IF WE CIRCUITS HAVE OFFENDED….

I am sorry about any pushiness on my part, as keep getting a page that turns white when I try to post anything. Still I must show that two years ago saw where we were headed with Ed Schlitz as a Sejanus, as eventually even the sacred words of Roma are trashed as everything is. I do think it is funny that the one time Erkle actually did something without strings, sequestration, the Latin abounds when one is an illiterate, attached he might have sowed the seeds of his own destruction, showing again, once thou start capitulating you have to keep at it. Too Jesuit...?

Personally I have been busily reworking the chapter of Ancient Romance, called the Life of Canniolinus, a perfect noble backdrop for the sorts of nimrods that this nation comes up with, using the backdrop of a failed senate long before this one. When I was a boy, the priests taught me well that there was a sadness to the Romans, that this toilet nation couldn’t touch, and I am trying to endorser that in my booklet here to be offered up on smashwords as an addendum for free--sorry I just had a mini stroke--, but again I know what I am doing, as I can make vestals better than any two bit nigger queens with gubs, who like the earlier sopranos cant get off the snowy mountain, showing again I might have been on to something. The 2000, not kidding, page views each month that I engendered in late 2012 seem gone now as have stalled back into the 700s, more or less, fine by me. And, as I have spent a few days with computer travails again, someone seed fit to castigate me that my blog came up when the words “Obama, half breed nigger” were placed by her in the computer and going to stats, a struggle as what isn’t on this box anymore, saw that I got 22 page views just by that. In that being Jesuit trained don’t trust when a gloss of decency is packed upon the venial and the political, especially by the GE boys of the chorus, so much is for sure, as on Charlie Rose saw the heinous Tony Kushner, the bloated transvestite who wrote Lincoln, who has to now apologise for his hagiography, though God knows that this dying Yenta who seems to be changeling a bad John Tutoro imitation dint take it on the chin as did FATHER GORE, who dared mention that perhaps before the transfiguration at fords theatre that Lincoln was a just an Augustus admiring lover of empire and a Politician to boot. Augustus has been since sanitised into Percales, an uncared for Shakespeare play, as his crimes were done in Africa and Sicily and thus in mob wives land, unimportant.[Bering a shmrat ass, I used to think I knew, to white women achita, what play it carefully was that Tony-boy stole his angel out of, though as I SAID, BEING ROMAN, it wasn't Meryl Streep, who I don't dislike, but still, as signora fortuna, I don't think so...,and she didn't come to see self hated Jew Roy Cohn, who was evil to twinkle toes in ways that first chair advocate to Senator McCarthy, kid brother rfk was not. But having had enough Jim and Cokes and gave up enough that I dint recall what Terrence play that was. Maybe it was all of them.--edit]

If this was meant to bother me it did not, as I said, my grandma was no jay hawk, and though that is a punch line, like most punch lines it is true. Or True enough. I recalled here as a little boy, being hand held by my pop who walked me downtown, and some fat monstrous Pollock woman telling him as a dark skinned Italian to go back where he had come from, this pollock seeing America as a lateral recreation of Warsaw, insert joke here. Or maybe all in all its more an recitation of Dachau. Again, Bammo is no Wendy Fiore when it comes to gathering eyeballs, or anything else, now that I think of it. This was to upset me as the caterwauling of white women, like the page views have gone down as I have treaded to Ancient Romances, and the life of a true martyr to the state, not fooling, like Kemeter I put a lot of my blarney in this, but too found just enough to ignite things too, and you know things are sad when housers start killing folks because they cant get the sort of tin praetorian Sejanus badge that white women have been giving Sicilians and injuns for millennia, as honorarium, that’s bribes to Obama, and his ilk, are everything. I have had a nice time away from face book, and the computer more or less, as have been trying my hand at the sort of Sallust like writing I have been enamoured since Christmas 1974, when those fairies in black, seeing their own aids up deimise as much as anything, told me to keep the tatters of all thing Roman sacred. I almost emailed the white woman back, well, Hun, why are you goggling "Obama half breed nigger" at all, and my keyword brining me 34 views was 'killed after standing behind Obama', in this last week, showing perhaps people are figuring again, I knew what I was talking about when I called Bammy Darius, unable to keep his blue flags of Persia from falling to Alexandrian queer fire.


On the net, some have remarked to me that Jingo unchained, a post for which my first 7 day dismissal from face book took place in Saturnalia, --one can only hope the sec isn’t so circumspect, --seems to reflect much of the four swell guys disliked Roman Mythology. Down to the bounty hunter ally of Jingo being a dentist, like Imperial Vito was in Patavium, as they try to save Clementine from the roost of the mafia don-plantation owner, Philip in RM owned a candy store-bakery based on a place called Gabe’s when I was a kid, and was called in the book Candyman. But then Brutus was a banker and not an honourable man. To quote Calvino about Shakespeare, concerning Tarantino, he steals from giants and always gets it wrong anyway.



But I was taken at how much better the mad dash of house negro praetorian wannabe smiler with a gun Dorfman or whatever Fat Albert name was. seemed to mirror a book I did a few years back called Big Bertha and the mafia cops. It down to Marius the mad man having a vendetta against the police and killing cops leavening inspector Beggillimini with a few loual cops, as the corrupt sergeant took a pretty waitress hostage. In the end, ala Hannibal and Scipio, happy black history month yall, the derailed cop asked whey so embay cops as corrupt as he, ran to help Ennius, the inspector and not him who as a brother in crime and bribes. As the inceptor tells him, I think rightly in one of my best scenes, no Italian worth his slay actually likes the mafia or their on the pad cops, and when push came to shove, they died with noble decent and incorruptible Ennius, no one will die or go to jail or kill for Marius’ right to be a tin badge holding gelding, praetorian guard who hashed out. I know one thing, maybe the lapd had a point when Fat Albert was crashing into call those cares into walls, a bit jittery are we Cattiline, …? Or wait,  was he was more of a Spartacus, tiger type. Ouch. All he had to do was steal a car, hot wire it and slowly go off the mountain with a three day beard and a coming in afro, and slip into absurdity if not the happiest place in the world, Tijuana Mexico, But insted was slamming into trees like Sonny Bono. What are you, in the free Poland movement…? You from the Polish wing of al Kida, tough guy…?



But what told me again I am correct again, as on a right side of things, as as the winds whoop in sequestration, as the media starts to turn, lest king of sequestration, don’t sue the Latin if you cant do the time, bub!, bring them all down, I posted to Bill Clinton’s page knowing he is up to something, as chess piece Carvel the ice cream man was sent out in the Wait until dark his entire life has been. Again posting is tight, and the three computers I thought I had turned out to be two burned out husks and a nice HP which is not pimped out as it ought to be, and I packed a link for Veronica, a part of Ancient Romance: life of Canniolinus, to Bill Clinton's page. But by fate, the picture that was posted in the link, as always a small picture of mine is, wasn’t the Sabine helmet, which I am sure would be admirable to Brother Bill, but instead was a picture of a winking Wendy Fiore, divine she as signora Fortuna, against another Italianate like image that could reach the innards of Clinton the man in ways all could understand. There she was smiling and winking as if the Turan of the book to the man who deep down still wishes to set fire to the senate in a Cattiline and not Spartacus way. It seems as I have actually heard someone on Chicago radio sneer at Showtime and their show about Spartacus, amusing how low he has fallen as now sanely the people start grumbling about YOUR imperia, do not listen that man!--, as being a low brow and a hero, now beneath contempt, as he was when the Jesuits despised him and anyone who thought the Romans fresh from Veii city where 50, 000 people were killed for the crime of being in Roman ways, that they’d be stumped by this, you haven’t read Sallust, then, and this moment like seeing Wendy winking on Bill Clinton’s page as if somewhere some woodland critters of Ovid now in the circuitries got the joke, it all made me laugh.