26 October 2012

MISTER STUPEDNOUS LIVES --PART 2



 THE BETTER MAN.


On Christmas Day, 800 AD, Charlemagne crowned himself, with pope along for witnessing, as Imperator Romania. or Prince for the Empire of the Romans. When he was asked by a vicar why he took this title and not the title of the kings as was done by the Franks before, because aren't the Romans gone, Charlemagne responded the Roman will never be Gone.

I thought of this as isn't it funny after all the rape and woman shit, the tap dancing and the falderal, that this year, as I have never seen before there wasn't one whopping liquored up injun, not one golden eagle feather seen  not one Martial Rain dance, yes the Romans had rain dances, and sclaping, who knew...? There wasn't one nigger not giving common cause to one noble savage this October 13th, the ides of October, not one. I heard nothing of the JEWS OF MEZZO AMERICA, this good Roman Year, but did hear the Old Cosimo of Medici Tower old Jack, wonder of drones and melotto honeys and lipstick lesbians and human bratwurst Pollocks, on parade, I did hear him bellowing for R and D to work on their accidental Presidents better. Someone is ascared of losing New Jersey. I would take a victory lap in that it took until Thursday, October 25, 2012, no roman front numbering for them, the New York Times to see the snake in the marble who as Bill Clinton, and how he desecrated poor Jimmie's assault on Parnassus. I would but cant. AS I DO LOVE Bill, roman irrevocably vulgar snide smiling Bill, but still even I cant find joy in this, as after a while, someone please do tell president Romo, you know something wolf who cried Boy, maybe its you're fault, as a few weeks ago the cowboys, beware  the dogs, lost a game in which they ran for over 200 yards for the first time ever. And Brutus is an honorable man.








I went to a localish comic shop  and was offered the box of the whole new fifty two by an affable bear of a comics man, for a dime, 10 cents a copy. How much is that, I asked. My Brother, sharper than I, rolled his eyes and said 13 dollars, thinking the box was marked like the others, at a quarter. No, the bearded looking boy man said, even better, Five dollars and 25 cents! Omnibus, indeed. If you want  it, my brother said, buy it I'll put it in the trunk. It is kinda big I thought...and looked inside and saw all the comics had their indicia torn off and that there was copies of Superman number one, allegedly, with superman in a unitrard, a gay wad dream , so unlike MS who is busting out all over, less Hercules and more Baryshnikov, eccch, at least go Nureyev, and that he was holding a globe atop fire, and the block lettering of superman there since 1939 was ripped off. Quite telling, don't you think....? I took some floppies out of the box, sited, including cat woman and Demon knights, as am thinking about the medieval in my Italic panoply having done Cold war rust belt Buffalo, and Eturria now, and I bought some Black hawks, which seems to be about pilots. But I didn't buy Superman last Sunday, I found I couldn't.











2. My Ma asked to go to bed early, but didn't want to go to sleep, just lie down as is tired. I stayed with her, as she asked, and when I put it on Fox for her as I leave it till she falls asleep, she disgusted waved her hand at Hannitty, and said get rid of this shit, in Italian. Rachel made her sadly turn up her nose. The voice of the people is the voice of God, everyone, again that isn't in any Bible, Glenn or Keith it is in a book called the Annals by the last Etruscan Writer Ennius. Why wouldn't you have listened to these people, the Italians, as I did. Why in gods name would you listen to Jews and Irishmen, one who cant stop CRYING and chosen who cant stop laughing. Reedi, Palllacchooo.The GE apparatchiks hope another night of Rape politic and ignoring emails on Hillary letter head, sent to Fox as she doesn't quite trust Anderson, who is on the intent looking for those who had their wee wee's played with as inspector Gadget meets the Onion news network. I am not so sure. I think if you don't have the yentas and the over stuffed double stuffed blabbing hens on your side yet, Rastsus, I wouldn't tap dance anymore, but then dignity is nothing I have always sadly demanded here in Ebert Land. Maybe a few Rape allegations of your own, bitten lips, your own and others, perhaps a few trips to following girls to the toilets and you wouldn't be hemorrhaging women, Erkle, as like children and Arabs, they appreciate the strong horse.

My mother said something I never thought id hear her say, Isn't South park on...?, she said, Do watch that and tell King Muhammad -[Obama], to lesse lei pache.PERHAPS THE State Department could often sue the Dante passages about Muhammad to explain their perpetuous Arabesque unease and violence, of course that would be a story of their imperia in Sicily which the poet recounted, which wouldn't go well with a group of people who sue Catalonian Seville Spain as their Quinticentimo. Of course these being just Sicilians who Dante said built a school of poetry which was his impetus, would anyone in Coppolaland even care..? I saw in the Halloween parade that is shown on TCM, a movie called the Raven, starring giants of Hollywood horror, those who use poison oak as mistletoe, the snide and sweaty Peter Lorre and the urbane and slightly queer erudite and laughing Vincent Price and the almost senatorial and baronial baritone rock faced Boris Karloff as three wizards having little to do with that dreadful poem by that awful death cult English writer and like lesbians aren't they all...? There was more verve and vitality and magic dare I SAY in their technicolor movie than in all the harry potter bullshit I have ever's seen,which  Alan Moore, a student of Kemeter it is said now, and bishop of that preclusive Roman equated Snake god saw was a dreadful thing. Why would one go about the trouble of being evil if they had to be so goddamn trudge about it and joyless. But then why would a thug like Obnama have entered politics so worried about running out of Purelle. Ah, yes, the bribes. Well, now the bribes are all you are left with as you continue to never dance for your father.






I watched  Charlie Rose, and he had a he had a requiem for Christopher Hitchens, who as I said, I was glad could get in before  the wire and hurls some invective back at both him and William F Buckley before both dropped dead, just to show my Jesuit training as immutable and absolute. I felt bad, not for Chrissy, but for me, as usual. Roman to the bone. I felt bad as it all, like Miles Drentell, and isn't that an analogy which would make the god hater puke more, that Christopher seemed a complete fraud, not to speak ill of the dead and dull, but this Halloween perhaps that isn't a ghost in Roman Lybia, but he who trod the earth to arson the cape lest anyone forget the Spartan war dance is perpetual, to the end. It seemed so --fraudulent, his boy school Harrow chumminess with Final Netted white haired Grayton, it seemed so fraudulent and I thought of how he admonished Gore for not being willing to almost like a Jew burn every lesser Arab down to the ground, that will show them for having the temerity to have written Monotheism eons before Abraham in Gilgamesh. It was his dismissal of Gore, that Gore as the first or last Roman, --and against world wide wars on Terra, imagine that! That Gore was somehow doing  shtick, a con, as the conniver sees conniving everywhere. Ah but we don't have a Roman, only Bill among the chickens, and the niggers, but cable television is lousy with English schoolboys. And dosent fat English boy Piers look leeringly nervous.And bad hair day Grayton made a point damnnt that, like the Comics journal, ouch, damn these blogers, they are legion, and not one could hold Chissy's Cliff Notes, as he remembered the ghost of a past when bribes and being bought as Ovid would say, Meant something.  DIPAADIPADIPPDIPPP--AHHHHH. Its Christmas day, Mister Welch! 

And then, a light moment, as Charlie, who I like, asked, didn't Christopher, now eulogized as a Casear among men, by an Antony with very important hair, and sadly a wife who maybe shouldn't have had to be put through this, as he contributes still Live from Golgatha or at least from the Lethe, his march of time and pub even from the bowels of the inferno were he important enough to make that cut, and isn't just floating about looking for another White washed flag to spin about madly at, beaten with sticks by the hobgoblins of little minds, or universal ones, which Dante showed like heaven and hell; sue a similar opening. Charlie asked, didn't Christopher who was a boon to all men, Harry Potter with portfolio and OED at the ready, say "Not only must I achieve but my friends must fail". No, he was admonished with the fake laughs one would expect from Carter Grayton or Grater Carton, or whatever this soloist is, as his nastier witch woman Tina Brown was on Charlie the night before and said that Obama had several built in advantages in this contest, as did Arod, whiff!, and that as the bald one said from game change nothing is over, as Obama still has many speeches to make. No, no he asides with Charlie as the skunk at the wake, that was Gore Vidal, as again Virgil's Roman wholly Roman, Neapolitan by nature and by feet if not by birth, but Mantua is closer to Africa  than England, ghost enters the room with smirk and wink and a St Anthony finger at his sauced lips. That's was Gore, Charlie was corrected, and wasn't that the truth.

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