17 September 2011




KARTINA RICHARDSON LIKES THIS.

But, I do not mean to be a prick, but this Solaris deal, seemingly born fully formed ala Menvra was, complete with Hillary pols suddenly and almost as if they had these things archived for future use giving advise, and or Compassion, and egging on, depending on where you are standing, always, made me laugh. Solariums, Solarium, Solaris whatever, there is CATH, the Dago sun god, which I said to some consternation, is why we call it Catholic, hmnnn…who has been calling nigger Jimmy a new Phaethon all along…? …why, that was auger Tony, that was me! I compared him to the boy who was in over his head, as the sun chariot flew hither and yon, and horses made of fire few into the south pole, and now…witness, the sun shall will out, as it eats him whole, and didn’t even burp out a minivan. I was comparing him to Phaethon from Metamorphoses, for those at MSNBC, Metamorphoses is a Roman bible written by Ovid. For Rachel, Ovid is a Roman poet of the first century…etc. And in AR, despised by so many fat white women, there is a story of Cath, the Italian take on Phaethon, where instead of a tragic goats song as all Greek is, when not about anal sex or war, or both, the Italians had Cath the boy, supplant his father and become the sun god, as ironically at what I am at now, a few pages from completing this hated, anathema, missal of a book. And the last few days, some of the brightest spots in your cave in of last year, not witches at all, but saints like The Coon and Manchin, are making a big deal out of this Negros trying, rather tin ear-dly, to save himself. So I was speaking of the sun godling falling from the sky before any of you, auger I am again, --not to mention the bundling!

So, I , it appears have angered the gods of Face book, and do not any longer get email alerts that anyone has reached out to me in any manners. I shoo am surry Massa Zoidbergh sur. Yech. And thus, I am not alerted when befriended now, as amazingly sometimes even I am, sometimes by hot Neapolitan nymphet’s, wow, and am not told I am in anyway spoken to there, as it took me five days to realise a buddy of mine had invited me somewhere, which of course, I wouldn’t set foot in shudders--Maryland, but still, It would have been nice to have know this, while I ignore that dump, at least to say thanks to them, or respond back to Cyn, or such, as I have a feeling she and other people there already see me as self centred and aloof as I already am.

But, In that vein, a lovely brunette --actually really a word Word may not let you utter--named Kartina Richardson, gave me “a Like” for a bit of AR posted here, was it the rapture…? I do not recall, and I was like the little twit in the brilliant South park satire of Facebook, and achingly sadly, it made my day. And, I am finished with AR so far, printed it in nine point, single spaced type, as it is only 48 pages thus, and am sending it to be copy written in the library of congress, so again I am never as verbose, sadly, as I think I am. But it seems we are in a revenge worthy time, as I saw coming, and tomorrow, the referee who blew all those calls against Seattle, in super bowl XL, and the incubus which gave us the virus known as Worthlessbureger-- patent pending--and hasn’t he paid you back well--is doing the Stealers- Seahawks game, as such a flourish, is bouquet of garlic from Gödel to a team who he wishes he never bothered to pay off. A fat man hagiographer named Gene Collier too old and too fat now for the blasé laconic Charles Portis act he played out before, called the bad calls 'a fable' on the Pompeiani show, but again, Rotheiebshgher they say wants him fired over some slight, perhaps bringing up the five turnovers, caused by one man last week as Ray Ray licked his chops like Wendy just showed up--as he did get Joey Porter banished from the kingdom.

As, like I say Signora Fortuna is a bitch, and too late with the Rothelisburgers and the Obamas do you unromantic mined realise, Oh so this is the way this stays, huh…? So, to the Rachels and the Rogers and the Kartina’s, and the John Batchelors, I didn’t mean to be pushy by sending out excerpts of this book to you, and if they were long winded and verbose, I did, unlike some mentioned here, the best that I could, and didn’t mean to bore you, as a Manzoni would say, on purpose. Scorsese-land is falling apart, the lead paint and the whirlybirds and the rocket ship cars are chipping and smoking, and the seedy carnival is populated by drunkards and perverts, like the sun, Circus will out too.

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