22 September 2013

I used some of the last money I had saved from AR and bought a used book how to paint fantasy, as would like that to be my next recantation. I like the idea of resurrecting one of the firstly things I ever did, a Tasso like boyhood epic of knights, as I have never had the problems that white trash and Hitler had, as I have never been sneered at for my love of Romans echoed, but by white women and GE bribe takers, and find that Jews on the left coast and others have rather admired my Roman Fascism as deep down, everyone sort of knew with me where we were headed. Again, don't call me a racist or an anti Semite or a misogynist, as after all I was the one told to take a book I had written about the Etruscan and their welfare queens and queer senates and crumbling senate and ivory towers, yes look that epithet up, and was asked to put it on Mars. The planet not the god, something I fired out only after I had made hot garbage about of a decade of work and 600, 000 words. The black knight calls out to me as did boyhood hero Mister Stupendous, to be saved and remade and brought up from the Naples shipwreck, as they do in holy land, putting Hercules behind lock and key lest the tersely maniacal try to get their hairy hands on them. It was nice to see common cause when Jews and Arabs placed Cesarean on the sea and its Mona lisas and jewels, all be placed off limits, showing deep down, the indiafata was always more west side story than it was Romeo and Juliet. It was nice to see the Jews and the Arabs make a deal to stay far afield of Caesarea, until the surveyor comes. Unlike the black men packed in Thors Valhalla, people admire me for not being so thoughtful and conscripted in my hegemony or paternalism, as they know in Romans history the blacks and Jews and various ethics are people they'd rather not talk about anyway. A admirer of Wendy, the Italian starlet and the Olivia Munn distaste the closeted save for her, I was not shocked to see that lovely brunette miss America trashed as she was. Sorry Dearie, but you are an Aryan, and thus, to the queers, just a brunette, and they don't have to preened to like you like the warehoused coloreds. To them you are just a brunette. Though it is great fun, I realize that Filmmaking isn't something that I take seriously, or have enough money to take seriously, but then come from a culture and a blood stream which the first bits and lines we have saved in Cambrian farce of the tale of Coriolanus shows that indeed as I was right again, it as originally seen as a comedy, with Roman general is buffoon, but then I am always amazed who and what Americans can actually pretend to take seriously. poor ERKLE, IN 1WEEK he went from Boy Mars back to his usual position as hostage, this time, the Steenie taking a Romantic pleasure in doing back what Julianus Capitolinus, did to him, imagine the temerity of that coon, asking the assembly of queens to go on record about anything. I am not a filmmaker at heart, to warm the souls of those in the music of the spheres, as instead of playing wizards and kings, Di Nero plays

aging hustlers and a dying old pimp still. Oh look there's Lear coming out of the toilet. I am not a filmmaker. I am an artist. The helmet is here.

18 September 2013



I AM TIRED AND TAKING A BREAK, THOUGH AM AMID THE CENTRAL PART OF THE FILM WOP LIKE ME, A GRAND SET PIECE CALLED ‘BEND HUR’. It is causing me much in the way of the italic ghetto and Gheppeto arts I wish to almost harness and blame, parade and device for this film, as I make Romans soldiers out of cloth and paper, circus maximusi out of cardboard and paint, I am returning in a film about the heinous Scorsese to the Italic ideal of the studio as it was ment and not as it was reduced in filmmaking parlance. I got my shots of a full moon needed for the last scene, and which a voice-- perhaps I will ask the grand Ian McKellen and offer him a sweet twenty dollar American bill, anyway, someone will, if not as we call it in the industry, even a Frame and text, will prong Ovid’s cartoon as much as anything Puck, and all that sarcastic Roman Plutonian narrations to the films end. A Film that starts with the liens of dreaded and dry, Dante despised hated and Shakespeare admired Brutus, ends as oath the more fully Roman warnings of Puck, even though it is estimably a Greek play, although as we have seen on Charlie Rose, schemers plot to Wille,  to be adored by middlebrows is just faceless and gutless enough, like Homer, to be whatever he has to be to be perpetually in the curriculum, no matter what owned bunkhouses of academia Negros have to say about anything. I looked up Ralph Bakshi,  and yes he did grow up at and on the same street no less in Brooklyn as my yenta Neurologist Audrey did, and I was taken back to see the level of cartoon brewed venom at the man over having shown not given that self same Ben Hur like bloated spectacle without cinemascope to the great and vaunted and horrid and as usually in England, catholic plagreism of epic to Tolkien’s sentinel shit. I thought that his LOTR and American pop adored by me had become the soundtrack and the background that informs the Simpsons now, but what do I, Roman Tony know...? This nation sure adores its epics, as long as they are taken so seriously, as nothing Romans and or Italian need apply, as there is no room for not only Turnus, the original noblest savage, for whom Virgil feels a disquieting empathy as he does Amazonia Camilla, but for the whole last half of the Poem often because foe Virgil’s open love of Italy not allowed to be printed in Victorian England and thus in the American forests which was her backwater, much like how the planned play of the tragedy of Pompeii was told to great genius Willie, that his proclivities and his genius was to be stymied this time, and so thankfully, Pompey is let in his unmarked grave never to be demeaned by being called Shakespearean, than God. Thus, like many hidden alleys in Tourists savaged Rome, his grave is kept away and his ghost is silent to white poets, women and Negros who dream of one day being middlebrow. So, I have collected pages of paper dolls I wish to make and must get to Craft stores again for tin foil, felt and glue as I create Romans as was done before by puppet show italics makers before me, while I note that the going to the dago well once too often has left Di Nero with a film about the laughable Sicilians, in a state and a time in which the once vaunted American audience now feels a strange empathy for the Siciles, their fight and their hatred of Romans masters and those Prussian-ate imperators commuting to town with jaunty sex obsessed Jewish clerks looking for safety in the war city as they have since Cyrus, something unspoken of in their biblical litany. I do love how self-important cartoon reviewers, speaking of puppetry –wow! - dismiss and demean Ralph as he shows, like Welles whose f is for fake I have watched on you tube, seeing him again as poet and author, in ways a secure genius like Dante can speak of as opposed to Kirby, Picasso and Shakespeare, whose whole catty act is pretending they came first, that creativity is the only sin to the

middlebrow and for which they shall not forgive. It turns out that a heinous book like raising Kane was again some would expect from a woman, no too mean, I amend that to  of course an Ugly woman, has now been disproven as much as anything, the hatred of Virgil and Orson has similar lets say bought by and for the Imperious roots, and I think how that means nothing, as a cow and a crone like women who lunch have known since the qurienneial hill. In fact, it means less than that, in fact if it weren’t disproven it wouldn’t have the same cashe. I find myself on the internet looking up websites with the language of my father, seeing again though the words mean nothing to me, I stopped speaking Italian at four, feeling ashamed of him and it, amazingly for Roman Antony no…?, still I didn’t speak it again perhaps having felt ashamed by him surrounded by the gaggle of half wop Pollok suburban scumbags and trash I would learn to hate. Whatever it was, like Orson now considered to be classic F is for fake, as the bbc admits with sour pusses that the Aneied, that bastion of balanced propagandas might be poetries zenith as even the man who codified the haters of Virgil, Macrobius, said as another Greek in Rome had to keep a love of Homer as he chached the little boys and goddesses of Umbria around. Also what is very important in this section, Ben Hur sued as a symbol of the bloated nature of Hollywood, is again, how the Romans and the Italians aren’t even allowed to be sleeping dogs in their own land, as Rome seemingly is a place where all Romans in Hollywood must be villains and or maids, with the occasional smart carbineri police man thrown in. As I said, am waiting for the monument to Sacco and Vanzetti, as the war party and its Mars now hits the nigger shit real hard, and as I said, am not holding my breath. So I create Rome of paper if I must, as find I was right and the floor is now littered with Jews who thought they were buying some sort of projection by always standing with white men. What has finally softened my bitter Juveneal tongue, which I think might not be the best of things to happen to me as a satirical Roman artist, but which lets me be less full of Achita, is how I noticed, as now even the Jews find themselves falling to the floor as so many rotten grapes, a thing they didn’t see coming as did I, is that I note especially in the hyper angry invective towards Backshi and Orson still, the white women know like dogs that a mindless devotion of the bite is all, how white women and white comic hacks keep telling his now they certainly aren't so so bigoted so often, I keep trying to think, are you trying to convince…me or yourself…? I mean not being  a bigot is something I was taught by the priests was the baseline of decency-- not a laurel. And yet they cant stop telling me how wonderful they are, asking me to kiss their rings, --yeeech--, because aren’t they wonderful; that they aren’t like grandma, as they continue their hegemony. What a game for Johhnie Football huh…? They keep throwing their nobility in my face, how non hateful they are, as if they have perhaps done something wonderful in this, perhaps again showing the Machiavellian brilliance in listening to the lies that people tell and not what you tell yourself. A horrid wayward prodigal Jewish clown returns to late night, to laud a pope for forward thinking on gay issues of course, all roads lead back to the run off, and yet I think, does Smoochy even know of dirty wars and the hurling of gay Jesuits to the juntas dogs, with nuns given as Tribute to soldiers to sodomise while he blessed their dicks…does Crazy from Canarzi know any of this,…

,…again does it matter…? I buy pieces of Romans’ soldier outfits and the like, that which I cannot not wish to make, and have added another fifty bucks to the making of Wop Like me, as something about the poverty of the time, is again as has been in Rome and Italy’s since Plautus, a good oven to sue to bake the Romans made eventually and incessantly in Clay. And again as a fat censorious  Virgil leading one through the malabolgie of McDonalds and drive ins that aren’t as depression proof as anyone thought, we hear that the to one percent won all the spoils of this erkle’s war, again not shocking classical Tony, student of preists still, as I knew all along-- that’s what Trojan horses do.  As again I figured as much, the small twenty dollar camera I bought, seeing it not long after seeing Orson Welles commercials for the camera seen as a kid, ...or was that Dark Tower..? Whatever, I took some film of a local wall which I wished to then platter with a poster called ROMA, after the secrete goddess of Rome, a beautiful brunette woman of the sort caught up on the diminution that Scorsese was paid to engender and saw it films in HD. In a way, I am returning film by gumption and a lack of concern back into the puppet show it was compared to me as a kid, by old queers who saw film then as too young and silly an art form for their brothers of Francis minds. I attempt to return film to its Italian puppetry, as frankly ran out of free trial days of movie pro and refused to return to windows movie maker, by all means. And as pore usual, perpetual student I am in ways that unlike Copolla isn't sickening, it took my dabbling in filmmaking to get me to hone my painterly skills, which some have said is my truest calling. I have always been aware of the ironical in republican art.  


06 September 2013


When I was a kid, the first comic strip I ever did, back around 1974, before even Mister Stupendous, was a batman parody In which an early hero of mine The Centurion, a Roman hero in garments all red and gold, remade as Captain Magnus, and repowered, was at first a Billy Dale sort, a Shadow rip off, but in golden amour, who had batman trappings, a car, a cave, etc. I think when this film is completely done id like to do that now. I went and bought Goushe paints, though haven't sued them since art school, as I like their look, watercolour without being too much so, and not being complete piss. I gather pages of MS unused and may sue them as a roadmap to complete a book, and done in paint, something horrifying the comics geeks at the arts school and soon enough to be put to good sue by Alex Ross who  engendered hatred among the kirbybots for his obvious talent. I bout the gosuhe paint to make placards and posters to packed on a wall, a fake wall, I wish to make before which King Italius will stand upright and forlorn. Things fall out of control now, but the who was speaking of the Romans decrying an assembly of kings,  that built a steam heater to itself so as old men, and only men thank God, could delegate and bullshit about sending other men’s sons to die in the alps in senatorial comforts. The Romans as usual to good fox news grouchoes like Stossel became revolting and almost burned the senate down. I had an inkling that Bammy was an affirmative action putz who like his cadre of white women hated old Mother Rome, and its heroes and villains were mute to his grandmother bent ear. Too bad, human action has meaning, boys, and that wasn’t said by a Vanderbilt. I warned but who listens to me…? Still it  as nice to see that I made to 50,000 views, having only bought 2000 for twelve bucks, almost before I mistakenly got rid of wop like me part iv, and that was with Copolla house vintners making sure they sued their greasy laws to make
sure that it couldn’t be seen in the land of the free and the home of the bribes, America. Ah, Sicilian ethics, much less Romantic, are merest echoes to the narcissusi of now. The Romans have tired, their Etruscan God and his lovers of work, Sethlands has called off his happy men who willingly roll the stone up the slopes of the night, to nail the creation to its craggy edges. Superman, my posted clip about seeing Jerry Siegel and Joe Shuster on Saturday night live with Howard Cosell when I was a kid, zoomed up from 17 to 1000 views over night before I even primed the pump with a buying of 5000 views for nine dollars. I used to think such a thing  was cheating, but now to always fight back with the guerillas and the Coppolas casks, I think , a good lover of napoleon would be taught, all is fair in love and self promotion. In wlm-Superman, I show a sense of sadness that the boys who made superman had gotten away with nothing behind the golden door, an American tragedy in ways I cant abide Kirby and his Shyster bots who put ot all on a bit too thick. Stan Lee on Nikki Finke is shown to have lost a suit to Disney--, shocking in new Sicily -Judea take your pick, - and this pleases the Kirby bots who like liberals sued to do watch all until they feel outnumbered or the lifting isn’t as easy anymore, like now. Like White trash who must tell us incessantly they are NOT racists, I feel the same about counter jumping Jake the Snake, again this just the recollection of dc comics gentlemen who must have been jalousied of the Raphael who could not draw superman, as I could aping Curt Swan as a kid, but again what do I know. Where was Kirby for twenty years after Captain Marv—sorry, eh never stole that as he wished, Thank God, to Marvel…? And why do they make it seem that all Stan LEE EVER DID WAS STEAL HIS WORK, WHEN HE HAD NOTHING TO DO WITH STAN GREATEST COERCION OF COMICS TO HIS WILL,-- SPIDERMAN….? Vince Colletas are everywhere to the penitents of the hack. Where was the Long Island Leonardo then…? Where was his genius at…? A question like Jesus and the rendering to an emperor raping twelve year old Italian girls, that the world may never hear spoken.