21 September 2011


WAR IS FABULOUS!
or,

THE ACHILLIAD RAH RAH FAG BEACH PARTY DANCE MARATHON A GO GO SHINDIG SPARTAN ROCK AND ROLL JAMBOREE SPECTACLE RACE MUSIC HOEDOWN.

I have completed Ancient Romance, the Catalogue of Italic Gods, a little more than ten years after I started it, which for me, who has been working on a detective novel and a superhero created in 1980 and 1978 respectively, is a bit rushed.

In September 1979, during an interminable English class, I wrote to NBC with a idea for a pilot called Friends From School, about four high school buddies, three goofballs and a pretty Jewish brunette, no fooling,to get in all the Yiddish we could, who couldn’t let their high school lives go past them, couldn’t break past it, a series comedy in the then MASH style. They sent me a two page letter about how to go about legally getting something to NBC offices, which was better than anything sent to me as of late. The later NBC show,which seemed like it though, was offered to a now aging cougar dance partner of Springsteen named Cortney Cox, lovely then, who dutifully stepped aside for a human growth named Jennifer Annoying, whose lose of ingenue status will make her go ape crazy banana shit Shelley Long on us all, soon enough. And this, without even a meeting of Jews with q ratings in hand. I know that what you like in your brunettes, however, in finishing this book, and publishing it myself, prove I just cant quite do as you have trained the darkies so to do.

Still, I felt a need to complete this, at least this earliest part, as was meant to show a historical figure, an actual composite of a Tuscan ruler I renamed as Aquila, but from his praetorian, a historian, and an enemy, and placed the three side by side. But now , I find after days and days of dealing with the Rachel’s and the fox news and the GE theatres of the world, I have taken out the original parts of Sabine astrology to save, and shall say good bye to the Becket like pope, Marcus and so, revert it back to the fairy tale writer, Victor Curricula, which it started with, as like Machiavelli said, the political is, when all is said and done, quite boring, only the aplomb of Roman Bill seem at all even human as this Negro tap dances for fun and profit. So, too, I called the bluff, that thing Bill said that Romans and he do not do if they are honest and decent, and wrote my Tuscan book, as then heard some asshole on the radio screeching about ‘a funny thing happened on the way to the forum‘, as how could someone make a musical about the Romans, as this would be would like making a musical about the Nazis. Well, who could argue with that….?



I did recall this asshole and emailed him and asked if he saw the Producers. He, when I first got this machine , then emails me a long winded diatribe, about how evil the producers are, and blah blah blah, listen pal, I was making a satirical aside, look, -- I do not really care. That has been the bane of my existence. I am the Juvenal that faggot Jew queers pretends to be, and they get mad at me, and they think I care, I am rooting for chaos, as nihilist was a insult only In English. But I did wrote my book where somehow, the Romans were the enemies, the villains long before the Jews and the Germans and the rest who just love actuating the part of perpetual victims, and it was actually shocking how I got you to stand up for Rome, as funny, I, Calabrian as Victor the fairy tale writer, couldn’t quite bring myself to do that anymore either, as I have been fatigued by the hailstorms, no where to run, and all that.

But, I was very glad to hear my own words come back to me, that it seemed by ear that my indigenous Italian folktale was read by a great sports show caller here named Ed From Bloomfield, who called the dreaded Fan radio here in Pittsburgh, and spoke of Calabrian 'Romulous and Romulous' to quote CRISSY HITCHENS, that it was the brother who was named Romulus , and the usurper brother survivor took the name, capitulation and all, and this made me feel good, as my man Ed doesn’t call these wops from the island anymore, as he calls them all 'game show hosts'. Hhehehehehehhhhh…



Turan. from a picture of Wendy Fiore.

But, I did see something heinous last night, in going through the channels, as its appeared they were having fag parties about the repeal of do not ask do not tell, --especially who voted for it or singed it to law, please, and I found this repulsive. I realise we are in the age of decline and fall, and there is nothing funnier, but I just wondered, how many of these smiling faggots will be tap dancing to camp Le Juno after this is over, how many fagots will Roman up and be left to die on and burnt pyres, while ied’s explode on their faces, as opposed to dicks on fire island… I wonder how many will sashay to the front, after this grand old time. Once I was asked at a Christmas party if I was having ball, and said, I’m having a gay old time, and they made me dress for gym at the Arco station! I wonder how many maggots will be barbequing to the front, or are they far too White--what Gay means--for such as that. Unlike Rome, Sparta has no literature no propagandas at all, as there, well, such things were just exacted. And, in this horrid spectacle, there was Mama Lugosi, grinning from ear to ear, though I believe back in the house days she with Clinton voted for this, ah, must be growth of the RFK time, or complicated as it is when it turns our Jackie O saw Martin Luther Queen as a deceitful creature, as did, frankly, Marcus Garvey, the only black activist who doesn’t make me think of step-in Fecit. Then we hate Proto Roman anything. It made me recall the nun who told me, wherever there is death, there the yentas are--she was Polish --as they love death, as they are meant to do.

So, as felt prodded to do when saw Marcus Aurelius and Virgil ere a closest thing to gospel to Bill Clinton, this horrid nigger becoming the star child, pushed me to complete this first act of AR, at least that much a an answer to him, and his equally egregious enemies, or at least those who pretend they are his enemies while he capitulates like the good little boy he dreams of being., I have broken down and taken some advise though, and went at In This Golden Age, my collection of satire, in a more Juvenal, less ass kissing Jew boy long island John Stewart nee Johann Libovitz way, and took out much of what I had written about O’bama and Rothelsibegeher, as it a too Capote and womanish for my GV sensibilities. You have no Juvenals , much less Virgil’s. Just faggots who sue Google as a sissified weapon as they then bleed for closet pansies who kill themselves over the same thing, which of course cant be done to them, not the passavante, God knows, ever.

Ah, but the likening of Dante and his delineation of Sicilian elites rings truer now than ever. And how about my man Tony Romo in our Rothelebergehr age, with the fan radios becoming wastelands and only the mean crank yanking calls coming through--do pray you do not get calls about Harold Carmichael guys…How about my man Romo the homo showing up, as Woody would say, the better part of genius, and for that matter winning, who knew…? There is decency in taking a stand, after all, and after a while dying that 800th time cannot be worse than just standing up. As too, I felt a need to complete this, as is continuation of King Italus, the story mentioned in the previous post, of the Saturnalia party, as that was published by impressed Jesuits when I was fifteen, and yet, I cant remember if I had nor not even told much less showed it to my father, or if he even knew about it. Again, I called your bluff and found you all damningly pro Roman, as you did not know who the Etruscans were, much less the Sabine’s, and you all liked it that way, fine.

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.