16 November 2015


1. As have been accepted again in a Sunday comics compendium, perhaps with my own italic version of Prince Valiant, The black knight, with the first haggard remnants of the Roman empire and the knight, which was theirs, in the coming dark ages, I thought I would then drop my attempt at writing a novel for the national novel month. At which I found a good diversion. But then, I wasn't so sure, as what else do I have to do. So with notes and pages out from ideas from 2001, think I can perhaps put together a picturesque novel, a Roman affectation, a road to... picture, a buddy comedy they validated to highest arts, no matter what they tell you at Britannica, as it is as ancient a Novel like Satyricon, and The Golden ass, which the more middlebrow idea of the novel as one story with beginning and middle and end was something come up with by Hemingway, and his minions, and which I heave never been a fan of, as those seem to be the books that women are asked to read and comment upon.

But the Cowboys lost again, as the circle of witches succeeded with their fat newfangled sanctimony to go after Greg Hardy, like Tolkien not my friends, and now they go after Dez. Who had the temerity to blow up at some house coon who writes for ESPN, for now, a caveat that must classically be given when dealing with on the pad sorts who scribble for the corporate masters, Dez heard someone call him a nigger, like a catch, always in the eye of a beholder, which as poo pooed by the good ole white boys of the bathroom. Ah, but I wouldn't be shocked if this house nigger did just that, as they have had it out for him, since we heard of supposed 8 mm films which showed him beating some woman, beatings are verboten, bit rapes we shall see ate if not condoned well then, decriminalized by the league. Oh poor stupid non brown bag light country coon Dez, didnt you know, as a cowboy, You have a given a target on your back, as is Greg Hardy, as the good japs of corporate television, the great grand children of William Paley, they can go oft on you with impunity, and with out fear of being j accused with that most biodegrade and almost as tiresome as the anti Semite tarring brush. As Dez, as a Cowboy you see, you are persona non grata to the house everything at Mike and Mike or lesser and lesser or venial and venial or jeweye and Oaf or Bridget and Bernie of the ESPN toilets, like Katy Perry or whatever Brunette they can find, and whatever housewife killed their child, but not the bathtub one, she you see was a femy icon and a victim, as they studied ethics taught as under Clinton, and like tarnishing the occasional white trash woman, so, like destroying Bill the praetor's gals, once you reach level of BA degree, you are by definition not traceable anymore and become a Periclean consort. I saw Jovial to the point of maddness and or dentist gas, Hillary, true to her name as best as she can fake it, like her wedding night, rally for a few money moments as she cleverly showed herself against the whose in first weekend of colllleeeegggge football weekend, ah, but someone tell grandma what you tube is, as when you are incompetent enough to say you took money from wall street because of 9-11, something Rudy would never say, as though, he stood on crumbling asphalt and burning tiers, Ala Cammilius, while she was hiding in the cloak room. Oh Dearie, I think you're finished, Roman Bill must do as much or burn in hell as he is aware, and though you may not become Queen of the Tyber, maybe as complainant as you are, you could be the next owner of the Dallas Cowboys, as you fit the part.

Dez was pushed in the back, on the last play, but who saw that, oh no, not the blind squirrels of the NFL, who have it out for him, sure they are one day all these fake films seen by fake reporters will come true, as no problem keeping Sheffy on board, when he said he was there to witness a film that didn't exist, something that didn't exist as after all, like all Jews when you get this far in, you're just saying what we want heard anyway, and though you make yours Saturnalia tree red or pink or blue or anything but green, take heart its Roman, as is the hammer and the sickle, the symbol of general Brutus Junius, a kind of six pionted star, and you Skoakied Jew rats didn't have any cause to make that as verboten as the swastika that you still look out for, and the star on Dez helmet is just Venus, as it was on Caesars sown perinatal generalissimo flag.

But though a Cowboy fan, ...still...?, I did feel badly that the Giants had a stolen a victory from them for a a team who memes to think that quid pro quos last referee—sorry Forever-- , as they never are, by their very structure are meant to not do. I'm sure that jewey owner Krafty thinks by saving Godel he has saved himself, ah but the Lion in winter just means he is hungrier and colder than usual, and watching the gloved one, you know, the acceptable wide out one handed circus freak, really I haven't seen a catch like Beckett, sorry Beckum, I have history on the brain lately, anyway the last time I saw a catch like that one, one fawned over by the nosebleed Collingswood the ninny, and the weirdo evil eye from mad play by play Al, it was done by Fred Belitnikoff. Anyway, I found its sad that the scene of drama is so soulless to this lunkhead Godel and his mortgage issuer, sugar daddy, Sharon , or is it Charon, eheh, that that could have revivified what is becoming a death march of an NFL season.

I watched this shit, as resignedly the rules of that blond hayseed cunt giant on CBS, was actually taken seriously, and again I must ask, no Lombardi me, still, if the ground cant cause a fumble and a knee is down, when a catch not a catch..ask Vince McMahon. Or Elsey. Soon enough Liza Manelli will be the wop who is the head of officiating, and frankly Id trust her more. Sad, as that last minute catch would have made the game seem, Oh I don't know, real, honest, as this was not the day for that vitamin water huckster to have come aback, as Huck Finn is back acting like in the company of men, all doings by muscle memory a chorus line calisthenics, oucccchhhhh!, yikes the mind reels, and again the Romans are openly mocked. I felt badly watching this, as again, the roman rules of farce and drama are being amended and discounted, for clear cold Jew cash, straight or liquid or shady money homes. I felt bad as a Cowboy hostage, Good Lord....! what hath thane denuded me too, Nero! Yikes!, a cowboys fan watching  this strangely straying to seem, well, lets use the word sued by incarnate lucky Ringo of Football Raven alleged “quarter back” Trent Dilfer, who kaput, kept, saying of the Patriots, Bill with 'fix' this and bill would ''fix' that, ...fellahs heard your game is crooked, and how !..., and it all sounded too much like the show was brought to you by Geritol for tired blood and lucky strikes, good for the T zone. What won the best picture Oscar in 1955 mister Glimshire...That show, and the Mooch post game too, seems almost strangely bald faced, as I WRITE THIS, he ESPN turnoff seeming like a gay aids wake, with eyes downcast, and That championship season seems about to break out . Im sure that tomorrow house coloreds and Jew baby Korney will tell us with good Jewish aplomb that that just means the Giants should have played hardah, yeueueyehhehehehhhhhehhhhhh, and really I must say again, though feel a burning anger at Jones for being such a cluck, would have cheered the giants on, as as is said in the Puzo Godfather, its between the brothers, Kay, and one wonders what one time more ram road straight Bill Cower nemesis Tom Father Conklyn knows about Bellicheat that NO ONE ELSE HAS SEEMED TO FIGURE OUT, in the Roman E clefs that all truth is. Oh that no middle finger, Czabe, thats a dirty Sanchez.

But I know enough Roman sophistry to know the Hardrains wall was meaningless once the centurions were called home, I know that much. So I wonder what happens when Bellicosity is left with nothing but his tapes and his secret inks and his night vision and his survivalist mentality, when black athletes are fined punitively for saying Im just here not to get fined Bra, and he says Its off to Cleveland like a broken needle on a copy of American pie. Give him a swift kick, will you, Bob...? When he is left without Vitmeatvegimin selling American sweetheart, who wins in this death struggle and who made whom...?, when he is left with nothing but devices and his bugs. Bullies are made to be bullies and once they start winning games by the width of their lee press on nails as Brady has lately. Well, even a good Jew like Kornshoire will start to have his Stockholm syndrome fade away, as Jews always do when finding the blond wives they were bequeathed along with Pink Christmas trees have started to fuck the colored boys and local wops, the giants fan base, behind their backs.

At any moment I hope you shnnooners and big mouth new York Jews and wops and beasts and animals and beer bellies and teamsters and union brethren hacks and thugs know, laughing Giant fans, you can be Dezzed too.


Sat late at night, and listened to a staticy radio and a wgn Sunday night show, a when radio was sort of thing I heard Superman on in spring, and sometimes hear comes tuning in, and there was my hero, Orson Welles, fleetingly in sound whatever that analogy would be, what I adored about Italian and Roman literariness though Wikipedia wouldst never give them a credit outside of a rock and roll hall of fame like early contribution for Ella or Lois Prima, as a crumb hurled at Boccaccio, a giant who started all you think English literature, and Orson was playing of course, rouge triumphant, Harry Lime. 

In this radio play Harry was apportioning a matron about in truely delightful corrupt Italian Tigris Naples, and found a young woman beguiling to his marvelous eye, especially when in the Pompey doorway, with a cat noticing a prince of thieves. And I sat there in the dark night spellbound and joyous at this master of radio, sad his life as a film genius was so spotty as the rag merchantmen sons had taken film and tiredness and fatiguedly turned into what the Jesuits thought it was, as they were aghast at my attempt to ruminate in it, puppet shows and cartoon frolics. I think will each night for the rest of November, spending the days hoping to get the black knight or a superman rip off redux, as cant I was told, send out the comics I call Rag until the publishing house has finished reading it in prose form, and again If I knew that...still, I will write out this picturesque novel as it is called, a book of the courtier, again an Italian precedent never mentioned by the spics who shovel their vinegar at us ,as Ma says. As I feel badly the Cowboys are in the state they were, though on some level the depression of good Americas teams like the giants and the packers, bleeeech, makes me think that passion is catching, like a fungus, as so should Godlelle know. as again, they are a better draw than a team everyone has a good inkling is chateing, and all the kings horses and all the kings men, why Boomer semems paler than usual, greuuuuupppph.....

3. I see a film is coming out about the dreaded awful Dalton Trumbo, yecuk, that effected swine who made such a point of his communist leanings when not living in bel air, that crucible from which snerds like Sean Penn crawl from, telling us of our lack of grace as a society, having studied Labriola at the harvest moon dance and the debutante balls. Trumbo in this, I take it, is again the great working class Jew hero , a commie, but not you know really, who is given the opportunity to be a front or have a front, be fronted, and writes Spartacus, which right there I hope means he is burning in hell, As it was that script about Spatracus, which could have been vetted by a simple going to what we had once called libraries, this hack in El Segundo, where all matters of mars and Rome could be built and made by carpenters unions, as sadly, this cretin, this hack, this lower than senseless thing made a hero and a freedom fighter, thats a terrorist on your payroll, when in truth he was a Greek prince, who had his own retinue of slaves, and was about freedom only for hisslef. 

In the reading of a simple copy of Tacitus or Gibbon, or most wonderfully, Sallust, this cigarette holder queer, would have found out that Spartacus was no real hero, not even a fake kind like MLK, both though having had ties to a secret police. As Sparky is seen, and IT IS IN CATILINE'S WAR, once went to the great mad senator and offered him a Satan meeting Jesus in the desert sort of deal, that if he helped to destroy the senate, and thus the family of Phillip, who was a rival royal from Athens who hated the Transcaucasia as not being Greek Greek but colored, Fuck you Kirk Douglas, and gave Spartacus his freedom, to go back to being a Greek Prince, I believe he was sold in to slavery by his famiels royal nemesis, that Catiline would be by dint of a slave, and a Greek faggot no less be made a Roman King. A new Tarquin. So did Trumbo place that in, cause as I have said as a Jesuit student, I know all about what you ignore first, I am a lazar beam at it I have been told, and wasted that talent, stilll...the grand freeman lover wanted to make a mad man demeaned and renounced by teh senate, King. Well, its not one of the Roman stories big with me. But, Trumbo was so off in so much, and not just dates and times and places , but completely hoodwinking and hornswaggoling, one of the great civilizations in history to amend his shitty little jeweye points, inclinations of a Jewish hatred of boy love that caught Stushie off guard, and he found detestable in much he threw away, dreadfully sorry, that eventually and you can again look this up, as a Jesuit student I dont have to make things up, I just use what I needs, that genius filmmaker, who knew that Alfred Hitchcock also turned this down, Stanley Kubrick, I guess buying a copy of Sallust, repudiated the film in toto, and vowed never to work with Trumbo and more importantly, blond, always blond, Kirk Douglas, again.



I felt badly knowing a great civilization was so trashed and smeared by this hackish, twerpy cunt, as Zero was always my black list hero, but then the egg plant shippers now considering themselves patrons of artists never much took up for Mostel, Thinking he as before saved by Mel Brooks, too Jewish. That Dalton sat there writing this diatribe trying to Good God...!, equate the Romans state even in Cicero upheaval to your goy blond in laws, yikes, burn in disco inferno, old man, and his little Olivetti, to due irony, typewriter, as that scene where the slaves all rally around Spartacus by saying they were Spartacus, never shaped, and isn't in the Howard Fast book, as when Jews or Arabs or their masters decide to shmere it on thick, they do. I as a lover of Rome, found this outrageous this who do we arrest stitch , so Jewish and crafty and lawyerish, as thought as a boy of the early rumination that I had all ways placed on that one page of Plutarch, where Numa's dogs of war, again another line gifted to Shakespeare from Caesar, and packed in Antony's mouth, are said to have howled and barked and bitten and eaten as if a wild pack of dogs, all of Italy in about a hundred years, and in a city called Lauretium 30,000 people Italians were reduced in seven days in may fog to nothing, to a resulted 876 or so women and girls meant because they were pretty to become roman scions wives and girl friends, there was no questioning on Miranda and warrants for any of them, and actually so admire SOMEWHAT the grand Stushie Kubrick for having learned what Spartacus was and what he weren't, well, basically said, that's enough. 

In my own files, I  found a Roman girl who sent me a picture of herself in a ad in Oggi for Italian vodka, again the mind reels on that, but then how good or bad could potatoes wine be...?, as this has happened to me more than once as lovely brunette starlets had willingly and eagerly sent me pictures of themslevs, as in fact to their consternation kids at art school showed me their work, knowing I could give them better than a critique Id give them accolades for trying something different, as opposed to most. And she is something to be seen, with short wisps of blue black curl shorn cut as in a de sica way, in a black cock-tale hip hugging dress that shone green, as Superman hair once shone blue, who knows anymore, and I placed her name down in pencil then and here, with the thumb-nailed doo dads of drawn and written note, her name, the perfect and ironic AENEA. HER NAME WRITTEN OUT LARGE, AND HOW, as she told me she was part Turk. Aren't we all, I emailed back. That's all though, why didn't I write the rest of her name, I don't know, but I guess from the back page of the oggi, of this ad can figure out the day and date somewhat and refined...oh ferget it. But I warn Hillary and Brady, don't forget to keep the Roman Gods holy, or you'lL get it, as some ninny is out there on the streets of Paris racing way, not quite a Harry Lime, and no angels seem to be coming to save him, as again he didn't have the guts to stand there and die, as a Roman heart like Catiline would demand as again, you Semites always revert back to your legalistic jargon and again, nolo Condentre, or WONT lose a game, as he should have been wiling, when got up that morning. Harry Lime is dead, sadly enough, and the lovable rouge has been replaced by the schoolmarm, the hack, the Trumbo, the fake. See, Id like to know why the white woman who hector Greg Hardy and Dez aren't there for when Rottensburgehr and his fat lover try to spread that shit about him as some sort of hero, Id like to know why there weren't people screeching at their quarterback in Tampa, you know, how Nipsy had year to clean up his mess before Jimbo allowed a police interview, Id like to know why and where you disappear and how and why, i know its not the sewers of veinna, cue the zither music, old man, but then youre all too good and decent and fake to be the anti heroes you all think you are.

10 November 2015




I saw how again niggeralia seems to take twists and turns and surgically without a layer of white chicks and ninnies in Guy Marx masks. Its games day, so get up. I think I would have been better off instead of painstakingly arguing as a Jesuit might, as arguments like free speech are so 2oth century, so openly grousing, as was told, their slurs are national debate, your slurs are mere entertainments, against the sopranos and Scorsese as I had, instead of putting out any arguments and such I could have just paid ten niggers to show up at HBO and sue the bullhorns that Reverend Spike AL doenst need anymore what with him beings net to the phantom Zone to yell and Holla into that yawing gulf on the other side of Mooch and Micheal and Rich Eisen, where all the eyeballs are. Of course the Jews at HBO might have been so fearful of this they relent, but then, as I figured, its always amazing when someone matters and when someone doesn't, as its never schooling when those doges in power decide you arent worth bothering with. Like how suddenly Clair MacCaskil is sighted and on Rachel no less, as during all that Ferguson shit she had it seemed gone to the mattresses with equally off the grid Democrats like bags of skin like senators you havent seen and are presumed either dead or chalked as reelected since Obama showed up. If there's one thing ive made apparent in all this, is the Roman credo, why tempt fate...?

It is funny when the sanctimonious get their voices like the dogs that bark that you are, as recall when I said I wanted no part of Greg Hardy as a cowboy, as recalled how he treated that pretty brunette and found that akin to how a starving man in the alps say, would see or view the Nero luaus in Rome, with a dollop of anger. I was no fan of Greg , thinking fuck up Jones was reaping a whirlwind, bit what do I know, except it seems I know almost how every joke ends. I didn't want Greg on any AMERICA's TEAM, GOD KNOWS, BUT THAT WAS WHEN SOME MORNING QUEEN NAMED THE ZABE WAS CALLING THE WHITE GIRL WHO HE BRUISED UP A MONEY GRUBBING WHORE. Now, as Greg is a Cowboy, he was never a fan. Of course now out of the baseboards come our national scolds, like Mamey Christine Brennan, not my diminution at all, and others who want Greg out for life. The Cowboys lost again, showing again what happens when you brake the magic seal, or are an incompetent owner, and I had to hear a team where a wide out got aways with calling a man not a teammate in coliseum like hazing God forbid, worth ones salt is a warning in an empire of ninnies, porch monkey is a Roman insult, what aint...?, but a black man meraley doing his job and nigger and was kept on, as like something out of Agatha Christie, all the coons at German town were let go, but a bald cretin who thinks working men, not boys, and only a third as many love collegggge tempo in the snow. This is a team that took umbrige at seeing Hardy, and he became persona non grata when leering at that white 'Woman' who Brady is married to in a satire of a decline an fall, as that was too much for the Jew and the negro to bear on I love you today ill hate you later afternoon yak talk shows on Keith-less and thus boring gay wad television ESPN. Ah look, there the Turk again, as the one thing you cant be in an imperium circus is boring. The pictures of the brunette surfaced they did, as the undercurrent of house everything's at ESPN trashing Hardy for leering at that transvestite 'Mrs Brady', seemed a bit much for all the good sportswriters now telling us they were liberal all along, as Micheal Sam got what he deserved.

I wanted to maybe hurl a letter in a bottle to lovely darkie thinker Kartina Richardson, who I respect as an intellect as soon as I saw her post a picture of herself in a pair of overalls with no shirt underneath as she was adorably cogent. An adorable thinker. I couldn't recall her website or if it was even still up, as got a few likes from the lovely dragon lady, until I think I asked one Columbus day renamed as indigenous peoples day, did that include the Etrscuans...?, cause I noticed it never does.


Still, thought Romansplaining was cute and great fun, and thought Id post it to her notice, so she doesn't just read niggers all the time who are willing to carefully back down when told. So looked her up on Google, again, as knew she wrote for salon until at least she said something too far afield from where the scarf wearing matrons like to get, ummmmmummmmph, and I think she was a bit too Juvenal than they'd like when getting money from a war consortium so make sure no one mentions drones, or the ninety cent solution for the rich men who made Barry their imperial bag man. We are headed for that Shatner moment, as Barry feels the dogs bark and he at the end of the parade. I saw a page which held something I never saw before, never heard of and why it came up wasn't sure, about some write a novel in thirty days contest , which started a week ago. Shit niggers, I can write a novel in ten days, five if you want it to sound like it as written by a white woman,as the bane of all Jesuits, the simple declarative sentence is the way most women and idiots like to lie. I could do that I thought, and will try to get something done ,as I certainly am not bothering with the cowboys anymore. I think I could write this Capote book Id been thinking about, the take of a gigolo of old women who finds a lovely woman he is attracted to, The Suckers List, as think I could do that saucily and easily and well.

Then I thought it over and think I did enough and sent out enough, a week behind i don't think i could, but saw this Arrhenius like white woman, are we ever free of their perfection...?, who dictated about this and of course spitting downwards is American as cheery pie and this cunt dint like the idea of anyone not vetted by the war profiteers or slave labors lost box phone makers as not having final cut, or anyone having a say who her masters hadn't blue penciled first. What did it matter to this cunt if some one took an opportunity to go to an open audition, which was once the life blood of the Roman and London's west ends, as when things gentrify and fossilize into both christian and lesbianism sanctimony, yes I saw the connection of blue noses first, making me beloved by doomed priests, the republic is dead. Sorry, and I thought write your novels kids, girls, niggers and all out there, and post your shit, as in my Roman way of thinking Catullus said the only way to criticize a book,... is with another book,. Leave the boilerplate and propagandists to women and holy cross spittoon drunkards, as I have never been on any pad and don't get my wit sent to me by fax as am never told who to damn today as am proud of my Jesuit creed in feeling badly for Richie and Florida housewive Casey and wish to see Brady break his scrawny neck, and hope Krafty goes belly up. I don't attack at dawn, as know, as a good Italian, there is no work security in that, and that in fact, the Turk, named for the Roman god of death Orcus, the villian in AR, who liked to kill, as Turks maliciously did, is always at the door. He was, as the Turks were coming to Italy, hence Dantes greyhound, they were afraid of wolves, supposedly not natural to Anatolia, and thus made into perpetual fairy tale villains for wanting to eat their kenneledd little pigs, from where we ironically get the word senator, which seem romantically correct again seen jowly fat women electioneering on the runs of GE theater. Wolves, the symbol of Roman defiance forever, which teemed in Italy, as therefore...But am too late to do anything like this now, too behind, and let it be, as right now didn't feel a need to prove anything more.

You see, I love Trump as a Roman snare no different from how the Godel blood sport has turned into a death march worthy of David Lean, or Blimpish Alec Guinness, as large men fall on shields all over the place. That last election another Goldman-sacks set up, was such an egregious insult to the Roman Gods, as clever and contrived as it was, dog killers everywhere, that you'd pay, as I guessed you would. America is, I was told as a boy by a priest, a Rome on the cheap, and the influx of Jews and Gypsies, ah the unnoticed of Dachau, has just given you a layer of filthy conniving and grift no Sicilian even could get behind, as taking ones medicine as I did tragically and figuratively is what frightens you Niggers and Jews most of all. I love Trump and the Cowboys still, as they are incarnate immaculate empires striking back, welcome to the apostolic of the republic leavened and honed by the people who loved farce and satire most of all, and thus  take that Archer, you lost yur mission statement and so dont bother watching anymore, who does,...Trump, Archer unapologetic, is a Roman anathema to George Will Versus Irish heckled up bag man Oreilly, as some pig man who has been lecturing us since Keith as a good republican was after all a attache to Colin Powell, house nigger saint, and was there when the war plans were made, which he has never seemingly answered for. I am Roman enough to never be lectured by a war criminal, as again aint on the pad and don't have GE executives telling us they did other radical sheikhs that I have to put Medved on. I resent the niggers and their sanctimony, as the Italians were the first people Cripp-pled in God land, and so see your championships as less than Roman, clever as Hannibal was called, and don't trust it at all. Like Clock Boy, your scions of sanctimony are layaway effemeral, carbonated, temporary, as you as John Thomson said get your only exercise by jumping to conclusions. When you pompous hags and such get too close to the weeds then supinely the niggers with bullhorns disappear as they are starting now, as the house and closet everything's of ESPN, will bug out the moment that anyone talks of paying a dime to college kids with that revisoir of cash that football makes for the lecturing halls, where the speech codes are played on thick, as men boys are sent back into blood sport games with concussions protocols as laughable as boxing doctors were once. The harder the fall. Hmnnnnn, there's a compare and contrast for a pussy nation, that without sport would be stuck with more niggers with nothing to do.As m father told me, the Italian were doomed once they stopped sending their boys to the boxing g ring to be thugs like Graziano and la motta, who he dispensed.

I knew that the Roman gods would get their due, again why there is no such thing as Roman Passover, blood as I was told as a boy, is the first thing that catches their eye. In the NFL stars fall everywhere, and the hard sell of Negros with the American dream of checking accounts find their jobs are up for grabs on blowhard stations who sold out to a prison demographic, as they always are. But I saw a human pustule named Mark Madden , why on earth am I watching this blowhard, as Gore called Rush ah but Rush actually read the list of greivences at Mizzou, ...wait didnt I use that line like a year ago...?, again I AM THE AUGER, causing both senators and nigger street raiders to go as they often do, Poof. I saw the look on Mac Caskles face, when our girl Rachel went too far a field as we are want to do and she was caught there after a good year and half of being incommunicado, or is Incognito, I am not sure. Watch for that story to be dropped lest any gladiator ask for the payment that Romans gave, as somehow no body thought to do this, or even ask questions as was done for Pitino when Jimbo presided over all the rapes and felonies. Im tired, and have to prepare for Saturnalia and might just let this all go for a while, as won two tickets to The Phantom menace or whatever that Roman plagiarism that Lucas no longer does, and will ask that kinky haired gal if shed like to go with me, as my brother tells me, at 60, no way is he sitting through that robot Flash Gorden shit, as his EC comics are long gone,and so is wally wood. But Madden went after Greg Hardy, again they will get even for him for leering at that transvestite, after all, you niggers work for owners and masters, as my life on the Tiber is infinitely more honorable than you life on the Mississippi and it is the Tiber, ask Bill, where we get sold down the river, menacing how Tuscans sold their criminality and slaves to Rome, stupidly beginning their populations of soldiers as they sadly as in AR, were busily aborting children who were half everything by matrons and such. But Madden also with the glaring omission of Leather face zippy the pin head Roethlisberger, kept speaking of the decline of Rome, a go to by the trash and the Germanic filth, admiring the Romans just long enough to believe in the noble savagery shown in Tacitus. As to show my love of Roman mythology is full, it is clear it is iron clad, at the next Steeler game, why Rothelisberger again in a tight game, well, he broke his foot, or whatever phantom pain caused him to go off the fields on a shield or a go cart or whatever, you see the seven times Rothlsberger has been carried out of a game, the very next week the team scheduled next was the Ravens, look it up, as he is a victim of circumstance. I find it funny that fat ankles Christine and other ESPN weather-girls didn't seem to be bothered by him or that Jameis is in the league, as he winced in pain as the Raiders, bless them after the tuck rules of empire they seem to be revivifying, reanimating, like a fungus. I love them so. Watching this lunkhead falter and fumble and crumble as the latest time in history a clown dies, and now the MacCaulksy fat women who hectored men about the definition of RAPE, AS IF TRASHING THEM AS RAPISTS, YOU CANT AS REPUBLICAN MENTION RAPE, IT LIKE ABORTION IS THEIR IMPERIAL SACRAMENT, and as for Billy not mentioning rape such is merely Nolo Condrendre. Hey, I wasn't the one who compared the national organization of women to a Roman dick joke, that was your champion, or at least his wife. As Jews and women in sashes sulk of the world, the pigs of Ovid, eye polls showing Hillary as standard bearer would be an implosion, and they are stuck, as Rosthelseiberger goes off the field again in a mash unit of an NFL where no one wears a Roman helmet and so designed as they were, concussions are everywhere. Now that's Roman.

02 November 2015


  1. The return of the lovely show Gilmore Girls to the airs recalls in me a bittersweet recollection of things, as already this time of year solicited in almost all of us. Unfortunately a death Holiday of barbarians and its anti catholic learning's is foremost now, as we all become German now and drink and sing drinking songs and leer at side of beef fat women loved by Negros and drink and drink some more, as sex and death are, as they always were in Italay, combined but as usual in a Lutheran minded dump, such as America we must preen and pretend that somehow if some are accountable at all.

As the Christmas tree was somehow invented by Martin Luther, who destroyed far too much to ever have invented anything,as all reformers at heart always are. Thus the closest Italic holiday to this Oktoberfest was the more logical Prima Vera holiday of carnival, which of course can always bother the white in laws as all does until they are told, or maybe just get the scent in the winds to knock it off. In that Venetian holiday there are dancing green sex angels and deja Thorisies, and Jane's, and wonder women, an Italian cartoon as much as anything, and according ghosts and such things as wayward skeletons men and feather boas and masques and all, but it is all far too playbilled for land where Bush and Clinton, speaking of death, bumble and stumble their ways to Pretoria, with both having to tell us again, if you heard my denouncement or demeaning the troops, or, if you heard me say I had better things to do than be Caesar, well, let CNN explain it for me with foreheads speaking and mumbles Gergan to always let Andie poo and his women feel like the flood waters haven't yet reached this high, speaking of Venice, as I was.

The program is on in the evening, allowing me to not bother watching bumbling house everything's like Bushie and Hillary stab and burble and trip and sideshow and slapstick their way to Coriolanus' cathedral, as it is a nice respite from your usual garbage and water carrying. No one quite like Lauren Graham or her daughter is shown anymore, or God knows, as the great Liza Wheile, well such a driving bitch is out of the audition now that we have all become lovers of Barbie and flamage as we we're all meant to.

It recalls in me being a student myself, become such a venue was trashed into being the venue for wizards, which has always bothered me, as a harrow for wizards always rubbed me the wrong way, as always saw wizardry in it italic form, mostly ignored by Miss whatshername in the carneige tower, explaining for somehow all these English wizards reciting Latin , though and I haven't watched most of it, but found it funny, no one there ever seems to teach it, no one ever seems to speak about how they are doing well or bad at say Latin 101, or is it like it was for so long, was it the gist that they got, recurring the language of Virgil into mere babbling Mantra. All which after all, is the absence of language, as was said by Calvino, which again was another reason white women disperse of him and his italic sonnets like Galileo's, to the arms length moon.

It was a kinder sweeter world in the early 2000'S before the first of many Bushier tries at Vidal's 1876, and stolen republics, which by now have become old hat and boring, always death in a circus, kneecapping, sorry explaining why the boys and wifely Clintty are having such a bad go of it. As the whole world isn't Harvard, something the priests advised me, aback when. As you Jews can yuck and guffaw it up will you want and this is truer an exclamation I must sued when not talking about shictlkle, like the size of my cock, also all true, even still, I must place here that this is true when I feel it is an important exclamation in explainable Roman hyjinx to you all. In 1975, my father, prematurely proud of me before the fall, was in his store with his buddies and a local rabbi came in to wish my dad a marry Christmas, as I said, we had yet to became so, whats the word...?, Skoakie about things, and my father and Italianate and not Sicilian, all the difference in the world, wasn't uppity about anything as he was friends with the local Lutherans Jews, blacks whatever, it was only the wops on Mount Verona here, who'd I come to know and hate, who made a point of their Tanacerto like retardation, sorry admiration, for the razea they think they are allowed into, for the race, which of course, is never allowed, by anyone with a dangling vowel, unless of course, HBO needs cover for a new gumba show between high holidays.

The rabbi was impressed I recall by my Superman, drawn then that my Jesuit trained farther saw and hung up as it was a superman one scintilla from being drawn by a queer, it summed, as he was such a paragon of power, unlike the dick who vandalized the moon when he thought he as dying in the what if machine. The rabbi told my dad, Jim, he said, you know, your boy here has a better chance of getting into Harvard than any of my kids do, even as an Italian he said, not entirely meanly, but truthful, as back then, at la cote Basque and other Capote hangouts, I think it is called la cote basque 1975, isn't it..​?, and the rabbi who looked like Italian actor F Murray Abraham, said that starting now, then Christmas 1975, if I was up for it I d have to give it my all and would have a good chance to Harvard or Yale and the American dream that has always held for Jews and others in America stable boys at the king's ranch. I made it apparent that I was no Harvard queer, and my father agreed. Funny as I recall back then. It was the preppies schools that were where we all heard the queers were made at various levels of boyish demeanor, until aids hit, and the priests just had to be demeaned into perverts ,lest anyone think, like Rome, they didn't deserve it, like the Sabine girls.

He had no love of Harvard,my father, not like  as is shown in this turn of the century show, at late and until the number was too high for the married into the famialia gal who wrote it for the wb I think, and so, Yale came in and took a slightly smaller number to get all that pub, which, as I recall reading, the use of Rory as a Yalie Nancy drew feminine architect caused a 15 percent jump in applications to Yale, showing again, Veritas is what veritas does.

I recall in watching these rerun shows, thinking it amazing that like the brilliant Homicide, this show was given almost no Emmy Accilaides while on, and seeming to show what reviews and critics are worth, as Lauren in an ultimate dream girl to me, as well, slightly below Wendy Fiore, and for different reasons, as of course fairing the perfect girl who encases both sides of brunette loveliness, sexy and sophisticated, was an EC comic satire I did, called the first times a misogynistic, in the pages of which, where the brains of a Danielle Cosretto sort were applied sloppily and very chiller theater, in a body of a Fiore creating a Beatrice, as unseen here, which made me ask the woman who was so insulted, what part of EC comic book satire didn't you get. AH, BUT THIS BEING A WOMAN,OBVIOUSLY ALL OF IT. OUCH.Satire is always the first thing to go when the tsarists take over, they must be seen as noble and decent from Augie to Billie, and satire not only gives the game way, it make get under their skin. Plautus and Terrance were the first to go, burned by Augustus, which cued at later gotten rid of Ovid to say how could they compete with the Caesars, who were giving farce and pratfalls away for free.

AS I could have guessed this fag land is a mere empire of ninnies was it always gets to be, as Tacitus said, every empire ends up with far too few soldiers and far too many welfare queens than it needs. I love you coons thinking welfare queen was something invented or you, ah the Romans showed the way to decline and falls and corrupt plutocrats and evil vicious fish wives and brothers of a insipid attempt to take power when you niggers were still living in trees and loincloths, as despite any love of noble savages there is no tittle Jews and yentas want as much as say Senator.

There is something mean and measly loudmouthed shown in this dump since Lorelei and glammingly Hispanic thought by me as Goy godless Alexis Bledel, and Liza and Milo, the well read hoodlum, an olive skinned twist on things we'd not see again, as now I noted things have become meaner and more viscous than the bullshit of fakers and fained and faking politeness and forced goodness of who lovely the whites have become since the midnight riders have become. I heard a cretin on the radio, a national show now being heard on a Pittsburgh sports radio show on what used to be the B 94 channel, as the great local Cannon Brothers are unused for gumbas in mid flyover country from the dreaded Fan radio. And this creep, was doing his love of men who sweat, a froggy voiced ninny, a gumba Jewie twerp, a lover of men in space who with his boys, ahhhoyyy, IM A PIRATE!, OH NIGGERS PLEASE, THE DIMINUTION OF GAY MEN IS A Roman ATTRIBUTE GOING BACK TO COMMIDIES LONG GONE. AS I said once allictiting a like from Jon Stewart, or whoever had read it, I recall reading Coriolanus when it was still played for laughs, as in fact it was by Roman hating and suspicious Italians more bull than wolf. So, this creepy faggy weirdo, some one name creep, like Cher or such as that, was speaking to his 'boys', again they all sound the same, as all share a love of Tom Brady and Sodomy, to paraphrase Alvin Singer, as they discussed the ads that bothered them so, and I had to sit there a second, and didn't turn the dial, just knowing what this closeted everything was about to say, not sure why I knew but did, as between radio gay lovers quarrels about TV, and waited a beat or two just knowing how he'd hate. It was of course, cute non vulgar enough to make a good diversion, Lilly, bosomy Serbian sweetheart in blue jeans who sells the att broadband plans. I knew that had to come, as have seen closeted queers like he all my life, as who else but as he said, snarly sarcastic girl seen by accident between the cods of men in motion could not bother this creep more. ITS A SAD LAND NOW, WHAT WITH GAY MARRIAGE, LITERALLY FIRST DANCING ON THE GRAVES OF DEAD FAGS, AND TOM BRADY SELLING MIRACLE CREAMS, AND DRONES SENT OUT BY MEN WHO DARE SPEAK OF THEIR ANTI WAR DEBONAIRNESS, AND LESBIANS ON ICE, AND DEEPER CLOSETS THAN WE HAVE EVER EVER HAD. 


  1. My Roman love of blood sports and without the fandangos and protestations that must be made to  allow for niggeraliaa to continue unabated and yet always is blue penciled editing causes me to hate certain things being done and attempt's now as the boy in me, enthralled by the Jesuit love of Venus and Hercules and not necessarily in that order ,but close enough, caused me to wince at the venal soap operas that America had become.

Like how I fell badly as do most now, the football games this year as I suspected would take on a funeral games attribute,sad and dull , despondence and broken as each teams seems to lose a star each week, the play is the thing, as as Sallust said, or was it Senaca...?, anyway it wasn't Shakespeare, it never is, and so, ESPN queers and Jews and Negro bag boys do their best to rah rah and siss boom bah, but the flesh is weak, and somehow perpetrated in ways that make matheletes and people who would have liked to take a gun to school to blow out the brains of jocks feel ver kelmpt. Shady Brady has his house niggers on that station keeping their bag man acts, as they have been trained myths allowed, like me at Harvard, had I wanted it, to be boys in the band and acceptable floor washers at the Pretorium, which was never so apparent as when in twelve Horus after Barry the white dared say there would be no ground troops or 'boots' to be Cesarean about it, in Mesopotamia. Oh well, here came white owner and overseer Ashland CARTER TO SAY NOW HOOLLLLLLD IT DERE, AND EXPLAINED TO US ALL, IN TONES AND DULCET AND WHITEY MIDDLE MANAGEMENT, THAT WELL, GEE WHIZ, THE PRAETOR YOU SEE HE HAS NO IDEA WHAT HE MEANT HERE, AND IN FACT, WITH A BALD FACE, AND WITH OPENNESS OF CORRUPTION NOW NEEDED AS BARRY STRAFES TO PACK UP HIS OLD KIT BAG AND SMILE SMILE SMILE. That's a shame, when an American PRESIDENT IS SO USELESS AND WORTHLESS AND PART OF SOME CABAL, is so powerless that a minister of defense can come out and openly almost derisively and without fear of any Jovian thunderbolt, or yelling Augustus screaming about eagles dared,  say that the praetor doesn't live here anymore and again, we can find anyone to keep the Cheney imperium humming along. 

As the praetors they can always find some democrats who do not really believe this shit, but except, it seems no one with blood ties to the old coot who started all this, hoping to gain the presidency with all came gatecrashing down, when as his family is want to do, his triumphal parade turned into a funeral march, and a bloated pig named Clinton showed up, wanting to be president to double his chances of a date on Saturday night. When I saw a cabinet mister come out within hours and totally renounce and act as if all the praetor just said was seen as a mere misunderstanding, and or meaningless, as the bombs are dropping and as always we attack at dawn, I knew the Praetor exits stage right, as Coriolanus did, without the bells and winks, without the laughs, but a comedienne none the less. Ouch.

This football and policy morass, which I saw coming when you forgot to cut your hands and bleed as the Roman magic demands, again stolen for harry potter I noted, as it seems like Saw and zombie movies to play on a loop this arthritic treed Halloween season, was sadder than most.

It is not the Roman Circus I was weaned on, or adore, as women have come through the back door while the Aids victims where as in Manzoni carried out, all the hard cunts cloying and crying as they did at Rent and making sure that they got their corner offices, or at least as close as allowed, there is again something delineating and demeaned, rotten and rancid about this empire now, and there are nothing but finger waggers and blue noses , most queer, as this imperial party is no fun at all. But as I said before the Roman goddess, is out in the winds, no Yahweh she, Alpina, or Turan, someone with askance of bitchy humor is out there, perhaps she was the one, causing the patriots grips on balls to be less than before, I note even the depleted Cowboys kicking Brady ass, as funnily, sorry Jew boy Moonshiner and his bloated Negros, but this march to the sea is starting to look less like a Roman Spring than it is a Parauge winter, and balls once firmly in the snatches of patriots , again the Demolition of the femmy is a true Roman art, seem less sturdy than ever, slippy and folly, and a team that we were assured as going to go on Freemason march seems to be a replay of Germany after the fall, which befits their flag draped bunting fraudulence.

As lately the anti-Marciano ethic of picnicking one when one is down, [that was for JT FROM DEE HILL, SHO NUFF]  or spitting downwards seems an onliest national poem, one we sadly, Hoover said wistfully didn't have, as Vidal said too we are an empire adrift without a Virgil on board, and I have noted a true sameness of mean from the house coons and the Jew trash the fan boys and fan men, who have demeaned the Cowboys as last year was hard in them till the bad call. House niggers who speak if women getting cloaked getting what they'd deserve and mets fan gumba Jews on radio seem to be more hostile to the cowboys than ever, and again as Auger I warn thee all, that if you can hate a Cowboys team over Emmitt Smith and before that Landry and Staubach, well, niggers you betters start hating the patriots now, as the idea of a Trojan horse is again beneath a Roman contempt and see, cheating while other men bleed is juts going to make your fall hurt all the more. See, huns, beginners of Romanism and in law Jews, if Jerry Jones couldn't stop me from being a Cowboy fan, what fucking chance do you have...?

Is it too Roman to hope for a knee blown out or a neck broken by Hardy or Benji or Brady, as she assures us she will play another ten years, sussing mother flecthers handy dandy chef of the future kitchen fatasmatta cheese whiz, or is it vatmeatvegimin, and its tasty too, again laying it on thick,as from the view of the artiness all you have left are the house cowherds of ESPN, and again, as Kieth shows us , he is never the last at anything, it appears the mouse factory is cutting jobs there too, as star wars cost as shit ton to buy, and so, how many bag men do you need, a question that pollacks and coonies never know is about to be asked. Eking out victories, by bumbling before Halloween isn't what the patrons thought they were buying, old men, and so, you'd better learn that eventually it doesnt matter who is playacting, as Nero said, as once again the very term Turk, as the hatchet man,  is a Roman affectation no white woman can lecture us out of, as pink slips are close to confetti, but they fail with a thud.


  1. In the middle of much work and computer problems, and wondering why ninnies think all is their business, I received an email from of all places, Amazon. I hadn't even gone back to the page for Ancient Romance, to keep it as a favorite on this old machine, as am thinking of pricing a new one, or at least buying a less used one. I was sent a email telling me of some sort of revelation my site, and did I want to avail myself of some new biorhythms or algorithms that all sounded too money ball analytic to me, which I again a lover of Roman blood sport see as far too thinking and far to conniving to work, or be anything buts mere balderdash.
These new accompaniments could allow me to make sure that the deceit and the emanates of our age wasn't in some way of my selling my books, a disease you all have when hurling crap at the igneous bloated Irish sour mash leprous O'Reilly and his amazingly unresearched seasonal gift books of death and murder, stories that men like Caro spend years to hone, that he gets out before the Xmas rush. Did I care or want to somehow get into the bullshit that is that site, as anything after that bleeding cool shit is thrown away by me, as have known of the forty dollar a post con job since let too close to the by now eternal Hillary campaign over a cartoon had enough anti Obama ism to it before as usual, he would become a godling and now, a merest shadow, as white men can jump over him and anything he says as the point of Sparta as Livy said, was of war and nothing else. Did I want to go and do some kind of reiteration of something , blah blah, that I could now delete reviews, defamed at appellation to Amazon as getting even it seems is the best revenge for people you'd never heard of, who you, in the land of the free and the home of the brave made feel bad about daring not to agree wholeheartedness with the bullshit they pretend to believe in, or something along these liens, ans as Amazon becomes a later book shoppe to go under it seems, this is a needed weapon in the war of bullshiyt out there, where the bullies have gone lest they scrape their knuckles on the walls. Now, I was altered I could deflate or hide reviews I felt deleterious to me, now if I felt, something something, who cares, I wasn't even going to bother to read the reviews, I never almost a trick I learned at zeotreope, a Danetan passing by, that always hits them in the mush, worse than any joke ever did.

Did I care that some found it important to as they always do, play at being Edmund Wilson or worse yet John Simon with me...? Hardly. Especially cavalierly after utilization of these analysis to find out not one copy of this book was sold through Amazon , never the point, anyway, as it was to make sure that , recalling those priests who admired me back when, that I will and would and did make it to Rome as a booklet long before Cupola or Sorseaey would ever be allowed, as I know now as I thought when they were busily making gumba stories as dago joke books therefore careers lasted better and longer than they did when even hinting of the crimes of Jews and bankers. Knowing this was more of the shit that you do, and I didn't even make any money here, knew what bullshit this was, my Mediterranean interests went else where as had things to do and get done.

I did notice it did get one star, in the crappy snide way that of the temple of Bozo, --you're hung up on a clown from the fifties mahhn--, which I found a kind of a bridgeable thing, that I must have pissed off somebody the usual Greek and I mean Greek chorus who cant just leave me be, as they after as they have seen before thinking I am on to them, or at that I even care. As I found this a point of honor, as share with this one star review from the middle brow circus, a response given to The lives of the aritsts, The Inferno, Chimes at Midnight, Citizen Kane and Promythia showing that the goons of essays are always on the outlook as Plautus warned for and by anyone not willing to agree with them about anything, but smilingly at least politically, say nothing when their beloved Praetor has just been so affectingly and ostentatiously slapped down as if an interregnum, as CNN dog women try departmentally to save the heavy weight title bout of Bush V Clinton of which the filthy people, as they alas do in new Sicily, have grown weary of waiting to see.

I sent this book to fulfill out my own ennui of last autumns a few years ago, to show that I wasn't about to be censored by low level hoods like Cupola, it means cage, it always did, and Scoreasy, whose nickel plating artist hood was returned to the wal mart or the bodega tow which it had come. This book was cut to ribbons just to get published and not by some who published works worse than anything I ever done, something I've noted I dared to compare the Romans to you, and not in any good or way the Jews are allowed, and the TUSCAN EMPIRE, ONCE ALL THE WAY TO THE RHONE, AS THE ITALIANS WERE GREAT FIGHTERS ONCE, BEFORE CHRIST AND PAUL MADE THEM ALL AFFABLE FUCK UPS, AN EMPIRE WAS SHOWN AS FALLING UNDER THE WEIGHT OF MEN LIKE DECITEFUL LOVABLE ELF HATING ROUGE BILL, WHO'D BE IN THE Tony VERSE MORE WILLING TO PLACE THEIR WIVES IN MANCIOMINUMS, the Romans invented the gulag and the mad house as the answer to all political questions. And I dint care what any one in the temple of middlebrow had so say, capitally at dump where, dear Melissa Harris Perry cover girl delightful, who I saw make the same argument I did against wurking man bullshit, but for different reasons. None at GE theater or wayward priest Irishmen from holy cross told us that man of the people and scion of the wurking man Ohio cretin Kasick was in fact, a man in the tower at Leeman Brothers, as that again that came from delightful bag man less Trumpie. Perhaps my only friend of the ivory towers is Melissa left, believer of the cause, see, on that site there are white snoops who think the Italians are mistaken by making Dante their national poet, the Caucasus wives, this church of egg and ham eaters thinks it be better as Petrarch and blond Laura, a beard for to English teachers. Its amusing how they think like their crap in Shakespeare and Twain that all sold be silenced as white women say, which tells you what you are dealing with.

Now, after all this time, some hack has something SAID NOW, THIS LATE AND THIS FAR REMOVED , WHO CARES NOW,AS THAT BOOK AND ITS APOLLONIAN OF VEII, [ the picture of the almost Jesus like God who got me a lot of note,] was a petulant almost personnel reply to the sissys and the gumabs and the white chicks and the earshot weirdos, as It as meant as a recompense to all those hacks I never told off before.

That image of Apollo on that site at all was done by me not to sell anything, as I told the affable man at comics reporter I ain't selling anything, as a good Roman were I, I wouldn't be this honest, as it as a image again stall as was placed there on that wall of Bozos midden-brow temples. That gaggle of white girls and their vampire books, their Catholic demeaning womanish books, as again I was the one praised by both a gay and catholic editor for remembering the Jesuits and nuns as human beings and lovers of Ovid and not as merely orsulophnates or perverts. I palmed that picture up like Harry Lime, and posted that picture on Amazon as too sued a page offered to me, aha, you should have googled me, ouch, before attempting your womanish jibes, see, I won the top 250 spot in a contest, tres Ariosto, with parts of this self same book two years before, and got three stars out of four on no less a site than Zoetrope and you middle brows are staidness to hate everything that doesn't curtsy to you to begin with, whereas again I have never, never ever cared enough to actually do anything close to the angers and the needs for stash you have.

If I had wanted to jut sell this book, amusingly I would have as was told to, lighten up on the Romans as the enemies here,as was told, my brother informed me recalling this aside when was told they'd publish my book under their auspices for 99 bucks, by Penguin. I was told that there is a good healthy business and selling books of Romans epics with a good forward sneering at them from shoreline of barbarism all along, and even a testy pub house who makes books about ancient aliens as seen in George Noory refused the book asking me to tone it done, so again, as usual, I know from what monsters you have been hatched. Again if anything it as the cumbersomeness of it that irked me, as if I CARED OR KEPT GOING THERE OR WANTED TO KNOW WHAT ANYONE THINKS OF ANYTHING, AS AGAIN, IN THAT ONE STAR THOUGHT OF THE ONE STARS NOVENE OUT OF NIMRODS THERE, STREWN IN MIDDLEBROW KINGDOM, TO CHIMES AND MIDNIGHT, AND RAISING KANE AS A SPIRIT GUIDE, AND THE SNEERING HATRED OF ALL THINGS Roman AND ITALIAN THERE, BY FAT GIRLS who cause  a recall of Julian, and fat women reading Homer, how prefect, as I recall father Gore and his mention of talking women who read too much homer. Homer that's the poet who I think of whens seeing Barry being emasculated, to use your beloved white girls power words, action verbs and mean girls points of navigation, as before Bionic Barry, the last time I saw this many Aryans spill out of a horses ass was in fact the shitty Ulysses. As I have said before a Trojan horse is alas beneath a Roman comportment a scene in Virgil even geeky Macribious had to admire.

As the word mansplaining was used against me somewhere on a alert, I hope it wasn't Kartina Richardson or Cyn Dulay or Bitchy black sweatred nailed and pedicured goth gal Jennifer De Gooseman, or some other dragoon lady I've come to like, as it was a small box in this update showing a Eurasian face attached. I had to ask, this mansplaning thing, does that mean I am unallwoed an opinion on things unless like Jewry Jonny I pretend to keep my distaste to a six week intervals and promise that I didn't meaaaan it...? What does that mean exactly, I wonder, as what is the scantness of this as a put down, that I understand something you don't, after years and years of reading Aquinas and Machiavelli in a land where all you ever ever read is Puzo if that...? Was it mansplaianing when the good lesbos and the good blond witches of suburbia at the national organization toll booth of women and the good unmarried lesbo cows and vicious cunts, was it mansplained to you when you were told at dreadful horrid covens, the planned parenthood which predated Adolph's cunt tearing out by years, what was it when someone at the central office made you acquiesce, a great word, that you wouldn't be selling baby gizzards anymore and no longer would you sell human goop, and the sweetbreads of fetii would no longer be sold out of your trunks like Bill Clinton sells his pardons. Was that mansplained to you that it was a tad too Grimm's for the good folks at CNN. And CBS, ah the shame of harvest, was it uncomplaining, are were you practical magic witches suddenly Donna Reed like in your Westinghouse dream homes, googie architecture world of tomorrows ovens and frying pans whirring away like good women, when the good white wicka queens and fat ugly woman were told to knock it off, or else, capishe...See cause I could have, as said, got Ancient Romance published honesty and the way that woman liked, if I just took out a passage, and its all based on truth as it all has to be, what with me as a Machiavellian, as wrote of how Greek woman sued abortion as way to make sure they were somehow always free of their husbands surprising maters with local Italian girls found with big tits as brood mares, the secret lives of the imperialists as its always been. Was it mansplained to you, or did an explanation ever forth-come, do they just say heeeeel, as is said by tent revivalists and dog whisperers too, for the same effects, that baby's first evisceration, to sue a favored word, like Don Martin the elites just love action words, was too much for the Jews in laws to bear and so the word went forth this close to a perpetual Columbus day, when the house everyone's and white women Democrats all love cops and guns and such. Oh look, Bra's getting the scent in the wind, and has blamed CNN and the dying faireiis at GE theater for cops being killed, when means he has to blame someone, and you nigger lives matter queers go watch who gets to be Ohio states QB like good Subway Alum, that you all are. Imperially I hope the Mets fuck this all up, as there is no crying in imperialism, unless one recalls Masada correctly, and don't ever do that. So, the woman are told by consultants, about coma like harvesters, that is much too close to the vampires that Jew were in the middle ages, and its not a Boccaccio world anymore, but you Jews made your bed, KABOOOOOM! SO, knock it off as quietly as you must, but that witch trial finally is something Americans doenst want to see and cleanness is close to goddessnesss, or something, so wash those floors Rachel, get out that mop as it all makes mother Gertrude Hillary look bad, but then no one told her to make gold star and purple heart soldiers being let die to make everything as she must make everything a referendum on her, and she can sense all those eyes this paranoid hag whore cunt sees there in the dark, where there is probably nothing but two over Roman propane blue eyes between cumming and goings anyway. And so good night unto you all, save your stars and reveres for movies about eating shit, you know Tarantino, and leave me alone, as the dynastic yentas find trouble in river city, as are all tsksin and winger wagging in our faces. Was that mansplained enough to you, dears. See again, I don't bleed cool. Instead, I am artlessly hip.

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