On this day before the great weasel, imperitor's clown, Scorsese hopes to finally get his belovedness from his doegs and massas, just like a GOOD HOUSE nigger always wishes, I thought I would take this time to make a Roman graffito on a wall of light and thus keep the evil spirits which such a triumph would expurge from hell, and make them veer away from me. This is akin to the hand gestures which put upon neopolitans and sicilians would do when hearing that a new pope would be crowned in Rome, as the roman ethic in them was always to genetically take it to a higher court. This symptom of shared and recalled peasantry is a reflex built into me which millennial of Jesusfreak programming can not undo. As he readies to shave the extra hair off his cheek and thus be presentable to his white masters and their du pont cleveaged whores, I go in an oppitiste direction, as again, I hope to evade the evil one's cathedrals of dark spirits.
As he prepares to get his long awaited Roman triumph at the kodak theater, after an interminable night of off key singing, self adoration, dont we all love niggers though we dont open their movies at the same time we open our own and thus keep them perpetually at single digits for the bean counter lords, ect...as he sits and waits like a satanic lesbo waits for halloween, --through the Bad production numbers, and low cut gowns on women who are amazingly unsexy at all, I insted, recall his victims. In this day, I recall all those men who lived out a mafia creed only the Italians , unlike jews, irish and germans, are never allowed to make crumble or become ruins as is so much else in their heritage . I recall those who were his bloody corpses who he as deftly and as artlessly yet as a clinton, rolls over in a chariot made of plastic, drug by horses made of wax.
No, our dear Marty, no connection to the famed and wonderful play god knows, he licks his thin invaders bequethed lips, and spits on his fingers to make his eyebrows seem less an affront to the increasingly paler and less haired and infantalized of the collection of perverts masquerading as patrons of the arts, and his little grinches cor flutters with annn ticcc i patttttion for the night he has lived his whole night for. This is the triumffi, the parade he yearns for, the night of assimilation and acceptance, for which he has been perfecting the tap dances and the homilies and the shu nufs mistah sur, all his miserable half bearded, half clean shaven, life. He prepares to get the golden icon, the silly, Bauhaus, Metropolis era, bald headed, laurel which he would wear along his neck, as Dante would his laurel, or a rap pimp would wear a gaudy, pyrite, chain. He readies to be accepted as a cousin speilbergh, or something less, being as his movies have never really made money, at all.
But today, mostly I recall and invocate and intone a name with all most Shazamian metemophisis of thing to thing, and that name is Salvetti. He was an italian truck driver, a bread delivery man, who along with as many of five thousand other Italians , was placed in jail fraudlently, and thus allowed the always mafia seeking FDR AND JFK AND J Edger to look like there was a war on crime, when in fact, they did open business with the old mafia hoods willingly, and in their palacial and dogian levitown homes. I recall Salvetti today , even though, he is not easily recalled, certainly not by hbo gumbas for day player hire, as neither were the 60,000 in pre Gook internment camps, the 500,000 campagnias killed by rampaging hannible, as his name is not made into a song by little Bobby Zimmerman, as was hurricane, and no self rightious white trash innocence projects got him out , as they go about and gfleefully make innocent everyone on death row, excepting white thugs who ask them, as it is said. And no, he wasnt dark enough to be played by that most stick in the mud self consuming and self assured of actors, the man who made malcolm X into Black Bart from blazing saddles.
I recall Salvetti who cried openly to the displeasure of the white breaded and fried and bagged Ted Kopple, town crier to the genetically middle leveled, and thus showed a humanity which ABC doesnt like much to see. So, now, hense they now like penthouse cartoons seem to make goughlish cartoonings of women body parts which are dead and wont sue, or see them in court. I recall poor old Salvetti as I recall a Roman who in liguria had NOT a slave revote, but a SOLDIER revolt against Caesar back in 100 bc, or there abouts, and dutifully and unsprizingly, there was no Jewish or Wop hollywood genius willing to make that truely fearful and scary to the new principate story in any way, either. No, there will be no movies with a pre stroked , big chinned Kirk Douglas as he stands and says, I'm Lucius----no wait, Lucius the protaginist of the Soldier Revolt of which I read, was taken easily by the men who sided away and turned on him once the big black horse of the triumverate came galloping to Liguria. They , who placed ribbons in his hair and a wreathe of bayleaf on his shorn and begining to become recurled hair, and stood him on their tired shoulders, ...Once the agents of casear came to bring the other soldiers wine, socks and broads , all was forgiven to the kepper of eagles, and they turned on the man who was in later times , just jewish rablerosuers and spoke of things like a 60 hour week. Yet, they went eagerly and willingly from him, when a Roman general came to end that particular party. I wonder if young Gesu ever read this story in Yeshiva...it would explain a lot. He was arrested, pre Jesus, and was drug off in iron chains, to where he was flaied and had all his skin taken off his body and his head scalped and his body drug through Rome with his feet nailed to a cross in the symbol of a loss of honor and dignity and pride, --as you should be willing to be meat and die on command for whichever dear Bush surges ahead ...I mean , Caesar...Bush prays dutifully for God to make the next move, and anyhow, that idiot barely knows where Rome is on a map, much less...,-- and poor Lucius was split open and becomes what happens to you as a symbol of what happens when you hate me because I am beautiful, as Caesar would say. Even paths of Glory, anti war, Stanley couldnt do much with that scene, and no body gets an academy award for being a corspe on a standards stick. Thats more cnn, now. In fact, as I can attest, no body gets made even by bringing it up. I am sure a good house dago like Marty has never much heard of either, as it makes his faulty and petty arts all the easier to commit and repeat as needed.
[at first I wanted this entirely in Scorsesian pigeon English. I changed more than I wanted, but the thought is the same.]