11 February 2012


I found several  ripped images of my comics yet were somehow saved or at least not thrown away in other pages, as though I couldn't part with them even though i had somewhat decided it was time to grow up and be a hack.  A handful of scraps had to be put together to in 4s to make pencil images of pictures done before I stated to  take the advice of a legendary artist I met at a comic site and started tearing pages in half to be more complainant. I got my share of angered responses when I sent out Roman Mythology, as people were then on the outlook for a another Harry Poofter, which even a lobotomy, or a bottle in front of me, I couldn't give them. Why did I ruin these Roman or Tuscan fairy tales with my unwanted Political diatribes, I was accosted, as if trying to get away with something.

Still, I have at last tired of the Roman Lessons, as I guess I did as a boy when I couldn't imagine Georgetown, and another go round with the burlap brothers, this time, as affable as ever, they admired my King Italus at 15, ah, but a growing gloom of virulent Pneumonia, which I had heard of before even the elated Rent theater goers, as I saw those angels in America since 1970 as a boy. And they called Newt, did the masters of the party and told him, for the good of the cause, to back down and not go Catiline, and he, as outspend by Love at first Bite Romney, who believes in nothing, did back down, not that it helped, a positional I know all about. I was hoping to for Newt to go Sallust here, or at least Clinton, and shove it all in the faces of the over eating womanized like saint umhummmhummmumph Joan, and their acceptably matrimonial fags, but he backed off, sadly, always first mistake I refuse to make.

Then I see Newt destroyed by closet everythings for Count Chocula, the first man to give the republic socialized medicine, and I realize again, I was always on the right track. Why bother with the Roman studies here in Niggerland, as after all I have been more a chronicler of Johnnie Gammage than any Augustine playwright or house light bulb coon on television, and why bother...? You know the true leaders of the Senate, no not ever the ones ever who walk around in gilded skirts and who hold golden lariats, but the true leaders, who dont go on cable TV, they asked Catiline to back off, and if he did, hed be made Pope, a position Caesar demanded, knowing its worth, for life, and he basically told them to eat it as he did Spartacus, and I wonder if now a cable television star, if that meeting between Spartacus and mad Catiline could be wedged in the miniseries, though I doubt it. If I ever had to be shown that Machiavelli was right and that the political is a banquet of rancid food served to beggars I know it now, and you'll miss Newt, especially with our Monsignor Rick as he runs for the same post that Caesar wanted, the Papac--Praetor. I cant wait for that closet to bust right open. They, the men of the steps , having emasculated Newt, now ask Tallulah Romney to back off of destroying Rick, so good luick with that one. He isnt smart enough to back off, as in Destroying Newt he, like Cicero, destroyed himself. They liked Newt-Cattilne,as he was defender of the state when you were still a pimp. They don't like you, no matter what ass you kiss. Did I mention I was taught by Jesuits....? Meet me at the Arch of Severus. As Niccolo said, I am never shocked, yet am always disappointed.

I wonder If next I could just write a fairy tale, no gulags, no raped girls, no Tuscan armies, no Roman generals, no destruction of Tuscan Veii, no pugnaciousness on my part, as I made enemies in refusing to Di Nero it up. I wonder if i could cobble just a fairy tale, as sweetly innocuous as Narnia. But then, I read it all in the official Italian, and so...I once wrote an x rated version of Lord of the rings , and an Oxford educated editor tole me I had a even better ear for adventure than I did for fetish, --a mere bag of shells.