing. Nada is the most supreme of supreme beings; there is nothing in nothing for nothing is nothing is nothing.
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The Daily Growler Quote of the Day
"In the honoring foofaraw celebrating the wisdom of the Goddie of Longer Toes than Eyes, Bissbliss the Idoler wrote, 'Turn thy tongue to a spoon and thereby drink in the words of your own expression, a chomp is all it takes to break a bone, but a tongue spooning hellyumjewce will watch as bones connect and walk anew in a new dropped down body of extended hoo. Foofaraw is belief." Professor Large Head From Cargo Can Having Fallen on Same Head From Goddie the Boy Jones, teacher of golden toenail tips to glorify tomorrow's sun, at the University of Book-laden Walled-in Bunch of Rooms With Glass Windows in the city of Jughead.
The Daily Growler rejoices at being back afore your eyes again.
We were silly today, full of foofaraw saucy sauciness and cut-up chop-chops and shit like that.
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