THEE WAXETH TOO MUCH
I hate to complain about that for which I growl, The Daily Growler, but it seems to me of late the Growler eds. have been allowing a little too much "poetic waxing" to be going on at the expense of some serious growling. Yes, the vignette combining the Texas dust storm experience with the New York City reality of 9-11 was a well-done piece, but how many of the true dopey Yahoo Amurikans would ever get its drift and the analogy that drift leads you to. Sure bleeding heart liberals will understand its drift--an eerie drift, one that if you read it again and get into the swim of its drift, you see how scary breathing even actually is. Yes, natural terrorism has the same effect on your senses as a politically or religiously induced terrorism, the stench of both the same, that earthy natural stench that arises from the already dusty flames boiling out of a Texas dust storm or that that arises from the burning flesh of human beings when the bonfire's as big as 9-11. Dig where I'm comin' from?
Yeah, I got the piece, but only the choir got it like I did. The Yahoos didn't get it. Here's a couple'a Yahoos right here, let's say on a Goose Creek, Texas, street corner, oh, and listen, one of 'em's talkin' about that vignette: "That shure were a perty story that thar boy living up thar in that Jew...excuse me, New York City, but, I ask'ya, what the hell was he writin' about? A duster? Tornado? Cyclone? or one of them thar storms old Pa used to tell about back in them dust bowl days. Now your'ah talkin' 'bout somethin' I understand. Whew, boy. But, I jest didn't git the conneckshun this boy was makin' 'tween a Texas dust storm and that thar Jew...thar I go agin, damn, I mean New York City 9-11 thing when we know Sad-damn Hoosain did that and we know God makes'a Texas dust storm, for why, well, that's only for God to know. I say to that thar feller, sorry, but it's like they say in Tennessee...or at least I know they say it in Texas...you fool me once you fool me twice...er-ahh, but you know you cain't fool me always. Ye catch my drift?" See what I mean.
Too much literature kills a Yahoo. Can you imagine Georgie Porgie's (the "president's") library? Although Pickles was a librarian, she looks like a librarian, so she may have salted G.W.'s private library with some Moroccan-bound classics (some first edition Zane Greys maybe--the illustrated versions).
Besides, hey a la Macy Gray, I have to be kinder to Pickles because Pickles once gave great respect and tribute and honest idolization to someone close to me. This close one told me he thought Pickles admired him to the point of love. He said she always was so breathless and grandly glad to see him everytime she saw him; friendly to the point of being erotic. When they'd meet at an affair, she would run up and hug him and kiss him and then take his arm and lead him around the room introducing him as her favorite author to all her cozy friends and vested-interest guests. And then at the banquet dinner table, he mentioned triumphantly, she always sat by him and loved him entertaining her with his millions of off-the-cuff tales.
And then she honored him with a dinner at the White House and she gave him the full royal treatment--so with his ego pampered so whole-hoggedly, he tumbled head-over-heels for the dull but charmin' Pickles.
The close one met G.W., too, a lot when he was "governor" of Texas especially, but the close one had grown up to not trust dudes like G.W. and he knew how barrel-rolling mean they were in terms of cashing in on the Capitalist wheel of fortune at the expense of everybody else's commonwealth, meaning the close one knew how badly Georgie Porgie had run Texas into the ground economically, and how many poor wretched souls he had needled on the table of death back in the dankest part of the old State Prison at Huntsville, right up the road from old Mister Sam's sacred old home [Texas hero Sam Houston--actually not a bad man when you consider him in a certain light, a light and a point Texas-Mexicans and Mexicans would disagree with me on]. So the close one had nothing to do with G.W., just tolerated an occasional handshake from him or a pat on the back from him, but then, too, once a pretty fantastic tribute (a decree), which left the close one kind'a floored it was so nice, but it was G.W. giving it, so the close one threw it in the trashcan of his mind and went on admiring Pickles as a love interest that pepped up his withering aging mind to the point he felt he was romantic again.
A Short Growl
The world is still twirling and spinning and tilting its way around the sun again and again and again and it still carries along with it the dumb as well as the smart, though it's hard to tell the two apart these days. The "president" is still lying and getting away with it. The "president" still has around 40% of polled-folks on his side. The Chinese commie leader, Dr. Who-- I swear that's his name--was trotted out by the "president." I think Hu spells it H-u, but anyway, ain't that cute, the leader of the Chinese commies is Dr. Who? I jest, please, I jest.
I ask myself why is G.W. Bush trotting the Chinese commie leader around like he's offering him a chance to buy this country? I suppose Dr. Who sits there half asleep like Unka Dick and thinks, "Hell, I own all of this country anyway, you dumb Texas hick. What the hell's this lying son of a bitch talking about, offering me a chance to buy this country." "Well, you see, Hoo, it's like this, either you buy this country, or we nuke ya, what'd'ya think'a that, Mr. Hooey, or whatever your name is?" "Hu." "Naw, Who's on first." "What?" "Naw, What's on second." "You crazy." "Naw, You Crazy's on third. [heh-heh-heh]"
Then Dr. Who flew over to Saudi Arabia. What better place to go to relax after looking over your possessions in Washington, D.C. (the District of Corruption), than Riyadh for a little sun, oil, and relaxation? I think Dr. Who owns Saudi Arabia, too, since commie China is now the largest non-Capitalist Capitalist, most oil-burning Capitalist country in the world, its Capitalism growing by leaps and bounds, cell phones and Beamers, luxury high rises and McDonald's, an exorbitant number of skyscrapers and an exorbitant number of poor. Oh what a beautiful life. Look what power does for men who don't deserve it. They abuse it, of course, due to them being so dumb as to react with their raw animal naturalness; it's only natural these little-men big-fools are barrel-rolling mean and that their ultimate goal is to drive down the Amurikan economy to that 1% ownership of the world old Pappy Bush promoted when he was king for a term. The rest of us 99% either gag to death on cat food or just up and starve to death, or we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps like Pappy Bush and his illustrious grandpappys did way back in those glorious days of open monopoly and Captitalist greed out of control. [Remember Pappy Bush's sensitive and caring reply when asked about poverty right here in the squalid US of A? About how he didn't see any poverty and how everybody he knew had a job and, hell, he had two houses so what the hell were people bitching about. Plus, too, remember Babs's passionate and caring response as she passed among the displaced residents of New Orleans packed like sardines into the run-down, unkept, once-great invention (of the great forgotten Buckminster Fuller) Astrodome, "Why, Georgie Porgie, aren't these persons from New Orleans so much better off here in our lovely Astrodome. Why, my little still-sucking baby boy, they're better off here even than they were before Hurricane Corina." [Heh-heh-heh] 40% of the polled Amurikans don't find that offensive at all. "After all, the king's mamma was right. Them folks is better off in the Astrodome with our taxes payin' thar way, givin' 'em good food, I saw big boxes of Cream'a Wheat down thar when I swaggered through there right behind a guy dressed up like George Washington...er-ah, wha? [a stupid look comes over his stupid face] ...that's Miz Babs Bush? Oh my God, 'scuse me, I gotta go kiss her ass."
I love Amurika. But I don't think the "president" does; nor do I think Dr. Who the commie Capitalist loves Amurika either. He looks like he's out to get us--and Bush looks so dumb he doesn't even know the guy is jiving him. All of them are cocksuckers, by the way.
for The Daily Growler
It's coming upon Sunday. We are taking the Lard's Day off. We'll sit around smoking La Rosa cigars for the dudes and medical Mexicans for the ladies of the Growler world. We'll have Mingus and Ives on the Growler sound system and soon some cat will bring out the 25-year-old Ambassador Scotch and we'll have communion--we'll break up Jesus's body into big nice pieces and we'll wash it down with slugs of Jesus's precious Scotch blood, at 100 bucks a bottle. Holy, holy, holy. How 'bout a holey?
PAX on you all from
The Daily Growler.
The Quote of the Day: "peace- 1: a state of tranquillity or quiet: as a: freedom from civil disturbance b: a state of security or order within a community provided for by law or custom 2: freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions 3: harmony in personal relations 4: a: a state or period of mutual concord between governments b: a pact or agreement to end hostilities between those who have been at war or in a state of enmity. 5: -- used interjectionally to ask for silence or calm or as a greeting or farewell -- at peace: in a state of tranquility or quiet." Merriam Webster's Collegiate Dictionary, 10th edition.