06 November 2011
01 November 2011
ACRI ON VIRTUE.
Around 2003 or so, or now that I think of it earlier than that, on the radio here in Pittsburgh was a old drunken sort named Bill Bennett, blathering with his shtick about virtuosity and such, on the public access NPR channel, or something that might as well been that. To show how bored I was before Coppolla doth made a Roman out of me, I listened to this drivel, and saw the American incanted ethic of “when found wanting, double down and go harder and faster“, a Uncle Milty ethic, which found its absolute nadir in Triumphal Nigger Jim, who carries his own bunting with him now, as he avoids the praetorium that Roman Bill didn’t leave, even and especially when wanting to feel brunettes up.
So, I was listening to this prattling stooge, who does the whole cheap, gruff but loveable shtick, not that I am above that, or pre se above anything, but still, I try to not put it on so much as so many do, like it was I cant believe its not Virtuousness crock spread, oozed in my various nooks and crannies. And, I heard him going on and on with his bible stories, which the Jesuits had deconstructed for me as a boy, and his love of explaining to us what the Greek word for sodomy was, etc. And he said that the word Virtue came from the bible, showing again, in dark ages on in the Regan frost, as in droll Mad Magazine even those who wore mortarboards knew shit about anything. This was before we found out he likes to go for Seven the hard way, do not they all, and it’s a shmere of honorific which makes the hidden sin all the more sweet and succulent, as any Jesuit might say, at least out loud, as opposed to most.
The word Virtue, which festooned his book like the previous mentioned margarine, actually isn’t Jewish or Greek, the only ethics the white trash can seemingly pretend to abide, but in fact, comes from the Word Vur, the Etruscan word for ‘Man‘, as I found in gathering the bits and shards of Etruscan thought and history fore what was then just called The Book of Etruscan wonders. To show virtue even today, means to literally, like Puzo intoned, ‘Act like a man‘, which is why when one doesn’t act like a man, and puts on the shtickle of self righteousness, there is a real affectation and stink of pork fat niggardly bullshit effeminacy, see Obummer, above--Possibly now in a new light, as I explained why it the more he facades, in his sand dances, and acts the boxer image alas like Rudy, the lower his polls struck down, as no one quite buys this latest Lie.
So, being a bitch, I called in the AM station he was on, and asked him did he think the word Virtue came from the bible, as in fact, Virtu, was a word in a three word pledge taken by Romans from the Etruscan league, and made to recite by Roman centurions, in Virtu, Gravitas, and Dignitias, none of ethos words meaning what white women and albinos at GE theatre think they mean at all. Oh yes, he said, yes but, he said, almost like a Jew joke, in like, Yes, he lied,-- and all of that, and to be cunt, I asked him if there were any Romans in his book, and he deferred actually saying something Jews not so pompous had tole me starting then, that in fact, ‘the audience is all, as Plautus would say, and after all, the white trash cheaters weren’t the right audience to bring up the more meaningful aspects of Roman Duty. That, his word, swerving from Virtue immediately, as I suppose a good barista, republicans and democrats share this malady, would do. Was he like Augustus, our latter day signet saint, our patron of the dead decline, Augustus and Virgil rolled into one, issuing Good Aeneas as a totem for the nation that just then was starting to go off the rails, as Roman Bill had figured when he tried, like Cato, to make the good for nothing Coconuts all get jobs, which seemed harsh, but after all, business is business, and those were go- go times, were they not…? Wouldn’t it be funny if the man who gave us welfare reform and do not ask, do not tell, showing a real Roman strictness behind his love of buxom pizza delivery gals, wouldn’t it be funny if that man was the first to win two elections as democratic president after FDR, and the man who wiped his accomplishments clean and bleeds money and purell is somehow …not…?
Oh no…!, the singer of Virtue said, almost horrified, this was nothing to be compared to Virgil, showing our white women and their love of Nabokov has had its toll taken, as if I had just compared him to a maker of limericks there before the Jewish matron who, in the Tony Bruno mentality, showed a due deference all Jews are meant to have when a white master of either party enters the room. I call that pulling a Stewart--or a disco Stu. That, he said, seemed far too--stoic, if I recall his misused word, such a name as Aeneas was far too hard core, far too Roman, who by then had been disported to either being Easter time Nazis and an amorphous recollection of what Italians were before they all became wheezing babbler blond cunt loving balding almost Arabs who lived in lead pipe drainage ditches. But why would that BE, I asked, in that, you, he, is the one slathering yourself with talk of virtuousness and such, or, to be more Florentine than Roman has the right thing become synonymous with shooting the wounded, as niggers do,--note that no garbage pail nigger kid throws anything through blackrocks windows in Spike’s death throws anti Jew warrant of Network difficulties, as opposed to demanding pictures of Scott Joplin on a wall that niggers didn’t own, --or up in niggardly class, is it merely meaning saying the right things when your palm in greased, as nigger Obambie shows so well can be done, as he takes every side of every issue.
I asked him, wait a second, Virgil in his grim and gray and sad brilliance, showed the punch lining of a unfunny joke, he showed the joke book itself which would later be found across the moon by Dante and his behoving Tennessee. Why would Virgil’s sad, Greek hated, epic so get such a reaction from this mean little figure the night before just hid at the dice tables, who like his equal opposite Mikey Moore, thinks one can be both self righteous, insufferable, virtuous, to sue their word, --and morbidly obese…? This is the creation I was wanting to get. I wanted to , recalling my Jesuit training, to get the man to put the noose around his own neck--, if I may use that analogy, if the word and image of Nooses hasn’t yet become a trademarked image owned by operation Push. After all, no white sixties gmen have been placed on trail in double jeopardy because of the conspiracy to hang Vanzetti or put Salvetti, an innocent man, into jail while the FBI allowed wop criminals free reign, but then, do not expect that film starring Johnnie Depp, or the dago horde or made by Scorsese anytime soon. And do not expect Roman Diaries either.
Are you saying then Bill, I asked, that being virtuous doesn’t have a darkest side to quote the dread Lucas, dear…? Are you saying that this is perpetual sunny, perpetually meaningless con job Christerism, old fool…? That Book, the Aeneid, is important because it shows not everything is Jewry Greek bullshit, fatso, sometimes you must stay devoted to something, even though you lose all, but know that going in, kids, that it would easier to do nothing, or anything else, but after all, you, is the second person pronoun Machiavellian, which even the scat man tap dancing bo jangles had to tap dance away from. You, the prince, the whole the everything, this everyman, God of the seal, YOU want the epithets added to your name, you wish to be the deer slayer, you wish to lead men, no one asked you, you are chasing your devotions, you are chancing fates, following skirt like Bill Clinton, My Man, with a quick glimpse of Wendy Fiore, you are chasing fate, old man, you have mounted your steed, you asked to be captain, you wish to be the boy of esteem, and you think you can what now…Talk…? Bullshit your way about…? That’s too O’bama for the room, as we see now. Though the incessant mouth that roared cant quite seem to find any words of consolation to Occupy Wall street, as again the words of Pope Pius the third ring true. Which you might have just lost, and no amount of GE accountants can make you not seem fraudulent again. Left handed salutes are worthless, if not literately Sinister at heart, like upside down standards. Rome to him, like those who prattle about their own affections of barbarism made decent, saw the word Rome as an anathema, when in fact, as it was for the Jesuits and any Italian worth his salt, Is an honorific with a serrated edge, and in fact, is a warning.
2. And now, going trough the channels waiting for Batman, and IASIPhilly, as a late night snack of sorts, I see where something I said seemingly has made a flicker in Bill Bennett’s one arm bandit gleaning eyes, as suddenly the other Roman Boot has dropped, and in fact, his latest codex and collection is after all, --on manliness, and the art of Virtue, as in being a man.
Of course I could be a bitch and say what does this graphite smeller pencil --ateer know of being a man after all, and again, I am sure his book is American sanitized and Roman Free, as he better than most knows the audience he is going for, as to be fair he is slightly less egregious than the colleted fox news Jews who seem to either be playing it straight, or are alas not in on their own jokes. To me the only thing worse than a chicken hawk is a Hollywood liberal quoting Marx from her caddy on route to the late show, but then I am Roman about such things, after all. He now goes on Hannity, as gone now are yenta Pittsburghers who rail against Rachel dearest for having stolen her “act“, yes she has said as much, again showing the truth of things that this was in fact a Jewish act, showing Uncle Milty, Thou hast conquered vaudevillian, !--and says with a straight face through the chins of excess and imperialism, that you know, Virtue is a word meaning Manliness, which the wall banger knows will anger his usual bribed opponents, lest anyone ever see through this farce of shit.
I had to ask that day William Bennett if he knew what virtue, the enchanting word itself, meant, and now, in the state of constant tap dancing of all our imperial stooges, he seems to have looked it up, or maybe not, as he follows the word back to its etymological roots, as seemingly has gotten another book out of the definition.
I have just used an on line service to PDF the first part of AR, soon to be sent out and perhaps made an eBook if i can afford the add on. I had to finish this, as I shall Mister Stupendous monetarily, as a show of my own devotions, --as did I ever say how it was that an editor wanted the fairy tale parts of AR in 2004, but not the surrounding story, and asked me if I made up the parts about the Sabine’s and the Samnites, the Indians of Italy, --well yes, I did, but being an accomplished liar I merely took what I had heard else whether and recalled it here. It is fiction, but irrefutably true, yet. And the Romans really did leave piles of Samnites bones in the wind and as pyramids, as a warning to the italics then, until they saw the Italic Tribes as Nat Geo dismissed them all, --instructing words-- make these things into a kind of strange monument, which is why even an incompetent and a silly little man like Obama and his death squads wish to slip their victims quietly into the sea, ala the Vikings of Mother's preened fore bearers. I had to be devoted to this whole masculine ideal, in ways the smiling lesbians and the Jews would never understand, as they forgot all about this sensibility I inflame in myself with that first regular consortium check, which comes from house everything-ism.
You see, it bothers me that some comic hack shit hole, from that Dirk the queer was exiled, who said I was a “blogger” with derision, as every house nigger needs a porch upon which he is allowed to monkey, no…?, and so enraptured with the ideal of a gatekeeper he would troll under any bridge. They said I was anti commix, again using the diminution of the shallow, and I thought, nigger do not hurl that monkey ape crazy banana shit at me. I hate your comic, bro, to be Sondheim about it, I hate your silly ugly, everyone looks like a geek with iron poor blood, thin lined, unsubstantial comic, fuck head, and do not tar me with your middlebrow shit, you goons.
I am many things, but a comic queer I am not, as would never think so much of my self to secretly tape a man for making a living and embarrass him in asking he draw more like the venial King Con, Jack Kirby. I wouldn’t ask that of anyone. I have loved comics since a kid, and found Captain Marvel, Pogo, Popeye and other things they seem not to count. When I was a boy the great Yvonne Craig, cutie pie supreme, when Brunettes still mattered, was in an ad council spot about Fair wages, which Somehow, the rite to infanticide even got to, but then I read Livy and am never surprised, as the lawyer king would say. NOW, in their glory days of noble times, Batgirl was turned into a rape victim and a paraplegic, lest leg kicks in Emma Peel spandex bother the Todd’s. Wasn’t it the dread Warren Ellis, or one of his of course Goth brunettes--Beatrice’s are inconceivable in our neigh--, who asked me when I brought up Alexander Calder, emitted a loveliest middlebrow, “Who…?” In addition, is my blog less Bewildering --a good lesbian word--now the Hillary the Worm is not president,-- at least, not yet…? Although to be fair, even beyond these scolding’s of some, and I did mentioning in passing a English magazine had liked the anti Bush, anti everything feelings of In One Magic Word, as did some comic editors who didn’t want to use it anyway, but who were driven to like the sentiment, --story of my life--,but, do recall that Captain Marvel made this rag’s 100 best comics of the millennium and Superman and batman and Spiderman did not, so that is something after all. So now, with my using Spunky bitchy Corsetto as a guide, a real book is made, more Cosmicomics than Persepolis. And the Book is 291 pages, though, like all I have done for a good while, at page one it is far too long for some.