02 May 2015


22 April 15


In doing a comic quickly and compactly and still gibing in to an occasional flourish, I out of order do a story called Mr. Immortal. Though something of a batman mullue, still from the name make him a strong man as I am want to do. But he is sad, and am true to the writer as best as can be, no Kirby elbow throwing for Big Tony, I realize in the beginning was the word not that gag.

I wanted to make the wife for whom he pines and sadly misses look like Suzanne Phlechette, I mean don’t we all…?, as she exemplified a anti-solemnities sophistication that the masters have redcued to queers at the cotillion. I don’t like gay marriage, as it seems a death knell to the American left, where over fed perverts in over catered affairs released the doves, or is it drones, and all can be made acceptable to white woman matrons who sued to say well I never and fainted as then did as dowagers in Plautus and the Simpson, a continuous unbroken line, don’t you love farce, oh wait no you don’t. I wanted Ms Immortal to look like Emily Hartley, as the essence of a lost Ansonia which our men in drag don’t even recall as they demander the sign of barney miller bathroom be made official for all. Ex Officio, it’s what fags have been dreaming of and desire really since Nicene, as it is an off shoot of the basic dick joke in said Plautus. No Miles Glorious here, we weep for the soldiers like the fags who can’t see the doctor this week either.

But while googling drawings of Suzanne , went to something called ‘Stupid comics‘, another snide testament at humor by the mommies boys, as in if you are stupid I am by default witty and if you are evil then I am good, and thus drones and tax cuts for all! In this site of a since I got from some as old as me in arts school still hanging on with both hands to perpetual youth, as in some there who older than me never heard of Beannie and Cecil, the Phantom, etc, this snide hack, remember the are the stupid comics, kids, books written and as art no worse than anything for children, where the hidden messages aren’t all about bathroom sex as seen now, made a point that the drawings of Suzanne were taken from mgm era 8 by tens. As why this is a demerit only the closeted and their hairdressers know for sure, and she was demeaned as a minor celebrity, in our age of Keeping up with starlets…? , no, no Bob Newhart show for this tree hosuer, we are far too snide for Bob and Emily and Jerry and Carol, the terrific Carol,  as we live out our lives in reruns of the horrid soulless Seinfeld toxic spill. I downloaded the pictures for later use, it is amazing what one ahs to do to find treasure in the shit hold of now, not shocked that this ninny didn’t like Emily, too pretty, and too sarcastic, always a mistake  when around the closets or the weddings held within, as am sure this valued customer just lives for the latest plagerism by Grant Morrison, who still steals from Alan, making something called Pax Americana, which seemed to offend me more than before watchmen did, and see them try again to amok Captain marvel, or is that a woman now like the rest of us, and say leave CC and Alan’s creations , you hack, alone.


Again, I am bursting with recreations goodness as see the faltering of America as more early or surely seen by me than the equal Romantic mistakes and falls I have made. Over Easter, we sat there to avoid the relatives and their gloom, and we watched The Wolf of wall street, Scorsese answer to a question no one asked, or even hinted at. But though once I was commissioned to write a review of The aviator, and admitted that I didn’t bother to see it, my best kind of reviews, and this was an anthemia to the white chicks of honest brokering, though I admitted I didn’t see the shit, as opposed to Anthony Burgess, who wrote essays over books he didn’t bother to read or of hios own work,  add just knowing what they were, I was asked two questions, who did I think I was and second, whose is Anthony Burgess, always lovable to know one is dealing with that middles of brows.

But I did watch this, as this time the usual suspects were different, oh, there was game and handsome Italian Kid, Leonardo Dedcaprio, who did a yeoman’s job, a virtual corpse man, throwing him self here and there with aplomb as if a yiddy Hamlet, the hebe ghost of his father, meathead, afraid that as it always doesn’t all would come crashing down, as the Jews are after all the born losers of a lesser God. But I noticed that again I was right, and he ahs his bag of tricks, his go trod scenes like any hack, the brunette wife left for a blond cunt, who always in the end regrets her dipping her toe into the middle sea, a need for action, the distain of those on the subway who have the dignatus, vitiates and gravitas of working for a living, as my father told me fingering you all, Sicilians would rather chance death than work for a honest wage. All the god fellow shit here worse than ever, as mad man huckster Jew Jordan Belfort, heyhey, tunnels his way up from Tetanus ala Lucifer, not Kemeter the Italian poems from which Milton stile his really irreconcilable  scenes with the turgid and awful Genesis, or is it Long Island that the Mercian dream came up from this time. Funny pantomime was here as to ethics with a half ethnic blond who cant make it to pin up status looks on, they almost kill themselves with Ludes, is the new copy of National Lampoon in, …?, as having watched the special on ‘American greed’ first knew that the boyfriend of Jordan, another Jewish hack money grubber was hardly the jewey fat bloated silly and clownish Jonah Hill, but looked like a decagonal frat boy, but with Sicilian knives or is it vespers at the ready, Scorsese sued his every same end his every trick to get even with the chosen who wouldn’t let him , and this is true told to me by a Jewish Hollywood insider who came to like me, but told me Roman Mythology as unmakebale as after all, he had to deal with the goys in ways I didn’t care about, haha!, wouldn’t let silly slimy little Martin make Rag time, and not Amadeus, nor a scipt written by Gore Vidal, no not Justinian, which was one he wrote but not for Martino, but in fact, Billy the Kid, a hero to us criminal class  everywhere, which Martin was unalloyed to do. Aha, I sing the stereotype electric, and this time, perhaps looking at the death of his artists life less a Virgil than a Leo Gosrey, he defied that the West End in Rome, where the farces played, yes you white trash have come up with nothing, was the meanest street of all.

So, we watched and I rather enjoyed it as this time, the clown shoe was on the other foot, but certainly not that FAR from Adriatic,  and could see why house ethnics like Kosreghiesre so soon after Richie were so ver kempt by its horridness. Again, purposefully and with a pluck I didn’t think he had, he slimed those Jews good, as if that book could by Catullus, the reason that all critics were superfluous. I watched him delve into depravity and vulgarity, he had the acuity some survivors grandchild said,  to call it American Salo, dear Martin did I teach you nothing-- oh that’s right you censored me out of hand, turnabout is a favorite play as Caesar said, hehe!, but I could have warned you they don’t want Amercing Decameron, or Commedias, much less the depravity of them who stole power as the fiasco empire state days dwindle to a September song of sodemy. Sing a song of crows in a pie, as the fable goes, Martin…gaiety as he never had before, take that Ghost of Dore Sherry for all those minor arts you made me wade through, making sure that I had to return to Matawan new Jersey and piers of cardboard and rust when I still attempt of Calbiria, or is it Calabria, which a attuned Jewish office gal in Hollywood with a massive rack ala Mad men, and who sent me pictures of herself in a two piece where were I guess an primal version of Jdate but alas am so far away, as this time, from Jerseys heart he struck back at the Jews in cooperate as to save his wayward rotten sunken soul. For years Scoreasy’s balk arts, as now he is Brutus, you more than when he was merely giving the boys from Columbia someone to laugh at, Jewfekllas was a disaster in ways usually not held in Hollywood, in that he was a loss leader much of his life, a salon café hack, and now this film about greed made 400 million, and was his best take ever, which armed the staff at the Daily show, now even more scared.

I  know of Italians who were easily losing their jobs when believed stupidly in an American dream, and who like my father wanted nothing to do with this late minstrel show, as back then, the human handmaids didn’t cry for slurs as they do so now, and Whoopee and her hags were silent on the matter, if not mcing mob wives. So now you get matrix what I said you had coming, as now, Shazam!, you’re poor, you’re living in new Messina, with doges as Dante said made of self made shit, now it your turn at the Godfather Parade with dollar bills if you have them pinned to the Virgin as has been done since Etruscan Menvra was strolled through town by men who dressed ironically And amusingly like a  later Klan, again showing you came up with nothing. Now, after seven years of carpet bombing company queer hijacks, now Betty Pocahontas and Boyney did you eat the toikey and unrevealing hag Hilleary who will run when she’s dead, now they discover the poor and fact that ninety cents of every dollar goes to the rich, ah the joke in the essay Life of Brutus unnoticed  by the censors at the Napa wine cellar ex film studio was I wrote it in Present tense, he was always about to unfurl a flag on hills over there,  and even future tense, as much’s  the vulgar English tongue could allow, as warning, I is the auger, that Martin baby, steaming and angered, whereas I was placid and Antonine, it means a name later of a man dignified and yet beaten, a name taken in the Augustan history more than Augustus was, ah too late wise, too soon old, --was about to as Brutus always does amid the coinage, blow and he was pointed at you, not me. I merely looked away. As now you know this, after years of throwing Jonnies in laws on wall street in our face…ah an election year looms. And now, you’re poor and Roman Antony just adores that.



Having acquaintances in low places, I received an alert by email that were I to go to Bing, what the hell is bing…?, and not merely Yahoo, and not censorious Google, and packed in the search bar ‘Wendy Fiore, [then an exclamation]“ , I would see the unicorn for which men such as me have been pining. On a short clip grainy and colored all in oranges, I saw a pretty, sturdy, dark haired woman being fucked by a lounging man, and saw immediately that this was either Wendy, or a look-alike, And Roman gods know, that was close enough. It would have been harder to tell had she been nude, but since she ever wasn’t, I was apparent immoderately it was she, down to her own poverty arts  by use of the same holly golightly glasses, ray bans, god this broad hits all the major chords,  she had worn before in a similar hair cut, as I saw it was she, that was apparent. I saw this over and over seated there as if watching a zepruder film, though she in  nudity or lack there of never bothered me. Of course my first question was were was the rest, as I cant be a good American pervert who dreams of marriage as all,  like a waltzing lisping Sadie Hawkins and unfairly for the blue noses, I adore sex as an Italian can and might, as Metternich that German we may not quote now to make it seem Hitler somehow curdled German ethics than reveal it, said of napes that it was a modern Babylon, as you blue nose boy lovers and Jews are so want to do. I watched the clip and knew eventually it was her, gloriously, olive skinned, called orange now by those clerks who may not say high yellow at the trough,  and wished I could see the whole thing. As she true to an Italian princess attribute says ‘Basta‘, how in gods name did I miss this, not being queer I have no desire to have insurance companies commercials pester me intro being lame, Italian for enough, and she does look the part of Roman diva, as in Italay sex and its goddess has never been as amusingly insufferable as it is now to the fags of marriage and the white women who like senators of the yenta class scaled Scorsese corpses of plastic, but close enough for closet Satanists, to beget to where they are now.

I have made a point not to go to these awful websites anymore, though to show the power of Wendy, she is included often in lists of x rated clips, though little more than fifties cheescake, still she shines within the vulgarity oif vthin women’s gyno exams. Even when she is only in a yellow swimsuit or something like that, showing again I had both America and Rome pegged in a book called Ancient Romance, where the old pontiff recalls the girl in the bay of Naples swimming in a sea, that no puritans or Prussians can ever really take without being poisoned by a  gay lover as did happen in the ancient days to the German who thought stupidly he had conquered, when he had only sacked, Rome. The fact that these websites of low end filth occasionally and more often than that have a glowing shining image of Turan Italic Wendy there dressed and not being fucked with crullers like the fat chicks often are,  is as close to the recreations of a dying empire that we can get as the daily show Jew rat unravels, carrying water to the end, no Becketts here, mistah bones, the bribe is all, the paycheck, in a land of poverty is miracle, and we have all had quite enough of his small craft warnings caused by Aeolius winds of self congratulatory applause and gusts of wind. Howl.

I got tired of them sites when seeing her there, defamed often as she was a tease, when in fact what would it all be but as it is the apple life you think is reality, and we all diverged  when we seemed to differentiate and fish tale from each other on the definition of the word fat. When I say fat I mean it as a girl means it, womanish and zaftig. When they say fat they mean it the way the brothers do, i.e., really obese, and who needs that…? I did look it all up chasing it down, as loved the mere Idea of it, the sun goddess as fuck buddy, especially if she, woman on top and born diva decided to say stop because as all Italian women have been since Rhea, that’s right Ma Rhea was mother of Romulus, she is in charge, which mainly doesn’t have to as it did with the Jews make you a eunuch. Of course, it was Wendy, and I watched it in awe of the woman, as saw now densely which should please find the rest, according to her names who I had noted make a point of how beneath she was to their tastes and acceptability, every girl superior of being jacked off to by the dickless wonders of now, no,,, still I saw some of those names recaptured with a clip begged to see more, needed to see more of this girl, as another clips showed she , a bit litigious about things and the vomitorium, stupid wop girl thinks she has a right top her image, welcome to the ncaa !,  she wanted no part of to excise this clip, proving to me it was her, as this was nothing half the tramps of Hollywood hadn’t done and more blue nosed times than now if possible, as seen in a book that never finished it self, here I refer to called a perfect Answered Prayers.

I used the poverty of the age of Obama and his bankrolling Jew in laws stealing 90 cents out of every dollar, something an anathema to those now like Bernie and Warren and even Hillatta mouths the words of reformer mad man Catalina  without much gusto, and I placed that all in AR, finally written out completely when in 2010 did first encounter the perfect Turan that would make a demon cum, Wendy. But now, with that is taters as so much, cant find On Roman warfare though an agent seeing this whomever wishes to see it as is a Roman aficionado, yeah, now, who isn’t…?I tire of poverty, I am sick of drug store artfulness, as Roman auger warn you again, you’ll find out what happens just like survivor Cicero when the people are hungry and you make the mistake of getting on that high horse, as the Romans said with distain of all Greeks, had the Trojans been smart, one match would have given them the world forever.

I send the Clinton pages, The dinner with the praetor instead, where the Bill C of the Tony verse, Claudianus, explains at a dinner the story of stories of an Italian Bible, that has surged and will survive every Luther and Isis that the whitest can make. I send it there, and a few other places as was told of its sweetens and dignity by black women no less, as after all, even those I am said to hate come to admire me for never ever giggling into my sleeve, and don’t take the side of a regime that nobly months ago he was pillaring and humiliating in his first attempt at moviemaking, where he knows the real money is, but alas, Jewry Jon has forgotten all about Rosewater too.

I hear that soon a dinner of Trimalchio standards will be headed by sweetheart comedy gal crush engendering Cecily Strong, the perfectly named priestess of Versa, with a sarcastic edge, wouldn’t it be funny, if this siren, how we know like Hercules a Italian deity ‘appropriated’ by always helping himself Homer, what if she, as if called still a mania by Roman loving Freud, was the dark haired cunt leading Barry to his doom, as he fell off the edge of the earth, as Sicilians sailors once the rival and bane to even Phoenicians, believed. Sorry, but the insolent requiem of one black hoodlum after another fomented by suddenly tethered to the desk Negros agitators means nothing to me, especial like coming this close to Sacco and Vanzetti, saints I was told by fascist queer priests, have been suddenly trashed and reexamined and ensnared by creepy Jewish hacks cripples always the first to croak us towards war, and thank god Mad men is finally gone. And damningly with no shame, pencils sharpening essence toady and hack Chris Matthews wistfully speaks of having “warehoused” the niggers, how sad our doge’s vizier be, he and his partisans, has sued for generational shipping to the polls, sadly that they had been only kept in pens, admitting as much as the Jewish hacks and black chicks look on unwatched and unwatchable, as the tenements start to bristle and seethe again. I hope for out and out revolt. Alas, this isn’t being fomented by Soursos, I think, yet another negro requiem, place Cicero line here, a true suspicious move this close to elections, as Cattline told Cicero back, the banks will take care of themselves, Tully, its your tenements and ghettos which you should have worried about. In the end, as when forced out of the senate, poor Romans threw nails at the Jewish hack from the Italian Apennine hills, to signify the purge of the senate of all men who didn’t love the rich, and the crusade, meaning a line of crosses that had been packed up by the decree of the man of the people. All we have is niggers. As a Roman, I love a parade.

In the image of greatest witch, good Wendy, even in this grainy scene, this vignette that shines with the bliss of the undercurrent and the disrepute, maybe especially in this, I see life and joy and sex and humanity as Hillary trudges ahead, expartea for Tara, or did they forget about all that too…again, big talk. I adore this girl, this Roman dea, this Turan that could make a daemon cum, this outrageous and yet still pretty anathema to the fat blonds and their transvestite creeds. I adore this gal, and needless to intone, was out of high speed by the tenth of the opening month, as washed this over me and over for reason that went beyond merest sexual, and inculcated and incarnated all which I love in a single bounce, and single epithet of perfect Italian, the inflection is not Spanish as one said, as I adore her as she is everything that you all hate. She examples all that I revere, she is a human vessel of life and joy and italic sensibility, a Venus is she would, a woman as seen in renaissance art as the center of everything, the she, her above all, and I am saddened to know I sat in a tower and finagled with thousand page stories that even affable Jews tried to turn commerce, and didn’t understand what the hell I was talking about as those poor fucks just wanted another puppet show or toy line,  as I was waned and they didn’t understand my churlishness. But as a woman who I showed her picture to as the perfected  Big Bertha, revenge goddess against the outfit, based on truth,  in a play I wrote, the woman producer did a double take and a wow elicited, and she told me, theyd never go for it, as she said, the ditz and the hag had recalled the bombshell. I full with self anger. The Italian nymph flies back from the water, the Italian returns, life and joy and heat and breath and sweat within a world too addicted to its cold battles and its iron thrones and medieval dice.


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