01 March 2016

THE ROLL OF VENUS.




1. Since last year and a bit before that was Wally Wood and Jack Davis year, this year started by scouring a website called comic book plus, and joined up or re-found an old password to see as many old comics as I could, motley mad like comics from that golden age of American empire called the fifties, when as opposed to now, satire seemed everywhere. Despite what is said of The Eisenhower years, usually by Jews with no scents of irony, still, there was Nichols and May, Chuck Jones, Mad comics, Bob Newhart, Caesars Hour, and much else that we don't see now as are told who to vote fr by white girls and Negros always absolving their masters of being fun of.


Now, of course it is no where, as saw my man Roman Bill seemed to seethe why were old fossil hags , a coven of witches like one time Bunny with portfolio Gloria Steinem, and fat back hag cow fallen Jew Albright, brought into a dying campaign to start damning people to hell like wayward popes and Becket without the warmth. Ah, Bill, this is why I admire you, even though he takes it open himself to trash his wives campaign and blow up like Vesuvius at the same time in the SC primary, bringing up consternation causing race music each time, bringing up race in ways that makes Human erection incarnate Anderson Cooper shake his erasers head, still, the human Napoleon, the pastry not the general, in him couldn't believe those effeminates and lesbos in that witches brew of a campaign were stupid enough to bring ancient relics like them anywhere that close to a rope line. You're better off bringing your busty girlfriends, as that evokes life and joy and not the jealousy of man killers, but then like him I read my share of Plautus, I just didn't think it was an owners manual to life and power. Of course I could have done worse as I could have used used Milton, like the Bush crime familia. The italics there is what would really bother them. That family has brought enough death, megadeath is their business, even without spreadsheet imperitive to causing an American city to become a swamp seemingly just because they are either lasisay fare incompetents or juts as so many chicken hawks and lesbians do adore death here in the land of the jogging dead. They have killed enough I think, as he, Bush the youngest, sluds to four precent approval, as his last bund rally for a fiasco war was too much and even Fox news brought out pig man Karl Rove much too much for anyone whose Machiavellian bonifides were dearly tattered as being called the brain of the Bush baby who we all saw as Ray Boulger anyway. 

To be honest Boiney and his minions rats begin to bother me so, as when I exasperated about how bloody handed house nigger Trojan Mare Barry was giving 90 cents out of every dollar to the top of the top one percent, I was pilloried for it by fat ankeld hags on Rachel's page, and by effeminates who have now become Budapest on dark night. Frankly, them having left me alone since Halloween as cant tell if this is the usual fatiguing quality of evil or if the plunge in the Dow since New years is a end to a criminal enterprise, and thus to be Roman again, the wiping out of the rich has left their radials enemies without jobs, and thus mute. Am I the last schoolboy made to read Cicero or at least Cicero in the hagiography which went off the tracks in Sallust, who showed what he and his gumba Jew ilk was in Catiline's war, again, he detested by the fat ankles cows and aunts and the conterminous now again, like at ESPN, up to their tuchuses in the paper and the bills and the markers which besot the bribe takers here just as in Roma and worse Messina in dank but never quite dark ages.

I say this as heard from someone that my use of Plutarch famous definition of the middle ages as 'dark' was seen as suddenly Racist, but then its amazing what is decried as racist here in Barbies imperia dream space, the Love Island of emotional toxic spills, as decrying the middle ages as dark as a pejorative against our beloved Vikings, that took longer than I thought. But, then as I SAID WHEN ASKED TO PLACE MY ETRUSCAN EPIC on Mars, as it was more believable to those gonniffs and cunts that there be civilization and sadly so corruption on a dry dead planet before Italy, well, as I SAY THERE, I am not the one to make hagiography of niggers women and capitally Vikings, dear. Im just pleased to know that that fifty point lead Hillary had among the Rachel crowd on Halloween was as full of cool whip bullshit and particle board as I was the only one who said it was. Again, to show how boring and anti Roman this has all become. 


 

2. In reading these old comics which seemed like comics and not the pretense of English schoolboys who will never have the grace and funny quality of Alan Moore, yes I said funny as when read Watchmen, enjoyed it and was not shocked when Alan compared it to Wally Woods Superduperman at all, while you hacks all thought he was super serial. I read all the pardoy book from Alas and Charleston I could find, and love their thick four color vulgarity and read books starring Jackie Gleason, as I guess a better Fred Flintstone than those creeps at Hanna Barbara would ever do, and thought of that few years ago was give the opportunity to do these old comics redone now, and passed on it thinking I had ethics, silly of me, and didn't want to trash these poor dead men ideas to again pretend I was Alan More as love satire even more than he, and thus cant ever not give the game away.

Looking back I should have done it, as the public domain is a Roman invention, interestingly enough vulgarized and vandalized by a wop named Bono who put into law the die that somehow copyright, which meant noting to Disney when dealing with Collodi, now was as scarosanct in ways it never was meant to be for his stinking smiling rat. That made me sad, looking back, was that I think I could have done something with grace to and for these people whose work was demeaned and besmirched anyway by a comic company that went ahead and thought itself the her to Fletcher Hanks as fucking if. I might have one this well, as what it was I was ding anyway, a satire of comics, and in a way that our valued customers could only like Jews see as hidden insult as I was expected to take the sopranos and Scorsese in the sprites in which it was intended, as if I was paid, as they were. I too reading these old pages felt badly that it seems self appointed Juvenals of the gutters , alley versions of Jewish comedians and political satirists and Samantha Bees , I saw that Citizen Gains, as was smeared in the Lampoon, took a real love of putting people like those who made Whack and get lost, out of work. 

 

And these weren't nobodies, but in fact men named Orlando and Epsosito and Andru and Kubert and Mauer, and yet he enjoyed acting like he held the marker for satire, some how he had convened it, well, at least after Kurtzman signed over the deed as in a Dudly Doo Right short. And, I felt awful that I had wasted so much time thinking about the art form comics, that my father and the priests thought so beneath me all that time ago, in which I thought there was supoosed to be vulgar joy, the kind the cause white women and their Jewish nebbish henpecked husbands to demand the flaming become the betrothed. As that even the self appointed cretin satirist at Mud as I recanted it in Rag, seemed to enjoy boarding up places when he already had Jack and Wally and soon enough Don and Mort, and he thought so puny was his penetration that each dime of satirical minded goys had to go to him for further instructions, That is, until he made a magazine and played with the big boys of the house of Luce and such, and came into view of a buzz saw named Stan Lee whose open dismissals of a subpoena not being worth the papyrus it was written on, suddenness there was always a Capetian Marvelous who had all the better lawyers than everyone else did thanks to Unkie Marty. Still, feel badly I DIDN'T do as i should have and taken caricatures I planned out an looked up then, Hector Protector as the dick Tracy wannabe, remained Nose Darcy jut as a placeholder, the Flying Super space man, Amazonia, the brunette one piece heroine, the predating Diana of a comic company like so many higher level in the ghetto paper bag jews put out of business, as you'd come to deserve the crusader psychiatrist, and The Gladiator, a batman in Roman dress as opposed to Greek. I could have done something lovely and sweet in a ghetto at that time and maybe worse now, was running out of black and red ink, and all looked like tarot cards but not in a Promythia way. This would all come to inform Rag, then a few pages of a comic satire of sixties comics, with a Gore Vidal at the head, then only a few pages of gel ink kept in a manila enevolpe, pages in pencil, with a few showing the Franzetta hillbilly made a zaftig heroine wonder gal , to be played by Kat Dannings eventually, willing to beat up her way through the venial comics of a dire sap opera like last gasp of comics.

Of course, though I was slammed by some hack there, who in my mind and not truth looked like Ming on the comic book men, for daring to think that somehow there were ethics in comics and that these men deserved to not be grave robbed, thus showing that JJ Abrams Tank like pushiness towards riches was beyond me, I felt decent about myself that I had left these men's creations alone. As i said, the Germans only stopped detsroying art when they could sell it. I also noted that many of those masters in the hands of Jews another pity party we must have for the German Jews dared to be treated by the , taken by gestapo, Mettrenichian class as the Italians had been started before and concurrent with, but who cares, that many of those masters in the hands of Jews were in fact bought on pennies on the dollar from German gentry when the German economy as ravaged, as even Raphael's were bought by meddlesome Mellons and Rothschilds and even the local deacon of the mob church I attended as a boy, which was the root of my disconsolate, that these masterworks were bought from a decaying Irsherwoodian Germany for 1000 dollars. Roman antiquities looted from German famaileis by new York Jews still sat in the church I was an alter boy in a Christ made by southern Italian giant sculptor pound for pound Bernini equal, unheard of to white girls, a sculptura corpus lies, as Tomb Raider Jesus in a chapel which may or may not have been stripped and sold for parts by a catholic hutch run by Irish and German nuns who decide the best part of Lutheranism was the mark up. No fan of Germans God knows, but to be fair if its true that Germans didn't stop smashing art till they could sell it, Jews didn't forgo the proscription against Roman art in the bible until st Paul told them they could own it. Now there, unlike Godesll was somehow who knew the value of a well placed Roman helmet, so dont fuck with me Glendas.

3. I bought a few Candy hearts at the dollar store to have and give out. Not being a lesbian, I do not begrudge anyone anything especially Valentine's day as I said, a grasping Paul's way of making all that was Roman certain and acceptably to the populate in ways Mohammad didn't have to do, and they do not bother to do now, which is why they are hated. I gave one to Lori, who had seen me in an idling car at the supermarket, and came by to say hello. She who I accidentally met and handed it to her, making her feel quite more touched, than I would have guessed, but saw here in the parking-lot when wasn't feeling my best,and I liked the idea of giving a busty co eddy chick a candy heart, as it brought out the Deputy Fife in his Italianate suit I have in me. 



 

She took the small heart with a stunned smile, I can be quite aloof when not volcanic, and looked at it for a few moments. We are not boyfriend and girlfriend, have I ever...?, but we are Bros I guess in that awful way on 2 broke girls with Max and the Jewfro from guy which I wasn't the only one to wince at, so please don't call me racist Hillary, it was just he unlike the Brad Pitt looking cad summed beneath her Venus attributes, and it all left me cold, as it did the writers who soon knew that this wiseguy like arch like the Klan one between Sonny Steelgrave and the super brilliant Mel Profit wasnt clicking. She took the heart I had given her quite carelessly, uselessly like to build up to such moments and really schmaltz them well but am at my best when A ROMAN STOIC AND JUST go by instinct, like a Caesar on the battlefield, as he famously said, stratagem is for cowards and women looking for husbands. Her eyes teared up and I became a bit shocked at this. I...I she stammered, I didn't get you anything, Tone, I didn't know i'd ever see you again...i just saw you sitting here, and came over...she said, having picked up artlessly what my brother calls me, I guess helping me see her as a buddy, despite her Kat like appropriations. I just thought, I said, Id tell you happy Valentines day. I hadn't thought of her exactly when threw the small red blood hearts into mt green basket at the dollar store, but again, all is ad lib as Machiavelli said, especially when written down, as again a comedy writer from Luca pretty much would never be forgiven for telling us the men who wished to rule like Caesar got worse grades than he dd and that c students and not Rhodes scholars would attempt to be the Prince, then and now,

You mean Lupacalia, she said wrongly but sweetly, and not being a lesbian didnt correct her, as she said showing I am catching, See...see nigger, she said, I read your stuff. She is quite white compared to olive me, almost pink. She took the heart, a small Vandel Savage or some two named thing and held it to her white sweater dress, unzipped just enough for me to see the bounty mutiny half out of a Victoria secret knock off bra, white with small flowers. You're a sweetheart Tony, she said, eyed misto as Ma would say. Why didn't I jump at this girl I thought, she is everything I love, just slightly lighter and thinner, why didn't I jump at this Pigeon sister before me...? Why was I ALWAYS YEARNING, DO I YEARN...?, for some kinky haired chick out of my directly slight line anyway...? Ill get you something, I swear it, she said, then added, You know, if I see you again, if you don't hide in that hole of yours like a a ferret. Or wait, she said, What is it a ...not mole, wait...a hedgehog, tahts it. I played insulated. Are you mailing a slur, dear about my Italian heritage. She smiled and wiped her eye in the cold, unromantic, rain. No, she said. I love Italians, especially the ones closest to Africa like you. She said, Oh my Nan is from Amelia Romagna, [sort of Tuscany] where the Centurions got their wimmin. She winked, wholly vulgarly. Sure Id love to fuck this creature, I thought, but was still besotted with Nefertiti as haven't gone back to Dwayne Reed since, but thankfully have net seen hide not hair of that ninny, who I heard from my brother might have been shot, thank God, when shots rang out near by on news years eve. These aren't the old days I recall, the innocence of Sugar Hills replaced by gangs who don't have to shoot straight, who spray bullets as happened near here, these good fer nuthing niggers too Tarantino to be marksmen or at least a bit more circumspect in their ballistics, showing the truth of Tacitus, and that we have more porch monkeys than centurions we need. When the soldiers became faceless back Muzak for a nigger queen who couldn't even shut a prison as Jewish hags hectored against it, well I wasn't going to cry for second story men, as there was a fatalism to the gumbas and their dark hands that you niggers cant do well, like how the Jews have reduced a senate to a marble toilet. 

 

You don't have to get me anything, I said, As you just leaning in this window is present enough. She laughed, she liked the attention, amazingly here in Pollock queer land gals like she areant boyfriend-ed much. I said, Why you Jewish rats shouldn't even celebrate Valentine days, it is unseemly of you. Well, she said, with a narrowing of eyes with a smirk I have noticed only from Jewish girls, showing a playfulness fox news and herstory professors think they will beat out , she sneered, of the rabble, good luck Augustus would tell you, How do I not know this heart isn't hot. Oh please dear, only a Jew would resale a two dollar heart. Oh you creep,... she said smiling despite fearless, as have had this ability since got the great Bev Smith to laugh on wtea despite herself. The lovely woman stood there at the car, hanging out and over as she stood at the window and I was both grateful and attracted. Come 'ere she said, and hugged me through the window on the drivers aide and gave me a kiss on the lower face, but not the mouth as was too contorted, but recanted I hadn't kissed a woman in an awful long time, and still pined for Victoria, now far away, aren't they always. Happy thanksgiving, Anthony, this true without adornment, she said, then caught herself and said, I mean VALENTINES DAY, that's cause every day in this hell hole seems like autumn. Real quick I said as was waiting my brother who angrily ran into the Golden Dawn to buy my mother only Italian tuna fish in oil as she is convinced that lessay faire Obama is killing people by letting a level of oligarchic glee, which will soon enough cause men to wear chicken inspector badges again. Why did you cut your hair, Lory...? I had to ask. Oh, she said with a girlish lilt, though she is in her late thirties, I don't know. An old woman bellowed. Oh Christ thats my mum, I gotta go. She acceded a finger nagging in the air, and said, Buddy, keep up and get out some huh...she smiled and walked away. As sometimes do, watched her ass walk the way in.

THIS WAS ONE OF THE few Valentines days when I wanst completely isolated, as again must say I don't begrudge couples having their day in the Roman way, something unknown or deliberate unseen by cheap fuks and sissy's who think Hallmark invited this whole act, which I find it interesting that hallmark would be so demeaned for selling Kitch and such in a land of GE and Halliburton, but then we are all so serious aren't we,when niggers on the pad and told to novitiate for food. I say , hearing some wop vestige on Chicago radio do some anti Valentine day shtick that fat girls and closet everything participate in, I say leave Turan and Opps, the Venus and cupid of Italay alone, they are too italic for you barbarians, like a corrupt senate or art, or literature or the very dramatis persona of Shakespeare you don't get it, and have to demean and devastate everything like the sister Gertrudes you all are. I say leave Valentine like so much had nothing to do with Christer bullshit, as he may have had something to do with an edict when Augustus placed down that the gentry must have not married into families that didn't have papers, in empires yet unborn that would be a scurrilous joke made a slur, as in WOP, though the white trash liked the more niggardly stand in Guinea, as it served their purpose for the grrr sound like K that they find an inherent part of a bar bar tongue. I say pray to Aryan, yes its all connected, the god of Barry's in laws, prey to him and leave poor Venus alone, alone, boys of the band go back, as another late night wop of sports imbibing, humming they seem to have saved the wops for the overnights, go back to watching in space squat and sweat, how about that, and leave the lover cards unruffled and alone. Its like how GG Marquez is nothing but Italo Calvino billed to much and put in a taco shell. Leave the Italian lovers alone, let the streetwise vestal and generals taken out of Ancient Romance for spec, but what the hell, might send it out there anyway, let them lie in Vulcan dust, enraged, entangled, forever. To the Jewish duchy where Islamic weddings are targeted and somehow not Isis HQ, hummmm, that would be suspicious if I didn't know that Barry has been renouncing and leaving his black relations to starve since he was calculating studying ethics and self promotion from Cardinal Dershivitz at Harvard. Turan also was a barley fielded version of a Valkyrie whose handmaidens brought the Sabine warriors to Parnassus too, leave her and all be, and maybe just once have a similar attitude towards the six or seven death holidays and War commendation days you all dutifully keep and hold.

Leave the day of love alone and go after some of those various patriotic military holidays, in which we get uneven war movies on cable stations, go take on of THOSE WAR PARADES down, and don't snarl at me, I read and kept and held to Aeneas carrying Anchisese the father god war image down a bloody hill while you were all getting high. As it made me smile to see after wayward bumbler Bush had a rar rar pep rally filed with generals and majors and buntings and flags clarinetists and the tubas of midnight war, again as with Bill, don't fuck with Roman Antonine girls. That he dared cheer on a war, a war that lasted longer than Troy, taking down half a million Arabs, though told I hate Semites am one of the few to notice the bombed hospitals, and 5000 American troops most under Barry's bloated Caesariate, that this joyous racks celebration of war caused Trumpies numbers to balloon upwards, as there are enough mothers with tripartite Saliari hat somber flags to take the chicken hawks seriously any more. I then presented my mother with a small cardboard heart as I did Lory. My mother was touched and then matter of factly tossed it in a bag. It is Lent, she said, And candy and meat are for Satanists and wicked witches and Calvinists. She wont take a bite of candy or meat or vinegar, or wine, as ash Wednesday fell when it did, with Bush the creep showing tenaciously a mark of soot his father once called pagan. Happy Valentines day. Columbus year continues. 




 NEXT. BRUTUS' THIRD ACT. 

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