Happy Birthday, The Daily Growler

Gahhhh-leeee!
Today, Monday, April 7, 2008, marks the beginning of the 3rd year of posting for the geeks who piddle around daily with publishing The Daily Growler--and it is publishing; in fact, it's better publishing than ever before: better typeface (fonts galore), better typesetting (instant printed look), better editing and proofreading tools, much better reference sources, picture sources, plus immediate answers to questions that otherwise would have been posed and answered in the smoke-filled editorial offices of a big corp publishing house with not only the editors present but the legal staff and the bottom-line dudes from accounting, too, all of whom in the mornings were hungover and burning themselves alive with cigarette, pipe, and cigar smoking and all of whom by the afternoons were still a little sotted from their three-martini, three-hour lunches. Besides, and this is an exciting fact to us, a newspaper, a magazine, a large book, whatever, can be published these days instantaneously, on a communal screen, with the publisher either flying alone by the seat of his or her pants or with a collective behind them madly at work embedded in the online venture--you see where this is leading? As former arteests, most of the folks whether illusionary or bifurcatedly real here at The Daily Growler love this shit! Look at all the little hackers busy beeing to get the Growler out as many days a week as is possible--and, yes, just like in the old publishing world, there is human laziness even in the newly renovated 3-floors-below-ground offices of The Daily Growler.

Yes, a fictional character named thegrowlingwolf is the ghost-writer of the Growler--he is made of up molecules from a gene pool that was nonconformist from birth--a couple of difficult deliveries among the staff, like our two-headed girl reporter Franny and Zoe--my, my, what a difficult birth that must of been for their two-headed mother (it runs in the family)--with Fran and Zoe, it's not two heads are better than one but two heads are BIGGER than one--you talk about gaddy!

And speaking of definitions, www.languagehat.com yesterday did a post on the use of the word "Heisman" in street talk these days. With our interest pricked, we sent the office copyboy over to the Urban Dictionary to see what kind of loogy street definition they had hawked up to spit out our way--we were pleased as Punch (but not Judy) to discover the following Urban Dick definition of "heisman"--the 5th def. for "heisman" and interestingly enough posted by one C.K. Dexter Haven--does anyone remember who he was in an animated sense? Anyway, here's your Urbano Dictionario 5th def. of "heisman":

Its 4th and Goal and you are mid-wipe about to finish your growler in a public restroom. The stall door abruptly opens due to the fact the door was unlocked, thus causing you to put your other hand out to block the door from being opened. With one hand in mid-wipe mode and the opposing hand giving the straight arm to the door you find yourself in the proverbial Heisman Trophy position.

Dude, I had to squeeze one out before my flight at the Airport today and the lock on the stall door was broken. Someone tried to walk in right as I was getting ready to wipe so I had to give him the Heisman.

Yes, folks, the "Its" in the above is wrong, but, hell, its the Urban Dictionary, and ever body nos street folks don't give a shit 'bout no correct shit--you say it's wrong, we say it's right. Let's rap about it.

We were charmed by the statement "... about to finish your growler in a public restroom"--and of course, everyone should have at least a laptop in their restroom--The Daily Growler public restroom has an old i-Mac in it--so your Growler can be read in the peace and lovely quiet of your own public restroom.

Which brings us to a question posed by the general public: "Who the hell reads your stupid blog?"

Good question. How the hell do we know? We don't pay for an online tracker to tell us how many hits we get and from whom and how many of them are spammers looking to link us to their delicious spams--did you know "spam" comes from "spiced ham," which once was the very cheapest "lunch" meat money could buy and was the featured meat in the bread and meat sandwiches caring moms packed in their schoolkids's healthy lunch sacks or boxes. Spam was created by Hormel during WWII when the good parts of the pig went to feed "this man's army"--the parts left behind were deboned, deskulled, deeyeballed, denostriled, deassholed, degutted, delivered, and then depressed into that little glowing loaf of what Hormel called Spam--spiced ham. The Underwood folks called their pig-leftover meat "deviled ham"--oh what a lovely term!

So we really do not (donuts, yes) know who reads the Growler--except for those of you who openly admit it whether in a public restroom or in the privacy of your fav-rav mental institution (called "the World" in most places)(or called "home" if you want to stay local). We do know and love readers like thewomantrumpetplayer and our old pal L Hat and thedailygrowlerhousepianist, though he doth protest too much about the difficulty of commenting on our site, and we love our pal Anonymouse, and we love the defender of The Daily Growler spiritual leader, Pastor Melissa Scott--and we do hear a lot of "Hey, I read your blog the other day" though these comments are pure hearsay and can't be used as evidence either fur or again' us.

Since April 6, 2005 The Daily Growler has managed to come out at least most days of the week (we triumphantly note this is our 666th post--oh, ye, of little faith). In the first year, we drove ourselves half-mad trying to post something, drivel or whatnot, every damn day, and we missed only a handful of posts that year. After that year, we weren't thrilled with blogging. There seemed to be no one admitting to reading us; yet, we were mentioned quite a bit in other blogs and got a hell of a lot of attention to posts we printed in which we bombasted Mormons, believers in the Christian god they mispronounce as "Gee-hovah," or the new Freedom Tower being Capitalistically forced on us here in New York City down there at Ground Zero--a now multibillion dollar waste of taxpayer dollars and big tax breaks and land giveaways and eminent domain evictions and crooked real estate schemes and foreign investors invited in with open arms, the biggest tenant at one time, though they since backed out of the deal, a Beijing real estate firm (did you know that Communism allows private real estate firms?)--an enemy in the tower--oh, we apologize, China is now one of our strongest allies isn't it?--and isn't all of this so ironic, which is what The Daily Growler really stands for--"the glory of Hypocrisy" and its many dancing, prancing, defiant ironies! We champion irony! We champion the hypocritical! We certainly champion the cynical! The loners. The outcasts. The real commies. The folks who prefix their titles with "As"--atheist; anonymous; asexual; atrocious; akin; asymmetrical; amorphous; able to raise cain.

And we been raisin' serious cain for two whole years now and always under the guise of dopes with their tongues lodged in their cheeks, a satirically cocked-eyebrow-look at this disgusting world we call metaphorically the devil's playground, referring of course to the modified Hebrew dybbuk of the jakeleg evangelicals (the Dupies of Bob Marley's reggae world (Brian of Brian and the Dragonaires once told a member of our staff that reggae was based on the r and b and blues and rock and roll Jamaican kids heard coming over the southern US 50,000-watt radio stations in New Orleans and Houston back in the 60s--down thar where a certain all-American music was stirred together and then jelled)), de debbil, Old Ned, Old Nick, Old Gooseberry, Old Harry, Auld Homie, Old Clootie, Modo, Mahu, Mr. Scratch--wait a minute, doesn't The Daily Growler have a staffer named Mr. Scratch?

Anyway, we're 2 years old yesterday. So hoist one to us and wish us a kind Salud!

thestaffof2yearolds
for The 2-Year-Old Daily Growler

Watch Out or The Devil Will Get You