11 June 2016


With feeling unwell and ill at ease I Spartan-ed up as is my want, and I trudged in a lovely day to Staples to send out original work to someone who had gone to the trouble of sending me a fed ex label, as I figured unlike most in politics, I can always do the least that I can do. I was goaded again by Google plus, as don't I guess make enough posts anywhere anyway there to make it worth it to the silicon valley checkers perpetually bombarding you with carefully collected ads for Azo and DVD of 2 broke girls, as of course finding terrorists was never what our surveillance of the Barr was ever about. So I trudged up to the strip mall to do this, out of data as I was, and sent off another comic which unlike in the ghetto comics world is more participated in and with by those who haven't yet thought of Kirby as the Raphael of Long island and who don't hard push their comics as literary, something which either explains or legitimizes why they all hate Stan Lee.

As accidentally coming across Rachel, which by now may be her core audience, saw horrible, horrible school marm herself Warren, awful horrid woman, our Virgil without papers lecturing us about the people and sanctimony between taking fleet street bags for hither to yon, and how she told the Don, oh how they hate and fear this colorized Clinton, as one can hear the Trojan horse creaking and groaning under the weight of all the fools on the same side, and this awful woman, Miss Grundy, made a point that Don should delete his account at whatever bullshit stream he wisely and stalwartly sues to goad back, and of curse, she as the dumb woman, always falls for it. Still, I found this bit of wit, or at least Rachel laughs as long as she in on the pad, and GE and war machine composure are kind enough to add stage directions for her to --laugh here. I found this awful even for our queen of Fleet street as in fact, she took more money from the insurance Comanches than the gay male model did, but then, as the Romans she probably hates, as a good injun would say, we have to w ash the floors. She has been quite the hag and the nag and lecturing us through the downturn, which by now the scared rat Democrats are wearied when a Clinton, at least the smart one, ouch, is quiet and consecrated, he fails, like a demon to exist in all ways except that when Rachel dear dares bring up eviscerated stories in Bozo Post, about leering at women, well, hun, we can Google, maybe not, but could, pictures of Clinton watching brunettes asses as they walked past, thinking of Patrica Farrinelli and Karen Valez and other playmates he must rather would have married and had around gods know than Livia herself. Ah. The Miss Jean Brodies take the fun as usual out of everything. He makes a better Fagin than she makes a Prepetua, and as the Jesuit warned me about being a verbal bag man, silence follows silence routinely enough until alas there is nothing one can say. That was Dante, or maybe it was Milton Burl, I cant tell, and my balls hurt.

But I thought, instead of incinerating being you first barbarian races go to Octavia, why not make an armament of why you hate Trump and please, dont be Rachel about it and preened you are a sister of Paradise island , that ship, a Clinton Love boat booze cruise, how could I not like Gauis after all, has sailed ling ago, and how a Roman schoolboy would think when Dido commits suicide, and she begs the fates to bring someone to avenge me, they are to think Hanna-bale, a metatexuality found in Virgil before anyone.Well when you get on that high horse about woman and Hillary as the queen mum, we all see Bullie in the back, that Living Satyricon, which to be fair is as close to a Roman as hell ever be, Cincinnatus and the farm out of reach now, but to be fair is more than most. Who is the horrid, horrid, woman to tell the perspective nominee of the repulsion—sorry Res Publican party, as like the once useful democrats never much liked the ethnics appearing in their union and or confederacy, as of course Doctor No ROMNEY IS IN HIS HOLED UP MOUNTAIN, sure if anyone can make anyone else a loser out of anyone, well, its him. Gods, who is this awful dreaded woman, with finger always opined up like a Rolex wearing imam, she hides her Rolexxxes Im sure for galas and such, who is she to tell anyone to be quiet and shut yup , yes mamm, I sho will git on dat reallll soon dere miss Anne,--oh F off, as yous better learn you hags, that Gore Vidal once said every day in an election year is Columbus day, and your smarmy self righteousness densest play well with the plebeian ears out there that Google wants unlent. After a while Bill, lover of Roman circus and uncircumcised Dick Gods, knew whatever is said, something should be, and censorship and worse yet, hiding and makings sure we don't get the names of the CIA operatives she had killed off, again by imperial sloppiness, don't come until the fest candelas of advent, which by then might not be as too late as you hope.

Again was asked in an mail to reprise to some Conan post, as if i'd care, where did that come from as the Jeb Bush of late night would think by now, its over, and to asked to opine about Ali. I have said my peace about Ali before but unlike Indian princesses with Nordic Folds, I understand decorum, and will allow myself mad man at the Roman triumph, but don't crash Funerals. Did see Billy Crystal, the original one, I liked you better as a sis on TV, he has become quite jewey and maudlin in the way that white folks like, a Jewish sentimentality that fits well in a land where artisan Scorsese was a genius before constrained with Survivors of Auschwitz openly and pushily as if the of the wasteland he engendered was some Zion Protocol, but then what inst …?, which was strange for someone who helped make the people of Beatrice and Pirandello into your lasts minstrel show. I turned this irremediable coda and eulogies Bill is always willing to give once you buy the package, in more was than one, as his Sammy Maudlin show aspect is beyond me, and fare all why is a boxer being eulogized by a Jewish comic hack whose family stole Jazz...ah he finally becomes the Jessel he had hoped for. I thought of the great Mort Drucker cartoon, Scott Joplin Composer, next window, Bill Crystal, either one, Exploiter. He made a point about again of course as the comic hacks must, bridges and walls, but again, I have had women and radicals give me praise lately, and call me important and thoughtful and so thought of that wall but the golden door was shut that day when every Jew and Gumba and every man of the people shut that golden door slammed that Roman fest day in December , when they made sure that the Fisa Bill was shut , as unlike Mexicans and like Italian, they cant get here as easily as thus maybe wont be as amenable to cleaning Whups toilet for a hay penny a day.

Women and radicals are starting to give me kudos, starting to see things my way, starting to question why that Pigeon Italian sing sonegy overt diminished never bothered the good house everythings and the American dream that having Billy Crystal as your Antony implies and demanded. See, all the good liberals that day as again will recall this like Clinton's Ovidian Tie and the fact that ninety cents out of every dollar went unders socialist Obama to the rich, whether you are okay with that or not , as not on the pad I wont have to pretend Warren is a wonderful wit until the dancing peacock, or is it the ghost of Gilda, comes to tell me to scram. Its Machiavelli 101, but evil is the resignation of these who wish to be admired for their vices, sho nuff, and you must be true to your lies. So Liz, a severe now would be detrimental to both you and Hill, as look at how the fat girl in the new Ghost-busters is being accepted, as I am no fan of Hillary Clinton, as have said, and yet....decorum is decorum, and despite their being a Procouncil, don't do it Hillary, shes not like us, shes corrupt as hell,  but sanctimonious about it!, lost in the mix, see, doll, you made Hillary's presumptive coronation in to a hostage siege, dearie, you, Octavia, see...?, you corkscrewed that barge as it was lunging down the Tiber, and made her scurry like a cloven hoofed gargoyle yo, you did that, dear. You and Berney, auuuuch, easy Stomach, I already don't feel great, as got the eye of staples pain in the ass employees about not getting how to use the Kisocks which Bob Hopeless to sue to replace the American worker, F what Eugene V debs said, no no no no no as Reverend Wrights said before his death, you made your bones on her carcass, calling her every name in the book delineating and distressing and in opposition making yourself seem just so noble and good and decent and our Virgil again without the warmth. You made her jump through hoops in ways that Trumpy never has and never did, a lesson for you Hill, Fortune favors the bold, don't end up eating your own tail and I don't mean that as a Roman joke your husband would use as much as a commedia. No sorry hun, you trashed Hillary to the left hand of Luctrezia Borgia, this point and now, depressor for power, you're willing to say all is forgiven, you and the Pajama Game who is Boiney, I smell a rat, want now to turn and go after Trump, well, thats not acceptable to the Roman gods, because no one asked you and you spent eighteen months trashing Livia, ...and no It wasn't a Soprano Joke when I used that first about her when our imperial conscious Lizzie was languishing lecturing anyone who would listen on an Al Franken show , before he made it to the marble hall, and too, voted to on that December day, keep the Arabs out, though never loudly enough you could you know Prove he was even there. 


I must place here, as thinking of Elizabeth Warrguns has made me more dyspeptic and queasy that I was, usually I can just ignore her draining on and on , like Barney Frank, knowing eventually you should have worried about the plank in your own eye than the one about to be written by Kordell West. I have gotten my share of likes from Kordell West, as its only white women, or sorry Indians with thin lips, the American dream white girls who sued to call me a bigot, you know fir hating Ray Romano, and no I am not kidding. But I saw that the Tonies are this weekend, and unlike other more garish award shows have been watching them since saw I think 1970, when my beloved King Zero was Plautus, perfect and assuredly in a suit with nothing more than a sash and freeman's cap. I must that as squirrel that away in the perpetual 1970 I am stuck in, a lovely woman comparing my Rag to an Alan Moore tritese called 1963, which like when the pretty Asian girl called my Capt Magnus like Supreme, I took as a compliment as hadn't read it then, and so, unlike most comic queens, Ill take what I can get.

The Tonys are on, I am still unsure how to spell that but then as the Priests told me, Spelling like math and Menstruating is for Women, anyway, The Tonys are on, and hosted not by once ubiquitous eyebrow cocking Colbert, bowwow has been on a downturn since couldn't get his sister into the Assembly of Queens to be a good mole, as if!, no, they are hosted now by affable pudgy English guy, who seems to like what he does and isn't as Hillary about things as Steven is, which serves him right for having used death threats against Asian girls who believed your sanctimonious bullshit, and fate got even with him by sending him to God's waiting room called CBS. I probably may watch, maybe not, I do love the Broadway ethic, as before ye queers were allowed to subsume it, was a Roman ethic, as we make plays not like the Greeks but the Roman did, naturalistic and not homilies, which would explain msbnc ratings by now, but I am a bitch. I grew up with Ian as Macbeth, I grew up with Jason Robards magnificent Hickey, with Lee J Cobb I think it was in a kinoscope my pop and I watched of Miller and of course, as a fifteen year old was blown away by Glengarrey and their flicking of Mamet American buffalo nickels which no one dares write like in our Warren headed romper Room. I sent a play of three hours, a brick of pages called Caveat a Roman play TO A BLACK THEATER TROOP off Broadway, and they actually shakily thought about it. I have lost out to movies eventually made called Pervert and Krampus, Christmas killing as opposed to the rat pack as angels, so when I am being considered. But they were serious, they liked the idea of Roman senate frolics, black men as being on this dying senate, as some were, unlike here an they are the fascists, not doormen of Valhalla as Thor is so willing to slot you as, no Romans, as a republic dead. And they liked it much. THEY brought up the cost, I said, oh like Orson Julius Caesar once on Broadway, saw it as a fable and men would be in black suits each wearing a purple sash like the one warren as Head mistress superior dreams and salivates over now, one can only imagine the bribes that come with that! No, the woman deferred, she figured that from my prose about a lovely Sabine girl playing with Tyberus Tie, and my speak about the importance of lapel pins, which are ignored now lest we recall that Clinton once plastered his name all over the Confederate flag, thank God the Mexican flag never flew on that middle passage, oh wait that's right they circumnavigated it to begin with. She loved it, thought of a white man she knew who would play the prefect blowhard tough guy demagogue bringing the fake senate to its knees, I am the auger, and this was 2006, when that Racist Trump was still under contract to the wonderful world of NBC, who at first begged him not to run as he was in fact the only Seinfeld they had left. She loved this play, capitally the three pages I wrote in a Chicagoan Italian, well Etruscan as a woman named Livia no not the one Warrant knows from cable television, or the one Rachel may have actually heard of from Tacitus, throws her son Tyberius, no again, not those ones, Bill knows what I am talking about, bless his corrupt little heart, I mean at least own it, and she tares at his corpus and hurls it onto the alter,... maybe this would cost a lot even in suits, and she warns the Romans whose bodies they are building their church upon. Like Sparta the code pink hags barely even note the hospitals we bomb. She loved it and they were kind and nice and got every reference I made, as subtly isn't my strong Point. 


She then deferred, she couldn't do it. Why...?, because this wasn't long after 911, still a daily serial like adventurers of Superman or the Lone ranger on Fox at least, before Kieth and bizzaro Keith's came on to tell us what liberalism was, and if you heard we were anti war...well...The Romans, a lovely larger black lady who like the jurists had before didn't mind an angelic slur in the script, as I wrote it as modrena as the Romans always were, not that Stanley Kubrick shit, and she passed, but was quite kind. Just starting a blog then, on the recommendation of a Jewish attorney producer who thought I should spake up, just not with his name attached. I saw their admiration of me, instead of allowing me to languish a 1000 views mostly from a Kirby loving hacks and few cartoonists showing me their work as they had in arts school thinking finally Roman Tony doesn't lecture anyone but the hacks, I karroooomed to 4000 views by summers end, 9990 by Saturnalia in 2007.This troop appeared on the Joey Pinto show on wor, no else who had to push their adapted play what they were doing, as besides Caveat... a new version of Amos and Andy, as I like to think I showed them a minstrel show is coningent on who wrote it and why. He called me 'that Acri cartoonist creep' because of my hatred of the Sopranos and things he and Cha cha kaput as sibylline books, but I got even when he asked why Hillary and Barry still got a paycheck as senators running for praetor and why they could run for both senate and praetor at the same time, you know more openly Corrupt than any Roman ever been. For that nothing aside, he was fired. Bye.

What made this so important and the kind of award I relish, is that these Negros black people so demeaned and demonized saw a glimmer of humanity in of all the people the Romans, not the Asgard they are told to admire ore else, not the Jewesses and the Irishmen aldermen of Tammany, abashment of the peoples party a con since Coriolanus,and all I said made sense to them. Now F Hamilton here again I was ahead of you all,and had the Romans as black people, not lesbians, god knows as usually your NBC tower effeminacy and emasculation is not so overt. No jumping and no numbers, no caterwauling, not cooning it up, or getting jigy with it, no showstoppers, outside of a carcass oh I wanted made and hurled at the Roman eagle, yes Titus Andronicus is the only Shakespeare play that doenst make me ill, all done in ways that the swells and the yentas could not get behind, no shucking and jiving, no Chorus line numbers, no hand jive, no bring down the house number at act 2, no, none of that. Men in suits watching a republic die, which I warned about long since the fake Catiline, Boiney was the last sunshine boy, entaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhh, always backing down honed like Howard the duck things got too hardcore as in his fires hastened to catch. No, no dancing here, no mincing no prancing, maybe Princing, no black faced superscription fathers tapping and clogging away about the carefree days of slavery, now made accelerated and wonderful, like the Confederate flags was when Tuner Watson made a point he didn't buy GWTW for a billion, to put it in a vault next to Uncle Remus and Daffy killing women at Anzio and warning the good gi's about how they were riddled with VD so don't let this happen you God, much less marriage. So out there, have a nip for me as make tea each night and swallow azo caplets that taste like Satanists piss, as my balls don't so much hurt as are sore, which is always worse. Remember me as the boy man, who read Burr in paperback as a boy in 1974 and never thought, This would make a great musical, William Daniels is dead, who made the Roman senate into Compton, or Compton into the Romans senate, remember me this weekend if you catch Negros shuck and dance for appeasers, aren't you all as Paul Mooney said, have a tip for me, for me, for Roman Tony, AS Warren AND THE LAST LIVING FANTASTIK Boiney-- pass the Hydrox --Snadahhhhhhhs, yeuck, ether take Vienna or dont, and a toast to me, who could use  it.
I am Roman hearted, which only means as Barry took the shade provided by a march that the Italians have had for Calvino and Verdi, hes always open to signing whatever death Warrents, see what I did there....?, that GE faxes over, all that means is like Rocky, I expect the Roman Boxers, and leave it at this, to never loosen the ropes.



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