The Daily Growler's 6th-Month Birthday Celebration
All the Growlers are baseballing about the country--marvelous marv backbiter has made his way to Detroit, by Greyhound, and will be trying to use his Daily Growler press pass to try and get into the clubhouse and then score some good box seats--that is if he can pull this off...but then The Marvelous One looks exactly like Marv Alpert, remember him?, the old hot-as-a-firecracker basketball announcer who got caught with his pants down...hell, he was dressed up like a woman and had a dominationalist pro biting him on his back while a big "black" dude, perhaps it was Long Dong Silver, waved his "thang" in Marv's face. It didn't affect Marv's career; he's still the voice of the Loser New York Knicks.
We have managed to publish 173 entries on a thunderous variety of subjects, mostly the bitching of our prize-winning character, thegrowlingwolf, a man with a bent for slander, though he lives as though he's anthropomorphic.
Certainly right at this moment in "the eater of all things lovely" Time, we're blatant New York Yankees's fans in the world of baseball; in the world of politics, we're more anarchist than we are bleeding heart liberals, though we respect the true meaning of what a true liberal really is and the liberty and pursuit of happiness our kind of liberals have a passion for--individual liberties, yes, but also humanitarian in the social sense, though we can become bitterly cynical even about humanitarianism...hell, all isms. We are like ivy: we grow on anything and we grow wildly, our roots are like claws, especially on the sides of ivory towers.
Our star girl reporter, Franny and Zoe (two heads are better than one--and what a body they have!), is lavishly visiting her horned-Moses brother down on the Mickey Spillane Estate in South Carolina--"Well, shut mah mouth." She's currently thinking of writing a filmscript of the Mick's trashy life--you know, view him from his brain's point of view, at least one of her is thinking of writing a filmscript. It's Zoe, I think; who the hell knows; certainly not the Shadow.
Ginger Bread, The Daily Growler porn star turned intellectual is attending a MENSA convention in Montevideo. Ah, the spicy Ginger! [Scott Fitzgerald said using exclamation marks in your writing was like laughing at your own jokes! Yep, Scott, we are laughing like mafficking hyenas with our noses filled with the fragrance of rotting red meat, though hopefully still juicy with blood, at ourselves, for isn't each person's life simply a character in either a badly drawn or a superdrawn cartoon? A Looney Tunes existence! Everything everyday stupidly singing a host of Merry Melodies--"A boy's best friend is his MUDDER!"--from an old Merry Melodies cartoon when they used to be singalong cartoons of very merry melodies.] So goes thinking here at The Daily Growler.
We've lost track of a lot of past Growlers; hell, we all sort of write the same way, as if we were one person; hey, we're unified...we are a Union of Daily Growlers.
We're taking ourselves out to a ballgame tonight--most of us will be at our local Irish Pub big-screen-watching the Yankees-Detroit game--Wheelchair Randy Johnson is pitching tonight--Holy Moley, it's always flip-a-coin when Randy pitches, though I heard marvelous marvbackbiter saying he was putting his money on Wheelchair Randy making a start, giving up 5 runs in the first inning, then leaving the game in his wheelchair complaining about his bad ass, or whatever besides age is wrong with this once-great and certainly future Hall-of-Fame pitcher. As Fats said, "One never knows, do one?"
Mets-L.A. It's Wheelchair Gary Maddox going for the tired Dodgers. Steve In-Traction Trachsel will be wheelbarrowed out to pitch for the Mets. Saturday. It should be over by Saturday night. Mets in a sweep---unless Trachsel blows it...or Billy Wagner blows it, but then let's don't talk that way; let's trust in the Mets and worry about the sluggish slugging Yankees.
By the bye, Oakland has trimmed Minnesota's wick; Oakland's a scary team; they didn't have much trouble with the Yankees this year, so, hell, one never knows...do one?
We've published some good stuff--you'll find it in our packed archives. There's way over 600 pages of Daily Growler in the archives, so read away. We've had almost 200 hits since April; that's about a little over one a day average. We're rated "5" on the blograting site by one rater. So we guess we're doing fine. One person a day reading The Growler--that's pathetic, isn't it? An audience of one-a-day. The great wood s lot site has reprinted several of our more wittier pieces. If you Google "The Daily Growler" you get Growler references all over the place. Maybe like Orrin Grabbe we should run photos of nakkid gals to attract attention to our site; we're too decent for such shennanigans. How about poet death masks!
We used to publish The Daily Growler a la Oprah Book Club, but it's been on hold since Bookish Blabbering Bob Blah-Blah got rich off the Donald Trump "Get Rich Quick" teevee offer--like Ed Beckley--anybody remember Ed Beckley? Blabbering Bob was last seen working as a quality control proofreader at the bottom of an elevator shaft.
Then there once was a character who called himself thedailygrowleroldmusician but we haven't seen him around our skyline offices in many a moon now.
Anyway, we wish ourselves a Happy Six-Months and many more to come, though we may all go bloggishly bloggers before this blogging adds up to a hill of beans or hell maybe worse a pile of shit.
Onward and ever blogging...we're off to the wilds and wiles of Motown. We're pushing Randy's wheelchair up the VIP ramp right now--the secret's out, Detroit is in for another Hell Night. We hope.
for The Daily Growler
Here's a nice little site where you can listen to some cool little baseball stories at your leisure--how about the Williamsport potato play! [Sorry, Scott, we can't quit laughing at our own jokes.]