18 January 2017

WE RETURN YOU NOW TO IN THE MIDDLE OF DAYS OF OUR LIVES, THE ROLE OF BEATRICE PLAYED BY KRISTEN ALFONSO...ALREADY IN PROGRESS....






A cracked rib did indeed turn into a bronchial infection and am taking both topical and pill antibodies and yet, as tired as I am don't feel in anyway dragging or put upon, like say Praetor Shatner does as he lives out the wrath of Farrakhan and starts to stumble and bumble rattle and hum and sting and Drang his way hither and yon, despaired to take the Lambau leap like all niggers should and let the pollock's and brat stinking retards pat themselves for Luck.

During saturnalia I said, getting whiff of things as from the bullshit Empire deus ex machina reverse machine, despite the wording the Romans hated the idea of the god machine always saving the Greek ninny, like how Barry was always saved by republicans. My Jesuitical fathers bequeathed to me still works as wasn't made by GE inc., AND SO , I knew as much to know the predicate they were laying down about two rookies being unable to beat bedroom eyed beloved fag hero Greek Odysseus and lever horse queen estuarine Arod, even his nick name is stolen and fraudulent, I knew that the Boys weren't going to get it and not win as Godell would of course see to that. Our new Staubach, down to aping the best moments, our heroes now like Hollywood find themselves without grace and without verve and the days of burning books and a lack of art and the arts of propagandist are with us, circus and truth bewared up and left be, as we languish in an dark era of Boethius and cities of God where the soot is a sacrament. So Aaron boychick hurls the ball sissy yards alas helped by a late flag, he and the rapist, but swimming in fakery, seems to never be able to beat the up and coming game Cowboys without help, and i have seen this film before and thus aint be shocked when the stillers are a tight as drum and hated and cheated Aaron is out there unable capitalize on miscues by the other team. But God help me FIND if I root for anyone, as have a soft spot for Bill Clinton, in my head, always knew his mantel was staying right on that back of his, but who listens to me,...?

I find a Machiavellian ethic and a Jesuitism aplomb actually has me open to rooting for Another Bill of sale, Bellecheck who is as close to machinelike Niccollo as we can get here in this circus less tirelessly satire less empire, is there any analogy i use that doesn't come true...?, as I find myself rooting for the patriots, Good God!, and their Univac 5000 Bauhaus, no Googie charm, against good noble wholesome teams of white boys love, where the black wide receiver is castigated as a cheat and liar in ways the rapist QB was not, but then again, if you are a nigger with platitudes willing to not play the defense you designed or give 90 cents out of every dollar to the man, well, the world is your ouursster. But I cant root for the ass packers god knows, and it isn't again a rivalry thing as a cowboy fan, as a boy and young man I adored and loved the pa Joe's, Montana and Theisman, Blow-hard spacy drunkie lunchy unkempt Riggns,Zulu warrior LT, all of whom threw dirt on the grave of Landry, as much as anything, but i am Roman and not awaiting the war Messiah in that account. I say that as I was groggily and somewhat sore getting up the day after the championship game last week, sorry, that just what the ratings made it seem like again Godell you are a fuck up at heart, and the three morning Jews, WE MISS YEW CZABE!, vituperative and not as funny as they thought were on an sb radio station I only went back to listen to Sean Salisbury, who I rather like and think is a nice respite with old line masculinity, they call it toxic now when not handing boys in unseen unnoticed wars, from house niggers and scum who lecture us all year about race, as Le Broo was hanging Steffy in effigy as a zombie and like those gals who pushed death penalties for woof whistles until I,a Franciscan when need to be bitch, mentioned Emmett or is Ed, Tyll, and these faggots Jewish hags were raveling in the loss of the cowboys, again without my Roman Tactics. The Romans did drag Hannibal through the great city naked in chains of Gold, a last hurrah I was kind of hoping for, as was Bill C, as all us Roman school boys do, better than holding hands with a vicious wife who didn't get the joke. I can admire anyone and anything that is roman hearted in that, I adore the Cowboys for usurping in that display, so game and roman and beautiful and fulsome was it that though cant get channel 53 anymore and cant catch a super bowl for the first time since 1981, still, I saw that furious comeback mentioned by no less than Drudge who threw Tucker Carlson to the wolves as a important story the second that Zeke tied it up. That Jewish rat on the radio who thinks like most like him he can say as he pleases, but all Richies lose their humanness if say a word about Israel, or its colony on Wall, see I call it Sopranos disease, he was continuously damning poor Zeke, and kept calling him a bitch in his Jew allowed in to the suburbs of new Rome Virginia charm. Well, the feminizing of your enemies again is too Jewish for me, but am close enough as an Italian and more so as a Jesuit student I can say to this creep, listen Cunt, Jerry Jones, like Alan Brady, will ride again, we aren't all Boineys or Howard the ducks just glad to get out gas bills paid. I cant root ether for or against anyone this year am too tired, and not Jewry enough, as saw those numbers that came from Cowboy games, as am sure as things limp along now Cowturd will blame Trump again, but again I was righter than not, equating the two, and that in fact, in Roman literature the two play the same role, both dogs killed the masters, making both Hillary and Romo be well with their third act as Craig Morton. I can admire or not admire anyone and usually it is more their fault than not, as the great Mario Cuomo said, the Reagan's let you feel good without being good. And to that i add as if Dante to his Virgil, the Clinton's and beloved Barry make you feel good about being awful, the stance of evil to the Italian advocate, though Mario, is far to quiet to lead us through steep decline, where as Barry can always say, like all Semites can and do, if you heard I was a anti war type,well...that was your own fault...It was my valentine to the Governor of NY, to him being something that assured a lovely gal that I in fact was doing all the hate speech and the vulgarity as a thought experiment as much as anything, and too, she told me as they often do, that her grandmother was Italian, aren't they all...?, Please send more...I have a clean forehead as my mother says, and am not willing to destroy the Roman totems of priest hood because some fat yenta Jew, who can eagerly starve Arabs, don't call me a bigot I hated the 300, boys, or Bush familial button man ponies up to me up to and including 2500 dollars as once again what will defeat all the haters of the res publica that are out there, is thar to destroy a Republic as Sulla knew costs Munnnnnney! I cant root openly or even boo or hate Aaron Rodgers as I cant care as badly as I feel, I cant and wont root for Garbo and Bambam schussing ghost of Lombardi, whose walls are so unimportant to the hacks that black wide receivers can actually smack the pictures noticed only because they had the never did these midnight Jews and shoomzing hacks to note once again, ,doesn't number 12 , again shaking ghosts, get all the calls. ...? Again I smell the sulphate of this con man and this fat pig con artist who enters the room flashing his resume I really am a great coach you know until getting the calls you wouldn't know it as gave those game away and i sure hope mister well run the table at 4 and 7 i hope you didn't get anything in writing as the Roman gods seem to be, uh...what's the word, making you trip ova your own dicks...It turns out our gay hero family is upset by his love affair with Olivia Munn, people think i would love her, its just I hate funny chicks, oh lets look into that one shall we, hoping for a blond for everyone's all American, you know like Tab Hunter, pleeeseeee, i was taught the scurrilous fag aside by the queens of the church, ninny princesss Barbie of football, who was paraded on that draft night as a buffoon and a wall flower before he turned into something of a god, who always needs a machine...no with the beloved of the closet every-things at the tree-house of horror espn, i cant stand Rodgers, as im sure Tom Terrific wants no part as Iago, ...with that sissy Rodgers i feel again im always in an Allstate commercial.

In one of his last last Harrahs, even Bill called into say good lord, Rasstus eeeenufffffff alerady, one he was sure to stop my buddy Roman Bill at the door, Barry hand jives fer us all, and funnily my brother calls out to me and says with sharpie aplomb and fake shock, look here, the goons at NBC CUTAWAY FROM THE DEATH SCENE OF CAMILLE, he says about the last news conference, in which we are told that drones and tax cuts, sequestration and bombing hospitals can remake any nigger as be loved. As any attempt at making swells and not just suckers not go to an incarcerat--sorry inauguration, incarcerations are for the darkies... was doomed when some woman said she was taking names of the Democrats who were going, and would hold it against them. Well, Sadie, remember who is first gaming equals again, as once again, beliefs to a Clinton are for suckers and the weak. I DO LOVE IT WHEN THE SHEWS AND HAGS AND HACKS AND NIGGERS AND SNIPS AND JEWS AND TRASH THINK THEY ARE GONG TO SHAME MY MAN ROMAN BILL OUT OF ANYTHING AS HIS SHOWDOWNS WITH THE MAUSOLEUM CALLED A SENATE, NOW WOULD MAKE THEM ALL LOOK LESS LIKE ROMANS HONORS AND MORE GREEK, A SLY JESUIT JOKE ABOUT THEIR INHERENT LOVE OF CORN HOLING. You don't have a lever or a bribe big enough, gals. Oh losing power is losing all, and so NBC no less now having to try to get Trumpy on board for drones for everyone, cut away and retired to Kirsten Alfonso, by the way this word program has no spell check for Ariosto or Petronius or even Cuomo, but changes to Alfonso, easily enough just to show my pop was after all right, ...so back to Hope already in Progress, like Barry never existed, as he becomes little more than a voice, a trustee of lies, a vale of tears and of course, his itemized bills. The Cowboys did just fine by me,and as I SAID before I am not a Football fan, I root for the Cowboys. Sometimes I am more correct than those who think they're nothing but correct as on a last list of works i saw now no longer allowed or allotted, and called words of imperialism and occupation, which amazingly Spanish never is...hummmm, i saw the book 'the Greek way', the one in which a lesbian sort called the Romans as a mongrel race as they didnt have the ability or desire for concentration camps and dead children that Jews and Greeks have always had at sometimes cross purposes, and this made me laugh knowing as in huckleberry Finn and soon enough to a hundred years of Plagiarist, me and Gore and Calvino and my father who was sad that that prize whet to GIGI were already there and back as ma says. Once again, despite myself and not meaning to, I spoke for America, as calling something Cowboy nation is redundant. It was like that I said that the best of Roman war writing is the grand classical memoirs of Ulysses S Grant, as he was true to his Roman name. And some comic geek, the kind who think if you are making Wonder Woman look less sexy you are by designation making her Greek, and this cretin said to me I was wrong as Ulysses in the US Grant isnt a Roman name but Greek, thinking he caught me, until i said back, sorry, but in fact, Ulysses is in all ways nothing but a Roman name, name of an Etruscan hero the Greeks used to peddle their slop, as i said before, a Trojan hoses is always beneath a Roman Contempt, as i can hear Bill muse, yew knwww i stopped watch in days of our lives when dey fagots rid of that Kirsta Allen, now dere was a honey, hoo weeeee....





09 January 2017

WITH BELLS ON…





Satire is far too human and vital to not be hated by the sanctimonious, the true believer, the devoted, as Satire gives the game away. –Gore Vidal.

Unlike their fathers to whom they are superior, the Spartans, The Romans don’t love war, they merely are secret admirers to it. –Titus Livy. 


1. Was offered 10 bucks for the original of my Playboy last cartoon The Last Bunny, not the one with Boiney, but now that I think of it all five have a variation of Bernie as a dirty old man who is voice of reason to the lovely ethnic girl in a bunny suit.

One went to the lovely girl through the mails to Red bank NJ, and to the pretty girl with the Turnus hair, who I have been alerted through a Polaroid she keeps as retro Kitsch no less, and saw she did cut her hair, which is something all the girls do when I am around it seems for reason I do not get, making me feel less like a Jesuit and more like a monk taking in the wayward girls in the grand Manzoni. She sent me a gift for Epiphany as her Lombardi mother, celebrates epiphany as the Italians do and not Jewey Saturnalia. I thought her father was the Italian and he this time is not, she sent me a real eBay Lot of comics and a card with glitter and a dove ironically to me on , and it was just lightly brushed with one of the scents that come in the Wall street journal weekly magazine that makes my Ma sick to her stomach as all women now she says smell themselves like whores. She sent me a picture of herself with her black Little Annie fanny hairdo as I called it, as she stands and mimics in front of the secret stash, with the cartoon clerks behind her as some comic geeks taking note of her. I asked her if she went in, but she tells me no, as I am convinced then the cameras aren’t there, that jovial shit goes out the window, and they are geeks with knives out. So one playboy cartoon went to her, One went to a magazine that didn’t use it, and I sold the final sketch of it on eBay for my usual 4 to 6 bucks in eBay and other art sites where art is sold. I made 200 bucks this year, so again while the rest of you were having a requiem that never ended and you dare call the Kardashians as lovers of celebrity ,of course they are brunettes and like Cowboy wide receivers with out them as a given villain, you’d have to start honestly discussing Ofella Becham and his love of adardol, and who was talking about that before the rest of you, yet again. Oh  am the Auger, and though have been called wrong by some hacks and that ilk, I am more right than usual, and am after all a priest of Janus in the Roman days of saturnalia and that is all that means anything to me.



THE PRINCE. 


So I was listening to the radio fitfully and in pain as a fall gave me a hard time this time. I was listening to the only station that came in at all, as Kdka booms out with its bullshit and its static and there is no Perry Marshall  anymore. So on here, a at the end of the dial sports radio channel once called Yahoo,  some idiot ninny is on all night, doing his ‘guy’ act, and he openly sneers about Trumpie winning, but what is so hard about knowing know thy audience, I know you’re all on the pad, but still…and he was bitching about ‘the dude in the white house’, I found this funny as it inst inauguration day yet so Im sure that Barry the fairy wouldst see that as so much an insult,  he is a fat chick at heart as a insult of sorts and all. Those words were as the second time that I heard these very words today, mostly on the dude, again being a precontrived angry slur, meant by this hack to demean someone; it must be as I caught on, a lesbian thing. Anyway this hack and this sissy, perpetually telling is about his girlllllfreind, oh is that what you call it…? His life and times his sportscaster poor mans Olbermannn aplomb and that shit, yuck. He want on about next Jerry Jones, its always good to have cable television so we know who the persona non gratis are, and all, and he want on and on, trying to take away the fact they were what 14 and 2 and how Jerry had nothing to do with it. Now, my, let’s call it admiration for Jerry Jones is second to none. I have called him the monster, the sociopath, I’ve called him the Bizzaro Steinbrenner, a blow-hard and an idiot, and he’s a psycho and a fuck up. But I thought hearing this ninny wheeze, he’s a fuck up alright, and yet I thought, as this jackass brayed away with a laugh betraying a love of Pringles and weed, but he’s an honest Fuck up. He isn’t out there trying to save a rapists carrier for himself, and notice how many empty seats attach themselves to blockhead Rottenbegehr as he bumbles and craps the bed to victory, hoping to hang on for dear life and take credit for everything despite usually having thrown three interceptions a game. Jerry Joes is a lot of things, bit he’s honest at it, as I am, we are much alike, GOD HELP ME, in that its no fun if you have to reduce yourself to cheating and staling a Jesuit outlook, as he nuns told me a cheater is a man who thinks he is worth more than he is, or less, and wont stand on his own least he fall, but doesn’t underrated there is no insult to the willing, and there is no shame in falling, but the cheater cant do it, as the cheater doesn’t ever know if he cant get up.

A gal I sent my comics to said Tony we got your pictures and that small Christmas message  you sent along with it, she said you seem rather wistful and sad for the time, we enjoyed it very much and your outlook and you are funny and touching and hope you feel better this new year. I think I may have been too like him, introspective this year, sending to more than one girl a comic with a paragraph explaining how sadly and wounded I felt, and not just the punctured lung that has me taking antibiotics lest I get Pneumonia and I recall 1978 and how that word was sued as a way to get rid of anyone that Sparta inc thought would stand in the way of fag wedding cakes. This girl also liked that I said that with me I can take any gay wedding cake as sanctimonious and sacred to you all and turn it into a cream pie as have seen the Great race far too much. So, Jerry Jones deserves the credit than any of the more acceptable creeps of the cable cabal TV creeps would give, maybe more as being him he had a longer road to hoe. Im kidding, but just ask yourself what would be said about Dez Bryant if he was kissing kicking nets while toking Adoral , as it is amusing what you laughing liable Jews are able to laugh away isn’t it. But let me say this here about the cable television hacks and workbags and coloreds and fat black chicks and yoyoyo yo dawg negros of espn. There was a gentleman’s agreement to not take players from Morehouse and Grambling pushed in fact by the good blue state Rooney’s and Mara’s, and that gentiles agreement, we called it a programme when Germans did it, was broken in 1974 no less and I recall it all, when Tom Landry picked with a first round choice a man named Too Tall, mother fuckers, remember that dear Sarah Spain who is one of the few to block me, sadly before I spoke about the passable coming AFL championship game, seeing around those corners they pay lesbians to sack into. OK ill be watching that afternoon with the same glee I watched WJC tip toe through the subpoenas. Hey as we make a new cold war to the disbelief of Russian PhDs admitting that the Praetor, you know the ill get elected and give you what you want, that guy, the Lawn ornament of the Bush torture Castillo that  Manzoni in Calvino is aleergic to, the Salo we made, the one who knew but me that had octopus tentacles all the way to a MSNBC studios despite the navy boys and their lashes, just as usual with messiahs, still cleaning up for his white mother boy she did a number on you you dickless  wonder,  not in the face! , that guy,  sent word that was all bullshit, please help new Rome defeat the Isisers , dear mister Czar. I read Mariness’ When pride still mattered,  for the same reason he wrote it, as I was getting sick of Bill Clintons cartoon  colorama, and his underwear ads. The good and decent and wholesome Irish families,  who you coloreds  vote and root for in fact, asked the great Lombardi to cut a player because he had committed the sin of marrying a white woman, so please, go enjoy your adreaol and leave me be. I have the Rutillian answer to all circuses now that I as a roman don’t want to deal with and have been told this long ago, but did it now more than ever. Click. See, I didn’t listen to this smirking queen, and listened to instead fan and JJ after dark Brimming in more ways than one, he is a bit up for that time, but honest, all I admire, and not surreptitious and this by sb radio, I wasn’t there at 6 am when I awake, and so missed those three idiots who desperately need  Czabe back. So like I said there is a Physics aspect to all of this again why Machiavelli writes like Galileo or vice versa depending on where you are standing.



2. It has been both a sad and decent time of saturnalia to me, I did scratch a lung in a fall and went to the cvs clinic before they closed it down, as Barry the fairy is a whirling dervish and with only days left to go to his golden age, cant you smell the piss,…?, we will now return to the gloomy nation and dark age we were according to that hag hack cow married to Barry as a make work wanting clothes horse interpreter in the dial a date played by Reverent Wright to give the paratrooper into the ghetto Barry a black chick to hang on him as the Barbie’s he was as all half breed are , was enticed by didn’t test well in our perpetual On Broadway opening house. I saw the full page ad, putting the Bull in Bulgari in the Jerusalem Post, I’m sorry, that is wrong, the Washington Post from his dear friends the Jews on J street, as I did find it funny whoever did buy this for our President  Shatner who cant and nay Wont Go away, why we are still fighting this all out, I don’t know, decorum is beyond and above a alderman of the people as I have been wanted of your ilk by soon enough to be dead priests long ago. Thank god the clowns of empire did have that they would call solstice off and didn’t have to make a point that they had to choose between their devotion to Barry and to their paymasters the crowners of our circus the Jews as that could have been dicey and all, why our church lady and the fat little Chihuahua from that happy little island would have been put in vertigo if they had to choose between what they preened to think and what they pretend to care about. It was funny and sad to see laugh in repeats on TV, as we surely don’t act that way anymore, the sissy and the blue noses have taken over you know, marriage and sex with the lights off is our suburban creed and there was the anti- war ethic I grew up with gone now that the good liberals are a wholly owned subsidiary of war inc. Ah but as I warned and Bill Clinton could have told you after his elite meeting with Trumpie, hmnnn, this time Cattiline wasn’t in debt, at least not that much, and this time no one was taking the chance that Cicero was saving a cross just for them, In business and politics the Jewish are at their best when they are radicals and left with their noses against the imperial glass.





I did see that the calculated hard sell of television hag blond television city cunt Megan Kelley did all that work, but didn’t manage to dance her way in as the morning host at CBS, which like so much aint what it used to be, as she cleverly giggled and crossed her legs way to being up from cable TV as she has seemed to have  crash landed on NBC, which is like a sandstone version of Virgil’s alters, rising up out of an Ionian sea of sludge,  where the singing sirens are a lower level of woman, like those Hillary girlfriends and herstory perfessors who tried desperately to tar Trumpy as being almost as bad as who was slated to be first lady should she have won, which I always knew Jesuit Bill wouldst never have allowed, Fate they call it in his favorite books. I HEARD that shed be kick stepping her way, our fish faced piggish hag, One singular sensation every little number she clomps, to MBC, always the untiffany of Networks, where in fact I always thought someone of her stature would belong. She has been quite willing and eager to smirk her way across the stage, entering laughing from the left, or right shell take her understudies entrance from any wing, Alllllntownnnnnnn, ?, and now with an eye on my girl Rachel’s 9 pm slots, ssheeesh that would be a sad note as have been beguiled by our lesbian with bedroom eyes, remember I said I could save that show with her in a black teddy on a bear rug a new Barbara Feldon on television serried by nudniks and hacks and Irishman and drunks, Id save that show, but to know no that she may have to in our news Judea be made into the Brunette girlfriend of this homecoming fat girl made good, this Helen of Utica, it is sad to me to think it that my beloved Rachel will be so defamed and deprecated into being this hags lady in wafting, be made into this leg crossing cunts cup holder, as remember , as im sure the queen mother does, it was Rachel’s sneering at Billary trying to make itself into Dante and Beatrice at may day in 1275 , it was that sneer and that first week she lost it as I recall, but what do I as a mere Italian ever know, those four Piccnochios and that cigarette salesman son Biff openly haranguing her as he did that feast week, well sweetheart you’ll never know who was really against you and and how and why because if you do, believe me, quickly will John Podesta race out of town. I will hope that my beloved Rachel don’ts succumb to that hag thinking she owns the earth and everything in it, thinking she will come in as a fat ankle and awful Tinkerbelle, gleaming and eating her way across the wonderful world of General Electric. Remember these are the satirists who took OJS side too, so their track record isn’t great.

So, it was sad to see that hag Petra Principal her way up or sideways or down a bit, it was sad to me knowing here in New Judea that this is the sort of twinkling cow who gets her way she thinks as long as she doesn’t bloat again. As this station did have laugh in on it and there was the great and suave Dan Rowan, when war was actually put down as something not to love and admire, as it would become when the drone company would take hold of what they dare call with their faggot minions real news. I take it we must get real news, like the sports scores, only from companies that have a side in propaganda and who make their real money by selling turbines to Iran and a lot from selling drones that don’t crash into weddings as the newest way Amazon makes it easier for white girls to not have to go to the store.



The idea of being against war is so dated by me, so Jesuit, so seventies so unavailing and unavailable to nigger willing to be incarcerated and the rest singeing over there over there, ho kill the Arabs all over there…War has become big business , more than ever, and a discouraging  word is something far too close to satire for this flag waving riot inducing crap hole , this American cesspool life to take and accept. The Idea of a Dan Rowan with smooth cool cigarette in hand, with a ditzy gal in a bikini fruging next to him as he dares in the Roman drag and epilates of war satire that go back like satire and senators on the pad back to that remarkable  Mediterranean town, well that’s all so very Passé as we all dream of the next war. Well, of course the house coons and fat chicks of the media want to start a cold war, why her patron Goldwasser dreamt of bombing them back to the stone age years ago when she was one of the few who voted for the man who was the last that MLK voted against, but why hold that against her, don’t you lesbians always have hearts of gold, at least now that they defame the childrens hour and other movies like Charlie Chan for being not as good as the bilge we get now…?

But I did see that if anyone again dares think I don’t know this shit inside and out that I don’t know my letters and my figures as a Jesuit student should and must, well, it appears that after an advent of her minions pretending they wanted her to win, really they were behind her all the way, they even had the jokes already written down, mostly what they thought of Roman Bill, just in heels and in reverse, after a saturnalia of dodging this shit, it appears that talk of boycotting the Inauguration because that the Bush family and thus War Inc, and Dow, a name I saw as a blast from the past as one of the slave labor types not willing to somehow be part of what should be a pro bono Publico affair, but then we have privatized everything’s since that idiot Carter couldn’t get it done fast enough ah he was hated once too, it appears that we will in fact see our betters, the Bushes and the Clintons at this inauguration kissing Trumps ring, again if they are  lucky, as the Barzinni Funeral that  this Godfather nation believes in continues. It appears after so much big talk as I Roman Anthony saw it, after speaking of how the Bushies, the Kennedy’s who lived, and the Clintons their help made good, upstairs downstairs in the praetorium with all commensurate rivalries and angers, that in fact, if you believd that tehse machers and gonniffs were missing this Roman affair, if you thought  they were staying at home, fuming and fussing and boiling with angers, if You thought Hillary was going to be as I said, in the abandoned Metropolis subway station with Otis and Miss Tescmahcer or a her story profressor sort, well she is of a criminal class much better than  that, and she and her husband, probably like most things are done in that crime family because he wouldn’t miss it for the world. Literally. He has spent a life more wanting than having and if you think he is forgoing one of these  Roman spectacles, laterally meaning be made a Roman priest and auger, if you think  Roman Bill will miss this because of some bullshit devotion to some stranger he is married to, if you think my man Roman William is going to forgo our Julian Calendars fulcrumed day of augers, if you think hell forgo the Roman sets of Lupracalia because Trumpy after confining with him, humnnnnn, beat the son of the man he snatched power from, well, niggers shit ,as usual you haven’t been paying attention. If you think he would walk past the Palladium, literally Minervas temple because of devotion to his wifffffffe, yuck, if you think he will forwent the day of the instillation of the new king, the new Lupricalia, over his wife, out of devotion to his wife, Im kidding I cant say it without laughing, dear, keep your Samantha Bees closer dearie, keep the devotion of smiling churchy ladies like Steven Colbert who treid to crowbar his sister in there for laughs, stick with them, because if you thought Hubby was going to have your back, well, hes too bust trying to get his number to a hostess and be sure to wash your face of that left over , hummmn, power and honoraria that he smashed your face into before you make another of your infernal jaunts for power, now becoming like Lyndon Laruche, this Lyndons fer you, gals, remember your just being alive is thanks enough, I know deepd own when the morning lam begins to flicker as Ovid said, you think sottavoce about what he will take , your Roman husband, emphasis on Roman and Husband, or is it grateful you should be. I hear they think of actually running for new york Mayor this strange Hydra that the two have become, amazingly fused tighter I SAY amazingly what with him being gone most nights at 3 am and she not aware where he was or what he was doing, enough already I say. As see we must hear now from bloated piggish cow Rosie O’Donnell in all who was like them all so willing to destroy Monica with two bit jokes ah but there are more mistresses and brunette out there than Maureen dowdy and the women who lunch should figure which is strange as that Dog Bill was a racing dog through the Roman alleyways an Argos looking for as it were porch to land on.  I cant stand this cow, as recall when I see her doing her now shed good girl act and nice queen  shit recoiled by a Bella Abzug without the warmth, I think leave me alone hunnie and go find Edie Falco, if shes hasn’t died like so many Sopranos, and go do your long island charm shtick somewhere else. Every time she lecturers us like Barry the fairy to never stereotype and to not jump to consolations , I wonder how much the Arabs have to do to as she laughingly did to the nuns who I saw as almost as equal to the priests as figures of civility, I wonder how it is she cant do I guess a brogue version of an Arab, but then will do pigeon gookism as they all do, as after all, just going after the Italians after a while starts to bore a clown who must spread their wings, of whatever flaps she has.

See, hell be there, so remember all the crime families will be there, the Gehlph the Gibbelininis the Fondas and the Borgias, as I have said, they will all be there and so recall that, the whitest kids you know,  when all the pigs and swine and scum of Yale bulla bulla sore losers show up on garments all white, they’ll be there at the Roman alters, as is been a hard year as I SAID, AND THE TRAPPNGS OF POWER ARE BY NOW AS MACHIAVELLI SAID MAY BE THE ONLY POWER THEIR SCAIMINET THAT THEY HAVE LEFT, AS ALL BUT Bill SEEMD TO DAMN AND DETEST THE ITALAINAS AND GOOFBALLS OF HISTAOTY AND LOEVRS OF A PURPLE SASH, YOU HAVE ROOM TO TALK, but it was Roman Bill, who was once seen in revere as a Pollock Prince of the church was lecturing him about something, he was lost in thought looking out at the field of Mars where such things had once a real oomph to them. That’s was before we all became criminals and laughable gumbas and could have told you the jokes that come concurrent with a falling empire. IT is where we get the term Il be there with Bells on, or Belles on in his case, because in Etruscan literature and Tuscan farce and Theater Cambrian arts now said to be genius by wicked white ladies, before they took to the Greek letters and  syphilis imposed upon them, so quit sending me bullshit about the pipelines and injins I thought. We say Ill be there with bells on because in that early Italian or late Tuscan, the case may be satire and farce the Romans were shown always as jingling and jangling and pinioning and pendulum doing fools encrusted with epaulets and ribbons and sashes , you know what Hillary set still on power fantasy  dreams of that sash, it means Im better than you, like I haven’t seen this as like Bull have been out there in the Romans tenements all my life, too. So I know why the Bush family will be at the inauguration, in rather than be out there with the dreaded and hateful and dismissed Plebs, not with the dirty and the filthy, Mommy, the family has been scheming and plotting a long time since  the Ozarks mud hens and the grave robbing and stables boys all patricians starts at, place Caesar line here, its been a hard year for the passvante for the crypts of empire, as they’ve had to take refuge in having trash like the Clintons and the old erroneous man ,Mackane be on their aside, a cross Purposeless that our Nazi collaborators have always been ashamed of and never knew like the Italian  he has often  openly reviled as has his loser scull and Boners Lurch, that no Italian, certainly no Clinton was going to break a sweat to make them kings, much less show them Machiavelli’s  Roman might. No, Roman Bill shall be right there as Roman hero as Gallenthomo as passvante and macher and man and arms, whether his wifffffe cares or blows up about it or nt. Hell be there. With bells on and attached, scanning the crowds for a Jo Collins or a Gig Gangel or a Patria Belladonna Fairinelli as the she the her the thunderbolt of the she is the issuance of life. Looking back at Bad verses the thing that bothered me the most was seeing that the son of Proconsul Biddding, that hair plant jack ass, that his dying son , looking into the vastness of that No that exists in space and time, the inferno beckoning  and the oars man coming that close that he would waste his last breaths on who and what would get into that whorehosue called a praetorium it made me ill thinking of it, that this hacks hack son, would be dying no less and thinking of nothing more than who would be first  among equals this time, it made me actually shudder thinking of it. Whose vulgar now, old man…? Take your face making somwhers else as again, old man Mackane, that was a hell of a senate and you and that NANCE aint. Did I ever tell my Olgeltree story…?... well it was 1981 an the Jesuits were looking for lawyers to recruit , yah that’s it lawyers.  There’s also a bit I have whirled this at white women since I was fifteen , that one can only abuse that which they hate, something dear Hilly should have read in those Roman books her Husband near the old playboys, as it a  line that shuts the good women being abused by hubby , well it shuts them up. And I made a remark about how I , though there was anger that I WAS ALLWOED TO be here a freshman in that year, and that others were much more devoted than I was, as they kept their theses in plastic sheaths and I was getting Jesuit admiration and was published for things written in Bic Banana on newsprint my father bought me by the shitlaod, and so I said, getting a laugh that I refused to demean and lower myself to debating this girl on the other side , who was a real Hound,  and this meant nothing to me, as beauty is to a Roman boy everything, easily if it’s the kind of beauty that Rosie O’Donnell and the rest of the crows hate. Then being a bitch I said that this thought vestries of wper and its want and needs and its Junior political hack kits, bothered me so, at that they had everyone doing this shit about fake cases and war games and speaking of Pairea an America that never was. Or may be now a field of Mars, or maybe better Ares. I said to them that this gamesman ship and bullshit bothered me and I shut them up good as I have as I have been told a knack for that. So, a Roman toast to Bill as he will be there with bells on, playing the role he was born to play as he knows that Trumpie is playing the role Roman literature made for him, destroyer of the dragoon and dragooned Hillary, a role that ninny negro could never do. So he will be there,  On the south portico of the capitoline, because that’s what Augustus did, and the south face of the capotoline is close to the god of red skies, Mars is closest to earth when you point to the south, whether you imperial gals like it or not.



I miss that brunette so wholly and fully and wish I COULD GET BACK TO HER SOMEHOW, but don’t know how. She sent me a gift of comics, about twelve or so, all the old kind I always try to get, and I miss her so very much as she is out there somewhere so far away. She sent me a plastic bag willed with old comics, and not that dc shit, some marvel, but musty Dell and gold key as I have mentioned it this year. She bought me Lone rangers  and Phantoms and Archies and all that I mentioned. Some were a comic I never saw before really called King and were gorgeous yellowing and still brilliant images of Flash and Dagwood and Prince Valiant in georgic old comic strip perfection. And with that was a cd. I had to go in the attic and get the old computer that plays them as this new one I take it is as they always do, getting people to erase the same things on something new again. I put it in and on the disk was a file a mpeg 4 which made me get an older computer that still has Quick Time. She sent me a file of Radio the great blues seventies band, and it was the song ‘But you cant change that’ as I may have mentioned to her was in my seventies film script CANT STOP THE BOOGIE, and I maybe have told her that I never was a boyfriend and I wasn't going to try to be one in the space between here and my beloved new jersey. I sat there instead of watching football as am waiting for the Cowboys as its seems is America, so eat shit, espn. I sat there and heard this song and was in a kind of quiet. So much to anyone who thinks I DON’T KNOW what I AM TALKING ABOUT WHEN THE Jesuits made sure its all that I knew. If you don’t think I understand my Roman primers and schoolboy Virgil, well, recall if the fat chicks in Palestinian drag and their nigger boyfriends try to crash the  Romans rites as in fact in 1993 Bush, all is spite to them, smelt out the first draft of sore loser men to screech and howl at Clinton, to  try to steal the purple mantle from him as he would have from a man he openly called the Godfather and then Mario had my mothers admiring when he turned down a seat there near Scalia as a prize that was a grace note from Bill, who frankly is like Scorsese  and unlike me, given to doing them that often or well. Recall kids, that Roman Tony knows the score of this rigged game, and if you don’t believe me, ask Conan. Ouch.  I wont sell that picture of the playboy model based upon Patty Fairinelli, as she is the belladonna example of those cineretta Italian movie goddesses, the kind of women we don’t see anymore.


01 January 2017

Saturnalia romansplianed 4 . THE SMOKING CAR ON THE TRANSYLVANIA RAILROAD.




To me as a boy Christmas was when it was meant to be a festival of colored cardboard. Unlike the ninny rich kids and mafia princesses I hated at that horrid school, I believed Christmas to only be a festa of ink and shinning cardboard, some glass, tin foiled cookies and cheap, always cheap acquirements of chipping cheap paint. As in my comics I try faintly and esthetically, I know that seems a misnomer due to me style, yet even still one in this nation Mel Brooks could call himself with Buck Henry a satirist, before any house wife could do it, basically issuing thus Rome timing and techniques of boiling eggs. I cant get that feeling back into my work, and sometimes even resort to the use of newsprint to get that feel back as used to make my own treasuro and compendiums, and first edition like comics and Mads and was told by some priests and students that I had a knack better than men by they who had been doing these things all their adult lives. Still, I use thick inks and cheap paper too get that feel back in, though it is harder the lober we go down this Road more Spartan unfortunately than Roman, which is something after all only my buddy Bll C would get and then preened to hanger ons and ladle carriers like Samatha Bee be that he didn’t get the joke.

My mother spoke to me in her low voice of consigliore hood, the ears of walls are everywhere, and not only of the living , but some ghosts she knows stay on earth not so much unhallowed into the gates of reward as much as they roam the earth our of mere spite, and she has been related to some of them.

She tells me of a dream had recently of a bambolina, a old doll o hers in ruble of deviated Europe, a third man constantly Vienna she had to live through in a war she knows as all enemies always know the truth was merely a chance and an excuse for a pompous little island empire to give up its empire to a Pax Americana, as Dolitcian with Polio saw a world in need of a party of the people to make tenements sea to shining sea and to mark the earth with the ruin of the secret formulas of Coca Cola and Dow chemical, if you could tell the difference if need be. SHE TOLD me that the baby doll was in the ruins, left behind and her husband , my father, a black coated Virgil in all these dreams hers more devoted than me, came by and took the doll and out it in his Davinci wings like coat of black bat shadowiness, a Lamont Cranston in the sot, and he took the doll and absconded with it as she a little girl stood there the then, or now, who knows in dreams, thirty year old man sued to play cards with her beloved grandfather as she was a little girl brining them a kind of rye made in Italay caught nowhere else, like Grappa or stragea a kind of audited taste that Anheiser cant mock away and thus make Columbus day a drinking holiday as drinking in mareica as the Moslems shall find out and have to acquiesce as the nfl did is our only sacrament.




This meant she knows this was her last holiday, she alerts me as if a message in teletype perfection from the front, as written by Caesar and Ulysses S as no one lese ever did and despite my battements at the lyrical I still try to write like in a Latin I can only guess at, as refused to ever , like so much, learn it. So, I did as best I could to facilitate as best as possible to do the thing up correctly for her, despite blowhard relatives have started to hate who come bloating in a worth the worst aspects of all Italians a memorized shtick, as again, there is nothing in Yiddish that doesn’t have a precursor in Latin and worse yet, Ladino, or the Regium of my caldaria parentage, that sort of love of the grotesquity mixed with the stoic that made men like Bill Clinton and Versace richer than Creesus. I rolled my eyes as even as romantic as I am, she lays it on too thick, and said in her midwinter’s night schema, that number one what on earth did that even mean, and number two, Old woman, you’re like 92, and not even finishing this statement to get back to watching my beloved Della street in monochrome Beatitude, she sneered and frowned and said, that was my problem, she said,  in a nutshell In Italian, that even as she was poring her fearful heart at me, I was all in all and without a doubt a son of a bitch at heart. So was the blowhards came I and by I did my best, and didn’t blow up didn’t give the tomboys of the world that satisfaction, as this bloating cow kept screeching way all day a boy fallen Dido herself, Hullary, ah but with no one there to savage her as Huck or is it Octavian, or was it doctor Octopus, who knows any more its all a blur, as on that pier making sure that she didn’t pass by in any way but what was need too be done if needs be, to make sure that purple mantle kept his old bones and sophistic errant hands warm.

As I said recounting the ancient myth, there could be a const of wills between Neptune and Apollo to get that mantle off Sweet old Bills back, and no typhoon or Gobi wind or aposticalic sun would do the need thing to get old Bill to leave that indigo cloth let be. She , this hated by now unremitting  as much as anything went on and on, but I , which first attempted at face book to most, seems to make the doubly upset as upset is all they wish to be. As it turns out I kept my balance by happening too drop a shit load of plates she brought chucking some in half as they were cheapest pouter. Now that’s funny, as the Jewish man would say. All-day about Hillary and her waste of time reaching for a big brass ring that Bilbo covered with schmaltz. Don’t blame me, I said, as I wasn’t the one who dismantled her least attempt to delegatimize Trumpie that has back fired saying that she had  level of privacy not only Nixon didn’t have, shed get even for ya Barry!, but which was hollowed out when Olbermann, our imperial fuck up, was reading love letters emails from a two bit gvnuer to a brunette mistress ,whose detractions and dismissals from the peanuts gallery of the Romans senate doesn’t even still get all these years after captious Lucia’s and Monicas , there if you Mother Mo’s ever understand will, as that woman who hated that red head and her dismal hatred of our Marstons Roman goddess, buy did they hate that inflection at the dc hacks, ah but her name is DIANA, AS I said to those wanting her to ‘Look Greek’, and this radical woman took a liking to my hilly goddess, a television hags hatred of wonder woman and jewish chicks will always come back to haunt you. I wasn’t after all a little girl who dreamed of growing up to be Mannix.





So, on thanksgiving she have no Turkey, which was made, which was fine by me, like the bread she wouldn’t eat ate most myself, I am after all a son of a bitch and didn’t play into it more than to just keep trudging along. I decided early in Dec we wouldn’t  have  such bird again for Xmas, and decided  easy on lasagna and Italian dish to refit the ancient Pagan roots of this holiday now under more tinsel and garishness than any even Italian could touch excepting  Sicilian trash. I had some comics to get out, and diligently worked at both that and decorating a tree and a house as best as I could, while watching the few Cowboys games I could get in, and the colleted over of Nat Henkin and Neil Simon and other mid century geniuses of Jewish humor encapsulated in Al Lewis and Fred Gwynne as the perfect comics cops of an America that still had a creed then before all the Jews were bought out like the liberals by ge at pennies on the dollar, finally Shylock got his pound of flesh, which was a technicality maybe a Jew but no Jesuit would let slide I was alerted early an as ink Karate every legal maneuver ahs an equal and opposite one that can make it moot, why again, Machiavelli  writes like Galileo or Galileo writes like Machiavelli, blah blah blah….While making Thanksgiving dinner for a mother who is too old to care for this but does, I saw something again which shows my attributes as auger are irreproachable. We cut in our perpetual hard sell and cross between Crucible mixed with Kovacks wittier than funny black ours, to that village of America, that cross itself between a rain soaked Transylvania and a jersey strip mall outlet highway close out bunker. Like the Romans we use as pratfalls and cancan dances much as they did, but alas as in all things, they were more or less artful than we all are.

But doing as much work for the saturnalia season as I could, with a leg and a side from various  spills and bone spurs aching away, we let my elderly mother watch the blimp helium cartoons of a Macys parade,  which she has loved since she first came to America. To her it seemed the mid century golden age in a street of American confetto and dancing princesses and snow men and a pagan route that Luther despite his best efforts could stop or replace with his Christianity, and  German incantations, which sounds too much like am adding machine.

My love of Fumetti as much as anything comes from her as my love of the classics comes from a stoic father and again as in most of my life, it was diatomic between the Jesuit and the fascistic, the Franciscan and the Roman and the Italian that made me whole. While she sat and watched this colorful parade, a commercial came on for a company whose name I do not yet recall of even saw that much showing again using the Cesarean logic about the ratios of power, it was a worthless commercial as it didnt give the hard sell well enough,  as again I say though they  put down Stan Lee, he has a Mediterranean love of the hard press, that the rest of you wish you had and don’t. A comic company still has on its website an admonition not to bother them with stories about how Stan lee told you how good you were as he came out of the bathroom, perhaps , tough I am uber sanative to such things, mirroring the story  I told in which , not Stan lee and not the Bathroom, but an office at AIP, a distinguished elder Jew we used to have them before selling out to various Judds, gave me his kudos and his well wishes, but said all that I did it was never no matter how well I drew and this Jewish man admitted I drew better than most if would control it, but couldn’t he knew, so don’t bother, make your own Supermen he told me, don’t even attempt to send anything this good, he said, to DC, we don’t need arts, we need the grammatical, my words not his. This had to be demeaned as it was in that carton I admitted that eventually his replacement at DC it was I THINK Marv Wolfman, or someone like that from those ancient days, I cant really recall who it was just that he was Jewish and gray hared and dapper, and I said I’d show this work a few years after at a hall, at a DC snob amazingly, but then what else are snobs after all, and all my heroines liked like coloreds I those pre Obama days of limbo preceding all Semitic saints and messiahs like he, Christ and Zoroaster until dropped. An that DC hack was commemorated in my cartoon sent to a well wishing editor who compared my work to Palestine, and told me to pick a big subject like Sacco did and send my pages, but I, however he must be Sicilian as a continental Neapolitan, even I cant lay it on so thick.



We all did what need to be done, I had made this stuffing that my mother learned to make from a grandmother as all great cuisines are in esscance how the poor made food for themselves while the doges were throwing the dark meat at their dogs, where high on the hog comes from, but then how would you ever care to know that. On NBC, the station of parades and 21 and Rachel Maddow reissuing the drones with a wave and tear and kiss, came a commercial showing the season of mirth and commerce had begun. We sat there, to story board this as was told by a man who worked din Madison avenue I was born idea man, and never did anything this paultry, anyway, we begin at the shires that was locked out to Jews and that now with licensees like dog and fag brides, they sigh to crash, and wipe if not Barry, his paralleled lived Constantine from History. We begin at this perpetual shire, this constant lovable loving self important dicknesville where alas as she said of the girls of Milan no less, all witches, you know black hair, though the northern city of nigger paper bag scansion it only goes so far before it breaks, no really that is on a roman line stolen by old Ben Franklin aren’t they all, Mediolanium, twas once a hothouse for mistresses and operable wives of FAT Henry, oh if only dear Camilla, no fooling, once of the Milanese princesses Henry asked to marry him and keep his beloved church and beloved Rome in his sphere of influence was named Virgilian Cammila, had she given in to Roman loving hanks advances as a catholic queen, how diffracted the world would look now, without that first Brexcit so hateful to fat little Chihuahuas who sing karaoke on televise nights, so yes we come to that, who called the brexit a heinous thing as I instead watched the great Man for all seasons that night,  because I guess I am a bitch and it wasnt on this holiday as it has been a few years in a row. On this show of dancing girls and balloons came this commercial--again cant really recall  who it was for, a big demerit to whatever nephews of Della Femima came up with this, as a man in New Yorker knickerbockers dress, again before Obama all is a murky prehistory, though Im sure hes keeps his grace like he has his books, and a man in somewhat scrooge attire is writing one of those latter sealed with wax as again all is fungible and all is interwoven, as I take it there is electricity I our Post GE as the first billion dollar consortium's, and you Romans thought youd had it down, world.

An oaf or sorast walks out into the Knickerbocker- dirty filthy Londenterra gloom to the village and the peasants once called Pat Buchanan Voters and who a cow running for president actually said were to be left behind openly as they didn’t have the drachmas to toss in her box, the only payment she demanded to pretend she liked you at all. As it were shown again, my credo and refrain can anyone where play this Roman game. It turns out we have here Frankenstein’s monster, not quite as jovial as Fred Gwynne, who may have been able to save it with his lumbering charm and perfect Jewish Catskill timing and aplomb, and it could have sued as a cackling Al Lewis as a Oompha at the satyr diner making give as opposed to six pointed stars with the left over port on the linen table cloth. Our monster, looking more like an in law maw on everyone loves Raymond than anything, fresh off of stealing Jerry’s cahr, comes to the holiday dinner or Christmas market,  lets be meanness and say, and this zombie, your favorite myth from Jesus on, the roman knight just disappears into the breech and doest come back like Tinkerbelle, he comes in Marley drag to the people at the galleria prepared to shop. The monster then takes out what looks like seventies outdoor electric lights from my youth that I have seen re seen as re shown on colorized CBS Christmas shows all advent, and attaches them to the bolts in his purloined neck, wow, this is strange I thought, causing the electricity sued by Doctor Victor Von Frankenstein to make his lumps eerily glow, as we have a combination of Warren Comics, with hallmark card the worst parts of both and the best parts of neither. The monster is now  seen by the villagers, once called Democratic voters because they swelled in numbers and didn’t make the same mistake three times in a row, and the pwople are qagast, as we are lectured too about brotherhood week by self apoionted jewey letiets who become more affable and open hearted the closer into the cul de sac they move, or MOVE, dependant on where the Jewish mayor and his insdindiary devices are, as if it would matters when one is so brazenly a democrat, hate crimes and for that matter arson a whole city block is one of these whoops that the Arabs have come to understand or should if they werent a bunch of animals.



The monster sings some song again, there is noting in English literature not done by Romans  and Italians first and better, ah fantastic breasts and from where to steal them. And is looked askance by the rabble we called voters once before as Cattiline said, the republics went to the highest bidder although this time it didn’t as you didn’t have a Cicero on your side of the track, and if he was known at all , was seen as a murky ghost by the Goldwater girl who didn’t know that Cicero is no ones favorite Roman, after all. The monster came from the roman idea that the hills had strange creatures put together by mad man and freaks and such. Dr, Seuss, like so much his ww2 characters of japs, wops and kruats was forgiven because of cause this was one of those good wars in which the Jews and mostly the Anglicans were involved intrinsically and thus all paganism dies on Spartan alters to war. In to the breech comes a little girl amusingly as I recall only saw this commercial once, or twice, which may work in politics, but not in true mercantile push the shit fascia, god knows, a little girl comes into the circle of hate and discrimination, only allowed when hbo says so, and sarts to sing with the beast, the monster  before her. Oh look everyone, get ready to have your heart strings plucked, or worse as look its Cyndi Lu Sorkin, here to explain to us the meaning of saturnalia, now that after 1500 years Jews can celebrate as they had before,  it as all Roman holidays were for everyone like stadium seating as opposed to luxury Box now, and she sings with the monster, which could have been cute and even sweet, but alas in our Beehive age is just another dream of white woman despite for someone to kiss their ring, their ring if we are as Rickels said, lucky, and whose lucky any more now that Bellchecick is here to rig the game and wonders why the mezzanine is emptying out.


Cyndi, here short for Cynthia I guess is here too tell us that saturnalia cues out of a box as it was meant to, Christmas somehow doesn’t,  though is brought to you by Macys, and Hanukkah as usual since Constantine, always wished it did. So recall kids, when confronted by a Columbia monster or an Arab, do the diligent thing, sing too the beast to soothe his savage breast, and when they aren’t looking, call homeland security, see something’s say something here in Spartan quarters, I mean we are sanctimonious but come on, they are all beasts after all, and it was Jewish in laws at Hollywood who made sure for sixty years that the Sicilians  were your comic thieves and the Arabs your enemies, and your villains, a slight adjustment that wasnt even in grimms, or even Walt Disney, as he remade each frame of Snow white to have black hair and not be blond as he had a lot rending on this, and after all, why defame and demean  those that doesn’t deserve to be…? This commercial was taken down as the commercial where admen made a guina pig spoke perfect Scorseism, as someone emailed me and asked me, Tony didn’t you say about six weeks ago that Halloween was the only holiday that Germanics America really had…? Yes, I did I said back, with a grain of pride, But don’t blame me for this. As this was the year that is supposed to be seen as bad , and not Romanly good because a lesbian lost her wish for imperial power, but more because in the age of Kardashain, a few more than usual, although it didn’t seem that much, celebrities died in their loves of poolside languor as the great Tony Curtis, for whom I named my hero, said he came to Hollywood, took a swim, ate lunch and then turned around and it was forty years later. But a story of metamorphoses was undue and undone badly by those who didn’t even know how to retell the story of the abominable snow man or the wizard in Rudolph, as still those Rankin bass acclamations are better than anything done now as we are in an age where like Italay, the fat chicks and their dogma has taken over and there’s isn’t as Gore said, A DANTE, anywhere in the bunkhouse, or as his hero Juvenal said, of Virgil, why should there even be…? I felt a strange pride in this that again as the destruction of Hillary by the left over human droppings as they were called by the heinous vicious evil little pencil sharpening creeps like Matthews said thanking God for storms that seem to be gathering together now. As a funny thing is happening as I write this in late December on the way to the Roman Synod, Im sorry the UN plaza, a funny thing is happening as we enteaaaaah  the hall of green carrerea marble, Romans stages stay the same, as it seems Barry the fairy is training on the men of the cloth  and the Sanhedrin of the American left who are never racists, always a dangerous attribute in a step man,  think no matter who wins they had a hand in it or at least in them. I took a real self erudite pride in seeing that my words in bad Versus came true and the filthy German woods showed that indeed we are one James whale removed from Roman camp and the rest of you cant get it done.

Such was this year in which I found radicals warming and reaching  up to me as they openly opined that they couldn’t in good conscious vote for a Clinton, again, which made me wonder how many did cone as like their in laws the Bushes a distain for the people can be always smelt out and then you are stuck with nothing but Colbert and Mareens who never understand that the dumb brunette is an arcytype which is an anathema to the Romans new or old. Most especially since I had them both pegged as the duchy of Syracuse, whose scalped brunette as imprisoned nun would always be the reason that hubby would eventually toss his shrewish, never much of a Catherine, scheming wife under the loaded cart, but then have been told I am a romantic at such things. This was the year that radicals openly asked for my work, commenting it was like comics about Palestine, and more than one lesbian found admiration in me and my making of Roman like Camarillas amid the greekifying of Wonder woman, hated amazingly by hosuefraus thinking they selves satirists, and both degraded and demeaned by a comics crew that amazons her despite her creators Roman name.


And during the holiday heard that of course as they mark the earth with their pompous co ed delusions that Perry Mason is to be remade as all is, as damningly for a time of unbridled sanctimony, all that is past is strangely not only prolog but epilogue for a dying state, as I am sure that the chubby Jesuitical boyishly admired by me Brilliance and defense lawyering of suspicious Perry will be reduced and demeaned too love of the state the da once a joke to all the books of Earl Staley Grader like mash books I read them all as  a kid in love with the adulthood of noir rapped now by over fed girls students telling is of their sanctimony between their unscathed blood sports holidays of unpaid labor. His dark, to sue a pejorative admired by these leftists so you know where you stand, brooding fatso Raymond and his barreling charm will be gone I am sure, or was that that drew me to him as a kid seeing that world out there once a punchline to the original Coriolanus, and his noir la feel that would be recapped soon enough by Jews allowed in by marriage and interbreeding the love of the state and all of its hyperbole and declinations and made fun of by Italians since the snow men and the farce and satire now sadly seen as gone once the Greeks spread their civility and fagginess like so much manure, as no hoeuse nigger would ever admit. And what of Della, beloved secretary with snaps and buckles and sashes of undergarment and long skirts as revealing in their way as any Victoria’s screret faggy garment of vulgarians  now…what of she, well she; be what all are now, in our Jane Russel, Catwoman, 99, Edie Adams less less, Rodger Corman less, killing Pussycats world, she will be reamed and candied and snatched for your protestation as house niggers are remanded as Questor, remade and refashioned to be all that we may be, Blond, no one cares and it isn’t an insult if we are all blond god knows this news years eve is brought to you ugly chicks by Nice and Easy, AND YOURE WORTH IT, remember hard sell is our credo, Blond, Black and or gay. A curvy wry, smart lackey devoted Brunette, not in Sabin field, dears, the curvy pretty woman is gone, as Maureen Dowd and the coven actually thought they’d build an armamentarium on the bones of Monica Lewinsky, her bones if we were lucky, but alas didn’t know the basic tandanceis of Roman farce and that knowing the audience is all there is. My mother still rails on this holiday against the monsignor who took a twenty dollar bill from an old woman in the 60s and made her an apostate to a church who the Lutherans will never be able to outsell, she still rails against that Germanic hag nun I despised for no better treason than her laughing it up with some hag named Violet, as I stood right there and they snickered at this old man in a batman coat , no more like Leonardo’s batwings it was designed of as he knelt before the church, as he was trained to do under Victor Emmanuelle, and kissed the stone. And I DESPISED AND DERAILED MY LIFE TO HATE THAT CUNT, and thus knew the Jesuit student more like me than not, god help us both, wasn’t reading Marcus Aurelius in the corner while his wife portended to drive a Roman chariot across the globe, with dibs on it when it came back for the moma, as you cant sell a Lugar in America, my  mother noticed but someone is actually this holiday selling trinkets of crosses with stones supposedly from the grotto where Romulus and Remus, sorry, Mary and Joseph bore Chistus, before king Ammminmus, sorry herod when to keel all the boys of Tuscany under twelve, sorry I mean Jerusalem,  as sad for the old Jews then like the democrats they didn’t read the Roman shit and didn’t known like the democrats under Clintin they didn’t know the con that was being pulled upon them. My mother cries thinking someone is selling stones where Jesus was born, to which I say to calm her, Ma, its not like this is real, which just makes her tsk and say again how did she give birth too such a son of a bitch.

And I knew than Obamasism was beyond me as there weren’t enough Oprahs to make me then a credit to my race, and like I said, knowing as a smart boy beloved by Jesuits, try getting them to give you a loan. But he would make his big mistake as suddenly all the anti Trump types who made it a point that he was so good and decent could not contain themselves, as he signed off against the state of Israel , believing this shit if his being a radical sheik better or more than he was just a house nigger holding  a bag of bribes from here too there and back again. My brothers bought and read papers fumes and blowout’s each day as soundly the true Brother hood of the wolf left, reaps its anti Roman summers rewards by having that sissy nigger ninny drop the bag this close to the end as the papers howl and streak with an anger that he didn’t have the back f the wayward state of Israel as I could have warned you, but you’re reaping what you sowed. The ravens and the crows weren’t the birds of my god, but of Yahweh I believe, as it was Romulus who threw that bloody plow into the sky and caused what was it, thirteen golden aquilas to be assent by Jewpater, as sign he was a good Roman boy. Onwards now the ink between Bulgari ads is poisoned penned, and angers seethe, and I say, you get what you deserves, and you are who you follow, etc, and it makes the puck in me laugh. Oh,  I like my fellow Jesuit student Bill we have a boyish love of Della street, as you’ll figure it soon enough Samantha dear, wonder woman is a better hero than any cunt with a  rinse looking for imperial power, and Camilla is her bester, and you’ll have to explain why you to went too that saturnalia well once too often, as it only works for these who keep saturnalia holy, and when your doing their bidding, not slapping them in the face as the macys ads already are. A toast of Christmas cheer to pretty hourglass Della, and her ilk, as like the sun of this Roman Holladay as was admired for telling some bulldyke it isn’t the solstice  that we celibate it is its opposite, like Cicero’s appstolic Sun, the father of all gods, and like the Republic,  spitting out chicken boney Hillary too her calculating husband, the curvy pretty Brunette gal , is indomitable and invictus after all. Seeing this Frankenstein commissariat surreptitiously and quietly pulled from the air, as under by some self appointed messiah of Semitic acrimony, that worst kind, and thus like the UN resolution to close too hate speech for those then a latest holiday market was crashed and the Reich of Who Ville was upset, my brother asked me, didn’t I say something about Transylvania and Christmas like two months ago…yes I said. God damn it he said, I hate when they pilfer your stuff and you get nothing out of it, and then, exasperated said as he shook his head, Cant you pick a fucking number…?



Labels: