21 August 2015


How wonderful was it to eye again Roman Tony, steeped in classicism, I mean corruption, since 1972, was right again, and that the bleating loudest mouth of the black lives matter movement, as if any lives ever mattered in Sparta, turned out to be an actor doing black face.The gods of Roman commedia have hit you hard, kids, as after saying that transvestism was some sort of decency and a prize, just as long as you know, don't be the roman clown in make up thinking of lost Arcadia, things have never been better, why no body can laugh at Anderson Cooper anymore as he spurts out truth and consequences, its a golden age!, --wait another triple digit loss today...? , get my account Sydney on the fucking phone!..., as that is un-allowable in the circus, brought to you by GE.  Oh such again as another of your proscriptions, although I could say turning Jonnie Storm into a brother was still irritatingly as close to the never changing blond miss Anne Invisible girl than they like, and of course the munster stayed Jewish. I, more than any anti Kirby anti Stan wonk got a reaction from dc madam editor and got her to ask, as I do so many about the wops, why is the munster Jewish and why does he speak like Leo Gosrey. How wonderful is it to know that thought as alerted to be some about how I wasn't colored enough as an Italian, or had a woman sadly tell me my Tuscan myth about Kemeter, that's Kemeter, couldn't be packed in a book of indigenous myths, that you'd be so open to shepherding by those willing to Jolson it up for fun and profits. I must say it does unnerve me when I see that caliber of bloody shit some of these pompous books accept. yikes. As in almost all my books I eschew that White woman loved Nobel savage shit and  have the radicals speak fo deysleves, shuuunufff. When the book submitted to, I think Yale university press died, the black woman who admired me as much as Bev Smith did, despite the piggish act I put on, yeah put on, still  she emailed me in 2003 and told me, too many thunderstorms and flying wolves, not enough brunettes, and wished me well. When one becomes a drag queen in circumspect America they must buy their max factor from the racially correct part of the cosmetics aisle, which shows how low this dump has sunk.

But, received another email in my blanket carpet bombing submissions, it took me until three years ago or so to realize my hunt and pecks might have seemed romantic, but was a waste of time, and had my work called Bulky again by some hacks in some Digital webbing ad, whose work again this is upsetting all looks like they were made of inked spider webs, which can have some ethereal effect, but not this amateurish shit. Too, a couple of self professed horror comics, I seemed to gravitate towards that shit doing my best Wally Wood, alas they don't recall ol Wally anymore much less Davis, much less EC, and are all looking for next cruddy ugly shuffling dead, which obviously even Soprsos isn't looking for anymore. I was called sexist for my bikini Dracula, and her killing of the tony verse Hefner, and used Lana Kane as the blond bunny he kills off,  though saw since 2005 it was used by the great show Archer. Sexist, in the ways Metternich would think, which mean by now I know, the brunette is cute and pretty and maybe a tad viscous, which flips the go switches of comic hacks who hate wonder woman as she is, much less my over Camilla version there of. I never got that epithet before started to cut and paste from old image comics, as I knew using Michelangelo quality that the figura of the man and woman must be elongated, lest all look like walking fireplugs, but still like the pages I somehow cobbled together. I just find it amusing that so ascared of the base is the creeps of the democratic party, so fill of trepidation are they that the leaders of this mission, as is seen much in lest say imperial comedy and like colonial poetry, as we are being subjected to this constant screaming and bullshit, why the alders again are shown as doing the kind of minstrelsy that you have fallen in love with by utilizing too many thugs and Jews  and Russians and Irish to play wops.

I had an inkling back in Saturnalia that the fat chicks in Palestinian drag, now in dog day afternoons no where to be seen, were nudging the shufflers away from the tree, ...oh not that way, that's the Apple store, yes that's right,walk this way, Igor...but there is something fitting in the unseemliness of these blowhards being the sort of thing seen in fantasias like Avatar, the poor stupid trash is given a lead and a hero from say one of the ruling family in Rome, to go against the Principe, but you know, like Jesus, within reason, and he legally tells the trash to remember who to render unto until rendered unto him. This is why no body believe you house everything's anymore,... as everyone knows it a con and a fake, no Cattilines  here, I knew that, and as the market is trashed as well as any mad Jesus could, I say I preferred the America before Barry the bagman, when men named Newt and Bill put on a sad Roman-ism that is unforced and not much admired, even hated, here in the dark ages, look another show about the middle ages, your golden age, has commercials during the good fellows loop, how perfect. You wanted clown cars, as announced by hemming and whaling scarf wearing women on the spittoons daily briefing, well, now you have the circus you were stupid enough to call for, because Roman sadness doesn't play well on cable television thug shows, and I am glad to see that men with Roman affectation have been replaced by scared rabbits of fox dens, and the men of the working man, comedy men, those who hemorrhage union thug ism, well they are gone, pink slipped, ironically enough, as free trade is law, and as Barry splutters one must ask, Or maybe its just Tony,whadda do you need this time, ...? And half breed brunettes have Dopplered away  from the less than Oviddian midsummer's night. Within the time it took to send these monstrous files, told to resend them again, as this late in the Presiids must watch each mb sent, ouuuuuughhhhhhh, in hours of Barry's disapproval  rising again, he tap danced as best he could, and he never said he'd not Blanche to bomb them all back to creation, the likkud party is revolting, and if you heard i was avoiding war, well that's before we took the call from uncle Imult and he reminded us this is the buisness weve chosen......yeah yeah yeah, we know what you all are now, a big minstrel show once that you allowed that soprano poison to leak into the well water. Does this house darkie we know now is whiter than ivory snow, as the radicals always are, lest things get out of hand, does he get to have his life trashed as an Incognegro by eye rollers on TV, cause I'd wonder openly who had more lynchings in their family, but again that's just me, or will we just let that greyhound sleep....?

After doing vigilant work ethics page sand sent in the work the 1o days before told to be there, found the people of color comics have torn their page down, unwilling to as Roman Tony did, see it through. I'm not shocked, as a Machiavellian I never am, but it is strange when I am the professional one. Hundreds pages of comics since spring...? The womanish email that somehow I didn't do as they asked, though did it to the letter, as sent a courtesy email to see if such colored institutions were again open to Kemeter's alter boy, or is it all just fat girl Wicca cows you Negros pretend to adore, or anything so Italic, as gods knows the Greeks were never imperialists or anything... I followed their gruel as if a Jesuit student, which I can be scratched into being again, and followed the guidelines meticulously down to size and paper height and spent thirty bucks I'm not really able to do this as professionally as I could, an was told that they weren't interested 'in completed comics', these undone only ten days ago, hence the first email, after told to again, lets what you have, figuring the query cold emails stood for something, which of course it didn't.I was capitalistically and physically exhausted by their secretarial response. And I felt it hid something else, but then as said before am something of a Machiavellian and so don't buy the shit like those on the pad do. So,  their colored anthology isn't going to make or break me, but worked diligently for ten days to put it together, only to go back to the beginning, and have to somehow resubmit this again, though it was sent all in an email and could be used already if wanted, ah as the Indy film guy told me, they love to make you jump through hoops. But will I drop box or whatever again, as am willing to get it seen, as have an inkling it isn't some mistake in submission that booted them, in as much as it is the Roman Conan  I have in red here, as didn't see the first time, or didn't take it to heart that these gals it seems are against,... ugh watts the word...Hyper-masculinity (parodies will be considered) again Does Roman farce count...does it ever...? Maybe more than you'll ever know. oh why wouldn't it. I JUST have a feeling once again Roman Tony as a bit too Juvenal for his own good, and Virgil's Camille doesn't help. But maybe I wont resubmit, as the idea of my Hero and heroines amid this shit makes me rather pale. As my brother told me, telling me to quit giving in to these hacks that Bon Jovi said love playing office, I aint a guerrilla anything. The comic ghetto is starting to unnerve me as am failing with a much higher level of proprietors now. I'm not pretending to be anything, as what I wish to be or am is lot more than max factor deep. Oh, that's enough.

07 August 2015





For my gal, Rachel Maddow, bronze priestess.




Any August birthday break of sleeping and eating and civilizing and minstrel showing as was saved from Plautus and recalled in Amos and Andy and later Scoreasy movies allowed to play of loops has gone away.


I am up to seven books done this year, bits and apices of a year long Rag accepted and published hither and yon anywhere I could Who knew I EVER ENJPY ORW ANT TOW IORK THIS MUCH…? Still find a confluence of events causes me to say things here and there between what one called the best universe creating done in comics since Stan Lee and so, since this was said as a nice aside I didn’t take it as the insult I could have. So between pages done hare end there, I must make this Romantic aside. Everyone is a satirist now I guess, it really didn’t help me to bringing these things up when priests were dying of cooties, but now who isn’t thinking hes Juvenal after all. But in the time, or at least the Italy that invented it, Satire was always meant to be mean, vicious, funny witty and again using one of its best practitioners phrase, one always had to be sure to beware the dog.


I’m not sure I can called someone a satirist who made sure he took on a sliced meat joint with more vitriol than he took on a persona whose drones attacks supplely a black mark, were done in a quintupling of numbers of death bots falling, no literally falling, this is ge, AFETR ALL, from the sky like Danny and Peachy. The orgies and salons and comities that Petronius Arbiter went to with Nero weren’t I would take it as full of bullshit and self importance as the meeting between praetor and satirist now, God knows, as politics the Italian said, has always been a banquet of rotten meats and hard bread, and I'm not sure what to think of anyone who self appoints themselves as Arbiter, see…? And then is taking as Sallust said, Dictation, as such is beneath a Roman, which is why the gal Friday, like so much, was a Roman invention, they invented the woman secretary,  redound as in my book Ancient Romance, a gal to take short hand was fine until Christianity brought Judaism to the shores of Italy in a way Glenn back would prosper with. But im not sure I care, as never found TV facsimile with Horatian satire much less anything more that beer proof.


In Tacitus, gods know no funnyman, he speaks of a satirist the best of then all, he said, brought before Tyberius, a latest and not last thin skinned sissy half breed slave fathered boy queen, and not accepting renouncing all he has said of the boy who would be king, he had his head cut off and his body thrown to crows, a favorite move of gloomy glum Tyberius, whose hated and turning on Captain Piccard as a boy left me speechless of how great the English can be when they put on the Roman rag real thick. Those pages are gone, torn from Livy by choristers, as it is said now the falling out was in Tyberius demanding that  a woman loved by Sejanus be torn down, and Sejanus demurred, as this seemed to bother the Christers, as that showed a Roman with more depth than hbo or its mavens would like. Ah but when Israel is a tire fire thanks to Barry, I hope I hope I hope its so, and I hope Barry is there that day a lame duck, what shall he say, a best Brian Blessed and Bring me my eagles…? ah but you sold them to the Ayatollah at the highest bidder, Bare, so then what…an Augustan pique to do what…?, square the bill and find out who ordered the diet Coke…take da pannnn! The satirist was decimated, a favorer word of bag holders now, literally, I loved the final goat song that somehow just because the Jewish knight told Fox news to go away, it should have been so, somehow I romantically think if you thought of cause and effect, well then this nasty shit wasnt the satire you were doing, as what fools they mortals shouldn’t be wasn’t a line stolen by any English fairy. You think not but my tastes  have never been to satire, Roman or not, but really, as have always had a soft spot in my heart for the actual and the literally Roman, like Virgil or Ovid, as close to satire as Id like to get, why I don’t know, but gods know Tacitus wasn't my hero, as he showed what he was, again I called here to anyone interested, in that after many books evcierating, boy Jonnie and his minions sure liked Spillane like sound effects words, huh, showed a level of violence close to the tethered dog, sousing a bag man word, a familia from a hundred years before between his protestations, like Cicero that the Jews were the enemy within, and would destroy Rome as they’d cause centurions to go hither and yon to destroy one Arab king after the next, humnnnnn. So, he was brought into the praetors office as is seen now, and was told in no uncertain terms, historians is for losers, and now , the piratical now of the Caesariate  was all that mattered, an idea like in Fraud the roman echoes would be found again in Marx. Karl not Groucho.


It seems the arbiter of all that was decent and roman had made a mistake in his acquiesce to the Roman army going in to Liguria to put down an uprising in N Italy never mentioned god knows as much as Masada, but with the same basic gist. I read hero of mine Arminius Pictor was a Roman family scion, and had had enough of the Roman queers and their salons and their shit and went Mishima or D’Annunzio batty, which is better than being Levied, and being ignored once Mussolini was dead, and like a dumb wop he thought Italia would be allowed to choose its own destiny, as communist, HA!, not with that cross on the flag signore, and ended his life unable to publish anything as Patton had not stopped at eboli. My father laughed at this, AS HE TOLD ME the italic reds like the mafia were pawns of Churchill and evil Roosevelt, showing satire is in our italic blood. As with banking the Jews just do a pale but meaner imitation.


Pictor encamped, with 300 men, no comic book here thank gods, and demanded terms or destruction, there is no third. He was sodden into filth by the Legions ,and Liguria was sewn back to Italy, as to this day there is resentment of the Romans an their shtick, but, sanely the senator Tacitus found a theater to Rome, like later senators who bleat and cry all day and then resale the drones, as good democrats like Shumah and Fwank and Warren and turbine Durbin are always ready to wave a flag over a megadetah battle field and as I said, call it a day. I know this, like as with the hanging gardens of Fort Lee, in a play I wrote as a seventeen year old called Hanging gardens, there is more to Italy than any comedians della saquina that Jews can bankroll and wops can film lustily, as if a Verdi Opera. Poor Pictor, I thought in a book I literally finished on  September 10th 2001, waking up the next day to hear Tony Bruno of all people announce a plane had gone into the Bauhaus towers raised when I was a boy, Armininius Pictor  I hope I recall the name right, but he was destroyed and like his signet ring , a magic ring refound in the strips of my Cat. Magnus, his wife, beautiful Ligra, she was called queen of highlands and was brought to …oh god, this is so sixth grade to me now, who recalls…who benefits…was it Diolician, who was it,,, anyway lovely Ligra Italic maid was brought to the Caesar as terms of treaty, in fact this story was found by me in a book called I, Tromfi, in which the ligurains are supposedly demeaned and trashed and the Romans seems the victors,  until a reading again, an Italic trick no cable television shows do, anyway…Ligra, she was brought to the king of Italy now, as a prize, her husband the Roman mad man and hung from the tower there as eveeedeeence, you know like how espn destroys Manziel, and she was meant to be Diolictians or who ever was the Prince that Tacitus dedicated his histories to, queen and unify Italy, as again someone nauseatingly thought they could make the Italians a master race. Oh, such which never works, as it as Nicollo said, forgets itself and its basic core, as if one is an Italian, any master race, or chosen people shit goes against everything that make some worth his salt. You die Roman, rabbi, as Augustus told the man. Ligra in the story found and rewrote by me in 2000 or so, takes her own life by cutting her stomach out lest she breed a Caesar, and falls onto the ground, to get even in ways we civilized have replaced with compound checking. Ligra queen of the highlands was dead, refunded in bits and pieces in Boccaccio’s war epic, La Fiametta, I think later prescribed by Chaucer who loved Italia when this was allowed, as I think ‘the knights tale’, but sixth grade and its Roman nobility wears so long ago, as the vicar of Christ was called by Wayalnd Flowers puppet Ann Colter as some furriner, which shows what she thinks we are as America to begin with. But, as a heroine, an Italian queen Ligra never getting the press of Bodica, but then what Sophia ever would.


Tacitus, again no satirist, was brought in to the freefalling Caesar’s office after this, a book hed not deign to write, as Caesar had tired of his lefty bullshit, screeching about the proletariat and then signing off on wars so wholesomely and fully, a dichotomy that has Hillary’s numbers plummeting, the coven has been closed, as she has her own cadre of Ligras killed by hubby strapped to her glider…mush mush! He was brought in, was Cornelio, and told in no uncertain terms that the people were grumbling as again one cant have a good empire without trashing one own people first, and they tired of signatory bullshittter always doing his woe is me shtick. If Tacitus wanted out of the senate, as he did, and gave a list of cities he wished to be sent to as attaché, yes the Romans had real politic when both sides of BARRYS FAMILY WAS LIVING IN TREES, HOPING FOR RAIN, OR REIGHN, including Cairo, Naples, Brindisium Bagdad and Troy, if he wanted to be sent there, to get way from the Italians, who now hated his guts, well then, hed forgo the lectures and write a book praising the once noble Roman army man, who he had called a security guard, lest the trash in the streets lose their respect for the Roman army, as they you know, killed Ligurian little girls like the Crips do today between crying jags over second story men caught in the act. If Cornelius wanted to be free of the senate that leadership now distanced and hated him, and be the ambassador of the families whose creation he despised, as Gore said, Robert Graves did nothing that wasn’t in Tacitus annals, except taking out the good parts for a sissy English audience . And Tacitus would write a book quickly and by voice if need be, no bullshitty crap about getting things right, true propagandas about my own forbearer, a simple Sabine soldier tough guy, a cowboy epic, a John Ford film on paper, a non decrepit soldier who was his own father in law, everything on that level is a quid pro quo, Gneus Julius Agricola, and so he went to work. The great historian wrote a book out Virgilin Virgil, no more PAUL than Paul, about how wonderful the Roman soldier was… or else. That he did this said much about him, again never a favored of mine, but now openly mocked for a Germania book that invented the lefts wing , he was after all a scion of the people, aren’t they all, love of the noble savage. A comic writer seeing my work as offered may rewrite a knights tale of his as Roman juts to get me to do it, as I said suddenly all my Roman warnings seem rather common sense, after all. The days of Scorsese , the imputes to this, though dedicated to Raquel, censoring me are long gone, as he will do his shaky Chihuahua act on command, lest the circus completely pass him bye.


After Cornelius Tacitus deferred and did this, he was leaving the Roman senate, once the set place for the comeuppance for Cicero by my hero Sallust, you know dictation is beneath a Roman, see above, or in every third of my posts by now, the old queer was leaving the senate under darkness, has he had come to do until getting to the comfortable and decadent east, where’d you escape I guess a lover of Germanic hard boiled tough guy ethos to wish to live, like a  Jewish mahcer in Hollywood, leaving burgeoning Rome,-NY Newark behind for sun valleys, and he saw his mean enemy , a sentry, sorry, senator from Tuscany,  who thought sending the army into a prone part of Rome for by now 700 years, that suddenly not so worried about roman victims, you know again like you and drones again, that the new Coriolanus was a bit much, but then, if a constitution is a living document it’s end is in senility isn’t it…? The smart ass senator I love, the always old man nameless senator how shows up like the old men in the balcony in the Muppet show, sees Cornelius said says knowing the book is out about How my fore father smashed, again Stewarts word, Ireland without even trying, the old man senator now old enough not to care, made a point to hail the great writer and love of stoicism, before he was to frolic in Anatolian waters and steams. ‘Ah its Comenius writer of histories,’ the senator said, ‘out so late, like a Brutus in March nights…’ ouch. Oh, the senator said loudly so the pimps and cats of the night could hear…how proud that the satirist killed by Tybeius would be to know you have become a lover of the warrior, by now, the man said to turn the knife. ‘Your heart may be with the Germans, old man,,,", the senator said, Kerns Godwin and McColluch would call this as aprophica, and unsettling to a historian , but where the Latin jurists knew the truth lies, “ But We always knew your balls wished to be ensconced in Naples, where the pretty girls play in surf.” My brother drilled in this stuff more than I was, said tired he had to get to Naples where the pertly women frolicked, to get the hell out of Pittsburgh but alas I cant even get him to the Newark where the Jews left.


So what am I saying here, as backlash fallows praise, as we allowed a man to lecture us about the kind of half bullshit screeds part of political life since the forum, a place that Barry would slam the doors shut to if he could, someone who called the goofball who does the dread family guy for daring to note that Jew baby union organizer thug gumba yid crossed  picket line instead of making common cause with the writers which he loves so for telling him what to say, I think Juvenal writes his own shit, what do I say, and who cares…?, I get more of a reaction than want any more as we all know how quiet you are when GE house everything’s now FIND out what working for Jack Welch was really all about anyway…


See, GE Theater closed for repairs a week before the republican debate, hmnnn, I guess showing their business was always drone making and war dancing and never did they think socialism was ever for anyone but bankers. With Trump all teed up, our stand-ins for first mate Virgil’s on the crew have all tired out, or like Eddie been fired, and take your damn plebiscites with you, we don’t need any 95 percent's of fools on any same side, you know now that free trade is through, though a little extra in the kick for being such good soldiers, or sailors and not brining up TPP when your prince signed off on it as he always does. Ah the backlash to the triumph, my love of the Roman madman seems catching, as there was always something too Jewry and pushy and long islandy about Jonnie to the house of Luce and even Pinchy, who take off on him as he goes out the door. With gorgeous buffoon Trump right there, the answer from Gods of Rome to those bag men bush and Clinton who thought they had cornered the market as it were on cash, in comes a blot from the green and with the wonderfulness of Italic vulgarity, as he throws it all in your face. You know why Irish thug MATTEHWS IS laughing it up with drag queen Rudy, showing after all we are after all going in a unified direction, as Wasserman Shutzman Person is busily having her hair done…oh what a waste, but then they only swan song this summer that made me feel bad was that of Keith’s, my buddy, a liberal taken on by Jonnie, who like the divas they are, knew that you cant have two prima donnas  in one company, as I like using farce and theater references as the Romans did, as a wop am not allowed the vertias that say Jewish comedians are, much less their wall street in laws. As I said tried with all my heart to be catholic school decorum, tried to say nothing, but when saw the good-fellows homage, found myself turning off the latest triumph, and went away, as again, what did I expect from someone who is allowed to make a seated senator the sissy, needed that much phone time to explain himself to the untalented oaf who makes family guy, cursing  him off, making me feel bad for that putz, as if its Stewarts world and were all just Rick Sanchez in it. I love his Kramer as lectured to about solemnity over Munnney, dis is what weve chosssen, while Juvenal over here was making fun of wars turning into bloody fiascos, you know Jewish ethics. No one he knew was there, as opposed to wall street which was a family bidness. Ah f off all of yew. By accident found a late night showing of Magneto and Claudius, both beloved  by me, in a show called vicious, showing with the echoes of Roman farce, sometime playing the sissy is better than more acceptable tragedies, which all white women wish for all brunettes, gays and Negros to live through as they engorge themselves on double stuff Oreos. Bless them both.


This wasn’t the summer to fuck with Roman Tony, as saw our FAVORITE BRUNETTE, WELL, MAYBE NOT FAVORITE, DO her interview with Jonnie, and saw something interesting, which not prepared for that from these two, it perked my Roman ear up. He had done a Washington monument chataqua go ta meeting, because after ten years he said, he was allowed to show America what he believed, which under cut every word he said before, as sorry to be Romantic again, but Satire IS what you believe, and not an affectation or a fraudulence, but what do I know. I have left Captain Magnus on Mars and must get back to an eight pager as I guess I do know what being a Romans satirist was about, and that in fact, if one is too much a satirist they end of a Roman bath and when one takes diction from the Prcinpate they end up laughing at the warm pool. A horrid hack of Fox news who the Juvenal of wall street seemed more comfortable with than Keith, said this week, and Saw this by accident that his word of the day , always good to be lectured to about verbiage from someone who goes nuts because a new word is on the prompter said, don’t be Saturnian…this word used by Greeks to demean books already there before their love of war fags,  because they were too noble, too full, too now dry, now wet, now full now empty as a befuddled Greek said of Aeneid, but then like with Alex Hayley, any book that’s says something white women don’t like is always a plagiarism, unlike one take for three minuets never being seen before, since no woman likes Touch of evil, and no woman reads Virgil, except maybe witchy Rachel. Saturnian, my word for the day, kids,  for the works of Italic genius now admitted to, paid homage to, the works of men named Lucius and Ennius and the Snowman, the works I redid in AR and in comics about strong men, don’t be saturnine,  he said, like a  good catholic hack, as I must ask, with Roman sonnets of honest rugged beauty by men who liked girls and not little Greek boys, extant bits festooning the shelf here, why can a black man not have to walk under a confederate flag but a beloved American Indian have the flag that waved at wounded knee waved in his face…ah the divergence that they pay men not to see or much less note upon…Don’t be Saturnian, and I thought, don’t worry, no one ever is. Who’s on Charley Rose…?

01 August 2015



14 July 2015.
Again, I seemed to bother some warlock at Rachel’s coven, you know the sort, the vicious manias effeminates and fat chicks who must get the most out of their vitriol as it has such a sort shelf life, what with them being often pulled back by the reins of Imult, and thus like Cicero’s Gods become mute, but just when you’re starving. So Barry O’bama just swallows balloons of the republicans and got free trade through with parliamentary hijacks that Disraeli would call venial, so you radicals rearrange your portfolios accordingly. As I said I told them at Zoetrope said again to some t-shirt hack, when one calls oneself the mad man at the Roman triumph, what is thought of me by you worse than senseless things as I weep for hung Pompeii, means nothing. I don’t split my take with anyone. That reminds me, I have tell a writer I got one of his stories done by me into an anthology, cause I’m a sweetheart like that.

I could be a bitch an say the nuns taught me enough of the middlebrow elements of white woman writing to the point I had sold a novel to Harper Collins at nineteen, but had to as usual back away when I got the scent of exactly who owns these covens of dining fat women, and just whom it is that ahs for closed wholly on the Okiefonkie swamp as we know, even before ethics, as satire is the first thing to go, and for similar reasons. I refuse to stop writing in the Machiavellian way that persist adored, having been made

to deconstruct sixty word sentences from the Prince, clause upon dizzying clause, as Henry James said, showing Italian was language whilst English a barbarian tongue that described things, so I cant leave that be, as it seems to me the least I can do for thieve queer prince’s of the church, whose dearth is far in the back mirror of cars which read in sanitized blood, just married. A commercial appears on television, I must say that as somehow the internet and superhighway became less of a Delphi and more of a moveable vaudeville, when the elastics of Barry’s political triumphs was accepted and made whole and true by the acquisition and acquiescence of a Bush apparatchik, which should have said much, but who listens through the confetti…?

Too, I was lectured to by some black face on Google, I was sure this came from a similarly truthful and thus suspicious post done at Larry the cable guy, as he is a good nigger pope attempting to trash to be niggers as Incognegroes, which again in big talk coming from an empire in which pretending to be a nigger seems to be a whole third of your gross national product. I take it this niggardly shit is as close as you can come to culture when all the faggots have become wet nurses. Still, rap music, never assailable, never to be censored, never verboten no matter who dies, you know until; a white woman dies or Rush Limbo is carried off, and never censorable like anything thou might have, stays as the national folk music, and this Harvey cartoon come to life and his niggardly pairings seems to get more sanctimonious the worse his numbers get, but then for his ilk, he can rolls his eyes n demand scansion through the tear gas, much less having been the stone that cock robin Jewry Jonnie. But as I said Id retire too before having to, like in the betrothed, mule sister Gertrude through the Tuscan hinterlands to the capotoline city. Like I said, Id leave before that too. But, it wasn’t a missive from, any of Larry’s fans, no this was black guy castigating me for a fag joke, jokes, like satire, early on the list of what hypocrites hate the most, its such a waste for time, wit is, as that could be bettered served to screech how much you love the men of the people or a higher bracket, just be quiet when the Jewish yentas split up their bribes. It was an angrier sneer from a batman lover, crying to lecture me. Roman Jesuit Antony about the use of slurs, a skimming as I said that has come of vogue the moment that the poppa Soprano died of bad calamari. I was lectured bout use of homophobic slurs, yet they are the ones who fear gays, I have been around them since 1970 and not one tried to esquire me of my early Neapolitan love of the well turned ankle, but then in the days before aids some fetishes didn’t need to be cleansed by Ted Olsen’s law firm. What with Barry having accepted the tender I guess blacks don’t hate fags anymore, a bribe is a bribe, but I felt sad that the days of my youth in which even as fifth graders we pulled for and laughed and bought cardboard set pieces, all as I said in a smashed up universe where all was true called the Tony verse, made Hyper time by business who lectured me of a lack of devotion, what am I, Kevin Smith...?, Adam West helping Burt ward with his conjugation of Greek Verbs was gone. Batman is dead, a corpse like in AR, dressed in his now Kevlar suit and paraded about, Weekend at Wayne’s, recalled by the sort of ceremony of matrons and fat women who always liked Capote more than Vidal, at least until they were alerted and alerting that when they thought about it, they hated both just the same, Capote maybe worse as he was a Judas and unlike Gore, hid the fact he hated them so. I should have known, but had to get my two cents in that eye roiling hack, still, when a circus isn’t attended or noticed, it is always in a perpetual winter and its carnal rides barren and quiet, and quiet isn’t what circus are there for.


Soon enough showing my Roman genius, the night time at comedy centrals was closed, like the clown show for repairs and retooling in midsummer’s dreamless, pixie less, nights. Like I said, I don’t care what you call me, spell the name right, easily in Google days, and that has always been a sticking point with the good whites who cant understand the Greek roots, and god help the girl child who ahs Greek roots, but still one ahs to admit, your usual admonitions of crazy and or drunk doesn’t work on anyone who can still spew this many puns and recollections of Roman histories you never read. Again don’t fuck with me, as things unnoted by good white women, the gumba talking rodent and the fat blond Bellona, are both summarily off the air. Someone to Pluto first likes me. As I have said, I have done as I wished most of my life and have been smart enough to fandangle my ways through your garden mazes well, and if I forwent anything in life, it was avoiding sections of town whose gunman’s aspects bothered me anyway, but always went to those places when needing art supplies or the new Mad, as a good Jesuit student I have been devoted to nothing, or at least not to anything you think is important. Like I said, having read in Dante , exile from shitbags is a complement if not a laurel, and too, I know your devotions to anything is allowed to a highest bidder, and so, go get your Italians wedding envelopes like good cogs well cogs, and go growl at someone else as Tricky Nicene Sabin starts grumbling he lost because you academic women don’t control your slave niggers enough. Good Lord.



2. I heard from some people who read my last few posts that they were joyful and sweet, which of course answers why the good hacks and drones and button men should would pick up in anger, as anyone who speaks on command as the Romans said lives in abject jealousy of the man willing to yell in the street’s. Its all as I noted, shit I first saw in Zoetrope, before that was seen as a dilettante, a bullshitter, a clever insinuator and a Machiavellian, my sue of what those thugs pigs called the great black saint Niccolo, was proof of my stupidity to white polish stalest, as again said wit is useless to those who charge by the word, and anger less. But was never so defamed as when got too close to the vineyard that all Spiccy Sicilian ate wop’s dream of making it to, which like Barry’s hw3os they will sign off on anything. These assholes think I didn’t see this before or haven’t been inoculated to it, as they think like white trash, they demean on command that their niggardly disposition of humanity and fullness means something To Roman Me. I don’t sublet my soul to those who work at war Inc, nor do I expect to be paid in pennies and simony or wish for my ability to get on a dying network and give the ways white master of ceremonies a blank check to which they hold my power of attorney. But to sue my best Roman curt writing, as said, was reading Sallust when half the erkels of now were still dreaming of being more Moses Malone than Tom brother, here this I think made as simple and clear as Capote’s stream.

You see to sue Roman calculus, Bill Clinton could have singed off on the republican health care deal, one Barry’s great achievement between the signing of betting slips, yes most if not all of Barry’s triumphs are republic in nature, else why would they need him so…? Bill could have signed off merrily onto this, and been in the history books, I shall do this at my best US Grant epistles of dry eyes from the front, like many a hero of a good cause, unlike those who flew that bad flag. Grant was positively, like Lincoln, Cesarean in his cold snake skin eyed ability to look past the corpses to what really mattered. Bill instead of causing the women he ridiculed in shadows to make fun of a mistress, ah the Roman Trapea that Hillary will never understand will always be a fat naked albatross around her neck, would have been in the books where Nixon would have been had Ted Kennedy, again woman killer, didn’t still have delusions if being the one to bring heath care himself, speaking of dead mistresses, being something that causes the wheels to fall off of triumphal chariots. These books are for Barry, I guess, where Barry exists with Brutus, the Cotton gin, and the black death, Bill, ousted of having lived out his coda making fat girl jokes about someone who had the temerity to let them feel her up. But Bill, Roman Bill, Romantic Bill, conniving and thoughtful and using and utilizing Bill, said at the time, like his dick josh about the lesbians he hated so, that he couldn’t in good conscious sign off on a healthy care bill written as he said, not without wit, on Merck stationary. Big Phama, no longer spoke of as evil you know, now that Barry is the speedy alka seltzer of presidents, signed off on this bill, made apparent when Bush apparatchik smirking Roberts said this health care bill was done to support the free market, not at get rid of it’ll, like how gay marriage means marriage is victorious, take that Anne Marie!, so take that niggers, you really should be more circumspect about who you let use your stained with chicken sauce and weed stained mantel of goodness, as frankly I wouldn’t have let Barry sue the soul train Philadelphia theme into when I heard that as the la times once defend to say, half his Kansas family were once Klansmen, the cauldron if not the crucible from which misery democrats had come. Sorry that was dangerously close to Machiavellian sentence structure, as opposed to certitude by ge employees who speak in ad type, no matter what you told yourself of mad men, still as gray flannelled now as ever. Bill could have been the president to give America heath care, or this perfected market tested kid approved pill conglomerate researched and developed model, variation here of, like gay marriage, which is there more than anything to under grid the power already there. This all showing why Charley Rose is annoyed and angered and retentive to some negro adored by Morrison, did I ever tell that story…?, who is being called the new James Baldwin, which I think I am closer to, if not in melanin at least in a love of Virgil; and the epic as he did show in a last book, and too, one of my credo is, and say to all the good white trash hacks out there who think grandpas midnight rides made them champions of their negros they sued to hang and now cause to hang around, If I isn’t who you say I am, then you isn’t who you think you are.



3. Ah, we’ve reached the point in our imperial pageant in which we have gotten to murders that Barry cant use as distraction from him calling sentries, sorry Senators, they become so interchangeable…, and always begging them to save hymns, showing my calling his Caesar was trickily due to his ego and the moonbeam issues he has as it never had to due with his ability to bowl a strike or be fortunes favorite. Fortunes fairies founded in him, no way, he wasnt even beloved by his parents as I was, which showed why he had it maybe better. But at least I didn’t have to go about carrying buckets of water begging to be loved. I’m sorry did I say something wrong again, I can never know what is verboten as quickly as can say Jewie Jonnie or Larry the cable guys don’t really want to be on anyone mailing list and be given my latest histories as the Romans said of Pompeii. We are all in flux that way, when truth is s comity brokered by men who build and sell drones, calmly those that don’t work. But then, I noticed no one is brining down Italian buildings with a poof and a flash to get one person, who doesn’t get the same amount of Roman trial that God did, but then I have always had empathy fop poor Pilate. Ecco the cash. You got that right.

The only thing I believe at MSNBC are the apologies for going too far in their crap, something never done by Cattiline, my nigger, who killed roman Army men purposefully, as to show what the Senate has expected of him, to the point that marc Antony, a young commander, said of our hero, were that there were at last fifty of him to save Rome, instead we have a thousand Cicero’s for every man in Rome. Which explains why he would later a triumvir, ask that the embodiment of the Res publica, Cicero, Have his brains cut out, the ultimate insolent to the always thinking, conniving, Jewry operator. I have this year not played with the posters and the postmen as much as before, as instead of doing this rigmarole did actual work, seven stories in comic form so far since about the march madness, which by definition the step men aren’t allowed to do. It still angers some like Zoetrope and hacks know hither and yon when a Mister Ciotti or Stan Lee or Shooter or even a little box with Rachel’s face on it shines away, deigns to like my work, as good step men they think they own the placement, when in fact they rent out there standing room by the words. It always bothers them, like the hack at arts school when a crew of professionals liked my work and pretty much left his traced shit be, bothersome to them all, but then I really don’t care as much as they would like me too, as never wanted or had to become everything they wanted to be or are. Answers back to these hacks if at all sadly have been more curt and more non verbose than I’d like, again the jurists told the best carrying device for a lie is the simple declairive sentence, why Capote called Hemingway the closet everything, as when someone is that concise with words and truth god knows what he, like Twain, must be saying in the dark. As again told them at the vineyard am not always tap dancing for employment, and don’t keep a portfolio or résumé of only the stuff that worked, much more like Leonardo’s collected sketches of wonder than say a satchel full of stock winners. Old gilded aged stocks are seen as art, I bought an old American telephone and telegraph stock marked worthless, but cost me foury dollars, just for the Venus like Colombia upon it, but was destroyed in a storm. But that was before fearful Jews scrubbed as much Roman out of life, knowing that Dore like lithographs as does everything worthwhile to a Semite, cost money! So again take your ridicule to someone who can be hurt, or best shut up by it, as the priests made sure I knew what was alluded to by Corker when on the spittoon’s show about who really ran his program, as after all, it was only a few weeks ago that Barry needed the Republicans to save his scrawny ass again, and that was made too apparent for the later propaganda, as Caesar would note, to even work.

I know BARRY IS A FRAUD, BARRY IS PROTCTED, BARRY IS A RICH MAN, the house nigger dreams he is butterfly dreaming he is a white moth, dreaming he is a rich republican…but soon enough some Arab, like the spic in gay town, will go off script, and another massacre will ensue, as I have been reading Plautus since 1975. Barry only sings at your funeral if the price is right, and what fox news doesn’t understand is not saying something about something, thought its want the democrats do, isn’t necessarily standing up for anything, which by now I thought would be apparent. As the ultimate drone of the temple of Burhl, so I know acutely what you all are, and sainted have done my share of plowing of the fields and tending to the crops of the lord. I know that politics, that thing you are always demeaning and yet never stray from is Machiavelli’s banquet of rancid shit and it snit any fun when the bus boys put on this much airs, and make it this scanimonius. I watched Charlie Rose and some insider was on, you know now that Father Gore ahs joined the Jesuits in the music of the spheres, and came on to trash the old man of the middle sea, with a paper thin knowledge of things which his patron and master would have cheerfully called middlebrow. A book came out to trash the master of political biography, our Tacitus, after whom no lunge at colossus Lincoln would have been kept unchipped, as he put it a plaster saint around which the Mormon tabernacle choir sung about his Darius like amber caked corpse. No Lincoln now doesn’t have echoes in it of Masta Gore and his alto reeds, as now even hagiographers like Goodwin and McCullough must admit to the Italic properties of Lincoln, his love of Machiavelli, like with A Willy ignored, not even dismissing his Cesarean love of the law of threes, so important in hagiography and comedy writing. The books is called sympathy for the devil, and I wondered how close a friend you musty have been to be able to call a man to whom not a whit of scandal has attached it self, like Petronius and many a Roman filthy Gore liked to watch, a devil, more of a Kemeter, which is so more than I can say about your presidents, who no matter the party like good Roman, Vidal found more comedy than tragic. What made, I thought, Gore the devil here…? Knowing that calling him the devil by this no man meant something as a slur to the lets say Chosen and monotheistic among us, who tell us how holy the Koran is when not going up in flames becaue Zio Sam set fire to another holy place…I wouldn’t be schooled knowing of the proclivities of the barbarians in Italy, again must refer you haters of the Confederate standard to the cross on an Italian Flag, but when the next Isis inspired shooting, you know at the student union, we are nothing if not radical and chic at the same time, when a massacre happens next, if the Confederate flag can be castigated for incurring killings at a church, will the Koran be next to go when like in AR again, a passel of Etruscan soldiers are killed by their own, and the sentries are hamstrung to know what to do….? In a church of hypocrites cause and effect is the most while apostasy, and no Julian is allowed. I would be shocked when all is said and done, and at the end of the day, a hated phase by Oreilly but a Roman again Cliché meaning how many bodies were cleared at dusk from a battlement, [again its stuff like this that keeps Rachel a fan] I wouldn’t be shocked to see Mecca become nothing more than a new Veii, an ancient city to which all the penitents of Janus the italic god had to make Canterbury tales like traverse and thus a first return, will be pummeled by gross barbaric swine. What made Gore such a diabolical figure to this hack…and why was he so willing and cagier to be a Lucifer LBJ had been, so willing to brake earth at the Kennedy centre and literally throw dirt at the vestige of Jack the Frosted. What made Gore so evil and vicious, I ask…?, despite him saying to a hack named Tyrell, now I believe coming out for gay marriage, sure now that Gore and his ilk are dead all the queers are loveable woodland creatures as seen in Ovid I guess, right past the witches who cackle as instead of a caldron, dance about witching flickering images on a Sony, the lastly demographic of get hater, when Tyrell the conservative goon called Gore the anti Christ, Father Gore responded back, ohm please not so formal, call me AC. I felt badly and couldn’t watch this hatchet job, nice that unlike Hitchins this nobody waited until Gore was silent …but something tells me the cabbages can always emote from the earth,…this effeminate strega of the sort we see wee in the library and thus not blood sport parts of American academia, what they waste their time with between bowl appearances.

What was so important about doing this to Gore’s repute and reputation, man how much did this set back the mossad… I hope not much, as outside of me, who even recalls him any more, though his echoes can be heard when a prickly Michel Kinsley, ah the American dream incarnate from Levittown, winces at the word middlebrow, it smells of gentleman’s agreements and Bill Payly and Happy at the Seasons, as Juvenal strakes back when you least expect it. Welcome to hard times, gents, welcome to a land where Augustus has managed to make all the fagots married, no fooling it was once his dream to marry off all the queers to Sabine gals, who he recruited for trade work as he sloppily thought that was a way to return to Roman virtue, so help him Venus, but then, the Roman gods have smiled upon me for yeoman’s diligence, as echoes of ancient romance are everywhere. This includes secret histories of the abortionists at PP, OR IS IT OPP…?, RECALLING the chapter of mine in AR, with vicious sofas of salon tramping overfed Greek woman to whom matrons smelt their washerwomen impregnated by their wayward hubbies. But then, I have never been one for the flag waving, of burning, of Negros and Jews now, who think they have a piece of a shit pie. So marriage for the queers, and rice for all the birds, and who carries who in gay marriage, no body, as no man IN RIGHT MIND, no matter how sissy or weak or perfected will be a previously mentioned Sabine girl. If you don’t believe me, ask Bill Clinton, who seethes as worthy of any character I have ever brought back to life from the Italian dusks, like Al Moore I am a devotee of snaky Kemeter, to the delight and admiration of black scholars who hate Toni Morrison, who on Chuck Rose I learned Toni was a pseudonym and not really her either, making me ask like a stinker, is there any body in there that can write a lick…?

As the Roman in me must laugh when you thought you sanctimonious niggers were getting rid of a confederate flag, but seem to have lost Atticus Finch, instead, when you meant to destroy Scarlet and Rhett, as Capote didn’t finish his own epic, much less that southern fried shit, oh if only Gore had lived to see this, Harper Lee, white woman scribe saint who when Capote died of pills and ambition lost her voice, as was only an editor as I said eliciting dislike once, but …Ah, the most unwise career move, as my poet Gore, perhaps with Orson in the midnight of the elusion fields, dance at midnight, under trees made of Dore silver leaves, or maybe Pogo like irradiant newspaper cartoon, freed from having to sell out as either the jolly green giant or Obi Wan, laughs. I hated writing much of this, as tell the niggers of cablevision that I was reading Julian at ten, at fifteen was accepted into a Jesuit reader of writings on the pro bono assurances of a fat lesbian teacher who hated me for drawing images of her, but knew then I twas a Roman among the coons, and placed a story called ‘king Italius’ despite or because of my open admiration for the plowers of Italy and their hammers and sickles as weapionzed artifacts. They especially liked the way I made it the Roman Cain and able, but written by a sociopath who cared, as Jupiter always thinks able-remus gets what he got coming. You house coons aint shit. Ah but I still feel a need for arguments amid the eye rollers and the giggling Jew babies, for I to be seen and read by white trash women who think they are liberal and or thoughtful, to tell them they are not, it was like acing a sat in math and English as was told by a Italian educator named Mister Mariucci not to attack each question as if I was taking everything’s personal affront, and this time, just spit back what they wanted, and not ever show off by saying that Paul never wrote a letter explaining Christ to Germans. The women and frauds of alphabet soup networks think they are literate but actually they think the best sentence begins with the words Pay to the order of, and so I needed that Jesuitical flourish there at the end just to make them all itch. Think what you’d like, but have been drilled,… hoo boy!... with headmaster priests making me write as if a solider in first person at Caesars bridgeworks called the tenth legion, so again, I say the Dago epithet as I would to ferryman Matthews has he admits to dragooning souls if not bodies to the Styx called war consortium liberalism, don’t just go but stay, as Ma says, La’ferno like demons should.