21 February 2014


AS THE MONTH THE ROMAN RECALLED THEIR DEAD SWINDLES TO AN ICY CLOSE, I find myself doing the ancient accreditation As were done then as again and alas I find myself amid if not pining to Venus, or drawing Roaming Hercules, for such was what he was, I am again in mid retelling of the grand epic of Catiline. Without a stage or even an actor to do the noble recollection of the sad and dying heroes, I resort to clay, plate, cardboard and quick signage and graffiti in the less than Romans street. Not correctable to a run down two bit boilerplate room which makes threadbare horror movies I am told in the snideness that means nothing to me anymore, Boy you sure have a thing for the Italian girl in your movie eh, Kid...Ha. Fuck off, I take time to email back, that is the fun of things, as she is an respondent to your Amy’s and Jennifers, which you try to save Hollywood with, but alas one cheerleader is one too much here, as I have known pretty girls behind cash registers prettier than the hags on now, as fagots who are married become acidly as lost and dull and dishwater as the women they have replaced, who replaced their dead lovers in the descending senate and the Broadway babes. It seems that the human tuchus and Americas sweetheart Jennifer are too, you know, what with both saved by henna and Jennifer faster than she outht to have been, as she didn’t mind looking like a mulatto girl to fit the part in the dreadful dreary womanish Hunger games to steal the part from a black chick, and now glams up to play Jersey caliber ingenue sluts. I once having chanced a play and feeling like a ferry of my own asked a lovely dragon Girl, Kartina Richardson, if she would be open to playacting a moll in a road movie in which a mad roman Italian kid goes across the country to save a girl he adores from the Dantean circle of marriage, now admired even by the perverts. One of the gang, was an Italian ballplayer castigated and exiled away for having taken a black player and hurdled him into a wall for his having beaten a lovley brunette, as of course in New Sicily this was seen as, all at once, racist so there went that. Allentownnnn...ALLENTOWN...?..COME ON ALONG AND LISTEN TOOOOOOO THE LULLABY OF BROADWAY.....THE HIP HOORAY AND BALLYHOO THE LULLABY OF BROADWAY! IT seems that no one cares about the Oscars at all, the queers all now doing the dishes and paying bills, and sex with the lights off, of course, like good wives in the Augustine age do, despite Directors leaded with affectation going on rounds to push their product in new york loops as I never recall a Spielberg or dare I say even a Scorsese do, as he seemed mute as the idiot who Augustus cut the throat out of lets he call him the wrong thing again, as the middlebrows, a word detested by Salon, soon enough their careless coolers must always apologize as they jump to their own conclusions, have taken hold and that’s that. But don’t you love farce, my fault I fear, as only 48 hours after the thrashing of Richie by sanctimonious fag haters at ESPN, sissies always there to do that which their bulldog owners and bullies want, why here we go, and RRRRRRAY RRRRRRICE FRRRRRROM RRRRRRRRRURTGERSSRRRRS IS RRRRRRRREAD HIS RRICGHTS AS HE IS ARRRRRRRRESTED....OH here comes Rich Eisen on the outside, on the outside, on the outside...Sorry to the bootblack broads with bad lipstick—i was taught by priests after all, But if February as good enoughn to recall the ten year olds and women who fought  back Hannible, a name unspoken in BHM,  to the point that nigger said give me Scipios five thousand Romans and I will rule the world, its good enough for coons, welafre queens, draft dodgers, street suitcase pimps, porch monkeys and others who Bill Clinton signed welfare reform despite what they said, becasue he felt like it and knew you have no teeth. So, on the give is this day our daily Jew to make sure we all together now, as Caligula horse Al Al Franken would say it, kill the Arrrrrrabs. Here is a song by

the terrific Donnie Iris, as I play Wolffffmahn,  that recalls much in the way of my eighties fall, not as bad as some, not as bad as you as kept myself tethered to the Romans that you hate and the muting you did to them. Trying to make them Nazis left you with the spin you are in now, as each day the passvante and their Jew clerks try to keep things afloat...as at least until they lose, yes we are in that treason trial part of our imperial scuffle, one of my earliest plays, but what do I know, as I thought this Pittsburgh song was great and have sued it in soundtracks never gotten made yet.




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