31 July 2016

#DEM BONES.



[to show my genius is above reproach i illustrate this sadder than not missive with drawings done back circa 2005, disquieting to so many then, which now show as the Italian said, I don't read the future, just am paying attention. ]







The idea of catching Hillary’s Caesarean triumph, where ala we better than Romans made sure all the madmen I compared myself to with Zoetrope hags and fags are discretely  off camera, while Andy Poo and his marry men and milk maids pretend they are doing anything but waiting for Hillary to say as she did to Buhlah the Jewish Rosenzweig sister broke her leg get a helmet and get in, was so upsetting to me, in a particular Roman level, that I had taken to not only watching Kat and Beth, beloved pin up dolls, but too, a show called Speak for yourself, what are you thinking, hosted by Colin Cowherd. That’s right, really, no honestly, I was watching Colin Cowherd, like plays, actual playyyyys, rather then watch a kick line of chorus of smiling queers, sissies, black aldermen up from the corner, or is it the wire… ?, and of course, right by Cornelius grandson who now isn’t a bigot or anything worse than a patrician now being uncloseted, there’s Armani off the rack radical creep who weeps like a new Paar, between constantly spitting when he talks as a good radical might. There was nothing about this that appealed to me, she didn’t win anything, as much as has all the grace and charm of a cadaver in a Hercule Perot mystery, her existence is tangible proof of a crime, but not even in the affable way of hers husband who with so much Romanism informing him, he had to take the daggers and the spears in way she thinks she does not, which has always bothered me. I was loved by nuns and women of that last golden age, before the fake one of now, as who knew all it took was a gold card and payment plan and imperial dinners with the praetor to make the great black activists Barry and Mickey, our Jonnie and Frankie in rooty toot toot, sorry that was a wayward drone, find out gee how much they loved America after all, as like the theatrical couple that over priced and eventually undercut them, one is only a radical as Machiavelli warned,  until they get the feel of a whip.

I had some work to do, as have to get out a lot of stuff by August First, and then will take a break as have been diligently drawing and pasting and doing the like for it seems six weeks or so, and I had to get to a site where the New Yorker now sends you, where you can be disparaged, the whole point, and demeaned in ways that the house of Shawn didn’t have to do when they were still getting carbon copies in from Capote. Like DC , I know their shtick and they are not by now fond of mine, but in trying to get back there, saw a hardness and inflexibility in the internet, a clomping and hesitation that made me think of Hillary right away, as each poke and prod seemed to cause the page to go white and not come in. As the new Yorker thinks its Seymour Hirsh chic can okay too and atone for placing kept Annie Lebowitz stares, the priests didn’t think photography like films were art,  about various faceless Jennifer’s in there as old Tina Brown like Uncle Rupert brought an undercurrent of English sleaze you didn’t know they exalted thanks to Alistair hosting Robert Graves, but which has been there since Brutus, no not that one, first trop the shores and raped and nudged over a king and queen Ian McKellen would never play with his lovely drollery. I do think I have this right, but gist is the best America can do, so why not, I do believe the New Yorker was the magazine when father Gore writes a famous essay about Goldwater being about as much as a Roman as creepy Marcus was, that is not much, but who like a later pig would festoon and encumber himself with Roman do dada and misspelled Romanism, in your heart you know I’m right was what previous  imperial hack Cicero said about Cattiline and who was mentioning him and streetwise strife way back. Unlike colored and fairies now, a Roman riot was nothing something that wasn’t somehow not noted the closer one get to a curia now feared and achitaed producing ides of October. Gore I believe by this rag that now thirds a needle between Livy and Gucci,as that rag pretends, it more Hollywood and vulgar than Id bet Shawn would ever think it would be, the big city now is no longer the emerald city of Baum, but the neon dregs of Van Nays, as again the British,  despite playing Sejanus  when needed, have always had a streak of Falstaff to them that Jews have liked to pretend was not there. Gore was sent out of there as he was the New York Times, amassing how upset they got about a piece about Barry Goldwater isn’t it, but then maybe all hands on deck was just this time a call that had to be yelled out more as reminder than but alas no real shocking Tuba in the night. 


Caption: There is a Turkish expression, only an Honest man can get all the frauds on the same side. 

I had an inkling that the internet was not doing well today as their bullshit since, as if the priests could think economics is for the inherently stupid I can think computer science as worse, as it seems like wrestling and politicians, that these algorithms can always be, what’s the word,…?, prodded to give a deserved result, like a mafia raffle of a corvair. Seeing the effects of the last week, before the wedding cake men and the pretty maids all in a row got their talking points, a direful holdover of the Clinton interregnum of free trade and syphilis which has soiled the American flag, I think Italy as a go too for the Simpson for a corrupt country or laughably incompetent though a republic come and gone. I COULDN'T GET A HANDLE ON THE PAGES, I couldn’t get email, into a blog of my own, just to see if my zooming numbers upwards were still amusingly stratospheric at least for me, I couldn’t get into yahoo mail, well that at least is normal, asked and repacked, poked and  repocked, prodded and re-prodded, what is this fifth grade…? I was unable to just do the very basics of computerizing this day. Being a bit of a bitch, I took the opportunity to send in more work to the once uppity and now low end, dreaming of when it was still middlebrow New Yorker, and motioned the Virgilian Vidal, knowing that the gals there now have very important hair, and after all, its only ridicule really of your doing it to some one who thinks they are above it.

I didn’t get through, I didn’t get into my mail to see a cascade of answers to submissions sent out, as don’t know why I did the latest entries  as am tired of a summers worth of work, and I gave up and lefts. Then I found out through a strange likeability I have with the radicals and true believers and such who send me heads up about their believes as its only not despite , but again because  of my love of Romans fascism and brunettes, big asses and snide girls like Kat, flying supermen and my all around boyishness and hatred of fakes in Guy Marx masks that they believe I am, as was in arts school, an honest broker as opposed to, again, a social critic who left the CNN booth to take hold of a convention that seems to be flying to bits. This was an awful convention, as openly flouted the physics and laws of the universe which caused Galileo no less to say that Machiavelli was the greatest not only political but scientific writer in the history of that lovely language. It was amusing to me to even glimpse how awful they were, in going after Trump , as again were more on the seemly and slimy side of things like say a pouty smarmy Mussolini chinned blond half Jew than they were to the more affable, boyish aw shucks of Jon Stewart,  as though you’d think you’d be natural, no one ever called Bill Maher Roman or Juvenal, though he seemed he thinks he’d beg for it, and thus, too much sneering here, not enough Huck Finn. Again I was right again I can smell these flowers from a mile away, and in fact, late into a night when Bilbo was out there again, talking past his latest last hurrah, which by now is a longest dreariest  goodbye, Patton died less Camille like, even friend of the blog Rachel Maddow made a point that his Love story as it were, riddled with ghosts of women he tired to bits with mania who have fat ankles, made her think, finally and adroitly, and perhaps now perpetually, a real Yecccch, causing her to be summarily trashed by Irish sour mash alcoholics penning the decency of the age on another channel. Cheer up, Rachel dear, like Superman in that awful movie whose trashing I had sent my peace Boy and superman to stupid enough to believe any ad on that page, when they wont mention your name, they think it’s a insult, but in fact, like the Innominato or Christ and Beatrice  in Dantes sulfurous Hell, you may be too good for the room, as I hold out hope as the nice part about the censors, they are pretty much immolated by stupidity, and thus even Ertiwan to his barking dogs about that very book said back off, Abdul, have always left the Italian and Romans stuff, again, you’d think it opposed, all alone. 

 
Caption: Golly, its the democratic convention all over again...

I would come to know from some sent accords that they weren’t going down easily for this, that the con I kind of knew was coming, pass the hydrox Boiney, ahaha!, gee you’re a real solider, well lest find out the Roman meaning behind that word, and how much did that cost...? They feel really hurt and sued and betrayed, as they were by Ms. Grundy, who is now smiling and shining her whiter than white face, Crazy Horse with a Nordic fold, we don’t need Dagos playing Tonto anymore in decent America kids, as she knows the score, smile away, Hun, but as Bernie slumps and shills into the good night, I wasn’t thinking it would be anything honorable, as the in laws didn’t get this far by being Roman about things. AS Golden eagles ARE AFTER ALL AN ENDANGERED SPECIES, but rats are everywhere in the cellars of the night. Just no ARMIES IN THAT NIGHT anymore, as Norman is dead and I don’t feel that well my own self. It was sad and detestable to me to see her laughing minions like Ghostly, Trippy, mahmn, the women and the queers the sissies and the scumbags who had no problem with the fat ankle wonder, but I was amused how passionless ness was catching as now the fire brand Save the Tiger was so acquiescent to the wishes of his mistress, dearest wonderful incompetent Hill, who somehow, with the shamelessness of an Augustus speaking of ‘the Republic’, to his senate stacked with idiots and rubber stamps and drinking hacks made divine, this bloated swine Bill had the never ending moxie and blarney to sell his wife, as if the Girl in a picture being shrilled to Jack Warner. Now she’s not the Girrrr, the Girrrrrlll, as once at first I saw as  more pretty and exotic and less clownish Max would say, but then we all lose our Roman resistance to the Principe, don’t we. It was sad to see Lucretzias minions act like it’s a golden age, despite fags and cops hitting the ground already dead, as Lucian would say of the actual legitimate army, up against Caesar, that first anti hero way back when. Today is a sad tough time and again, people who made their bones at a church like MOVE , Or SOIL, who again didn’t find the grace of America worth a bucket of shit until they got a black card, hell, kids, am I the last Roman, be true to your lies, they are all you got, and quit acting like all is right with America now, as you brought nothing but drones and poverty, as eventually dears, you become what you’d destroy as Caesar warned your ilk, not that you’d listen between confetti. I had saw sent to me, truly sadly Republic obituaries as upset woman and honest hippie dippy sorts turned to me, my Fascist Roman me, maybe I have again seen this before often on yellow papers , maybe they called out to me shady and touchingly as perhaps Roman Antony as they sent me hash tags and updates that they were leaving , not a bad idea before the purges, as crying and fire and anger might not be the salve which the Clintons wanted as they demand a unity at them, as all Sociopaths do, but they are always marking cards, after a while, hunnie, stoning women for hubby starts to get on everybody’s nerves, especially with the same hair color that you either always destroy, the moral of the story of the duke and the wife of dower awful violent Sicily, out of a playboy after dark taste, or as my mother noticed, here in a grand dying America when a woman has enough of a bank account Hillary is amusingly quiet, and her and his newspaper Seutoniuses all discover the circumspection of the redacted. Is that because he still dreams of Jo Collins and Edie Williams and Moonbeam and Patty Fairenelli as he true wants to ways to get back to may day 1275…is that Marge Simpson or Rachel who is standing there with crossed arms on the Venetian pont unwilling to swoon about this...?  Or is it that had he destroyed a Suzie cream cheese every now and then, the woman in the suburbs would recall when she called being a mother was no more than baking cookies and thus wasting her blood knowledge at chiseling and her incompetence, at as much hidden and even extolled by hiding behind her husbands trousers as he intended hid behind her skirt, when again, the girls began falling on their fat bums out of a closet, at the most inopportune times, as happens in Roman farce.

There was something as sad about this hag glowing there as Oviddian witch, in the midsummer’s night scheme, showing there a shine from so much white jowl, in Tiger Red…hooooboy…..not smiling as much as sneering, not happy as much as preying, as joyous as an undertaker after megadeath, our Livia with out the charm or one time beauty, it was her unhenned beauty and rivalry with Cleopatra and Antony that swooned Augustus, which shows unlike black checks up from nbc, without Henna docents work on cnn. It was too sad to watch this as suddenly, Andersen not finding urban unrest a calling siren, he does love the riots, doesn’t he…?, after a year of donning pith helmet and Lands end jacket to survey the ruins of Life on the street, yes, as he now trashes Trump with the arcane vocabulary of mean girls, dear Baltimore mayor beget not one but two shows about charm city decay, Ghirardello has been shot!, and so I knew that whole Luther Mahoney killing was coming back to haunt him. I have things to get done, and came out to do them, and yet, still, it bothers my jurist heart when these things are done badly, and seeing Mom of Moms robot company in full cackle there, as she sells commercials about clutching children, ...Hansel…?, I wonder does your wife also play this game sir…?

As the Obams just learned how to paper the world with bad checks, I admired Bill for his populist ear against the previously detached and elite patrician Bush, a secret weapon since they hurled Coriolanus to the wolves way back, that first fascist, who was made a hero by a Shakespeare, who wasn’t that crazy of the mezzanine, as elitist never are of the people this side of the box office. It is awful to me that a party is asking for a basic third term by overbidding things are great, Billie Felt your pain, his empathy, without which one becomes evil incarnate, even if fake and maybe it wasn’t, was better than this jiggy and his curia of thugs and retards and freak show, and the poor and the weak and the filth who only are to go to when on cued, never ever, when an embarrassment, or outside of the lenses NBA glasses worn by sissy and cable shit heads, and upwardly mobile women who now tell you to eat shit, as they are having a great time. I predict they will race away from this, pretending to care is the essence of politics, as the elites are always the last to hear the riots coming, as they defiance themselves from the rabble and the trash though they preen a wittiness and a hepness and a cool cat in the alleyway shtick, ah but see the Jewish hacks, again call me a bigot all you like but I know these people as they are genetically closer to me than not, middle earthlings we are, you see, when ageing grown ups and Jew jokers and forty year old virginals and even Jewey Jonnie realize what and where and how and what they are, a certain misto, a certain lack of revitrovi, a certain lack of redemption, no pun intended, really Christ isn’t my friend, as recall all the roman with throats cut rather than messiahs who knew how too play the imperial game, like shrieking commandants on Hills war night, lest a dollar get past them, sets in. They are suddenly, despite comics and comedians made senators  being the snagged mcs of NBC nightly satirical coverage of this buffoonery, TIMPANNNNY!, THEY UNLIKE ME, say this is forty and are without words, dower and deflated at the neon Christmas trees along with neon bibles,  and ver kelmpet as they’d never thought they’d be, as first you were too heisty and Polish to play the Lone rangers grandson, now you are merely too fat and old. I never gave in, bless me. I never gave up, though did something no Clinton or Obama would do, as forwent a two thousand dollar check as a cabal television show needing a wop to tell them the swear words and stand there and make it seen less a minstrel show, but like my cop procedural, that Calvino folktales shit had to go, doc. The Jewish woman who I told this to gave the Virgilian advice to throw it away, don’t even write back, don’t be a house wop, Tony, she said, you’ll never forgive yourself, believe me the Jewish woman said wistfully ,I once wore a Donna Karan Cross and Ize still upset. And thus again, sorry as youd secretly would notice my unrequited loves and even vulgar missions to women are something that you Jews gave up when allowed into the celler again as you always are, ether paid with slices if Bread or travelers checks and tarp through the baseboards, I am true to my Ionian creed , forever, and thus again, my Leslies are better than yours will ever be. 




So, in the same way they ran to buy flags as again, their patriotism, like the racialists, is all about what we have to do to keep ourselves in power, and sadly for no particular reason, which elites get then usually a knife in the dark from a bigger cad who wants power too, and the people are always fucked. The party of the filth and the tribune of the plebs will pay for this, as they made America more venial and meaner than it needs to be. Sad it is that things are this bad, as again to out to all in Roman terms as with Italic perspective, this is the age of a man who never won a majority of lamebrains ever, just to show where we idiots were headed even then, just crow bared his fat water retaining wife in as Caesarian, which to me, says this might not work as well as your masters think, but too, also, maybe for reals, and maybe sadder than I would have thought as seemed to be counting down to this, the curia trashes Trump and his most votes ever as somehow illegitimate. As again I warned you all and please no more keeping it real, no more hunndrd, no more down for the struggle BS, no more discreet charm of the tenement pimps,  no more bullshit about the mattering of lives as I SAID BEFORE, that’s a precedent that they don’t want to set, and again after having used men who looked like my father and his working buddies for seventy five years, not him, again, like the Jesuits he knew they love Italians as wives barefoot and pregnant, and sent to abortionists long before you made it a sacrament for all, so, we are all no more than two exits from the jersey shore. So, heaven forbid populism catch on in our new republic, as Augustus warned, lest talk of the new republic catch fire as tempestuous and broiling and vital as the first one. All those Romans though used as sword fodder now delimitated by Jewish in laws on cable and shitty shifty Hollywood, they're but bones interred by the very imperial winds, lost to time and space, though like vestals which Hillary would never be and who she can try to dress as all she wants, with growling Sergeant Carters being heckled by the rabble and the filth who never mattered, all their blood has become brown dust, and their sweat and sinew in a hell less romantic, Sybil less, unless the iguanas are more sentient than thought to be,  and less poetic and perhaps more Bruno and scientific than any Virgil or his beloved schoolboys ever write of as under the ballads of sissy English major and co ed grass. The bones of these men for whom Augustus growled to get his eagles back, they are but by now a bunch of relics, and sites intermixed with the wolves they disdained, scatted within their very fossilized teeth, their bones, like the ones of our old west that we return to strangely enough either’s showing an anger that the partitas cant assuage oust one more November or sire than that might have to pony up more in electioneering bribes. Those men sued and utilized by hacks long forgotten but whose codas should be recalled, and whose imperial bumbling should be remembered lest done again, there are lesions in History that cant be blamed on little green men, and no, the people cant always be laughed at by New Yorker shlockmiesters who come on Charlie Rose for the tar heel honoraria’s and then do their shaky dying queen rant against that rag who sent them to the lover Hebrides of the web. so pooooor... as if that had the cache to someone always wishing to make sure like a Kennedy or Irish alderman  pol,  that the gentleman’s agreement was always to some one else, and who railed against the magazine fir pocking some other yenta, and not him, though he helped to with his siren blowhard make American policies a blood-sport, as the Irish and the Jews never fallen that far from the tree that died in Brooklyn. Again, don’t lecture me about your new found view from the bridge as you call the hungry dogs as Cicero warned not to so as crossed off as kicked, as the comfortable nanas watching our RC intake might be one school marm too many as commandant seem openly booed off stage fir telling us that this was Sparta all along, where the lame and the brown eyed didn’t have a chance, as urn for the last republic is perhaps to be thrown into that muck allowed to be scavenger by grave robbers called the British museum wile told the apache graves are sacrosanct lest we find out how many died not of Spanish conquistadors, but by a virulent kick ball. Our Res Publica is always happens unkempt, not buttoned up, as it shouldn’t have been, but a Clinton with dog eared Gibbon hither never to think that he could play Doge, Italic queen, and ironically he who motioned the Romans while Jews and blacks and Irish slathered themselves with canned apple pie or is it cherry…?, the republic dies under a Clinton how perfect, cue the Salirei, wont you, the republic dies of sodomite ulcers by being cum upon by someone who was dammed by a hair flipping cow as bringing up Marcus in  land too in love with Leviticus, but too, like other women disfigured by the bloated meandering Dirge singing, vicious, tin pan eared, Duchess of Syracuse, Questa Reppubblica, essa eh finata.















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