Saturday, October 14, 2006

In the Face of the Coming Cold

Back to the Wolf on the Greyhound
I hear it's snowing in Detroit. Wow. It's freezin' there, too. Good. Wolves like the cold. Wolves like blood in the snow after they've eaten a raw pile of hot steamy baby elk insides--and blood all over their steaming snouts. But then there are wolves that live in the deserts, too; like coyotes--hell, coyotes aren't renegade dogs, they're renegade wolves, outcasts, like those wolves of us who growl all the me...and I'm growling still on this abominable Greyhound.

See I got on this Greyhound over at the Port Authority in NYC and I got a seat by a window back near the bus crapper, you know, the seat that backs right up to the crapper, and I sat in the seat alone even after the last sot got on and we headed out toward the wastelands of the Jersey meadowlands, that once naturally beautiful swampland that once resembled the Everglades, but, oh no, what the hell does Nature know--and we officially don't believe in evolution--so the Jersey politicos allowed the sports developers to fill it in, cut off the natural drainage and eco-system of the area, and build a, they hoped, money-making sports complex on it, which they did, building the Brendan Byrne Arena (when the Jersey Repugs beat ole Brendan Byrne out of office, they then smeared his name and immediately took his name off the original Brendan Byrne Arena and simply called it the Meadowlands Arena), Meadowlands Stadium, and then the Meadowlands Raceway. Basketball, football, and horse racing. Now it's a tacky, dull-as-hell area and the sports complexes are getting too old to be awesome anymore; in fact, most of the teams that play in the Meadowlands Complex are leaving it--the NJ Nets coming to Brooklyn to play their up-and-down brand of basketball--one of our little mayor's buddies owns the Nets and he's getting the privilege of tearing the hell out of downtown Brooklyn, throwing out the native Brooklynites or poor folks that live in that area, and putting up this billion-dollar basketball arena that the people of Brooklyn will still have to support with tax breaks and ticket buying since it's as far from Manhattan as the Meadowlands were and farther from New Jersey where this team's original fan support was.

Our little billionaire mayor also tried to get his old billionaire Queens buddy who owns the Jets a big new trendy football stadium right in the middle of Mid-town NYC but the people rose up against the little billionaire and he had to call that off, just like people turned on his little rich ass when he insisted NYC host the Olympics--and right after 9/11, too--as if he were personally deciding to gesture defiantly with a "bring 'em on" attitude, you know--you can attack NYC until hell freezes over but by God we're gonna have the Olympics here, you know, put a huge football stadium in Manhattan--bigger and easier to hit than the World Trade Center was--you know, and there'd be lights on at night to guide them in and 56,000 people all ganged together there, too--ah what a jihad that would make! But there was our little mayor out there trumpeting his defiance--the little bastard who runs off to one of his many estates when trouble comes a knocking--unless his old buddies the Repugnicans come here, then his nose is deep in the cracks of their old crooked asses as they wine and dine and fart and F around town--though they had to put up concrete barricades and police wedges and shit to keep the hundreds of thousands of New Yorkers who didn't want the Repugnican Convention here, nor did we want the Jets here, and we didn't want the Olympics here, and we didn't want to build a new stadium for the Mets--though the little billionaire mayor let the Mets go ahead and start building their new trendy overpriced stadium in Shea Stadium parking lot--and now we are also building the Yankees a new stadium--we can't help the Bronx get on its feet but we can help the Yankees build a new multibillion dollar stadium-- we say, after losing to Detroit in that joke of a playoff series, the Yankees deserve another decade in the old stadium that Ruth never built, that the people of NYC built for the Yankees when they were owned by CBS and an idiot poor little rich boy up and comer Mike Burke was their boss, what a loser, now long gone from the NYC scene.

Busing through the Jersey Meadowlands is a sickening ride.

And so was that first bus ride of mine. Remember, I was 4 years old, and I was getting on a Continental Trailways bus with my mother, her sister, and her mother--Holy Cripes! And I was four years old and had to sit on a little jumpseat that pulled down out into the aisle from out of the side of the big regular seat in which my mother and her sister were sitting.

"I won't sit anywhere except that front seat just across from the driver," my aunt commandingly announced. "It's first come, first serve," my dad said, and she said, "Not if I can do anything about it," and off she traipsed shaking her fine ass looking for the bus driver. Boy, my aunt knew the way to a man's crotch, that's for sure. She came back grinning like a Cheshire cat. "Tom's gonna clue us in to when he's gonna take on passengers so we can run out and get first in line." "You're amazin' you are," my dad started glowing much to my mother's chagrin.

Here's a good photo of the type of bus that first bus I rode was--this is a Chicago & Northwestern bus but it's just like the Trailways bus of my first ride:

My mother's sister was quite "a gal," as horny men called them in those days. She was cute and had solid silver hair--her hair had turn white when she was in her middle twenties--she was in her mid-30s by the time of the bus ride, two years older than my mother who looked nothing like her. My aunt was sexy even to me a 4 year old. She was pettite in body, a very pretty face, narrow with high-defined cheek bones plus she had a very small waist, which men went goo-goo over in those days of mostly Rubens-like women. Plus her rearend must have been attractive since sailors and soldiers would pass her, say, "Hi," then as she passed, they looked back over their shoulders and checked out her ass and then let go a wolf-whistle! So, though, I wasn't aware of girls's asses being sexual objects at 4, I knew something was making those wolves whistle like that and now I know it was her ass. Yep, "wolves" in those days included horny boys and men--howlin' for their darlin's, don't ya see?

The photo of the C&NW bus at Cyride shows why these were the last of what were called "motorized stages." A lot of passenger bus lines in those days were called "Stage" lines. My hometown bus company was called the Sunset Stage Lines. Note the bus in the photo is marked the Chicago & Northwestern Stage Lines--(the C&NW was also a railroad). They basically kept the old stage-coach body design and replaced the horses with that huge motor under that long hood, whose power ironically was stated in horse-pulling replacement--those huge motors probably at least 500 horsepower--those old buses looked like Rolls-Royces did in those days and they may well have had Rolls-Royce motors in them.

That stage-coach body was heavy steel and you got on the bus through a narrow folding door, up steep steel-plate steps up onto the floor of the coach, a steel plate floor with rubber mats covering it running between the seats all the way to the back seats that sat across the whole back wall of the coach--"Move to the back of the bus" meant get yore ass back to those back seats first and then sit forward. You see, nobody in their right minds wanted to ride on the very back seats of any kind of transportation--the front seats being the special seats--seats that eventually became reserved for white folks--which was verfied by the Supreme Court justifying Jim Crow laws, which started on railroads but of course ended up on buses, too.

[To Be Continued]

As we told you yesterday, thegrowlingwolf claims he's on the prowl for the approaching cold weather of Michigan--he claims he's riding a Greyhound bus getting there and he wants us to publish his jots and tittles as "Episodes," see, like serials--not for kids, but serious serials--hey, we appreciate the Wolf Man, he's our heart and soul, so we perform like the trick ponies we are for him.

Condolences to AirAmerica. They've gone bankrupt. We could have told them they were wrong in trying to compete with true numbskulls like Bill O'Really and OxyRush "Doped" Limbaugh--he can't stand pain--Rush Limbaugh is a Missourian who went to Dallas after he graduated from some 13th grade college in old Mizzou and became a Top 40 disc jockey who one day began listening to Howard Stern, the NYC jewboy all the do-gooders once thought was ruining the precious unspoiled minds of our youth, and who has now abandoned commercial radio for satellite radio--for 500 million dollars--can you imagine that? But Howard once said that he learned as a youngster that when you got on the radio you had to act like a stone know-it-all whether you knew-it-all or not. Throwing the ultimate BS, we call it here at The Daily Growler. He said that claiming to be a know-it-all and having an answer to any question asked you, right or wrong, would guarantee you success no matter the subject; just act like a pompous know-it-all, piss off people, get in big phony fights with other radio personalities, etc. Rush got the message and began his now total blowhard Howard-copycat radio talk show. Rush's teevee show was a bust. Rush's being rushed into major teevee as a commentator on Monday Night Football proved a huge failure--especially after this totally big, baby-faced fat-boy dumbass about football Rush said the Eagles's Donovan McNabb, a black man, was only a quarterback because he was black and that as a quarterback he was a total failure. Of course, we already knew there's a prejudice against blacks quarterbacking--or coaching, too, for that matter. Typical Rush. Typical Howard Stern, too. Just say something know-it-all about something you know actually nothing at all about. Rush was following the principles of shock he learned from his radio Svengali.

Turned out Donovan McNabb is instead the best quarterback in the NFL, even better in all areas of quarterbacking than that white darling, the highly overrated Peyton Manning. Peyton Manning, however, gets total constant backing of his greatness by all the network sports people--you just don't say anything bad about Peyton Manning. In the meantime, so far this year, look who's the leading passer in all of pro football--both leagues--clue, it ain't Peyton Manning--another clue, he's black and we've already told you who he is.

Hey, Nonny, Nonny, The Daily Growler Post on the Silly Future "Freedom Tower" the Big-Bossman Studs Are Wasting Billions of Dollars Developing at Sacred Ground Zero Has Been Republished and Linked on Hot diggity; we're always thrilled to see the old Growler given some airtime--it's a cool site, too, and we thank them for the hail-fellow-well-met comments they made about the piece--written by our own thegrowlingwolf, a true Know-it-All in the highly irreverent sense.

Check out the reprint and the site--Here ya go:

Wow, that's a nice comment and site. Well done.

Did You Know
That the Repugnicans of New Jersey have a site called "Republican Babes" that features bios and photos of all the hot Repugnican women getting in line to kiss G.W. Bush's hairy behind--several of them with their noses deep in his sexy crack? One of these Repub hot mammas is Sara Evans a country-western singer out of some backwoods hillbilly tribal village--in Mizzou again, I think--who went to Nashville and she's good lookin' and sexy--and she is pretty, that we'll admit--and she went to Nashville, was discovered, produced, toured, and then married her husband who was also her producer, I think he was, but anyway he was a big Yahoo booster of Georgie Porgie's presidential campaigns--and she had her picture made with her wonderful husband and the exceptionally real man's man, Georgie Porgie, our never-elected and first-ever Supreme-Court-appointed president.

Well, hell, Sara's little world came apart recently when she found out her sweet husband was not only a major adulterer but, hell, he's also addicted to Internet porn! Oh my God! What does that say about her sexuality? She's married to a jack off; he can't possible be any good in bed; he's too tired from whacking off to porn on the Internet--or boffing those other young up-and-coming Sara Evans's he has back in his Nashville stable. That's what producers and promoters call there star clients, their stable--like boxers used to belong to promoters's stables.

Most of the other Republican babes, like Ann Coulter, are like folks used to say about Lyndon Johnson's two daughters--"Those gals are semi-beautiful--you know, like a semi truck is beautiful." Hey, check it out, Bo Derrick is a Bush asslicker; and Kathleen Harris--well, hell, Bush owes her a little rimming--she and Brother Confederate General Jeb disalloyed from voting or simply destroyed all the votes of hundreds of thousands of blacks--remember the famous "felony" list, votes that by-cracky were going to Gore and certainly not that good little rich boy F-ing-up son of the old Bush Plantation.

Have a nice day--and, oh please, Willie, get the Mets back on the winning track. You can't win 'em all--the Mets had won 4 in a row, but their loss to the Cardinals last night was avoidable--their star finisher, Billy Wagner, let 'em down--and they had just been trumpeting how great Billy was, the best closer in baseball. Well, there you go. I've actually seen the very best closer in baseball, Mariano Rivera, blow a save--in the last game of the E Division playoffs last year against the BoSox. Willie was there. Come on, Willie, you can't depend on your pitching staff--the same trouble the Yankees had this year. IT'S ALL ABOUT PITCHING. Now Saint Louis's Carpentier (sic) still has a perfect record, 4-0, in this year's playoff. And Pujols hasn't caught fire yet either. Check out Pujols record against Ted Williams, the Babe, etc.--he leads 'em all in all categories, except for Ted Williams.

But the Mets are the best team. If they lose, it will be because their pitching will let them down. Today's game will be tough because the Mets lost their boyish glee after that loss. F-you, Billy Wagner; you owe Mets fans a big one now--and if I were Willie, I'd pitch your ass again today.

thestaff (Hi, I'm Franny & Zoe)
for The Daily Growler

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