26 November 2016

REAL PLAYBOY LIKE. PART II.





Did a lot of work this month getting stuff out, though I must admit a Machiavellian fatiguing   quality to EVEN Watching evil sets IN, I as tired of the doge and duchess of Syracuse. I did like many leave this requiem for a lightweight to bumble and simmer on its own, as not as Romantically attuned as say is Bill, these on the pad dying circus clowns don’t understand the Cesarean basis ethic of propaganda. If its not read its so much wet leaves, and isn’t even decent enough to be art, which serves the white chicks who called Virgil Propaganda right.

So, because of not being at face book ever long enough to make the barrage of ads worth their while for me I guess, the woman who runs face book, which I’ve never much liked but use mostly to keep up with buddies and see images of cute brunettes that Sorkin would call like Monica the cost of doing bidness, the sweetheart of Sigma Ki, oh that Sheryl woman too, send me a cascade of updates but am alas busily doing work while watching Gun smoke to recall the American ethic the Jews who invented Hollywood understood then and not no more. I was alerted that I was upsetting to the good white co ed cows and pips and sissies and creeps who think at last they can return their world back to the Klansmen that were their grandfathers and this time, be admired for their vices and be masters buying servants and all the rest of the Machiavellianism that Bill has taken to heart and that wifeys warbling fat bloated yenta mob wives priestesses thankfully eschewed as too Italian for their locks. But unlike Maureen Dowd, our cross between Benedictus Spinoza and Tina Louise, I didn’t get my first copy of Marcus Aurelius as a club to whack at the bloated bumbling pig praetor ,who I secretly hated between Italian wedding envelops like Bret Hume, as our roman schoolboy, unlike his wife always knew that respect was something that could be bought at a discount if you didn’t need it to be absolutely real, like most things in America always are. As Gore Vidal said, my Virgil and my poet, that in America, the truth is often the opposite of what is said over and over by our priests, if indeed anything is true at all.

So, receive often these updates, dare I take even a day away from this place, as usually only look for names of art school buddies, particular women with lets say Neapolitan attributes, or film contacts. But did see that one of my posts was hurriedly taken down, if you thought this was still American scene magazine, that’s your fault, as used the heinous word Diaspora as to speak of the hacks and low level garage league Juvenal’s that Jewey Jonnie has flooded the zone with. It was a sly mean joke, as to honest and almost bothered to say this as was given I guess some sort of way to plead my case to the self important  self involved self everything hacks at the growing old new My space, and went back to work, and left it at that. It is no Diaspora as again like in the biblical movies of disavowed Stanley Kubrick, told too late that actually Blond Spartacus had his own retinue of slaves, as a rice you see, HE was never to be a slave, not that there were never to be slaves, a good liberal icon. No, Jewvanal was a good little boy and made sure he gave us one boy chick, fat girl, over hated titian haired wife with a BA in something, negreos who have faces like a frozen Roman mask of comedy, English fairies, sissies, and cats offs from SNL, after the next, as Jews, sorry, like Blonds and Italians like being the only one in the room. I was alerted that this was taken down by communittttay standards, you know, who we once were told to know filth when we saw it as old Potter, and thus any thing said that Sweetheart doesn’t like is verboten, unless it’s somehow Isis, but I guess Isis fighters need spam about ED saves too. I was also alerted some hack bothering me about my delusion of grandeur, so let me race back to Fuckbook—sorry, that’s another account, --to know that I am not allowed to say something as it has been said by our white Ramseses of the priests  of academia who have been strangely sanctimonious and loud and vociferous and pompous just as they decried to Fire Keith and thus try to grab another holiday called new years eve with a lawyer acceptable of College Football playoffs , playoffs…?, for a sport that didn’t need it, but did manage with the pigs and trash and white girls and negreos on scholarship all on board, decided to give America 15 weeks of Football, one less than professionals,  you know so they could keep up with their studies and or baloney snagwiches. So, again I don’t take dictation ala Sallust, he was loved by the Jesuits, of not the white chicks of Amazon, where I have actually won an award, which now seems amazing, on one of their list, and too, I am not being read homilies by the rascal division of a Gulag Archipelago that decide strangely and eventually deleterious, as a lover of Rome, I sense Ruin when it is coming, they decided to trade Joe Paterno for Tricky Nicky Sabine, who openly can disparage and demonize a kid wishing to get away from his inherently shady and flaunted rule. To the safe space hacks like Maureen, she of the year of voting stupendous--sorry Dangerously, there is no other inherent vote to be made in a republic, ask they in the anybody but Clinton crowd, they are always there, as she is supplementing their income, or trying to be radials with all that soot from those drones signed off on and wedding dress ash on their hands I only always say, Who’s In, this time…?



I have no such delusions, as I guess am not allowed the scarlet letter of satire given out now by Zoidbergh, as if no one tells you that The Queen Bee is satire or Funny, you might not ever guess she is either. But I grew up with National Lampoon and Mad and Mad comic inserts, and no one had to sanitize that for your approval we were allowed to be kids then, satire and funny was more expectable then and didn’t have sermons gnarling warnings on it lest that ninnies blow their hands off, as again, it is funny to see you all be so sanctimonious having not gotten your Trojan horse that far enough away from the jersey shore to make Hillatta the Tubercular gagging Cleopatra she dreams of being , ah but I was the auger and warned you over again,  that perpetual fifteen year old Cattiline loving Octavian standing there on the shore, damn sure that this cunt wasn’t taking his Rome from Him, already assured his being heir to Caesar and dint need some half breed ninny with thin lips taking Rome from him, gods knew. See, Juvenal wasn’t my favorite roman, nor is the satire, ironically enough , My favorite Roman form, at least not the way you think of it, but as Ovid says, when has Homer been more perfectly ridiculed, not even when reduced to frogs and bunnies and snarling war haters and fags, but when has Homer BEEN MORE PERFECTLY MAIMED TO LOOK INSIPID AND RIDICULOUS THAN WHEN REWRITTEN BY Virgil, FROM THIS LINE A RUSSIAN HACK PORNOGRAPHER NAMED NABOCOV, great Goalie that Nabockov,  HAD TO SUE THE OVID AGAINST VIRGIL BY CALLING THE AENEID INSIPID, MISUNDERSTANDING THE COOKING TERM, AS RUSSIANS HAVE MISUNDERSTOOD ALL SINCE PETER. Still, I have been more an epicist than a farceisist, and I am a fantasy- er if need be, but can use satire it enough to never be a yentas mob wife like last living Hillary supporter Joy Bahaer, who is the last afternoon yak, who doesn’t hold Monica against her Queen as so many yentas and concerned woman for America do and did, I speak fluent Byzantine dears, and am sorry if have had enough Jesuit in the past and rabbis to, telling my father that I should have as early or as leapt as 1975 to get into Harvard as his own children couldn’t even then. As even by then, the age of Norman Lear, meathead, was told the gentleman agreement was still  in placed,  as didn’t care or ask and knew even then I wasn’t  giving into my fathers wishes, that I get ahead in a nation he called a giant Klan woods, even then I knew as much, and so when I saw that this as all being heaved up, this latest Sore Loser man act, this need to Bushman like merely cast away millions of votes between perpetual wars, I wasn’t shocked,  as  Roman God Bacchus would say, I’m sorry, perfect rich cartoon Jim Backus would say, as Thurston would say, to see this all come from a Yale man. Ah the Bush family has traded to vainly to make his year their last stand, you know for the little brown ones, but alas we don’t recall the names of the famines who trued to rue Italy as they always have, when Dante Wrote, their narks are lost to histories perhaps in that ice that Bill has always wished to avoid, life is the battle for an ideal  which is why I always knew that Billy , anything for, would never, and I mean ever never,  go from  Gore Vidal’s Tarzan Remembered, an essay whose sue by me got a radical woman to find and read and love, as an inner monologue to valiant and decent, as too did the Jesuits and nuns love Gun smoke and Cincinnatus as does Gerry Wills, from that noble green laurel to then go to be reamed as Patty Lupone singing out a Merman like Don’t cry for me argentinaaaaaa……a deserved Coda I say for a well lived life, make Bill first lady I say, as we could drag him back to Rome as the Romans did Hannibal, naked and shaved and walked ahead of Hillary as Flammius, drug through the old city in chains made of Gold. It would serve him so right.  With Joy this dago thug as his last true believer, until given a heave ho, from Legal at A BIGGER CHECK, this cow this slut this worse than senseless hag, this cunt, who WILL WALK off any stage where Arabs are defamed with true statistics, but if you are planning a good mafia show, shell surely will be the honking goose mc for all the calzones and gift cards she can shove in her parka. This is the cow who called Black Friday racial, well, it screechy it is , dear but like your fellow traveler Dago cunt Scorsese you didn’t get the race right. OH I  do hope for one day that dago cunt Joie, I hope she lives out her Mario Puzo Fortunate pilgrim, Max Baer  hick movie creed, I do hope so she is raped and beaten, blood smeared on a slip worthy of her guttural life, a bra ajar and pulled and broken as she would deserve, as Ma told me  its happened to better and prettier Italian woman than she as that somehow survived the great Coppola,  who thought he was making art, as I as an Italian kid didn’t get safe space as much as I got Marty and Frankie and such sorts thinking they were making brass doors when all they were making were jersey barriers. I do hope she is molested  one day as befit her loudmouth ethic, as I can stand there, I am a Roman bitch at heart, to this cunt who walks off sets were Arabs are defamed and she can then honk her approval  like trained Clydesdale's counting 7 plus 5, and I WILL LAUGH SO HARD at her and call her a trammmmp like Joan rivers would before her, because we Roman know a WOUND ISN’T A WOUND UNTIL THE SALT IS APPLIED.


Besides being the auger, and warn you if not too late that the business you have chosen is not conducive to censorship, as Billus could tell you that that letter being circulated by the once and future vice president was for a censure, from that Latin for nothing, and he cant be that and pretend to white girls he loves Aquinas, EVEN THOUGH THEY HAVE NEVER READ  OR HEARD OF HIM, I KNOW EXACTLY WHO I AM, BE, AINT IS, ALL THE SOCIETY OF JESUS LIES OF THE VERB, I know it all intrinsically and without fail or doubt. I am in these days a guerrilla movie contest, that an email told me of as was told a friend in the night like that Roman Tuba, Felt badly for me and my Bad Verses and shown that blew up and so I sit here in the third round of a film movie website contest, from one to another, as some realize that the one thing I can do which all Romans loved was the idea of getting an audience, as Plautus waned, I just never brought the roman ideals of theater and farce to my sex life, well, not that much. I am to be alerted to who will win the cake by Dec. 5th.  I am told by a woman, sorry a girl, from  there that I will be alerted that day should I WIN these chances,  and thus an opportunity to be given to make a film whose acceptance by slamdacne I take it, is augured as first prize. And I will be grateful for the opportunity to win this, and get the camera and the set and will make Roman Mythology,  verboten on both Zoetrope and green light, those Florence’s of the bribers and the on the pad arts,  as a ultimate graffiti on a low level jersey wall as the Italics I adore have done before and now, and I WILL BE THANKFUL FOR THE OPPORTUNITY TO MAKE A FILM I WISHED TOO MAKE AS OPPOSED TO OTHERS unnamed who did as they were supposed to, and I will make RM. As I told a gal who also makes guerrilla films, such is what we have to do now as the 50 media coapies who made Bill their Miles Gloriousus and ring master gladiator Hero around in 2000, have dwindled to Five.  They who allow Bush family help, brothers and meatheads to think that the Borgia lasted forever which they assuredly did not. Tell that Jew I can return him to the church of Torquemada anytime I feel it necessary, Cosmo told Nicollo who was a Borgia  nuncio, you know Jews sticking together and all,  or was that Cicero, I cant recall, anyway, the lawyer saint rejoined back, Sure, but, he said, once a stable boy always a stable boy, Your grace, a line which along with Roman books got him tortured.

So, the holiday of the year in which Jeb Bush faggily writes his name down with Helena Gehagen Douglas, Cassius and Shylock and Syphilis the sheepherder as wishing ill so much they didn’t care who they destroyed as long as they lost, a strange end to doggedly pursue, thus making it worse in  a way that Bill never would, to a Roman losing has a dignity cheating like a woman will never keep. We had to hear from old Jebby himself poison in hands, waving the white flag of Italian corporal; surrender when as Levy said actually if one looks at the manifests and the aftermath such soldiers have kept since CAESAR, ONE WOULD FIND MORE NATIONAL SOCIALISTS always gave in and surrendered more than any of Grazianos troops, some who fought to the death. Ah, no prose award  from Ox bridge for you Carlo, just for that. A cop car, on thanksgiving no less, chased a black dude in a car for missing a signal for a left turn and chased him Bullet like, for three blocks, we are all in a first draft of Onion field now, and were so openly sloppy as cops that the car speeding away as the nigger in our play always must, that idiot slammed into an Italian family and wiped them out, just to show the Caesars change but like the gluttons Clintons the victims names are always the same. SEE, IN THAT Italian story my mother compared the Clintons to  which was just eaten up once by some on Pittsburgh radio when they thought Barrys legacy was going to be destroying the anti Cuomos once and for all, see again no Roman stands in the well of the Romans senate an says the era of big gummite is over, certainly if it is,  as we must put in appearances and that. In the tale of the doge of Syracuse, the wife eventually was set out hung in a rope eerily sporting  the hair that hubby had scalped Lucia for, as if to see I didn’t want it, it was all her fault, as it always is eventually. So, Jebby came out on our Testament betwixt the old and new, the WALL STREET JOURNAL, and before God and man and the north star and cows scared to Aryans, now that he thought it over, since 1000 points have been gained in a few weeks, told by his own Bills to clam up or else, he well he gave up the ghost and the poison and the wedding dress and the shell of Tara, again sorry but used that line before Jonnie mouthed similar words, and our prince boy never to be even ALgore, Irony is catching, said he prays for our new Praetor, perhaps on a Syrian temple pointed to that north star, that stars that keep our faults, or don’t,  and all, but to be fair I know as the Italian said of Mussolini all his prayers are by definition requiems anyway, but then I am too hep for this crowd. I know who and what I am and who and what you are and don’t need the co eds or thugs on scholarship ninnies thinking they are Suleimans or Caesars are or wastrels made even worse as  yet Caesar’s wife, lecturing me between game days. As I did send out my PATRICIA CARTOON, AS SHE IS DUMBFOUNDED AND A VULGAR DEAD END KIDS IN Dotage Boiney is seemingly not that concerned.  I print the line at the bottom, to paste to the glorious newsprint have been drawing in since my father got me shitloads at the now closed local newspaper. Save the tiger baby, I write, a sweet aside to earlier posts about our lackluster prince of radicals. Then, I, to scan the cartoon to send it out, I saw in the scanner was the page I had left there twelve days or so ago, a Neal Adams like page of flying possessing in action, studies of ms , I left it there as sometimes I do. And there taped to the page was a thumbnail too late found, the bunny sketch with a blowhard Boiney as a lump in a win button and a straw hat, the last hurrah, as he tells




the bunny, the sort of woman hated by lesbians and yentas, at least with black hair, Boneiy tells her, in scrawled pencil at the bottom, with the inflection of the Loesser and Burrows that he seems the last visage of, I don’t keep grudges, sweetheart , he tells her, as the first thing they teach you in circus, War and politics is how to read a map.  After a holiday more irritating than any blow up, a TV set I had to re-calibrated and somehow got the Cowboys in, and how bout those thereof, as Jimmie Johnson seemed ver klepmt and upset even that the cowboys didn’t lose forever as he was an exemplar of the Hillary lesbian arts of spite, after days of pixleared pink and Macys ads already strafing us with the hard sell, the television winked back on MeTV  in time to see the Minerva glorious Amazonian face of the gorgeous Lynda Carter, in star spangled hag hated silk flag suit, she the boyhood queen of all that was sexual and life. A schoolboy from Rome, and all its colonies in time and space, would , if not the Jews and spics and Sicilian sleazy with the eye on  looking to weaponize marriage as a step ladder to American dreaming, at least us Roman boys would heartedly approve.


NEXT: SATURNALIA, ROMANSPLAINED.

13 November 2016

THE MERCENARIES OF THE NIGHT.




11 November.


Keep getting some smiling Negro posting at me to somehow ban for profit jails  you know that now without Power, Barry can go back to being the radical sheik now that the white men he surrounded himself with are all back to the war business as lobbyists for our only Satan approved industry. Like so much for you house coons, Democrats policy was made by what the Clinton's had in their portfolio. Please tell your fellow ho dee doers that if they couldn't trash Trump as a vulgarian with that rapist standing there as the destroyer of Monica, no one will cry out here , I admit, saw it coming, for the jailer who disrupted sista soldja first. To paraphrase Ovid, with the Clintons there is no where left to turn. All I know is that when George Will and Keith Olbermann are on the same side that just means that the other side of the boat has a hole in it. Sorry George but your dinner with the Praetor is over, you will never come back from this, and since all is bidness your enemies at fox, will dismember you and scatter your baseball cards to the wolves.  You served too much Crow. I bet Bill would get that, as its funny the aging guard Queen is left with rag tag Bund stragglers and trash and filth as they try to get the bitch back into her imperial shoes, tres Tyberius at the end, gloomy and conniving a way off his island to retake power. And I could and end this election  coverage here, as America deserves  its peace now, say that and suck my own dick, that I called that too by mentioned that Bill Clinton mentioned Tyberius and show myself as quite the auger. But to be Franciscan about it and not Jesuit, I must say from what I gathered on that Jewey Radio hour, an ACLU but more shhheeeehh,  oy, it wasn’t that Tyberius that Will would have first thought of. It was a senator and his brother who were torn apart and who were beaten to death in the once vaunted now flophouse senate, by all the lords of power and the priests, a sly joke, of the Empire coming humnnnnn,  that wasn’t loaded for bear was it...? It was that Tyberius, the one even vicious Livia named a son for, I wrote Caveat about, has his mother hurl his dead body in the alter of the senate, as I write three pages in ancient Tuscan dialect just to be a bitch.

So, don’t know why I found this as haven’t really looked for dear Wendy that much when I suppose she had enough of the weenies and ninnies strangely vicious towards her, as they gobble up, see what I did there, fat bloated porcine women who eat crullers not only before but during cunnilingus, in our dying res publica, where as Ovid sadly intoned, the perverts have taken the fun out of everything. I did see somehow that Wendy, My Wendy, was still taking her cuts as it were, and I would surely film her in a batting cage, and was dodging some audition for CBS, which looking for some election coverage as bad too get various out, without a TV, I went there. Sorry NBC, no one wants to play 21 anymore. So, saw her the pretty goddess, with belladonna smirk more than fake ass pepsodent smile the perverts love to see,  though have yet to watch the link, as had too get things here and there, and I felt well towards her and wished her the best avenge out loud. As I said the creeps and the fetishists at these fat girls sites I do not traveled to anymore as am too much a Romantic, they have a hard on fir her, in both ways, angered they are that she would use the Peek-a-boo thread of pin ups and calendar girls one a signage of the American empire as we all drift into a Gomorrah but with enough Jews on the payroll so we can all feel sanctimonious about out bathroom antics. I felt good for Wendy and hope she gets whatever job this was, as it as sign to the weirdos and the creeps, the self imprinted  Juvenal’s of cable TV like Bill Marrh, somehow able to be on the amen side as Jewish cripples as war is our business, and thus wonderful and nothing else matters, it felt good that she was ate least trying gamely to get away from the Caste stemma, that others like Scorsese had been sued and utilized to place us all in, until of course got too close to wall street, where in fact, all occupations are soft moved. I wished her the best and hope she , this Beatrice hope she gets out of the inferno of strangely fronting perves, and one handed faggy alders, who hated this girl as a remnant of the acrimony of the Clintons, as some pigs are better than others, some gals don’t get wept for by a few good men, the genius show saw a wall that need to be guarded with Horatius devotion the same time that the berlins walls came down, causing Gene Sisckle to shake his head incredulously at the duplicity and silliness, of it all. So, having eyed what your perverts did when a lovely brunette girl came too near to them, just doings  what Grandma Empire said we can, destroying the brunette girl as Maureen Dowd is able and willing to do, we now know that a lot of conferrable shoes DAR Types and others woman with pearls oh gee, ceeeeraaaash, didn’t vote for Hillary, at all, as this time at Trimalchios diner there just wasn’t enough Brisochi to swallow all that crow, pun of course coming naturally. As I said I could never be Tim Burton and make a career out of stealing images and grave robing Gahan Wilson, neither like Sorkin could I have strip minded Preston Stergis and Jack Webb. 



video


So, don’t tell me, the Italian boy since 1972 adored by tactician nuns who would make Rachel and George look like the Oxbridge high fallowing middlebrows they aren’t quite as good at being as they were ten days ago, tu know when elections were sacrosanct , at least it they were when they went the die were supposed to, ah but if anyone could lose a loaded dice game it was…my essay about the golden door got me notice and acceptance that dust up with bleeding cool makes them all say now at these websites looking for graffitist work, that suddenly Men are not to be wholly dammed, as lesbians who have radicals web sites rather like my Captain Magnus as did Bill Clinton giving me a like six years ago out so, he as the image of the man as they can get behind, without having to be one of those effeminizers who hold a purse of like Andiepioo have a look of debarred monk, as Mother seems to be again leaving, and as in Shane, alas saying a plaintiff come back. And I am a HAM, as in either  Homosexual, Asian or Minority ethic, and again, think fat Mike and his armies of the suburba, this will all pass away once Roman Bill has had enough, and the money dregs up, as the rag tag army against Hannibal, fighting out of genetics you arent. So don’t have the Jew Yorker lecture me about walls, I know all about them, or at least bridge and tunnels and recall the every warning my father gave me of Columbus mistake, and I know when need be the Knesset at the new Rome of charmers and red necks can make the golden door a wall, simply with the turn of a lock. Don’t give me Charlie Habdo bullshit cartons about crying Liberty, as what would make even a French goddess cry would be a wife, yechhh, horning on her husbands mistresses and derailing them for fun and profit. I recall her in better times, in say the GODFATHER AS shorthand by a beard charmer who thought he was a Roman poet, making the godfather in La Bohem, or worse just standing there as white boys and gals scream about their insurance, or misled just a inert rock, as soon to be dead James Gandolfini had his fat face there, explaining just be face made how much more fun you all had in the days of your last minstrel show, as racism like all else in our Jewish ghetto of Florence is in flux,  is always allowed as long as you can get to watch the sopranos the Wire or any other Roman comedy about the Sicilians, they were seen as killer clowns when Oxford still a swamp, and that inside too was what had more liberals than not actually start to wish me well. Its like one of these barley closeted fags on a tear against Wendy, but they do show the picture fulsomely and apparently lest no one click, see, who was so bothered by her spelling, like a lesbian schoolmarm  hated by Ovid would be. You become, dear Hillary as your hero Caesar said, that which you have destroyed. Don’t quote him dear if you haven’t read the whole book.

The next time you make everyday a lupricalia  dear, read your husbands little black book, no not that one, his copy of Commentaries, as you might have leant something, and the rag tag scumbags aren’t long for the world as Bill I can hear him yell, saying to his own NBC operatives, knock it off before they dos something stupid like install Roman Bill as the first lady, uh, a fate worse than losing. I didn’t tell Hillary to back out back down, cunt  out or Jew down, space on us and leave, I didn’t tell her to not play this out to the third act, I didn’t tell her to go screaming at her coven and not like a man, a Roman, just stand there and take it  and with decorum, and dignity and say I lost, as there is no disparate in that, but there is to the next thousand deaths of George Will, should this con even last that long, Ah you showed your cards as Ma  would say, and you showed they were marked, and now its over, as Roman Boy Bill, makes it apparent back off, coeds and Emily Dickenson cretins dandle your nigger boyfriends, as even Boiney and Lizzie and all the erst of the rose parade saw that map, in which she, a true Cowboy, made her stand at the too Slimy sleazy Rio Grande and left the great lakes up for grabs. To boys like me and Bill it’s a learned habit, this Jesuitical thing, and he isn’t going be made first lady, like some woman, boy does that come with a sash. ...or just a tiara...? Not the one he wants. It is much to ask for, that Negroes, faggots and Jews and fat chicks on the pad be able to go by the Roman calculus of the republic, but the next time you want to sing out a cantore requiem for your defaced hag, Vanna, I know its hard with the fact that New Verona only has a few families from which to choose and so awful are we that our Antonio’s and Metrcucclios like Willie are not even devoted as much to their own crime family as to the keeping of Sicily poor, it is hard to do this having only the Monteverdes and the Capilittis from to choose, but next time you hold a requiem for a death of the republic because some hack cow lost, make sure, by the scheme of Galileo, make absolutely sure that you didn’t vote against the bitch first. So am off to have Thai food for the first time in my life, and so, Remember, It was Tyberius who was destroyed by the industrialists and the commmunnnnitaaaay, pimps and aldermen that We did better than you, and on command the poor on rich men's pads, and to give the man a slight Roman toast, Ill leave it at that.


07 November 2016

A SCENE FROM ROMAN MYTHOLOGY.






I place this here as an excerpt of Roman Mythology, a script so incendiary as it was called, that the polish starlets at Zoetrope gave me nothing but trouble over it, and all because all I asked was why did Poppa Copula succumb and give in when he was made to excise a scene in which Michael Coreleone with shotgun in hand killed the killer of his apollonian wife...? Ah a producer who had previously made Hogan’s Heroes, how’s that for irony, demanded it be taken out, so hijinx at the Stalag without William Holden wasn’t beneath him but Roman, or at least Sicilian, vendetta was.

This was written in 2003 or so, and was hurriedly dismissed from screen writing places where the mafia as usual as always big and in fact killer fags were everywhere, or what would be come to known as the Hillary Campaign,  which some day we will study like the marketing of the Edsel or new Coke. I always knew Roman schoolboy Bill wasn’t allowing his purple mantle majesty to be taken by Mother Bates, gods knows, but it all seemed to disappoint me so, as why bother to go through all of this when a true Roman would have just told that bag to can it or else, shed be gone. It couldn’t have been out of sense of honor that this was somehow owed, as he has no ethics,  but now has committed the worst of sins in Amorality , no matter what Jews and crips or both think, in amorality, like Machiavelli or Darwin, the only crime is being weak. I would have thought the lowest point Hillie had was having George Will support her when as my Ma recalled, George, the effeminate ferret face made a good living by demeaning them both and ONCE called Hillary Shylock, shy nuf, as this was before the priests of academe went mad with womanish censorship, simply because they wuz going to cleans America of all words they didn’t like and make people watch crappy football games rather than get drunk on New Years eve. Yes, I thought, he did do that, he called Hillary a Shyster, I didn’t know you spoke Latin as an honor and Yiddish as a treat, sissy, and he called her a rain maker too, and laid it on thick. My mother spoke of how fake the PENNA INGNOSTRAO ALWAYS IS, ALWAYS A SLIGHT OF HAND AN ITALIAN WORD FOR POISONED PEN, ALWAYS A FAKE, SHE SAID.  Any blond jokes you’d like to make, you ninny…? I wouldn’t wish George will on no body, as Caesar said, having him as an ally is worse than having him as an enemy as an enemy  he can do less damage. And too, in our Jew York Times turnabout is bad pool, how wonderful that Jewish gimp Stealey Dan be on their side too as the coiner of masturbatory fantasy had to be strapped to Hillary like Gregory Peck in Moby dick, pun intended as always. Now I understand as my Ma recalled for me, why it was as a republican he would be so instinctual  on having trashed Monica  before anyone, so superior he was to her he kept talking about her Brow, from the brow of Monica , the sissy that Jack Germando called a wolf in priests clothing, ouch, said it over and over to defame her as if you cant molest a stupid woman, the dumb brunette  as created by  his equal payee , Maureen,  as if Monica  was a Cro-Magnon, got what she decreed she did our Mumfredi of the abc television Sunday Omnibus with Cookie and Sam or whatever that fish eyed hag was. He always spoke of Monicas 'Brow', as if it was dark and sinister almost Karloff like, which the afternoon yaks eagerly picked up. I wonder was he paid off too as we know know like MAREENE DOWD AND Brit Hume,…I had to stop watching the cubs game, as  that city has had, what,... ten championships since I was fifteen…this wasnt about a city it was a neighborhood, why it doesn't seem to have the resonance of the Cowboys doing well as since George Will in involved it must have a racial aspect I don’t understand about our marauder city for whose dead children neither Baby Huey  or the wicked witch seems to weep.

But if there was a low point, it wasn’t just  Rachel dear weeping for our bloody Mary, it wasn’t even Samantha Busssybussybussybeeeee in overwrought rattles meanness she has called a delivery of sorts  since speech and drama at Wendell Wilkie high, no,...It wasn’t even the fact that unlike me and Bill she didn’t have to read the treatise how to be a Roman playwright as I did , by Terrance, I having in 1980 a gift from the Jesuits when I left a school I was barely at and armed and beloved but never a teachers pet as that as for ninnies and fagots who would be the first black president  and still have to be driving Mizz Daizy as you shonuf always hasty bee, so sur…a roman reader I cant find anymore, as was I guess was too admiring of them wops in togas than is allowed  here in new Judea, as she would have known politics like farce , and its that like Caesar out there more and more bro our Rabbis of empire, shed know casting is all. A ALWAYS B BE C CASTING. ALL her soldiers willing too kill without barely a vulgar mention of tail ala Dan Jenkins, that’s awful as again the lesbians of war want death without a sprig of dirty joke in there to mar the dead and the dying, our age if Kleenex and periods as Gore Vidal said. But these supposed Assassins, these Seals who survived the imperials Mary, they all looked like effeminates, as all the women who torched Trumpy as a pervert with you know who gearing up right there in the mezzanine, our lover of Jo and Patty and such gorgeous brunettes alas always destroyed by Hillie and her titian haired centuries and witches, just like on Roman walls and the bible where all the demons have red hair. Cartoons and literature is at its heart the same basic idea. All the cunts forced on us by Lester  the molester and the Peacock in the slush in our amacord of Wall Street they  looked like herstory  professors and ladies home journal readers when like me and Bill he is devoted to the bathing Beauty, but Hillary or her coven wouldn’t spring for an unparalleled ass. The sewer wasn’t wasn’t even Keith Olbermann cramming out of the phantom zone like Zod to say he would vote, but instead of just for Hillary, no the liar tells the truth when lying the most, he said he would vote for George W over Trump, sing along with Glenda chubby, hes not my friend, as was eager to say he would vote for the man who brought torture to American politics over anyone who had this many Italians and Mets fans this close to the praetorium. I really hope you Arabs weren’t shocked by this no harm no foul, I didn’t really mean it, it was all just programming anyway, NNNNNN BEEEEEE CEEEEEEEE. … as my saturnalia essays about the closing of the golden door really opened up many doors for me just as being dammed openly by comics books hacks at bleeding cool was something ova sign that I had if not courage the willingness to like a Jesuit stand up for the Incognitos and the Tallahassee housewives we all are two exits away from being as  I always warned. Did I ever tell my Olgertree story…?



For which he will pay as you all will, as its one thing to be deadened by the Bush family of stable boy Medici made good with all that Nazi collaborator money, but when the Jews of the Yeshiva teams made a point that there was someone beneath them, no really this time fer reals, they have the audacity to look down on the ethnics they were of only three or four Judd Apatow movies before this, or was it Judd Hirsch who knew his place, Im not sure… well, like Sejanus being killed, a senatorial threat said as warning to Tiberius, he made the mistake of being the praetorian of a hated man. Ouch. So, I MAKE A SIGN to ward away the evil eye and watched on a television fondly and gloriously alleviated of Hillary in high Dungeon, get the jokes there, as Mildred Pierce screeches out no more wire hangers ever, much less emails, all the world is a joke and a farce as Senaca said, after all. Oh, I watched a midnight movie, a chiller theater of ‘Duel’,  a boyhood masterpiece which sent me towards film, as was a shock to bother father and the brethren  who wanted me to be legit and clerical and thoughtful and unvulgar, as film and comics were puppet shows. Making the pages for a new submission of my witch to a collection of such women, Im not sure theyll like my Patty Fairinelli. Oh Patty, adored Beatrice of glossy pages, a witch Bill and Trump could fall for bell book and sinker, Im not sure but a gal named Natalie seems open to it, as even the gals have taken my side, as the pitiful Halloween of Clinton Inc was too much to bear, and we all became tired of a decrypted old crypt keeper hag who came out of the woods too buffed as youd never have guessed, yelled at by those niggers she didn’t put behind bars, as a sissy queer black queen dido seems to have all the suicide intentions of his matron, but none of the dignity, as we all saw this woody rite before too often and too much with the hollowing Rains.


 unfinished. 
ANCIENT ROMANCE BOOK FOUR THE TRAGEDY OF LIGRA, QUEEN OF THE HIGHLANDS


But what I must packed here as think before this is over our Livia, and again it isn’t the sopranos from which I get that again perhaps giving them more designates and honoraria than I should, she will find as he so famously said with his thieves aplomb, that one must get close enough to the window to break it seeing every election in the republic his involved in as again a crime. But what I must place  here as I send more of my witch comics out and then promise to fold her into the story,  as I always wanted to, all my heroines are either Jewish amazons from Long Inland, Cat women and hillbilly girls as a roman student would have to do amid the yeshiva of now fifty year old virgins and their fish wives, I must say what was the saddest part of a farce that lasts too long but doesn’t have a central figure good enough to be Virgilian, as the leans like the death of Dido cry and wish to reek havoc on a country that Aeneas didn’t even come from, ah the central pace of The Aeneid,  which when I said it, as too with a hatred for both Montegues and Capulets all, and  caused the Jesuits to admire and wish me well, and I, a pig, waved my hand and let the men all die alone as didn’t want the fag cooties any where around. The sad monet came when in the dark and al alone, away from the alerts and the alters  of power so adored by our wayward hillbilly trash, our human laughing bag Bidding, came face to efface with those prices one must say as he seemed to have gained the world but lost a son over and over, a dying man perpetually, an Ouroburos the petty men seen in the Dantean ice as the two poets come towards a gloomiest Lucifer, our bloated face making pimp of delegates union labels owner was accosted by fate and signora Fortuna, or was it Orcus,  and the kind of payment made to allow Copula to feel as if vindicated he was making something other than mere acceptable  Jewish minstrel show. The vice president for life Joe Boy was confrited by a dying son, tres Livy, very Robert Graves, begged by a dying boy, by a dying son, as Roman as some could get, a dying boy, ah the essence of the tragedy since Sejanus, no tragedy is a good as Roman tragedy, as Tacitus, hater of Greeks as was Dante as are most Jews mistrust them,  to be truth full, there aint no time like colored time and there aint no tragedy like Roman tragedy despite what women would think. And the son on death bed no less, saying that the angels were white and the Clintons black, I have been told I am quite good at this, the dying son, I must mention it again,  there on the banks of the Styx, they are still redeemable catholic no…? They are for abortion aren’t they, not to mention free trade, so acceptable to the Jesus freaks and the cub fan say ..,? The Dying son begged the powerful leech, old seedy cleric, the cleric of empire, he begged him , please pop, dint let Lil Abner and that hag back into or Roman Pericardium, dad. Oh how sad worthy of sanitized roman BBC bullshit, or Titus Livy moment while the Crime family keep in trekking, the dying son, with last dying wish asking a father to have power he didn’t have to keep these tow pigs out of the Capotiline again, as all knew than this was just a thug with wilted laurels in his gray hair wishing to get around the 22 amendment, and inst that sad, if aghast all this was about. The republic as bauble, how Bushman, how perfect for two families of equal ignobility and place,  who cant either get all the fools, maybe much less the Jews, reformed and conservative, it shall never happen,  all on the same side , as a majority to Augustus eventually screaming for a long Dead Germanicus speaking of dear sons, is by definition, a threat. Steal, kill, beat up go Cinna on us all, dear, dealer as you may, but don’t ask to be admired for it and please please please don’t tell Roman Tony that I am too believe any of it,I thought yew weren't vicious enough,,, therefore  am again and attest as Too Roman…?,  or even think you the Jews, George Will, cripples plebeians and widowers son burying hacks are ever all on the same side. As Machiavelli said, no one is as stupid as you hope they are.

What I found depressing about this death march with the lesbians as cheerleaders as worthless as they’ve ever been, was that the sadness was in the vary lackluster vituperative quality of it all, with brawn shirts who said a wholly unfaithful feh, willing to beat up people but who charge time and a half for it like polka singers at the Stealer game, really Roettensbuergher meets Hillaty humnnnn, the inevitable intersection of paralleled  lives… at the seiu always must. I think I know why she is unraveling now, thirty people at a rally, doing bad Martin Short, hands out to ghost who haven’t bothered to care enough the send their very breast. And as they set things up which would make a kid playing at this say foul and that this time Supermen was too mighty batman was too smart, wonder woman as too vicious and Amazonian, that didn’t meet the braced tenants of Calvinos love of the folktale. When I was a kid and I learned to read, gogbbled up things like Shaft, Captain Marvel,  and so read all of the MASH BOOKS BY RICHARD HOOKER, EVERYONE one of them as I loved the aspect of them, their adultness their anger and their snidest and their hepness, and still call myself the pro from Dover as I adored that whole thing, and the Altman movie even more. Hillary was the MASH TV SHOW AFTER HER HUSBAND WAS Trapper  John, maybe even Duke, anyone but Spear chucer which showing decency, CBS too refined to show a Harvard educated football chest doctor and kept the blacks like the Italians as dog faced soldiers human bags of blood to be splayed in tables for the family hour. That’s why I hate Hillary, her face it is said has a Bush effect of making people turn the channel , the republic strikes back,  and therefore why I think shes dwindling down will have to not only steal this election but be unable to fence it, as best as she can, making George Will after all this time, certainly no no Hawkeye, maybe as Duval as Kellerman fucking Boourns, an anathema to Roman me, about to be taken away to a manicomium, where I think old Doctor Pierce will get her , old Mrs. Haversham into the ward , like the Tyber , that awaits her when all  this is done.






A Scene from Roman Mythology.

Placed actor’s faces in to fill out the casting as it were.




INT. GARIBALDI CLUB, AN ITALIAN AMERICAN MUSIC HALL FROM THE OLD COLD WAR DAYS. A COLUMBUS DAY CELEBRATION. TABLES AND FOOD AND A STAGE AND A COLLECTION of Italians in a threadbare,  sad almost archived Americanism unseen since the Dick Van Dyke show as they hold on vainly to an America and an American ethic that is dwindling, if not Gone.

Enter BRUTUS, the banker hero, a Oafish man, thuggish,  but smart, stoic, almost despite his looks he is almost polite sad alone. He wears an expensive black suit, a purple tie, a gold watch. He is large but almost nimble.  He walks into the celebration into the red green and white bunting. He goes to his family table, and removes his black priest coat and reveals a buttoned up vest.

JULIA
His sister like a Jacqueline Olbadors sort.
Well, Look whose here, Ma, its your prodigal son…not buying most of Patavium, bra…

BRUTUS:
Its called Foreclosure, Julia dear, its been an act of war since Caesar and that’s what I’m at.

JULIA
Oh st down you gloomy Guido and have some fun. Larry, [to a white coated waiter] Bring my brother a aste spumanti and a woman, if you can find one. Loosen him up.

He sits down.

BRUTUS:
What have I missed everyone…I had some paperwork to get done at the Bank.

JULIA:
Whose terms of surrender this time, Praetor.
BRUTUS
SMILES.
WHOEVER I CAN GET. I AM ROMAN ABOUT TEHSE THINGS, DEAR.

ON THE STAGE WITH THE LOUIS PRIMA LIKE ORCHESTRA BELONG COMES OUT A TONY BONNET LOOK-ALIKE. He gestures to the crowd.

BARZINI
Hello, all in Patavium NY. IM FAT FREDDY BARZINI, here to sing fer yous all tonight as tonight’s the night and dis gotta be the place. GREY SKIES ARE GONNA CLEAR UP PUT ON HAPPY FACE. BRUSH OFF THE CLOUDS AND CHEER UP PUT ON A PATTY FACE,SHHHHAZZAM!..

He continues the song as other mill about and gals laugh and men drink.

Brutus sits there, a quiet and yet somewhat overly alert figure.

He looks around.

My my, At the Gummuadis and the greasers the gumabs and the dimwits, and yet there is something valiant and sad about them dared almost as if at a long gone Latin quarter, they are sad , but not buffoonish. [If they could all be cast by Jews or Italians this would be the best.] Pretty girls, in slightly used furs, they were as Italians as all ethnics given a Principe not to an America that never came as sons if white men fans a revolution to make sure they were never drafted and never asked to do anything.

JULIA
Oh,  here we go.

BRUTUS:
I’m sorry, everyone I don’t mean to be a downer I can’t turn it on and off like house niggers on TV.

He looks around again.

JULIA:
Looking for anyone in particular. Bluto…?

Minerva
The mother hen of the family, a Lanie Kazan type, down to the bride of Frankenstein, over processed hair, dripping in ermine and pearls.

Julie please don’t call your brother that, its bad enough your father made me name him for one of the greatest turn coats in history  , I could have had two more boys and named then Benedict’s and Judah.

BRUTUS:

It’s a cartoon nickname Mother, its fine by me.
MINERVA:

It’s out of freaking Popeye, boy.

BRUTUS:
Still looks sheepishly around.
A better America if you ask me, all around.

He looks and sees the table for a crew of low level thugs called the Macedonia’s, the father, a bloated vulgar creep in a fedora and cheap seer suckers suit, Phillip and his vulgar almost effete sons in suits.
JULIA
Yeah she’s not here, Bro.
BRUTUS:
Who…?

JULIA:

Puhhleese, bra…your dream Girl.

BRUTUS:
I don’t know who you mean…

ARGO:
A Macedonia cousin fond of pretty Julia. He is affable, wiry a handsome boyish gumba sort, a Tony Reali type in a black suit like Brutus bit whereas Brutus looks like a judge he looks like a pulp fiction wana be.
He sits there towards the Ballerina table.

See aint here yet Brutal. Shell be here and then you can say oh I am soooo in luvvv wit you Clem…

MINERVA:
Clem…?

JULIA:

Clementine Macedonia, maw.

MINERVA;
Oh thank God, that’s all I needed. But then you brother is too stern and unhappy t be gay. Cent ani. [She drinks a flute of sparking wine.]

ARGO :

Shell; be here Bru…don’t worry. Phillip has demanded we all be here, when he knew you paid for the booze. [Laughs. ]

BRUTUS:

Yur still a wit, Aargg.

INTO THE SCENE IS SHOWN NOW A COUPLE OBVIOUSLY BASED UPON THE CLINTONS. A POWER COUPLE,  OF gray hared oafish persona and scheming pant suit wearing ungentle and ill at ease first lady as they entered and schmooze the ruin, he better than she as they clomp about.

JULIA:
Oh no. who invited the Borgias…?

ARGO:

Yeesh, it just be time to vote again, that’s when that ilk discovers the circuit the rest of the time we are just dumb wops. DID YOU invite them Bru bru…?

MINERVA:
I think I like Bluto more than that.

BRUTUS:

No,….you don’t have to invite them anywhere, like Rats and lice and Satan they think they own whatever they have tunneled into.

ARGO:

Heads up, Bra…Lucretria Borgia is coming this way.

BRUTUS:

WHATEVER YOU DO , KIDS, DON’T STAND UP…IT DRIVES THEIR ILK MAD.

The COUPLE COMES OVER TO THE TABLE FOR BRUTUS AND HIS FAMILIA.

FIRST LADY :

Well, what a …interesting gathering of souls, dear mister Ballerina, I didn’t know this many women still wore fur in public.

BRUTUS:
Well, Mrs. First Lady, don’t be upset and call Arron Brown or your SHOCK TROOPS at cnn or anything, the Italian women loved furs and fags when you were still indiscriminately killing both in the southland…

She starts to grit her teeth.

Praetor Bill moves in all honey dripper and after shave and puts out a hand to Brutus.

PRAETOR BILL:
Hey Brutus how you doing. [Brutus shakes the man hand.] See everyone don’t get up, we are just here as guests of my Roman friend here. How you doing, Brutus old man, haven’t seen you in a while, I usually don’t like to make it up to the upstate here, unless I’m up selling…but heard my buddy was having a Columbus day party and she wanted to cras—pres the fles—electioneer and all, and I know you always have the best  food and gals around here.

BRUTUS:

I’m shocked to see the both of yew, I mean, I thought you’d both be at somewhere were rain daces were going on by Indians paid less than they were when Bonanza was on.

Praetor laughs.

PRAETOR BILL:

Bonanza…That’s cute, Man Brutus you’re a trip.

I AM SURPRISED YOU’D BE HERE at a Columbus Day parade,

She seethes.
Remember dear, we have to get out to the Indigenous peoples day parades too, you know.

PRAETOR BILL
Sits down tiredly,

Yeah well, my wife’s been working both sides of the street since Yale, you know.

She winces and growls.

PRAETOR  BILL.
Hey is this food fer anyone…

BRUTUS

Of course, Praetor, sit down and Larry Bring the President a plate.

PRAETOR BILL:

You got any of that Kitchen Catachitore, Bru…?

BRUTUS:

Yes, Larry Bring the President a plate of….that he mentioned…and some asti

Pours the drink.

PRAETOR BILL:
Oh yeah I love this wine its like Champaign with m and ms in it.

FIRST LADE:
Such refined tastes.

JULIA:
Please Madam First lady, sit down and have some food with us…

FIRST LADY:
I find Eye-talian food too spicy for my states…

PRAETOR BILL:
AWWWW, SHIT hunny sit down and shuddup and get off the clock once, everyone know wwho you are by now, so give it a rest  huh…

FIRST LADY:
I DON’T KNOW IF YOU SHOULD BE SWEARING IN PUBLIC, DEAAAAAARRRRRRR.

PRAETOR BILL:

Aw can it dear, these are Italians, the invented speak softly and carry a bug Gun. What is that called again…

ARGO:
Omerta. Sur.

PRAETOR BILL:

Yeah dats it, Omurta.

FIRST LADY:

He east his food, con gusta. Not piggisly or sloppily, or comically, just enjoying it as he seems to enjoy everything, as she fumes,

Hurry up and eat, darrrrrllllling.

ON STAGE:

BARZINI:

Heres a song I know you gumabs and idiots like, a song I know yull like from the lovely gal who I did this with one album of duets, a song called Uninvited by the fabulist  Ally Morisette.

Brutus looks askance at this , but seems to laugh it off …

Applause.
The band pays the song and he starts to sing.

At the table the Praetor is  eating with robust joy as his wife sneers and seems ill at ease among these sorts of people.

BRUTUS:

AS IF READS HER MIND.


That’s the price you pay to be a man of the people and get ways with all dear.. Sometimes you get too near the rancid filth.

FIRST LADY:
We have to leave , darling.

PRAETOR BILL:

Aaw common hun, those Injuns never feed anyone much les like this…

BRUTUS SMILES AT THE AFFABLE KING, AS SHE SNEERS AT THE LAUGHING MEN AND GIGGLING WOMEN. HER EYES ENFLAME WITH SUPERIORITY AND HATRED.

ARGO:

Sottovoce to Brutus.

I haven’t seen a yenta this upset at being around this many wops since that cow who lays that fish wife on that Raymond shit.



Brutus notes how upset as she seems at being this close to these people and seems to make a mental note to show her for the fraud she is.

BRUTUS:
STARES AT WIFE WHO SEEMS TO CATCH SOMETHING IN HIS STARE.

Go ahead and eat up, Praetor, enjoy yourself as it must be heard being a lion in winter, eh…
PRAETOR BILL:

Oh, buddy, you have no idear.

Into the scene walks a few tables away Clementine, OBJECT OF BRUTUS AFFECTIONS, HE SEES HER AND LOOKS DOWN AS IF CAUGHT AT SOMETHING. SHE IS BEAUTEOUS, A PRETTY ITALIANATE BUSTY GAL, IN DARK PONYTAIL AND WEARING A WHITE DRESS WITH YELLOW PIPING, A DISCRETE ARTISTIC OPPOSITE OF THE BLACK SUIT AND INDIGOS TIE OF BRUTUS. THE SINGER SMILES AT HER AND WINKS AS HE SINGS THE LOUIS PRIMA CLASSIC, AND SHE TALKS WITH OTHER GIGGLING AIRHEAD WOMEN. She is gorgeous and Italianate in all ways, a Wendy Fiore sort.


JULIA:
Playfully

 Ah Bingo.

The PRAETOR LOOKS UP AS HE EATS.

PRAETOR BILL:

WOWS, MY FUCKING GAD WHO IS THAT, WHO INVITED WONDER WOMAN HERE…GEE WHIZ!

JULIA:

That’s the future Mrs. BRUTUS BALLERINA,  MISTER PRESIDENT. Clementine Macedonia.

PRAETOR BILL:

Oh mash darling aw mash darlllin aw my darlllin Clementine….hehe, AW, I’m sorry I WAS JUST KIDDING I DIDN’T MEAN TO INSULT ANYONE…

BRUTUS:

Its alright  sur, shes kidding.

PRAETOR BILL:

HOO WEE, I aint seen a girl like that since ax Baer stopped making drive in movies, seeeeeeehhhhht.

THE FIRST LADY FUMES AND TSKS AT THIS VULGARITY.


SHE NUDGES THE EX PRESIDENT.

PRAETOR BILL:
Aw woman will you leave me be, I cant live a life as a perpetual campaign--it isn’t healthy. You know, Brutus, If I was five years younger Id take a run at that lil Sinorina.

BRUTUS:

ILL BET.

HE WATCHES HER AS SHE WALKS ABOUT AND TRIES TO HIDE THE FACT AS JULIA WCTAHES HIM AND LAUGHS ALOUD.

PRAETOR BILL:

You know I was friends with an Italian girl in college, a lovely lil thang named Angie, like the song, and she was just the cutest lil –turns and sees his glaring wife and he coughs to a mumbling conclusion and goes back to his food.

FIRST LADY:

Glares.

Yes I was shocked to see an Italian at Yale when I got there I was shocked to see they were beieng let in…you know by the republicans and the old money guard that ran it…

BRUTUS:


Well, you and your in laws will always have skull and bones, dear…

PRAETOR BILL,

SWIRLS SPAGHETTI .

Yes dear he knows what you mean, he isn’t stupid God knows, these aren’t the Jews downstate we are talking to, on their  best behavior, that’s why desse are my peoples.

BRUTUS:
[Despite himself likes the oafish man.]

SINCE 1265, AT LEAST OLD MAN.

FIRST LADY:

Oh I  just meant I went to Yale and…and….

BRUTUS:
And I went to Harvard.

FIRST LADY:
Upset.

HOW DID YEWWWW GET INTO HARVARD.
Brutus stands and yells out,

My father bought it for me as is the American way!

The whole dining halls comes to a complete stop. The singer and band stops.


I OWN THIS PALACE, I OWN THIS TOWN, AND I DIDN’T INVITE YOU HERE TO MAKE SURE YOU CROSSED OFF WHO YOU FELT YOU HAD TO BULLSHIT TODAY, OLD CROW.

FIRST LADY:
I THINK WE SHOULD LEAVE , HUNNNIE.

PRAETOR BILL SEEMS EXASPERATED.

BRUTUS:
Let me tell you wops and Gumba Jews a quick story about our beloved Medici here, kids,…it seems that when she was running for senate from our great empire state, and thus discovered Orchard Park for the first time in their miserable lives, she came to me at the empire bank in beautiful downtown Patavium and she asked me for a manila envelope with 10, 000 dollars in unmarked bills as everything they have ever done ahs been a fucking hostage negotiation …

FIRST LADY:

I don’t know what you are talking….

BRUTUS;
ALMOST PROFESSORIALLY.

They of course not only beg for cash but have strangest codicils attached as all ransomers do you see. She asked me to make sure as a good Italian American, that I would be behind the deccccccccminatin and decapitation of some idiot they had discovered for her to run against named Laverne De Fazio or some such wop creep, some dirt bag whose grandma was just proud he had made it to the runner chicken circuit, and she asked that as Italian Americans we wouldn’t be upset that she was going to tear his guts out like Mohammed in the divine comedy, leaving his entrails on the floor as she and her  ilk sows well does. Well, I am not a credit  to my race and so, I took one of those steel briefcases you see in the Pulp Fiction…

PRAETOR BILL
BOY, I hate that movie,…

BRUTUS
WITHOUT MISSING A BEAT.
ME TOO.
I TOOK a steel briefcase and filled it with 100, ooo dollars and made an appointment for one of her stinking sneering sissy dago bag men to come pick it up.

ARGO:

WHISTLES ADMIRATION.

A HUNDRED LARGE.

BRUTUS:

YES, ARGO, REAL MONEY.
FOLDING MONEY ALL THESE EVER BEEN AFTER SINCE 1265.

I took the money and the tin briefcase and I gave it to one of her nervous little dago rats marionettes and handed it over to them. With the codicil that if she ever blathered me again or if she ever did her act again, having not seen it I heard she and her Dyke handmaidens made a point that she fared this gamey thin sissy little wop , De Fazio , she feared for her life , playing into this msitrel show that her arms lenth Jewish in laws anted her too play into, aaaaaaaaaaand she was more than willing, well, human action takes it toll, in unmarked bills, deaarie, Oh dear, Im sure hub will get you first. I gave her this money ,but told this jittery little gumba that if she ever bothered me again, id send to whatever network as out too get her this time, id make sure that tape where she told me exaltedly what she thought of you stinking wops would be sent and put on the air and wed know acutely who this bitch was, especially  the gumabs and the rest she pretends to love so much.  The only catch was the money was counterfeit  , at least mine was, and sissy ninny gunman Eddie accepted  it, a crime, … I gave all the numbers and that can blow up in your face whenever I need it to, old woman, so be careful with this bloated pig on spit behind you who you defame as a vulgarian dear. AND THAT as Copula would say… is a true story.

Her face contorts into a death mask like Malcolm McDowell in clockwork orange.

FIRST LADY:

You….you…..

BRUTUS:

YOU WHAT…?

FIRST LADY:

You rancid little wop rats, scumbags and filth, hooters at women,
Thugs, filth…garbage….I have never been so defamed and disrespected by anyone and that includes Mississippi…yiu filthy dirty wops….I ‘’’I….come you... Husband come, now lest go.

I SAID COME!

The place explodes in laughter as he speciously WALKS away.
BRUTUS FEELS BADLY FOR THIS TURN AND HIS EXPLOSION AT THEM, OR AT LEAST HIM.

BRUTUS:

Ah, Larry, box up five dinners and give them to Mister Praetor here…a gift for Columbus day, from us to him,...lest call it honoraria.

PRAETOR BILL
SAD SMILE.
Yes, lets.

They hand the man five large boxes and he goes to walk away with a smile.
He turns.

Oh uh, Brutus….

BRUTUS:

Yes sir….?
PRAETOR BILL:
[Gives him a Roman thumbs up.]
Happy COLUMBUS DAY.


They walk out and the club goes back to some semblance of party.

BRUTUS:

Please everyone , a little anger on my part…please go back to dancing and singing and enjoying yourselves, I am a river to my people, everyone, enjoy yourselves and I am picking up the tab…I more ways than one…Go back and have fun.

ARGO…when your cousin comes back ask her if shed like to have a dance with me when these idiots  start playing dance music…
ARGO;

WHADDA YEW DEAD….I’m not your messenger Boy…

BRUTUS:
Takes out a hundred dollar Bill. There’s a hundred in it for you.

The smiling affable man whips the hundred out of the large older man hands with ease and smiles.

ARGO:
Oh she’ll dance, dot worry.

EXT. THE OUTSIDE OF THE GARIBALDI CLUB. A TATTERED ITALIAN FLAG FLIES IN THE BACKGROUND AS THE NOISE CAN START TO  BE HEARD INSIDE AS THE FIRST LADY SHRIEKS AT THE PRAETOR FOR HIS NOT STANDING UP FOR HER AND being sold out to ogle some girls. There standing alone is Brutus in the cool AUTUMNAL day’s nght , and drags on his cigarette, she starts to  sing to himself sadly.

BRUTUS:
Barely audible as the neon sign in the back MAO’S turns n in the night.
Oh  my darling, aw my darling, aw my darling Clementine, you were lost and lost forever oh my darling Clementine, oh my darling aw my darling aw my daring Clementine, you were….

FADE TO BLACK.



IN 2008, one of the first things that was meant to sabotage Hillary was a tape made equating the Clintons to the cable television crime family the Sopranos, which was a first break in the damn and upset all them dumb wops who as I heard gave money and acquiescence to allow her and her lesbians scabs like Ellen to trash the slimy little wop who had been sent up against her. This year, with new York and new Jersey in flux as the confederacy seems upset and wounded that it had far too many ethnics willing to vote for them outside Jews on the pad, I didn’t hear the word Columbus this year once. I GOT THE WITCHES DRAWINGS ALL OUT AND when I went to subway to buy the family a lunch as no one felt like cooking dinner, and my brother gave me a book of coupons someone gave him, such is Obama nation as he tap dances away, I walked into the baloney outlet and saw the miserable little Negro creep who had bothered me last Christmas for being after his Gurrrl. The pretty cashier I liked as Victoria went so far away, the hinterlands in the darkest parts of Terra Incognita, Jersey. He looked right at me, through me, as I was meaningless to this Tommy Davidson goofball minstrel show player. There standing next to him was a girl, long flowing Turnus Italic hair, no fooling I felt my stomach fall, a lump in my throat. As she stood there, a bit fatter but with a mane of onyx colored hair braided closely and crow rows I think it is called. He didn’t recognize me and I still stood there to buy the cold cuts. She turned, and it was  a boot black girl, chubby and without the yellow eyes I am sucker for, another fat black chick as we see on sports TV. He found another in his Negro eyes a better than the pretty girl. The night explodes with rain and too, sirens keep going off and helicopters in the night in the  prison planet that the Clinging Clittins  gave us, as they do unto others then split as their hippy mantras went and now, she must shoot the bird to those wops and niggers who had their males gathered up and incarcerated , the ugly, manly,  undercurrent of Amazons that Camilla always never had. That cunt and his wife Hillary made this country a duchy and were smart enough this time to bring in the Jews, well well see who recalls what and how many got stiffed, as someone always is.  Ill give him his one of these days, I thought of this fronting coon doing bad be bop act,  and handed the coupons to the sandwich guy and asked for one of each. Ill get even, we always do. But I did three weeks ago hear said on  an ACLU like Jew show on a Jesus freak station, and they really didn’t know what to make of it, trying to make common cause no longer with the Italians or the Romans that have gone from Fascist TO Socialist as they didn’t allow the people to strave as they do as will recall this love of refugees again when it isn’t in your best interests,  but with the Germanic creeps from which they get their wives now, I did hear it made these Jesus freaks and their on the pad Jews uneasy to know,  that Bill was again quoting the tragedy of Tiberius.