19 October 2015



Once again, the dimwits and the comics sissy do not understand my Roman callings and Roman ideals and so, thinking they have censored me again, this time with out an out diminishment, I got enough of an audience even there, to facilitate different people being interested my work, and asking me to resend things in that had even been dismissed previously. Its why Hillary and BELACHEAT  WILL NEVER WIN, NOT FINALLY, NOT TOTALLY, AS THEY DISRESPECT THE Roman idealism, though even an admired by me pig named Bill Clinton in mid posing and signing and reposing and pissing and eating and stealing made sure to keep the works of Marcus Aurelia’s pure and doted to, even as well as he can do, which is not much. But out of not much some comes, and now I have been invited to send more work in, and things seem to be coming up newsprint roses. Ill get back to posting maybe later, as now its much work, which is more pleasing.

Like many, again, the ratings mean all in a circus empire, I have aborted Fox and even the nfl, as they see their numbers go down, as guess what, there will never be a new Americas team worthy of the title and so, America says feh to a hack thief loser punk ball of smoke who trek to sell them snake polish more doctor Oz than Ozzie Newsome, and like Rodger Staubach not a whit. So, I finished Rag as  prose pulp novel awaits that response, as being asked to submit anything it seems means nothing to me, as can always bee seen as somehow bothersome to them after being told to reconfigure a shitlaod of pages, as therefore hold out no hope. I AM THE AUGER AGAIN IN AS MUCH AS AMERICA HAS TIRED OF PHONY CATCHES BEING LAUDED BY ON THE PAD HACKS , WHO MAKE A JOKE OUT OF DEFLATE GATE AS THEY ARE TOLD, COSELL IS DEAD AND I FEEL QUEASY MYSELF. I didn’t catch much of that, sure somehow things would revert to the patriots way as they must when things are this fixed and fraudulent. I make no bones about my Roman ties, or helmets. Nothing is more draining and tiring than evil, it sounds like Aquinas but is Nicollo the shyster emeritus, and so hed know. Now, con begets con, fake become faker, all is in a swirl of fraudulence that in the end causes men in the balcony so say, so what…? But was offered a chance to place a playboy like cartoon in a book of satire, or what passes for it here in unromantic here, and had a stencil of Vundergirl I could easily make into something else, as this was the kind of girl, down to kinky hair that I thought would actually Marc Antony Playboy and eulogize it as again the middle brows and the snerds the white girls  and the sissys, all patriot fans would huzzah.

My elders brother’s playboys were important to me as were his mad comix,  found in a treasure trove of an adolescents cash to a kid, with the sentinel by Arthur c Clark, Julian, Boccaccio and where eagles dare, even a signet copy of the brotherhood he thought infinitely superior to the mafia as done by Puccini done later. all read by me when adults still existed. Too here were the playboys that introduced me to a delightfully vulgar, in in the Latin, life of single bars and turtlenecks and fast cars and sunglasses and pretty girls in Wally wood who was in both, voluptuary’s who’d be replaced by men with eating disorders soon nuff. Here I found Patty Fairinelli, Italian dream girl, and Gig Gangel, Fosse hatted,  BLOND AS CAPOTE SAID, THERE ARE BLONDS AND THEN THERE ARE BLONDS, AND NOW ALL WE HAVE ARE WIVES, EVEN MEN, AND OF COURSE BEAUTEOUS BRUNETTE LOVELY Karen Price, again a sort of woman despised by women who read, those who marry off their sons to other men as long as they wear the same types of bobs as mom. In ways felt sad to know that Playboy was going, as the internet is blamed for this, though one thinks a half century of sex mercantile could out do anything that the weirdo bean pole Miami hicks do with girls found at the Duane Reade. I felt badly, but of course we had to hear from Nations scold schoolmarm mater natura scar face Tina Fey, out of forced retirement as it seems fewer people believe her as Laura than buy her as Rob Petrie, or the head of any household that isn’t a coven.

She gloried in this, as a lezzy nun may, the perverts as I have known since fifth grade marinade in necessary cleanliness and scowling and finger wagging, as this was seen as good news to and by her, as her cheese cake she inflicts on the empire, well, its always been of a highest order and thus was sexual less enough not to matter, and thus be seen as okie doke. She came on to bitch about this, a show that birthed her in a hatchery now thinking itself Juvenal’s Rimes, but with enough of a wink that doctor evil can say ’ I didn’t mean it,’ and wed love to have Hillary come on and do shtick, sock it to me baby. Uhhhghhhh, this awful woman dripping in pancake make up last seen on television when George Reeves was frozen solid and Superman had to sue a similar amount of blush, she did trashed playboy as a hag might, which as strange for someone whose loneliest revue stream comes from selling henna to the queers and the Sadie Hawkins who have made her their Virgil. She was glad to see playboy go ways, thought it as here I read Norman Mailer and Ed Mac Bain and star ship friendly and Alex Hailey and Truuuuuuman in the fall, and culled the comic and the cartoons which were divine and glorious and now, get to be trashed as not decent and noble enough for sissies who like their queers licensed like dogs, as the whole point of Juvenal is….I looked up the very type sued by Playboy in its Alan Brady heyday, only finding some dimwit hack who recalled the lines here with less funny but sanctimonious and accountable liens showing his decency and lack of a funny bone. Funny or die...guess. I don't trust ninnies who don't like dirty jokes, as it makes me ask, like Claude Akins, whats yur angel...? Well I mean like this, if you were a thief all along, a lovable rouge, a highwayman, fine, but why I wouldn’t stand too close to our patriotic triumvirate nor their spear carriers we know now thanks to grantland firings are on the pad, fine if you cheat and steal, but don’t tell me that the rules  don’t matter after the tuck rule and a canine adherence to it, seems to be what was your creations, because now, you’ll just get it.

Sadly saw even a delightful Archer be sanitized by the school marms who never read Mad as magazine much less a comic, and was crestfallen tow catch an episode at midnight, then tired when to bed as this as strange turn of events for a crew who were selling drugs ala Breaking bad only a few nights ago, and now the mention of Isis is taken down, as again self righteous darkies like pretending they hold the patent on things in the public domain, like what Disney and the catholic church do. I Read Apuleius and found his emperors new clothes delightful as Statius, an thus don’t have to have white women lecture me about nutting. I was sad to eye Archer, a slight glare of masculinity in our awful middlebrow world now saddled with a kid, and a hateful spyess, again mine WAS like Cannon was, like me, I guess and Kemeter, like ultimate Jew Caphius in hell spitting up to the fraudulent Caesars loving God Christ, not like Jews now carrying water on afternoon sports television as yaks, yew must be unrepentant to the ends, as learned that in the inferno. I was sad to see this strange veering of a program where the hectoring black broad, oh give him a brunette as I did, a little more pat and mike and Roslyn Russell  and Mitchum and Russell , give em hell, in fact, as she somehow placed her own child in jeopardy by having ,wait, was it, having a Pakistani with live ammo shoot at her child and the idiotic archer, but with a heart of gold, thank you mister Chayefsky, and then, something happens, or not, as again one must intone, Simpson’s did it! This isn’t Catullus sadly, and one can only be sexy as palliates allows. Or is it Pilate. I was sullen and went to bed. On the grand Archer Vice only a few days ago, AS SINCE GIRLS WITH SLINGSHOTS, ADORE COMPENDIUM AS THE ROMAN HAVE, the pertly voiced Judy Greer asks archer, what satire …? No body knows, he says. and it was funny before I realized you was serous. So I sit here and draw up a cartoon I will send there or maybe somewhere else, and assumingly the words of Dante strike a echo cord again, and in fact, not being liked by the English school boys and comic hacks prove again, if you are admired by idiots you become an idiot and if you never give in an inch, as a playboy comics would say before all as sanitized for our proscenium arch into the cull de sacs and into the suburbs, and all that aids show was covered in scrubbing bubbles of Dow chemical, including the satire, well, you maybe come noticed, and there aint  nothing wrong with that.


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