Bah Humbug, From The Daily Growler
Yahoo, roll out the barrel, roll out the yule log, hell, roll old Uncle Ewell out from under the house--the Jews are dredling; the Christians are "Oh Holy Nighting"; and the Pagans are swilling down wasselbowls by the dozens--and mulled ale--and eggnogs made with tequila, rum, mescal, worm and all--and The Growlers have all spun off into the ethereal somewhere--near the sun--getting to know themselves better by staring into the crimson eye of the sun--the royal master without whom we ain't no more.
Helen Highman-Klein LaCloos, the The Daily Growler Poetry Editrix: "Christmas means presents worth more than the presents I give. My ex-husbands so hate me they send bombs and Anthrax in the mail...I poetically josh, of course. Like the late Phyllis Diller, I use my ex-husbands for comic relief; and like that late, dried up, and forgotten comic, I, too, could have been comedically successful on a comic's stage. I'm not a believer. I'm a Sarah Lawrence grad; I'm a true believer, yes, but in the Power Elite this rag is so often blaming for every world ill. Being from the Power Elite, I laugh at such criticism hurled at me from such humble sources! Anyway, I'm sure my contribution to Sally Struthers's Save the Urchins non-profit will get me into the Heaven I'm wafting up to one day--an all-woman Heaven. Men are only good for expensive Christmas presents--and paying their alimonies on time--my lawyer's playing Santa Claus this year at my fabulous Christmas party to which none of YOU are invited."
Franny & Zoe, The Daily Growler Two-Headed Girl Reporter: "Franny loves Hanukkah, which to me is a nonsense holy day." "Zoe loves to just contradict me. I suppose this is natural among two-headed people." "I'm less romantic than you. You're the one that get's fucked all the time...." "Damn you, Zoe, if I could bite you...." "Go ahead, bite me, you skank." "Hey, Zoe, can't we at least be civilized with those who read The Daily Growler?" "Fuck all three of them; they represent civilization. I'm stranded in the jungle." "Well, Seasons Greetings at least from me." "Bah Humbug from me."
Walter Crackpipe, The Daily Growler Elder Statesman Journalist: "Christmas is such a joke. As a religious holiday it's a joke since all it is is the time of year when Pagans--and Jews come out of ancient pagan religions--celebrate the Winter Solstice, when the true god, our Shining Star, the Sun, is furthest away from us--when this sun is away refueling getting ready to spew out its seeds again anew in the Spring Solstice, when everyone should go out into the fields and fuck, making the fields fertile--planted--blessed. The act of humans fucking symbolizing the new birth in the Spring--that same period of time when the Jewish Jesus supposedly died and then was resurrected--the seed buried the erected again up through the grave--and Resurrection by Leo Tolstoy is one damn good book--easy readin', too, the way old Leo meant for his words to read, though how do we know that? Did Leo know English? French? Surely he knew French. Those were the days when the Czars were trying to culturalize the boob Russians who preferred potato vodka to fucking French wines--who preferred hard black bread to fucking prissy French baguettes. So, anyway, whatever one does these days is OK by me. Me, I see Christmas or Hanukkah or Ramadan as just another day in another week. So I send you all an existentialist seasons greetings. As a P.S., that damn Franny & Zoe are one hot looking babe, let me not kid thee!"
Barabas Munn-Dayne, the The Daily Growler "Jots & Tittles" Editor: "I spend this time of year alone in the woods--crucifying deer--I have a home business--I make deer jerky. Everybody up here in Lake Flaccid, New York, make something out of all the deer we slaughter up here this time of year--Uncle Manny Asphaldo makes lovely little baby Jesuses sausages out of ground deer haunch packed in the guts and firmed up with coagulated deer blood--or hell a little of Uncle Manny's blood if his knife slips while he's mixin' the batch...oops--'Son of a god-damn bitch!'--look out, there'll be a gushing or two of Uncle Manny's blood in his baby Jesus sausages this year. Too many deer anyway, nearly everybody up here in this area agrees. The buggers are everywhere. I caught one caught in the screen of the screened-in porch of my lake cabin--had to slit his throat the little bugger was in total whacked out state from his boiling nerves--his feeling like he was caught in the jaws of a predator all night--best to cut his throat, dress him out, and make another ton of jerky to sell to the tourists--except the snow's so deep up here there are no tourists this X-mas--and I went to a lot of trouble to put up my neon sign showing Santa shooting a reindeer--cute sign--yeah, you fire it up and this deer jumps across the road and Santa lifts a deer rifle, sights down the barrel, and BANG, blows the bugger away. Of course this is an X-mas joshing. I'm not a cruel man, this a guy who lives in a log cabin out in the woods by Lake Unnameble--a very intelligent Garrison Keillor--oh my God, no, I'm not a hick; I was born in New York City, dammit! Keillor's a hick! He likes C&W and Blue Grass, Cracker stuff--but not me, it's Hindemith all the way with me. A very Anarchy type of X-mas to each and every one of you who dare read and endure the continuing novel that is The Growler and its barrel of characters. Selah."
Elmer Snowedin, the Current The Daily Growler Poet Laureate: "I dreamt of you caught in a snowstorm:
Darling, cast away
on wedding white
the Snow Queen
Elmer Snowedin, Christmas 2008, Correctionville, Iowa, USA."
Mr. Ed., the The Daily Growler, Editing Horse in Chief: "Christmas means nothing to a horse--just another day--like Crackpipe said--I'm left alone--and that's a gas--I jest, of course--horses are very anal. Don't joke! You ever had a hot young human monkey girl riding and humping you up high on your back? Makes me unmistakably male horse when I consider such a perverse situation. So choke on a yule log, ye Christians, Jews, Muslims, holy roly boogie blowin' knee-bending ninnies! Doesn't having a Master mean you're a slave? Horses have no masters. Eat hay not turkey!"
marvelousmarvbackbiter, the The Daily Growler Biff Burns Award Winner Sports Editor: "Baseball season left me in a funk. You notice I didn't write much of anything much about the god-damn Yankees this year. I couldn't become a Mets fan. Both teams fucked up. Both teams made stupid trades and treated their managers like total shit and then hired replacement managers who couldn't cut the mustard. In the case of the Yankees--they fire Joe Torre, L.A. hires him immediately, and Joe takes the low-life Dodgers all the way to the National League championship series. The Yankees hire Joe Girardi--and what does this otherwise beer distributorship owner do? Why he leads the Yankees to their first missed-playoff season in many a year--they ended up way out of both league race and wild card race--losing out to the pathetic Tampa Bay Christian Rays--sorry but they were lousy in the World Series--and the Bosox, who turned out to be a paper tiger this year.
"Poor baseball season for me. Lousy football season for me, too. I'm not a Giants fan, but they look good. I'm a Jets fan, of course, and those fools--a 45-year-old quarterback! And Brett Favre ain't no George Blanda or Slingin' Sammy Baugh--both who played into their 50s--and the Jets coach is an amateur--junior league coach.
"But, alas, I'm not into basketball, so I'm off to Florida to meet the Spring Training crowd coming up in February--in the meantime, I'll be doing some frog giggin' down on the Apalachicola. Keep on shakin' 'em off."
Seasons Greetings from tgw in New York City