Friday, May 30, 2008

A Gothic eMail

From Parts Unknown, We Received the Following eMail

I may never write again--I don't feel right doing
it--or it doesn't feel right doing me--I don't know--I
start writing about a dam condition in Haiti and I end
up on an endless Haitian journey that will turn into a
Paul Bowles-like book--me among the Haitians--walking
through the Haitian hills with a barefoot girl who
makes my salads every night in the hotel
restaurant--or waking up that morning in another world
with a whole other bunch of people and a dead woman
laying naked in the next morning's garbage out under
the huge banana tree, the one several big rats come
out of every evening to frisk about around the garbage
cans--and the rats had eaten the dead woman's face
away.... Rats! You see what I mean. I'm tired of
writing--I'm reading now--Jane Eyre is growing into a
weird young woman who's gettin' hot--especially for
foggy ghostly dream men who she should know are gonna
do her wrong....

from parts unknown
who's this Michael Collins you be accusin' me'a
kidnappin' right from under your lovely nose?
I think I'll sit out by Bix's grave tomorrow.
We Turn to Our Auxiliary Staff--We're Pointing at Walter Crackpipe--Hit It, Walter!
Why me? Because I'm bitter? Because I'm wracked towards psychoses because of the neurotic way in which our sissy country is reacting to FEARS? And listen to who we namby-pambies are afraid of: Al Queda--a nonexistent world-dominating brilliant military force capable of bringing the United States down with a robotic airforce or a camel caravan of mad bombers perhaps--a camel caravan coming across the Siberian flats, across the frozen Bering Straits, and then straight down through Canada, already a hot-bed of Al Queda terrorists--what ever happened to those Canadian Al Queda-ists who were going to blow up Ottawa or the Peace Tower in Toronto or something mild like that a couple of years ago now?--oh well, or should I say "Orwell"--1984's coming late but it is still coming--anyway, so we FEAR a nonexistent world terrorist force, one made up and put into action by our own CIA and the skullduggery of the frightening Neo-Cons, most of whom have resigned in humiliation or are serving time--like Scooter Libby, taking the fall for the real crooks, for Unka Dick and his Gunga Din, Boy Georgie Porgie the Millionaire-Goof-Ball who through the miraculous power of Jesus Christ is faux president in spite of his long list of total failures, including a cocaine habit, a drinking habit, messin' with Messkin gals in the Boys Towns of La Frontera--spoiled brat rich boy used to since elementary school getting his way and whatever the hell he wanted, especially from his mom, old Babs herself, who ruled that wimpy roost with a bulldyke hand--Howard Stern once called Babs Bush "George Washington With Boobs"--and at one time, Babs did look like George Washington including the powdered gray wighair--and she and her family and her stupid sons are a bunch of Whigs, too; Tories; they worship royal families and hell, in world social circles they consider themselves a royal family. Pappy and the Bin Ladens's (though they're officially off the Board now) old Carlyle Group, thought to be on the verge of bankruptcy due to bad investments, has made a spectacular comeback--comeback enough to buy Booze, Allen & Hamilton, the nation's largest PRIVATE spying company, actually a corporate branch of the CIA and Homeland Security, for several billion bucks. Oh how easy it is for the Plutocrats to just buy their way out of danger with paper deals--nonsense deals, like JP Morgan-Chase (Samuel Chase, by the way, was a total nutjob)(JP Morgan, called the ugliest man in the world behind his back, was a pompous peasant who rose to power through truly crooked and crooked-as-a-snake-at-night snake oil salesman deals, a dude who stole everybody's money and made himself so filthy rich he bought his way into the Corporate Val Halla where these rich pompous assholes think they can squander away economies with impunity--and, by God, they're right) bailing Bear Stearns out. They didn't bail Bear Stearns out, We the People bailed 'em out through our dumbass Federal Reserve that pumped 30 billion dollars into that deal--can you imagine, We the People of the USA giving a corporate bunch of scoundrels who should be doing time for being felons 30 billion dollars so they can save face?--why not let Bear Stearns go under?--it wouldn't matter to 90% of Amuricans if Bear Stearns went belly up--wouldn't affect their foreclosures or credit debt or job-security fears or fears of Acts of God. What it does do is enable Morgan-Chase to fire half Bear Stearns staff and of course half of their own staff, too--I mean, somebody's got to pay that Federal Reserve loan back! What! Oh, I'm sorry, it seems they don't have to pay it back after all--it'll just be sold off to the Communist/Capitalist Republic of China (yep, Commie China, once our FEARED enemy--why old wily General Douglass-Double-ass McArthur warned us that if Red China was allowed to cross the Yalu (sic) River the whole world would soon file over like a lining up of dominoes that's been tapped into action, the whole world falling to Communism! And now look at the world! The two growing-est economies in the world are: Commie China and Russia! Yep, folks, no longer do you come to the USA to get rich--now you go to Commie China or Russia--your cup will runneth over, unless the Russian Mafia (old Putin's mob) does you in, maybe putting a little plutonium in your tea.

for The Daily Growler

Huntington Hartford Is Dead

Yeah, we know, "Who?" And, yes, we admit, we thought he died years ago--when his museum on Columbus Circle in New York City was abandoned to ruin, maybe given to the city by Huntingon. He was notorious for blowing millions with total abandonment. He blew 30 million on Hog Island in the Bahamas and then renamed it Paradise Island and then forgot about it--we think the Merv, Merv Griffin, ended up owning it in the last zesty years of his fatass wealthy life. Huntington Hartford thanks to an inheritance (the Great Atlantic & Pacific Tea Company fortune) was able to blow bucks as though they grow on trees--that's why we Growlerites are so against inheritance--estates--foundations--tying family fortunes, passing it on and on to the worthless family lines, jokers who because of their original family wealth, probably gained on the shady side, like the Kennedy wealth is based on bootlegging during prohibition; or how about that worthless bunch of old Sam Walton's kids? H.L. Hunt's illegitimate sons?
One of Many Huntington Hartford Wedding Photos--Four Times or More?
We raise a growler of Old Growling ale to a The Daily Growler Great Amurican Hall of Famer, Huntington Hartford--that bastard had his cake and he ate it, too.

for The Daily Growler

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