A Growlers Secret Party==Come One, Come All

A The Daily Growler Secret

There is a secret The Daily Growler meeting tonight somewhere in the uptown pits of New York City—dancing, mafficking, kidding, kangeroo-ing, and a special curing of kleptomania by thegrowlingwolf posing as a faith healer, plus dances with Franny and Zoe our two-headed girl reporter at a buck a whack—it’s worth it, Franny and Zoe have a hell of a body. It’s the male dominance at The Daily Growler that gives it its flav, but it is the feminine side of The Daily Growler that make these secret meetings so much fun.

Sorry, folks, like Alberto “My Daddy Was an Illegal Immigrant” Gonzales (why do you think I hate my own people so much?) we lost all emails with any information about the location of this secret meeting—all are invited, you dig, even her highass majesty the Queen of Sheridan Square (or Merry Ole England, too, Miss Elizabeth—oops, that’s the Sheridan Square one, too, only the location seems to be top secret here at The Daily Growler Intelligence Bureau.

Or, sorry, folks, like Condo-Leasing Rice, we refuse to take time off to tell you all the location of the secret party—sorry—we’re off to parts unknown (Condo-Leasing, by the bye, is wining and dining with her Syrian equal, whoever the hell that is, today at a special meeting in Egypt or somesuch place—don’t the jihad dudes hate Egypt nowadays? —why would you hold such an important meeting there? Why not hold it in Baghdad anyway if it’s about Iraq? And why not invite Osama and his gang to come by and chat with Condo-Leasing? Why are they forbidden any dialog with our side? I know Bush would refuse to talk to Osama—they got a little boy attitude toward each other—they are stepbrothers aren’t they—Osama’s Prince Bandar Bush’s cousin or brother or something isn’t he? Aren’t all these wealthy F-ing Saudis acquainted with each other? Doesn’t the Saudi Royal Family know the Bin Ladens and the Bushes and mares eat oats and does eat oats, but by God, little lambs eat ivy.

We’re off to see the Wizard,

thestaff
for The Daily Growler

A lot of people just died all over the world. Mass death, but most of them will pass into oblivion never to be thought of or remembered or even cared about again. Good bye to those lost souls. Maybe they’re enjoying Scotty from Star Trek being out there in outerspace with them now, though that rocket that shot Scotty into space looked like some kid’s rocket kit rocket. I think Scotty’s not in outerspace at all. He’s probably now resting in peace in the middle of some Mexican desert—out there with Ambrose Bierce.

Ed McMudd
for The Daily Growler