22 April 2013



I have been advised by some to keep my mouth shut about certain happenings, and all in all not a bad strategy, as said I was taking off until MAY Day, and have been flushed out of the brush of face book before even those finding themselves under surveillance now. But, on a happier Note, this is the anniversary of what was called Founders day, April 21st, on the Roman calendar the year 2766, where one gets their kicks. Mister Stupendous happens in year 2731, and Impiriumata happening on the 2753, so it has been a thread through my imagination. This is the day that Romulus the great took that bloody plow and killed Remus for having been a bit too Handsy, and at that moment 12 golden eagles, l’Aquila, came out of the sky from Father Jove, showing this wasn’t Cain and Able and these weren’t Jews, or Arabs, despite the passing resemblance. No Chosen people or master race here, from the beginning, from the foundation, sorry Bro, you have got to go. But then Rome is still there, despite all, still the most beguiling and enduring of all superpowers ever, as was said by a great show on pbs but which was pulled by the lovers of noble savages, in this case of course the Germans, you know, grandma, as opposed to the one about Arab classicism, which was taken down as happens when NPR gets the memos. If Christmas day is the only day the devil sleeps, as said in sweet and decent Italian fairy story, so today must Tom Shales, who cant understand the pull of Rome, takes a day to catch up on all the nuances of dire blood sport Sopranos which he missed, if he bothers to care at all. So, amid the unnoticed soot and clouds of ammonium nitrite and babbling lunchy New York congressmen never so happy, writings checks of playful fascism that even Fox cant cash, as we have our blond vestals on cue cry for those children who made it out of Kermit's swamp, if not a Toilet, do go to where the power lies, Remember the Titans, and read as a toast of Roman Rye, this excerpt from my massive book, done mostly for myself than anything, the first inclining of all art. I must say proudly I made it to the Romans, Etruscans even, as Copolla times shares his RED camera to any punk willing to pay, and Scorsese tries desperately to make his blood arts into something that AMC could show between zombies and the mucking up of things done better by Darrin and Sam and Larry Tate. Boy, it bothers me when the white trash make their tragedies about were they have to work, in bright lights, Vouging, or now at Dellafemina ad councils. A Horatian toast to the fat publishers row chick who lectured me about decency, just before the drones started to fly, and a drink to old Nicola, Bill C, Gore and Henry, lovers of Rome all, as remember the Tuscan line said by Ennius eons ago and placed by me in the mouth of senator Cornelius, speaking of fraying straps, “A Roman pacifist is a warlord who takes prisoners”, something even you arte not. Here’s and Idea to white folks so put upon at The New Yorker, quit-- and pick up a shovel. Its nothing I haven’t done before, thinking myself too good for the shrouding decay. In a masterwork called the Gallery, John Horne Burns writes of the Italay he saw in the war, and said spritely that the Italians had a push back in them, as opposed to the Irish, who stayed wounded all of their lives. Can’t you tell…? Salute.

Search: The media was kept outside of Watertown during the day-long search, that culminated with the discovery of the 19-year-old suspect who was found only after the lockdown was lifted


To paraphrase Machiavelli, the state becomes paranoid—Machiavelli like Ovid were favorites of Freud, --when the riches of the state are wholly owned by a crew of criminals, who see the only terror is their closets being busted into, and their precious gold being stolen, as who is more afraid of the dark then a criminal…? Pirates of the state like Shumah see pirates everywhere, always ready to assault the golden door, as did he and his plucky Kin…huh, lettim go ta back of the line like my precious nana Virbutz did, shaman Chuck can plaintively cry, keep the Ayerabs outtta the Mastres dis time, buuby…who needs some Tahhhhp…? Seeing old Boston Charley go back to form, Jonathan Turley’s paeans to Caesarism making him more jittery and nervous than usual, as msnbc gave us one white expert in fasciae after the next, well I was right and the pinkos are all owned by the war consortium that owns their Jewish lawyers with Roman titles, never a good move. The word Imperium is old Latin for police state, causing a stentorian to ask when Augustus called himself Imperator just whom is he occupying Rome for…? After all, Dear John Batchelor, I spoke only days ago of how prisoners were brought to Tyberius with their throats cut out as not to be able to speak, and a good acceptable clerk acting the role of notary Republic would imprimatur whatever case the patricians cops brought. And now,-- ta daaadh! But, as they wheeled out Minninio, like Chuck Strong you love your wops on iv drips, this is a triumph for Fox news and its Nero coo, wave the flag and cross your legs, Kimberly, as tank Gawd this happened as the white trash were asking where all the rounds went. How soon before the first flag drops, and white men speaking of public gallows now turn and speak of how they live under Tyranny. And too, terrorist is  a word well sued by Erkle and his white Heifer Candy of the heath bars, as the election is over and no longer must we placate the nigger stashed in tenements who feel a irksome bond with Palestinians beaten by sticks. I prefer, God help me, Rudy, at least not phoniest about it--But then it was talk like that that made Machiavelli be tortured by the di Medici, as they saw Italay not in the classical terms the Roman loving Nicollo did, but spindled as a going concern, which opened themselves up to Savonarola, as people don’t like being seen so openly as merchandise. As Nigger Jimmie is already onto the internet sales tax, as the truth comes out between him dancing to and from Wakes, as long as their on the same ways to the bag he has to pick up. But, I did notice that the terrorists are getting whiter, and please don’t ask me to sing along with Neal Diamond as you build tourism gallows after calling in Colonial Putin as the apparatchik from the inky dinky to break open the case. The sing alongs at the Gallows are too medieval even for me, as it bothers my inner Jesuit, but not enough for me to really care. I wonder shall their be added security at this Saturdays church weddings of cleaned and sanitized faggots...how could there not be...? Prosit!


Big mouth that I am, I always feel the need whenever these is a spasm of lynch mob mentality out there, to revert to my inner Jesuit, and say Enough. Not because I am so much a champion of anyone, no Peter King Irish -ly going about and buffoonery and between Grinders am I making sure the gruff Gumba-Jews see me asking for Blood that always turns out to be wrong, but instead I feel the Franciscan duty to something larger than Uncle Rupert’s or the electric companies bottom line. Consortiums were death of Italy, as far back as Veii, which can be seen in-- ANCIENT ROMANCE, AVAILABLE AT AMAZON .COM, as eventually any inner state can with enough money and enough creatures and yellers, with loud mouths and bullshitters cause the true prefecture of the nation to be submerged into the books of the consortium, who is doing the castigating. What bothers me Roman Antony more than anything this week, is the effect put on by Irish sod stew and stewed dirt gabbers, chicken hearted all, tough guys who act the part of some combo between Erik Severide, aren’t you missed Pontiff…?, WHO MY FATHER and Jesuits adored as the voice of God, who always never flew off the handle, and Bazooka Joe. Ah the arts and art of Martin Scorsese and Leo Gorsy, something the italics still bristle at, Jews too, but which the Irish see as their sanctimonious birthright. Ah But Murrow’s boys have been recalled by Imults Kelly girls, now sad that their weekly reader caliber canvassing incurred so many white faces, really cable news hasn’t seen this many white faces all in row since the Nuremberg trials, and now that the Fox Trot goes towards the welfare recipient status of our newest Tarpeas, well, all bets are off as the suddenly gastrulating and Irish day parade slinging and swinging, balled fists Rader Oreilly starts to make sure again the mezzanine and all the people in the dark know he, our Nora Desmond, is looking out for you folks. As he writes one hagiography of regicide after the next. I AM JUST glad to pieces he has never heard of Virgil, and would never attempt a Death of Virgil, already a masterpiece, which could make he and his ghostwriter head swim.

When the chicken hawks call out for the Roman Carmina of war, they don’t understand it, what with Jews and Irishman having avoided war most carefully as if a Chaney, as their superior cleverness, they think can be put to better sue as propagandists back home. But as Tranquillius said, All is Fair, and if you can take out whole villages, with wayward badly made GE War-bots, WELL THEN, Expect what you get. They are either soldiers or criminals, give them that much respect, as war cant just be a going concern, or else like Rome, you are finished. Perpetual war for partial profits never did any one any good. This morning I woke up and went to my email and found a letter from Amazon, a place I haven’t gone to to get so much’s a comic book since Christmas, again was asked if Id be interested in --Hannibal’s war. In this economy …? In Hannibal’s war, the Romans, who had a god of war, besides just Yahweah or Allah demanding scalps, took Hannibal in golden chains and parade him through these streets of Romea, to the senate, where he was saluted. Yes, General Mac Kane, that was a hell of a senate once. And in this showed a dignity, that they weren’t just killers, like at Cumae or Canaan,  who convicted themselves that God was on their side, and if fact called Hannibal the God of war, as who else but the Romans could bring him done…?, as he said with what Livy Calls ‘African cleverness’ and a smile on his bootblack face, his empty eye socket bandaged for utmost dignity. No need, I already read it. Like the Agricola, and read that the next time any of you Britanie’s think that you have supplanted the Jews as chosen people. Ireland fell to Agricola, my forebearer, in two weeks, something still bothersome to the carrying on drunkards, and a particular blue eyed Irish bigot nun I had, who thought that being called a credit to my thief race was the sort of thing that I would warm up to. You got the wrong wop, hunnnie.

I, Roman Tony, despise the backlash here, as to be honest and Romantically sound, one can not as Oreilly and his ilk do even now on MSNBC, make it a point of how the wedding parties that are strafed with anti aircraft fire are somehow to be fluffed off, and are so much a loss leader in our perpetual bookkeeping of patriotism, and then cry their usual Irtysh dirges, --to all the people who think I am an anti Semite as I said its Jews that have been kinder to me in Hollywood fallacies than anyone, and in fact, there is a reason I stayed clear of Lesley, after hearing how Momma Goulash, as my mother dismissed her, as I had no aspire to jump into the Frey of any Irish connotations, god knows. As she assured her daughter, who looked more Italian than not, that Gypsys had come and left her at their doorstep, to account for her Kinky hair. Wow. Mother of the year. Turrrra lutrrra lurrrahhhhhh, Oh God, give me a break. All I know is that if How to train your dragon Bilbo started yelling at me, I’d box his red and bloated ears and nose in, and we all know what that means, as national lampoon explained to our Catholic schoolboy delight how the Vargiiine Mahhry brought sour mash to Mother, is it Mother…?, Irrreland way back when.

And now, seeing the IRA defense team, against terreh-risrm, that’s rich. Of course darkies should expect drones, as Oreilly screeches about tyranny, you know now the election is over, and all, as there was a reason that JEWISH-ER fathers, Italians, Poles, the Wendy Mixture, disliked and discounted the always puffing always huffing, Irish, as they more often then not were the white trash who brought petaphila  into the convents, sorry. But true now as then. That’s why they are all distrusted cardinals now, they survived Aids, having made sure their concubines all had homework. And with Jesuits aplomb I don’t so much befriend the wild and crazy guys, as but, see the Roman ethic inherent here, don’t kill lest you be prepared to be killed, Peteah, Andrea and the rest of the continuum’s shareholders metering called the media. Be Roman, or do not. Ovid in a nutshell. Your blood is no more red than theirs, and about who started things, ah, you were the great empire who sides and bankrolled tyrants who tarred them like dogs. Either Go to war, or don’t, to paraphrase Napoleon paraphrasing Caesar. And, dear boys of Constantine, be prepared for what you become. I must admit as the old gray men garther to give a send off and a triumph to Bush the younger, it was dear Tacitus student Bill C., who spoke honestly about how they all wish to rewrite history, him included, an I would guess that decent W wouldn’t have taken that so much as a insult. Its as a liar would know, True. As True as Marcus Aurelius. As pushy dark skinned aclu take off, the ACLJ, as in J date, but again to be fair, I have heard low rent Hollywood sorts befriend me and tell me how much they dispise right wing, fox news watching, Jews as turn coats to them as I see the soprano crowd is to my pop. The war hounds get ready to spray relay their bullshit on command as One Irish fair skinned old drunkard bully like Wall Banger –a great American without a single scar, no to Roman me, Hanntity gets ready to demand war now that he is over draft age—no one would be over draft age should Roman Tony be praetor , bad for GE business in ways that Erkle is not, and I would be evil, the Calvinist word for POOR. But then I am no flag waver, I, am a standard barer. And in that Book Roman Bill, he read for fun, there is a moment where Vitillius, bloated king god, demands that a praetorian go and rip the head off a beautiful senatorial wife who rebuffed him, and Captain Marcus, the anti Sejanus, sais with Romantic pride, as he hurls the cutlass into the marvel floor, that he isn’t a killer, --but a soldier. Roman up, or don’t, but don’t be queens of drones, as Jews and Irishmen in an uneasy common cause, send off flying buttresses of death to make sure that they can be true button men in ways that even the vulgar Sicilian thugs saw as a euphemism.

I must take a break, as had a chance to do thirty pages of a Conan like take off, a horror heavy metal comic book, and racked my brains to come up with the Conan parody I did as a kid, --why come up with anything new, after all….? But in doing a Satan’s boy thing, late at night, half asleep, I fell out of bed and legs buckled under me, causing me to go head first into a television set in my room, which doesn’t work since Colin Powell Junior got paid. I have a blood blister on my forehead and am dizzy and tired, but, when I told Ma what happened, a dream of hell gaped before me, and I told her what I was drawing, she said it served me right, as you become what you think about all day. There is a serrated attitude to her before she momma boys you, a nice human twang that keeps her from being the kind of monster that Doris Roberts played all her life. She had a bad dream too watching cnn and their Dragnets without Joe Friday all day as we haunted a boy with an army legion, when all they had to do was follow the blood. See, it turns out Balki didn’t have a Gun, and amusingly as The little Corporal Putie- toot- toot lectures America with KGB charms, as we search for a Moslem with the strange name of Misha, who might have been behind this…oh someone tell Czar Floyd R. Turbo he should have made it Pedro, or at least Abdul, the Arab version of Guido at Fox news…oh, don’t get me started about Inquisitor Andie poo, I have to get ready to yell at the television about who Jones takes first.See, it is Roman and Romantic Antony amid the fivers and the cycles, who got both Rachel Maddow, and Micheal Savage at various times to mistakenly call Cannae, Cumae, as that is worth all the gunpowder I could hurl. Happy Roman day, happy cruelest Month, happy Roman new year, Cent Anni.


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