08 December 2015




One was last night, with the Cowboys inexplicably winning, on its once showcase Monday night football, before that come-backed to nitch programming just to show what we have become. The cowboys somehow won, with signora Fortuna and or My Man Otis, Dez shutting up the goofballs Jews Negros and trash who are altered always who they are allowed to openly hate. And now, the Cowboys are one game out, horrid turn of events to those who like now demeaning anyone who roots for the Cowboys, in ways I do not recall, as you trash can speak of this nation and that nation, raiders , Stiller , etc, but in discussing the Cowboy fan base we merely call it America. I am not a house coon who can go out there on the pad and say how much I love the Stealers as cant quite get the Rooney largess to sprinkle and I mean sprinkle at me, although was told after acceptance of my Play Christmas themed Saturnalia, because it had a scene in it about Iron Mike Webster and his sad end, well, I was alerted that on second thought, it could be seen as actionable, and legal-able, and so, then rewrote the play about how Kodrell was treated, and made the awful rapist handed hydra called the stees into the villains, though was told it was then too sad to be a Christmas film. What planet are you from...?

The Cowboys are one game out now, amazingly so, perchance Signora Fortuna has taken a sad pity on Landry's boys, as the eagles are a Klan meeting who seemingly doesn't like Niggers of a certain definiteness, that will be next, and the Giants seem to have a Baryshnikov -Belitnicoff, who cant seem to make a two handed catch when need be. A Saturnalia miracle. Too, Barry has gone out, never one to waste a moment capable of lecturing the class as the good apple polisher Joesphius like they always are, as a wop have seen my share of half breeds and thus know that they always screech like a weakling but alas think themselves the superior of the two dies they inhabit. My favorite money shot of his speech lecturing us all, beyond him just Bush family hanger ons at CNN, unable or willing to recall as lecturing Trumpy that during Thanksgiving he tried to make more draconian the visa bills to make sure the side of the family that grandma warned him of was going to be made harder to get into this shitty golden door, but like the fact that he has exported more spics in three years than Italy exports rounds of parma cheese, no really look it up, he lectured us again, and wagged his bony finger in our face, but then you niggers do you best work while the streets are being washed of blood and soot. I love how he was told by some vicious hateful winged bitch called fate to do something inconceivable to any previous non other President, when he brought a podium, ROMAN WORD IF NOT MEANINGS ALERT!, HE brought a podium into the officiate, as if he didn't quite still believe it, and the strangeness of it just showed what he was and is and will be world without end amen. Now we cant talk about how he was queen of drones, again big talk coming from the bombers of hospitals , and after all if you love darkies and trash so much, each one worth five votes as the roman joke went, and they are all Roman jokes, and again it all falls hollow, with being at 33 percent approval now, the bag men and on the padists are perhaps looking for a stringer horse after all. I could make a Bill Clinton joke here about Imprimaturs but leave it at that, and lest call it gilding the Lilly. 

But the Cowboys, won bless their hearts, this causing womanish hearts to seep in causing achita amazing the trash and negro and filth and garbage and Jews and blonds whose sanctimony was from the get go bamboozled and doomed and unredeemed by the Romans since day one, or at least 502 BC. So put Bushiness in, the fat faced little chimp, but don't bother ROMAN TONY WHEN YOU ARE DRENCHED AND LOUSY WITH FIASCO WARS AND BANK RUNS. Once the people go ways, the parade by definition stops, and suddenly men at the new York times find their long lost sympathy and empathy and ethics. As if. See, if you love the immigrants so much send them to Israel, because for fifty years no one was so concupiscent about what is a terrorist, Palestinians were terrorists, they were it and that was it, as they were poor, the worst thing that they and fox news can think of and now that we have found wire transfers from the house of Saudi, well, sullenly its a Jesuitical question, to both Barry and his detractors,  to question of how many demons can dance on the tip of a fountain pen. Its still a republic, like the Cowboys, battered beaten torn asunder and dirty from sent gone lost sparkling days of ore, sorry Yore, and Jews and Semites have been the enemy within since Cicero, juts to show who we are dealing with, he was like Livy a Jewish Italian, call it sympathy for empire, and so don't get too theistic in that year long Columbus days bot to happen, kids. The Cowboys one game out, I still cant believe it, as sadly sure they wouldn't win, went to bed, at 9-9, as I must say here and then go to Saturnalia and send out works bought by some, as have the ethic of a griffitist, in ways none of the pompous do. You Arabs lecture us with Dido about our ethics, ah but to me, I know this is the country of Sacco and Vanzetti, and there on cue was Glenda Beck, saying as he does every Julian year why he'd vote for Hilleraty before he'd vote for Trump and others, ah, well, I take it a funny thing happened on the way to the new magic kingdom, drunken master, ah but as busing Roman calculus, this might not be the era for your perpetual taking of perpetual pledges as perpetual war and now perceptual losses are taking their pound of flesh.

If you think I don't know who Obama is, he goes to call his ilk Thug realllll quick despite the glossary terms co ed lecturing of house niggers of cops on CNN, a reason I avoid most of it and watched a Fred Allen movie on the old films channel that have been watching too much, ah we had this thing when I was a boy called the middle class. I must aye here as recall the last pages of Gibbon in which the great dying scene of the rag tag battered and bruised Roman army under.... who was it, I still despite it all get it all mixed up but ways get the gist, Diocletian, I think, its right here a foot away, still, I recall those last pages in which the greatest Road team in history, the Roman Army, when the world really could have been totally destroyed by an
alliance of Arabs and Germans, hence Constantinople, humnnnnnnn, that never seems to work, an army in rags literally and with standards made by the white flags of later Italian dyed in colors of stolen beets, a loveliest romantic moment for that dreadful tome, to make a stand that appeared like what it as, I say a salute to the cowboys, to the Romans, to those who survive, without the help of gonniffs and thieves, a toast to the last Romans, marching down Paris befit thew world was taken by barbarians. I say with as much decline and fall sadness as allowed in our hall mark hall of fame, recall when that meant something, as Saturnine as can get, as am surrounded by flitting top heavy queen bee fairies who all look like one particular roman gal from a painted wall, hopeful as ever and with Staurnalia Red flying, HOW BOUT DEM COWBOYS!

01 December 2015




Using the reruns of the Gilmore girls to avoid the incessant trash of electric Pulitzer ethic journalism, I saw the run came to where I always seem to tire of the thing. When Rory goes off to Yale, I find it starts to become shallow, I didn't know why I don't like it as much, its quirky sweetness goes away, as in when Larry David left the Seinfeld show, or when the Cowboys started to get people in who didn't win a Superbowl or were back row benchers when they did, and who the great Micheal Irvin said smilingly thought they didn't have to work as hard as the builders did, but when its it never thus.

I watched and saw again a cute turn of events happen here totally unheard of and disliked, one of the people whose niggardly and dark voices, that you woman who lunch never hear , don't know of, and then you are schooled that your nigger movies like 'the help', are so demeaned and deserted, as you think you er doing such yo mans work in showing your bonifides, as a non bigot and a good person you all are. And unseen it appears to the woman who ran this thing, as the great Laurelai meets and starts dating a affable scruffy sort, and they have a true re-pore, her and this Digger, as they have a lovely Ann and Donald thing goin on, and I recalled this is where I left it, as recall that she would of course, again this is written by a woman, the cuteness and the sweetness of this, again showing that Laurelai could not avoid or hide from her destiny, emending who she always was, and who she always be, meaning one of them, one of those cotillion sorts, of that World, and yet they were cute together in that way that has been codified and calibrated by Jack Warner who knew that chemistry was everything. Ah, but you see, the great Lauren, that sort of sarcastic woman disposed as a husband stealer by all fags and house wives, was meant for the fate that the woman hand of god had planned. If a cute moment happened, totally deaf to all creation as all woman are, she didn't care, like a Peckinpah hero, like Warren Oats, there was nothing that could discrete or swerve the grand leggy Lauren from her fate and destiny, the asshole in the ball cap, that we all knew from date one, reel one, she was destined for, sadly. Purgatory hath no droning like a woman assured.

I mention this as came up with a sweet kind of swerve for The Suckers list, as am unsure if can pull it off, didn't hear about this contest until the tenth anyway, and it might be pushing things, even for me. But did want to automatically enter this as have done well with such things since entered something and wrote a book about Clinton and Monica on a dare, disqualified, because made it a more Cuomo figure as didn't think the world needed another book about the Clinton, or a new satyricon, as the case may be. I had an idea where to take this script unfinished and winch I was fleshing out, and figured as I was thinking it through, decided this wasnt the place to try what I had envisioned, as had a feeling it wouldn't be easily or eagerly taken, and dint think I bother. Unliek the woman who ran the Gilmore girls, would just drop something before that dogged sort of bring me the head of Lauren Graham sort of thing, as it were, and thought the idea I had, and here I noted to go was something that wouldn't get ,w hats the word, accepted well. They have their middlebrow ethics, and having a gigolo as a hero, was already pushing things, I knew, as now even our faggots are delivering self made vows, which of course never include obey, but what does one do when marionette Andie Poo Cooper is our nationalism scold, and Gore Vidal bless his heart, he dead.

I do believe this was too steep a mount to so easily grapple with, and know the audience as Plautus said, and know his vituperative hatred of the old broads and paternalistic gigolo users and what America has become as we festoon ourselves with police state mixed with Duchy, was something they'd dislike, as doggedly getting Laurelai and the giuy who will go down in history as being un- sponge-worthy, despite dropping the idea of the couple who were cute, that woman lost her show anyway, which I why my credo is never give an inch.

I would have liked a little head start om this, though have gotten to 71 pages just by fulfilling this script, as again I can tell in these notes and few pages of diolouge about men on the make for older woman at the foutainbleu, it is lovely and unrelentingly amoral in a day and age when our suffragists faggots and white decent sorts, cleansed and spic and spanned now all congregate at the reception. I see from the keys here , barely legible notes on a page of paper with arrows in messes sometimes telling where someone or something is ahead and don't recall it as well as I could other things, as left this behind before and threw out for that future which never comes, but note this disdain I have for the quacking yenta hag who buys the gigilo, for some reason based upon a Tom Snyder sort, middle aged and lunchy and pudgy and a bit awkard and lonesome, who falls for the red swimsuit wearing Phoebe Cates like niece, already I am on thin ice with the suburban readers of woman's novels, I HAVE BEEN TOLD BEFORE, niece, based too, on a girl seen from a Stratheman movie, sounding like Cannon ball Race 2000 thing, which I should have known this gal had no future in pictures. My disdain for yenta Rosalind, the fur wearing department store aging daughter , as based on horrid rancid yak blow hard big nosed cow Joy Bahar, who appears as the prefect hag, hateful and awful and bloated and hated by the gigolo. Despite of how I have made it sound I think it is rather Sweet, but as was told when showed Roman Mythology to those hacks at project green-light, we don't make movies in Hollywood that make heros out of killers. Since when...?, I said, before summarily dropped. I recorded no apology of the sort saved for nigger women shilling for white chicks.


Life occurs while making other plans , as the usual game shows of cable television weer instrumented, as even though Hillary AGAIN TRIED TO HIDE HER CORONATION FROM AMERICA, [ the people are getting suspicious they might try to shoe horn her and jebby as a fake con, no matter what, BY PUTTERING DANDY DEBATES ON AGAINST TRICKY NICK SABAN, AND HIS OWN FABLED NUMBERS AS WE LIVE IN A EMPIRE WHERE LOSING ONLY MATTER, IF THEY SAY SO, WHICH THEY THINK A LAST THOUGHT RIGHT BEFORE THEY ALWAYS GO OFF THAT IMPERIAL CLIFF. AS IF A TRIBUNE WARBLING A HEAD OF A disaster, Hillary befuddle and lost, gargling and bumbling went on television again hopefully unwashed, though I have as said an inkling who the Octavian is, there at the pillar, steaming and conniving was, she grumbled and mad eyed her ways through one bad answer after the next, and had to send out various minions and handmaidens lesbians and effeminates on the payroll, to come out and explain that if you heard that, it certainly wasn't what she had meant. Then, KABOOM, a great city of the west went up in automatic gun fire and madness and screamingly, her usual temperament made her seem like Bach compered to the mammary attached queen dido smarmy bitch little nigger sissy we have stumbling through history. Again, I was quite apt and the auger again when I compared this housiest coon to Brutus, who a new book is aghast and amazed at a man who was willing to kill off the most powerful man on the planet at the time, Caesar, and yet was so lost and befuddled had had no idea or way to make this murder mean something, or work for him.

Like his Roman counterpart, Barry has done up to this day, Sunday, shown a strange contempt for everyone not him and revels in a queer sort of self righteousness which is off putting to all who see him. Its Sunday, as I watch a fox football game in which it seems the horrid officiating of the NFL is seeming more and more like a con job, as they paper over one lie after the next, to try to save everyone's all American Aaron Rodgers from his doldrums. Though not a favorite of mine,Olivia Munn, people think Id love her, eccch, I hate a funny chick, the cheese twats of green bay are amusingly blaming her and her decidedly un-blond hair for Phillip Spaulding's troubles, and was a new low.

Speaking of an inability to play a Roman game, the man who was self compared to him in an gaming money shot of hubris, Barry has had a bad week, as called three hundred Parisians killed by automatic fire, you know that sort of thing that only happens is America, was such a horrific moment, he pathetically said, ala, Gore Vidal , You woke me up for that....? Ah but it was an unwise career move... New Rome ironically don't like Vulcans as president, not with that misreading as usual, not caring, not seeing, not noticing, playacting with tin soldiers like a fake Coriolanus in the original farce, and it is a farce Shakespeare ignored, as in the heart of a fag, always, all must by tragedy. The attitude of Barry was amazingly almost horrifically, chillingly upset, and not at Isis, or his assorted relatives within, it was as though he was being bothered, is he ever not pissed at something, maybe losing those wings that Yakoob like Kemeter plucked from niggers for fun as seen in AR, and caused inamoratas among the black chicks, he today finally got the memo and called Isis a bunch of murderers, you know to show he gets it, like all white women like he do. Yikes, I cant wait, really until he is in that villa, disparaged and dissing, and we can get on with this decline and fall with out him stead there, posing for oil paintings of himself.

The out and out distemper he showed as if bothered by this, he called it a Set back, you know, when Gauls are torn apart by Kalashnikov fire, and one had to wonder open and above board like, a set back to whom, the west...?, or his assorted realtievs in Isis, a cheap shot, perhaps, what with we all knowing he is already lock stock and Barreled owned by the free traders in the Republican party and Merck, but you know, you can ways sell more stock in Obama incorporated, like Bialystok and spring time for Hitler. And suddenly, amazingly without a twang of sadness, our little house nigger, our Juan Williams with portfolio snapped into action and demanding again this is the tinnest ear since Oz, that anyone not wanting to take in Syrian refugees was suddenly that most American and white woman of diminutions, a racist, of course. Suddenly this tone deaf, who the hell did you get into la scalla or the Roman senate anyway...?, answer an ad, mother fucker, as politics as always was beneath him, he rather be sleeping, I was amused at the lack of grace here, the lack of any desirableness humanity here,as Bill Clinton, shit nigger even that blabbering pig, oh Bill I cant stay mad at my Roman brethren, Brother Bill, Jesuit student emeritus, shit, he would have made this look like something out of Leoncavallo and he would, unlike Hillary and Jebby who disappeared in the fire, like he as with all due sympathy for the empire , a last Roman hero against the barbarian hordes as is seen in the end of Gibbon, principally enough as a last Roman heroic army raises bandearas all red and sooty and broken and torn, against barbarism, in of all places, Paris, or as the ransom Now demanding army, needing money more than land sadly, called it with their usual eloquence, Mudville.

Barry though no fan of farce or opera, likes making snide jokes as all Democrats do, jokes it is stalwart AMUSING WHEN YOU SHOW YOUR AMERICANISM, or anything but what you'd find on ESPN, inst so eager to be Roman anything, and in his usual bitchy snarling, uppity, lip-less, twitchy effete and bloodless way I think did more damage to himself than even he knows. As Ash had to come out as he always does and reassure the goddess inbodying America, the roman dressed shield toting ringlet haired lovely, once seen on bank notes before reaped for and with transvestites and Barbie dolls, that a German or neither an Arab has ascended to the Throne of Augusts. A cesarean cloak, in garments all red had fallen from mother Venere, and attached itself to his scrawny ass, as well wishers, who ever is left tell him in the wings caused maybe he has let too much out of the bag, as they look for the next interregnum to go out there a ninny and come back a star. Allentown?! HE BUT IS ON PERPETUAL LECTURE, AND as he must what with all the Democrats nervous again, and someday Roman Antony predicts well find out just how petty and paltry the take he got to sell you down the river really was. The man who was voting present all his life wants the democrats,at least Those left, to take another vote hazardous to them, as it must be an election year because the Praetor is busily trying to make you lose. That' what he does, it should be obvious by now.


A PALL WAS SENT OVER THE EARTH AND VARIOUS Barry RELATIVES CAME OUT TO BURN DOWN THE CITY OF THE ROMAN IN GAUL, MOST OF THE CAPITALS WERE BUILT BY THE ROMANS ITS THEIR MAP, WHICH MAY HAVE BOTHERED BARRY'S WHITE SIDE MORE THAN HIS DARK. I sat and watched Charlie Rose ans again have tired of the shit that is shoveled at us all, and here was a usual jewey fuck as we have become used to, a lipless wonder in charge of all things a rag called the NEW YORKER, which was funny this sanctimony about trash let into America so wholesomely and greeted and such by this hack, as it was coming from a magazine which once had drop dead virulent racists and gentlemen agreements types all lunching in places that were, the jokes on then, Restricted.

This hack, with thin lips they like aiming their allowed in ethnics, and with Brillo hair kneecapping his thoughts, he was here and with Charlie and was shilling a book called the new Yorker in the fifties, which again seemed ironic coming from Shlomo here, condescending again, the ladies who lunched. Truman's name, a hero of mine early, really, I always adored him as a little boy, as he was a more well, lets say affable version of Gore who was always my Virgil, but Trrrruman my Ovid, fun and light and gracious ladies and imperial largess and gossip and fun. Gore was fun too, but in away that seemed more like Flaubert with a hernia, and love him dearly, but Trerrruman was my poet of light and music, loveless matrons and was more Etruscan than Roman mined Virgilian scold Gore, but then, not being a white trash faggot, don't have to pick. Not being a good white nigger loving white woman academic herstory professor hidden on Saturdays as the blood sports come out and game day is here, white trash cunt, I don't have to think in the awful ways of Tokenism, as do not have to have the Romans or the Italics have a incarnate voice, and only that, as you all love to do to the filth who you think you own.

I was not schooled when he, Horshack, told Charlie Rose that from January 1st 1950 to December 31st 1959, never is this rag did he ever see in the always monetized and sell able troves and microfilm, Think MAD, did his magazine ever mention the words Elvis Presley. So, then there, automatically, a compendium had to be drawn up. It was a no brainer after all. Truman is here, the only writer I noticed, as the rest mentioned were woman, and really who cares. Like Id buy this, in fact have bought old Mads for as the journalism was probably better than those usual gang of Jews didn't get on my nerves, though see fatso Citizen Gains in a new light now that know Russ Heath and Mike Esposito and their Get Lost was put out of business by the suddenly more mercantile EC than I thought. But, as I know what comics are due to the sad end of Wally Wood, who I adore, he is the shit as my buddy used to say, too, I know all I need know about the New Yorker, due to what happened to Trrrruman, again Ovid and patron of married hags in the emerald cities of empire at the high point, you know before the christened foot washing morons came in and all tha fags died off. Need I tell my VESTAL VIRGIN WITCH STORY AGAIN, YOU MEAN YOU DIDN'T KNOW DEAR...WELL, FIGURE IT OUT,. ITS WHERE THE WORD HAG COMES FROM, AS IN HAGIOGRAPHY, IN THAT WITCHES ALWAYS SEEMED TO , NEVER ADMIRED BY ISIS OR BISHOPS, KNEW HOW TO WRITE.

I watched this hack and his un seemly little slimy rag, I guess long since trashed and gutted out by incursion by Tina brown and her Vanity fair largess and pollokkahood, as the Times was I was told by an editor there when wrote Life of Brutus and was told was a millimeter off the mark, but the Times of London wasn't what It sued to be, and long ago sold out to the everything is wonderful school of journalism. I knew all I need to know about the new Yorker, unnoticed warbling by passe unintended to old jewey radials not withstanding, in how Truman was treated by this rag. After having sold thousands of copies of The New Yorker by serializing In cold blood, like a new Little Dorit, as Gore sneered, Truman was given assurances his great book, and not a one off he did merely for praises and selling, but that his diary, Answered Prayers would be similarly placed in the magazine, like the advent stories which appeared a chapter day in Christmas time when I was a kid. Truman was told by Bennett Cerf and the dreary Shawn that the would lend its imprimatur, there's that Roman joke again, to Answered Prayers, about a innocent of sorts, surrounded by the hags and biddies and swells and thieves of New York, again like a modern Ovid.I said as a boy when my sister gleefully bought the copy of the magazine he was resorted to, as if, even as boy I thought, they let you get away with that.

The new Yorker sold out in the hinterlands as never before, as In Cold Cash, as Gore called it was a hit, and he was promised was triumphal Truman at the ball, a chapter in the Christmas 1974 edition. I recall hearing about this then, as a kid. But the missus Grundy who would later show up in bright lights big city, read it and the famous stories Cyclopes eater Paley, well, she demurred and told Truman that the new Yorker was no place for Gossip. Or escapists, whatever. Truman was indignant. Dearie, he told her, Sssssine Petronnniusss, literature has been nothing but gossip Tootttssss. 

He was made to go to Esquire still trying to do battle with Playboy. Truman, like Stantely Kubrick made a note to never work with the new yorker again, as was sure the masthead could wield give him cover capitally with status conscious Babe and William S, in ways that the mere fag rag esquire couldn't, and he was correct. His lief was spun out of control, his own fault, again as I said somehow eliciting the e friendship of jewey Jonnie, which was worth more to me really than having that negro tv fat girl hater on now, whose numberses show what being a passvante truly means. I reciedvd a like for saying when one wants to be a Juvenal, he should expect to be hated by most of the idiots and the filth mostly those who dare think him on their side, and I got a like for this from them there, and next thing I knew he was appealing why it was he was at the white house so often, you know being a Romans satirist and all, or maybe not, but then I couldn't, as said, take a years of kissing Hilary's dick, neither. An aside, Michigan is getting ready to play Ohio state who is losing and I think losing badly, im watching that one, as once again, he told black kids to forgo the pros to come back to the universality, only to fuck them over with this silliness, hording good players like planks of wood, so recall that kids, next time you believe in there is no I in team, and like Bullshit, take the money kids, and run, as its what your masters do. As again, never a credit to my race, so one of my credos is too, take the money and run, bitch.

So, Watching this, I knew all about the credos and ethics of either the new Yorker or the Ohio state university, and I was never going to be anyone's good nigger, god knows, as again took my notes from Father Gore, who seemed to like innervating the swells in ways Truman never could. I am sadly more of a Juvenal than anyone, despite being told I have a poetic heart. So, Truman I recalled, was destroyed as was left foundering, and ran off to Interview magazine for Warhol, and Playboy, and others as to stay afloat, as Gore said, to Johnny Carson also a friend then felt trashed by the new Ovid, that this very Fica , Gore said, pointing at the back set, once ate Truman Capote once live on television. Little shop of torrents. There will be no Gore Id think in this compilation of the fifties, as Gore was again and as so many time, persona non grata by the good Lucid Jews who hated him in ways they didn't others more openly hostile as I said, they at the new Yorker , a resurrected shop where nothing more than the biddies who lunched. Gore had written an essay now called one of the hundred best in the 20th century, The Twelve Caesars, which was not accepted into that rag and the Knickerbocker atop it, as Shawn I think and posted this before, said he never wanted anything like that in his perilous magazine, as it gave the game away in a land that cant abide satire any more than its CIA operatives in Isis can. Although Barry is in a quandary, what with some wondering why unlike Putan, who will kill them where they stand, watch them suddenly running like rats as the Third Rome takes its swings and means it, why baby Huey didn't act like Vespasian before, or how much did that cost. Frankly I just think Barry is a radical Sheikh and likes laying it on thick when he isn't signing free trade and dropping drones he did manage to find not so much at Isis HQ, but did targets on Pakistani weddings, the poor and hospitals, and all.

In watching this thin lipped hack and his rag magazine, I heard him sue all the assimilated acts and words, a glossary of terms...terms...?, that hed better reference as it were as he sells his super specials with perhaps a comic book from the ol days thrown in the usual grarbage, which I would buy if it were in, but then comic books are far too close to Elvis, electrically Captain Marvel for them to have cared. He, this creep, did his usual act, clown cars, I adore the immigrants shtick in one of the most truly awful swerves I have ever seen, as somehow the ninny queen dido who carped for Newtown didn't seem to even care or even be bothered that Paris was burning with 300 shot with automatic fire that because a Confederate flag, remember this was free trade week, so no guns were brought up between soft shoe dancers and voodoo settings of Hnery the Vth, no flag was not there he couldn't daieghn to niggeraldy care. Of course to him, all that David inspired architecture and that Severus like copy of the arch of triumph does bother him intensely, all that Napoleonic shit, again hated as much by white trash grandma as the father who disppaerd anyway. But see, ...by the end of the night, not even by Sunday, but by the end of the night, the luckud party who pays his jewey Tribute, they came out, not Trumpie, none of the republicanism and goys you like damned and detest, but Jewish senators heralded by 50 Democrats and more voting a white flag abstaining,wanted no part of these  Arabs this close to the ballot boxes broken out. Soon by the end of the night, after this hack did his shitty little elitist act, the constantly hectoring yenta nudge Dianne, and of course the weed eating senator Wall street, all the Cicreos pricing homes, came out and said they would probably concur with a way to keep this trash outside of the Tyber, the Arabs out of America, after all, as the last hundred years of tunneling to power had to stand for something. What else is on...?

4. By Sunday the world had regained it axis. For the thousandth time in history a Roman farce set on as a deadpanning fool in dangling swords and epilets plays Coriolanus, tap dancing and bumbling and comically as he does his act. So alert the cows and cunts , the ynetas and queens at veracious salons, there is one less book about the people you all never see, the darkies and brunettes and wops who are best amendments of a roman play which is unwatchable in a land and an empire where every punchline is delivered as if a psalm, believed through and through. Don't worry hun, sip your cheapo wine and tell yourselves how decent and human and humane you are, ah but again, this day of Constantine's lord, Sunday, ergo Apollo day, the Roman day of rest, someone got to Barry the white and he fumes and punches the air and does his act, and dangels and jumbles and caters his way as he plays with Augustus globe, and promises punitive war. I did notice that the vitriol, alas constantly fake, ebbed and receded when fat pollack Eddie left and took his fiddeis and making it rain amid the fakes and the arduous, with him, but then I knew this was a con since day one, when made a first cartoon about Barry before he be came fortunes and or General Dynamics and Merks FAVORITE.

So tell the cunts at various salons there wont be another book about the people you dont know are there, those who'd open a vein and take a roman bath rather than be your help, the chiselers and thieves and the rest youd never heard of, as I am not sure can get it down as didn't have that most amecrain of things, a heads up. Ah Vespasian is here doing his act and processioning on scond thought, get on every sdie of everything wlasy like a godo little bitch, war, Ash Cater on line one mister Praetor sir, as I must say here, if a bit long, apologize, I must recall back a few years when before this spasm of self sanctity, that the sopranos was being sold in a collection, so innocent those days were, before white woman were our censors so willingly about what costumes allowed to be put on, as saw then that fatso Ganofini and his woppish minstrel show was there in front of the statue of liberty as seen by Jersey.

The good saintly white woman and their nigger charges and the shining fags of cable television laughingly referred to as news are ever so sensitive to Arabs and their needs, so different from when all Palestinians were terrorists and that was that, as back then, the PLO had never been smart enough unlike Osama’s boys to sell out to the CIA or was it GE, anyway, they were always terrorists, no white girls explained them, because in America the mercantile empire, they were poor, And didn’t hear from those sanctimonious saints when all Italians wanted was to be less publicly derided and openly humiliated, as you allow to your drag queens to be, and they just wanted to keep jobs they were losing in a spasm of disparaging that no one was rich enough to call as hate. So here was that fat porky pig, an acceptable slur as has been since Plautus, ah the end of Cupolas life as he knew it, when I, censored though got it through about how the Romans liked seeing their Sicilians portrayed, and Martin was destroyed over the Jews. A slur incarnate until the day eh dies, giving the smiling whites entrainment even then, with his Herculean last meal, sent to Styx with canned laughter all the way. What did you Jews mean by that, what was implied or is it inferred…?, hereunto believe the doges Arabs, don’t believe that this is anything but more contract electioneering as those people bled in Paris, amended for the Trojan Prince stupid enough, as Virgil said to fall for Snow white as he called that Greek pig, don’t fall for it, as everything is always a voter drive, and yet, every November is a bloodletting, and the seats are lost in the assembly of queens more and more......well, Gandolfini is dead as I could have told you he would be, and Barry spins and madly hurls himself into the scenery as a least Coriolanus, wrong for the part, as Columbia herself, is the latest woman incarnate , the last mother, as she always does to him, is tired and walking away.

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