28 September 2016

BOOK IV. 20 September, 2016.[revised]



accepted, Back to dagwoods, watercolors world. 




1.
The keepers of the strange glow of the digital instrument before me, keep trying to goad me into saying something about various things, down to even forwarding posts of Rachel Madwoman to me , as if, but then I don't feel the need of you miss Grundys to blue pencil anyone or anything that they say. It seems in this interminable anti Roman summer I was abet off as antidote, as placed many of my cartoons and essays hither and yon, as there is an antiquing quality to evil and carrying the lunkhead Clinton's on stage in buckets around has alas given you all ankles about splinter, it seems. I said, before anyone, when she thought she had won, that she wouldn't make this dying republic or Plebicide, easy on the collected nuncios and fat chicks of the media, shed make you earn your keep, or at least your bribes, and again, as they all slow down the Internet as was told by liberals for DEM BONES, as far too Democratic a thing too let the Slitting all woe their duchy to keep doing like an EC comic book electioneering until after the grave, they made a mistake , or she did, by collapsing, on a Sunday, and thus cuing even more achita by not letting people get to their football fantasy ciphers, and now well see just how committed you can be. 


rejected twice from 2 public domain comics. Wham, return of the star man 


As health now is a concern for both candidates, always when Hilly is bumbling stumbling wicked this way cumin, it is a sad turn of events that both candidates are ts bad, which is fingernail on slate to a Machiavellian boy like me, as you cant go to that after Mother Gert predicated your existence at benign existance, better than vulgar he. Again can anyone here play this Roman game...?? now, poned again, Hilliie is looking upwards at the gross bumbling vulgarian, making her life one perpetual wedding night to that buffoon who had to be ready for his close up and again, kick his wife out of the way to jet towards that palpably seemly lamplight and lime light, without that he is a forgotten man.

Ah but he has become the dreaded Verona nurse, when thought himself A Romeo who got away, only a year ago, his days as ingĂ©nue are over, and the clown they placed in now dost have the star agility he did, as he made ks a better Medea than she does, so get out of my way, he demands, appppllllluuusue, appppluse applause, as he falls to bits and the Borgia are staying too long on the stage, as we need a clown to come and sweep them up and off, lest this death scene of Camille never end. He had to get back in front of the camera as anything, as Cato said of Caesar, without the circus of fascism, without the curtain and the overture of a triumph, he'd forget his lines and forget entirely who he was. Also saw in a commercial amazingly bad, one for her is which all the super forlorn-ed assuredly not irredeemable, because you see , they might vote for her, the essence of the Borgia papacy in a nutshell, everything the founding fathers wished to avoid, a cult in her case of a lack of personality, as they had a Medici like hatred of the people, as little better than the slaves they raped, as en distressed anti Trump-er after the next was mindbogglingly whitened,  showing trouble at least in Pa, where the god and guns red necks infest even the democrats primary, glad you told us, waiter, causing a quick edit to show a house everything broadcaster, and two, a commercial showing all the reckoning Rhinos in a row, from Grandiosity Scarlette, he hates race baiting between bombings, like Al Franken, and too Mitt, is baskets of people like binders of women, say, to Susan Collins, a yenta who fainted like Livia at the police blotter left by Sweet ole Bill on a Saturday Night, like the queen hearing those first made sonnets, of the Aeneid at the death of Turnus, as she said aloud quivering, and vindicating, like Dido, she yelled out a misplaced Antony!, who that hag, like so many, hated Cleopatra as she had aye out for my Mothers beloved soldier, for whom i am named by her too being aa perpetual student of clerics unseen on mstrel show gumba tv. As it is an Italian woman's desire, to have loved his Roman vigor as opposed to bloated Augustus still peeling in the sun, and which was credential as Mohamed Ali did to Malcolm, co caused the poor man Virgil to be killed off. Though Augustus would eventually hearing the Virgil was dead and not just disquieted from making Antony the Italian hero and Aeneas as by casting making Augustus therefore not, Octavian did take a crew of Greek verb lovers and when they laughed about a Publishing death, he took them all and sent them to the snowy Alpine front, so there. Why she would think these rhinos would be the perfect Tribunes to her coven floating into power as her ilk has dreamed since Lucretia, who knew, as Bumbling Bill, is either Machiavellian and brilliant or just a fuck up when he calls his wife's illness, rare but often, get out your Byzantine dictionaries kids, but now the Flu as he gathers she has on day four, but then to be fair to him they were never close. So maybe he can be the Greek, as opposed to Roman, Actor as they never let a woman on the stage in Athens, and did their parts in drag, which when attempted in Rome, like a tragic Hercules, almost caused a riot. And the original crown jewel I heard was supposed to be the face of Bushie the youngest, as anti Trump number one, perhaps wearing a stone necklace like BIZZARO, a brilliant creation of Otto Binder, used by DC as NASA used Nazi scientists, but then, Bushie wouldn't sign the paper, showing once again Karl, Lil Fatso, there are patricians and there are those who will never be, so I'm starting to wonder if any of you even read this play.

And a gal was amused that I posted that line from my hero Lucius just before I said, I am the auger, that shed openly dismiss and damn the people, while saying still Trump was unfit man for her episodes Cesarean seen on one of those phones, because he was a bigot, and then walked into that ironing board as she so often does. Maybe you can be Medea this week, Bill, as a Greek, not a Roman, ouch, and with freight wig and pancake make up, you can play the first woman president as you played the first black one, you'll hist never be Roman thats all. Double ouch. Always saw him, like me and Gore and the Jesuits and Tacitus, whose line was recalled in me what that hag said about the people, not Isis, not Mexicans , but voters, remember boss, elections this November, what again,...?, as irredeemable, but then, Cornelius said that about the Greeks, not the people he was made as a senator voice.? The Romans loved dancing girls, so do I, the Romans love farce, so do I, the Romans love Kat Dannings and Football, so do I. Wait that's me, but again, same thing. 


rejected. Wham Comics, 20 by 30 

I felt a gurgle in my stomach that this cow would be so high up with that tin an ear, as a taught Machiavellian, I was aghast that this hag and her screeching Mimis would demean so openly the people so, and in constant bitchy repairing mode try to get numbers unbelived in long ago to somehow tell people again they are doing better than they know, always death to a Political hack, so as you cant evade the Roman rules forever. Barry is reduced to now slang that hell do anything for Hilly, as opposed to Billy, so I take it shes divine and wonderful enough to be president. Remember Bare, Bill wants three Sugars and lots a cream like Winston Wolfe, Cheryl with take it black, no sugar, Numa uma will take an ice tea and Hill has problems with dairy, so Coconut milk for her. Now read that back, or they'll go Andy Kaufman on your ass. DID I MISS SOMETHING...WHEN DID THIS HAG AND HER HUMAN INFECTED COLON OF A HUSBAND GET INTO THE AUGUSTA GOLF CLUB...? Who the hell do these two scumbags think they are, who are you two to look down on the people who you've been foreclosing upon and sending to perpetual wars since the bush family thought to go 1876 ON US ALL.

I like that again our crime family is showing what I saw in all our goofy gumba shows, not only were the various wops morally repugnant but all septic and sick too, something like Rocket science and ubermenches that the Hollywood immigrates brought from their Berliner days, if they were allowed here at all, and don't think I haven't gotten my fair shear of likes from both the JDL and the Arab luges, as opposed to Hillary now how finds allies, amusing, who are hated by all. You have been at arms lent but still too close to your husband dear, so you think all are irredeemable, ah but he thinks he was saved on that Ovidian moment when he wore that girls tie, a moment over the head of Titian haired Cornelius Maureen in Mort Drucker skirt, made one with blond TV hag, who made it big by hectoring rape victims too spare the good names of frat boys and athletes, uh huh, a money shot Hillary and her nun less, wonder woman hating, Samantha Beehive, coven missed its Roman significance, as Apollo would wear the bay-leaves of the girl who his hag wife would strewn into weeds, a Moment of literal green laurel, a flourish and a grace note that neither the lesbians or the good wops on TV understood, but I caught before anyone. But Buck up, Hill as the Miles Gloriousus wishes to take back his stage, if not his life, to be Seneca about it, and that curriculum he made himself a Roman boy in that you are a woman backseat driver within, as all the jokes of dicks and mothers in law that the Romans perfected when Jews were still Semitic bluenoses and theocratic woman stoners, I'm sure dear he will make sure to give you, as he often does, a wonderful eulogy, from his powers of Roman oration, which are just on this side of a magic act.


accepted works in progress art book 

2.

As I have been getting copies of zines and radical newspapers and feminists books and Indy comics that I have been placed in gratefully, yet, I keep making the mistake of journeying back too close to the catacombs which is comic land, which like the Hillary campaign is a Inferno that seems to have no floor. And I thought Paradise lost was long and boring, which like Homer, I didn't have to read until I got to public school, so that says loads. Being pro Trump or more wary yet, anti Hillary, has cost me three jobs among the apron dwelling dweebs of commando adoring comic land, worst theme park ever,no fooling, I am including six flags, which all together might in all cost me a whopping Sixty dollars when all is said and done. But did make about 19 dollars three times this month for comics, and other emplacements just for exposure so I say what my brother told me to tell the low rent comics book hacks who for some reason need a second and third submission, so cryptic and Dr Strange am I, that one gave me 500 letters to discribe my Story Mr Stupendous, and then so lost in the query I posted here a few weeks ago, no, in fact, send us the whole, the book in pd format. This made my own Billy Batson eyebrow arch.


accepted 8 film festivals 


Uh huh. Okay, but and this is true, Yahoo wont placate pdfs when I try to send them as had that ready from the least comics nuncios I never hard from. I told them, half kidding, it was that basically was the piece from where Astro boy was stolen from Collodi, who stole it from this story of a tin centurion come to life, which soon enough Pizar will steal and ruin, as Brad Bird plays Apuleius, and all the ducks sing. I should have told them what my brother told me to tell them, an partitive and then tell them to go play Stan Lee somewhere else. But I do have massive pages Id like placed somewhere, of knights and EC things, and things I don't often do, as resent when people ask for art and then walk away, as if it were what, a dare...? You dint know I rooted for Trump, like Bill does, you dint know who Mother Gertrude was until you googgled it, Hun. And sad part is I HAVE gotten headway with anti war radicals, feminists, who are siding with Roman Tony, and tired of the Beelzebub of the hive, and my love of Camilla, as opposed to Camille, and Veronica Lodge over Hillary and her amazons b cups who all smell of war paint, so I know shes doomed, kids, as have seen as they say the lay of the land. I am now getting into comics and artists magazines and feminists no less, so dealing with ye Kirby lovers seems so very passe When he was considered to make the tomb for Lorenzo, after that idiot died in a miasma of white sweat and seeing angels and what today wed call a toe infection then a death sentence, Michelangelo then scrapped his whole accepted plans for Trevi. And did as he pleased, saying that once a power monger is finally dead, like with Savonarola, an Italian Luther that Beck should red up on between affidavits, or Harry Cohen, no one will remember a thing about his face. Like how when this is over, and Bill goes back to speed dating. I did get a chance to draw a Zombie book, oh pluze, as the Asian girl forthwith was cute an nice, but not knowing it was a zombie book they wanted, she was impressed that I had met both George Romero in the eighties and Tom Savinni in arts school, as she must have been one of thse people reading stuff of mine from '14, and earlier, and they both admired my stuff, and she liked that I knew that George Romeo was, who started this perpetual Halloween shit, as his was a satire of consumerism and mindless vast waste land American pop, nothingness and now is merely a blood comedy. Who said in ripped down essay Kike, sorry, Life of Brutus that eventually his gumba attempts at italiante artistry would make dear Marty Passe, as eventually the love of death and barbariana creed he played into would make the great gathering disposed by Jevnal and his dancers, that theyd want to see less brilliant drawings of a Borgia hanging as much as see, like on the great remade True Grit,  a realer thing. 


accepted. Wendy/Venus. watercolors magazine, though sent caveat placed crayon a top paint. 

I passed, as have a scene in Pygmalia, a movie censored by the vineyard the ate Coppola, in which a Jewish producer with a dying wife losses it at a movie company named Mammoth, an Easter egg from the Abbott and Costello's I watched insatiably as a kid, and a movie macher named Sid Bass based on perpetual Good guy Robert Reiner, and his Italianate film huckster and his brunette girl Friday, as the Jewish producer blows up at the horrid woman trying to make everything resonate of Fox and thus death, as it as a joke but I said then that they had to keep up at low end Mammoth, as Fox was making not only the Exorcist but I SPIT ON YOUR GRAVE as family hour television. I was also called a paranoiac for saying we were becoming a a police state, then, but we were so innocent then in those halcyon days of 2004, just before and while Barry's imperium was open for business. Even having forwent the Latin demanded then of a Georgetown supplicant before they let the girls in their tree house of chalices, I can see each moves of Bills as he does it, again something always between The annals of Imperial Rome and the bad and the beautiful, but then aren't all we Jesuit boys. I could never keep up. And as Tacitus said of doomed Se-Janus, she is now stuck with the vicious and the bribed, or worse both, as the viscous are too stupid to get her what she wants and the bribed, too smart, as I knew Anderson wont be letting every made for television riot be left be. We interrupt our latest massacre for this word from Geritol, or what is now called probitoics, still basically for tired blood.

My Jesuit brilliance has endeared me suddenly to radicals and feminists and others I would have thought my sworn enemy, but as I have said, eventually those who start out hating me come around as they start too realize, like Olbermann, there are many worse then me. I if taking a virtue lap of some sorts must place here that heard echos of my mad man at the Roman triumph warnings, as I recall that at Zoetrope, a business smart enough to somehow lose the rights to Star Wars, that I was snarly and snidely told a mean Merry Christmas, when I explained I, like my buddies, found Saturnalia, a much more healthy holiday and without the presence of the death holidays of christers, as Myrrh as Jews always pushily do, marred that festivity.


accepted story boards compilation. 



I must place here though got my share of demeaning and diminished from goofballs who tried to make Tom Brady, who now has to have a gay apostle creed attached to his name , whereas Montana or Staubach is still sued by some to distillate it all, as someone Italian said, once one says Dante, the next word is pretty unnecessary, a line like so much stolen for Machiavelli, though I think a so often he lost a vowel. I did bode that once people thought that football was a rigged game, like politics, why Trump is now leading if not raging ahead of our dying Mother Gertie, I did say that one people fired out it as not only rigged or connived or unsportsmanlike, the only sin to a Roman concoct is cheating is Greek, as Virgil said, not that that helped when they felt butt fucked and not in a good way by Publius who again, could as they would've kill their mothers for, to make the Romans into the Spartan they disposed. I said that there would be a payment made to the ghost of Plautus , played by Zero Mostel again, perhaps, perfectly, as there was something unseemly to the patriot games of a Jewish owner and Pollock reveling in his brilliance too, as a credit to his race, as he counter jumps and sweaty and seemly paradoxically enters that small pantheon of Polish champions easily being up there with Copernicus, John Paul the II and Bullwinkle. But I said, a Roman schoolboy hurling firecrackers into the sacresty, like being admonished for saying something was 'off camera' in Boccaccio you dont resale that your love of dark ages and death never kept that Orient express or at least the caravans, from going east to west as they previously had, yes italians used cameras in the medeoavo, as ma calls it, says we still lanquish there, that they would pay, as I noted that no one ever commenced to overturn any of Romos mistakes, but they did take a score way from Dez, which mainly when need be can make the niggers of cable smile and laugh. Just saw a black quarterback hit in the head as football can go Cool hand Luke when it wants to, and then showing our ethics, through his hazed ringing head, as birdies singing around his head like the cartoons all you Negroes are, they suddenness be peppered him with equations about race that Hillie bless her shriveled heart, so tries to avoid. 

Keep laughing, or enter as such, but I warned the room as Roman poster I was, that sorry Hillary, but your cough fit dying swan song death scene from Camille is going up against a football season that seems to me to have not started, as it turns out that a kneeling Horshack splitting differences and ends, shit negro just sit, be a man, and not an in the wings diva booed off the Traviatta stage. Then, I refused to be confirmed, mostly to tell my own sister Gertrude to drop dead, we all have one, thus again, the prelude was all, but then I have never been the understudy you all have been, and it turns out that Roethisbooger and sleazy lunatic Bellacheat and Whatshisdink, the man who was Pit bull, and at the clubbbbbs last year, and all the marry men though all loved by hacks and goons on ESPN, that clever placing of debates against football nights in America only works if Trump isn't having a better year than the dreaded and awful getting what deserve Green bay packers whose rubbing black men head for luck is never, like a good Irish team boss owned coon salsa dancing, seen as taunting. Then, sissy named Bigot and boys in the band and National Review never misunderstood the appeal that Trumpy and that blue star always can have, and unlike Hillary and other rapists advocates coddle-rs, they don't have to use talking points. I did get back and must mention that somethings sent out around last Halloween day came back, with some mark of something, looks like a P drawn in pink in a circle, the hieroglyphs of a dying industry, that never saw Trump coming. Nothing else, no mimeographed decline, no thank you buts...Oh well, I HAVE NEVER BEEN STAN LIKE IN MY NEED TO IMPRESS THE GOYS. BUT TOO in this return envelope was my resume, again folded and dismissed, but I saw where it ended, on Dust land and a few commissions, like Leslie I list them now, why not?, and have indeed affixed to it 22 more lines, while others troll the digital webs putting people down. More than I thought, just to show up those who think cool is something you hemorrhage. So, I am sick of the liberals who post death threats, laughing swine, the cocked eyebrows, the snarling queers, the Lucretia laughters that sounds like the stink of rye vomit, so go bomb your aid caravans like god siding little Jewish Spartans in laws. ...oh well, I am the auger.













accepted. GEE WHIZ BLAMMO TOYS AD FOR NOSTALGIC COMICS 




3.


As must toot my own horn, and say I saw it all commingling like Scorsese stage blood and nitrate fluid when called my buddy Keith a canary in a gold mine. The Jewish yentas who made daytime television a crucible barely recalled now, in the last of the curia didn't know it then, as I see like Metamorphosis put on during 911 that I made a point of noticing that A view from the bridge is closing as Italians and other new York Gumbattas aren't on the side of being rueful and never were to your swell love if immigrant as unlike them, they never would work for less than going trade. I saw his preparedness , though laughed at by always willing to hack it up and Jewvanal it down Jonnie, I did see that his being left go even as he and not the lesbian in push up bra or drooling leering Irish hack was the one who,the essence of all comedy, got an audience, the meaning behind everything so public. I saw that when Keith was finished , that something happens to America, in which the filling of the mezzanine, a whiled reputable and decent thing was repelled now by the lie and less theatrical and unwatchable screed and polemic. I knew she wasn't going to do it when I saw both of her devoted Clowns, il pallacchi, forgo greasepaint and roars and do the ultimate sin to the Milton Burl Texaco star theater ethic, which was to leave. Jewey Jonnie and Letterhead couldn't despite coming out of their Goebbels inspire lives to trash Trump now and then, they had shows on each night, an could have been useful to go after a Trump in ways even the fairies and coloreds and blonds of the idea couldn't not, but alas they would not and they didn't.

accepted. Rag comics, Our story thus far...

When Jewey Jon left, when Disco Stew left,it told me much as said at the time, with even no less than a tribune of New York Values and the canniness of all which caused the new Yorker to be hatred by the Prairiea goofballs in dairy heartland with Martin Scorsese there as Virgil leading him away from the whopping cough audience and freedom of not having to place the gray smutz in his hair any longer as he decided the again, I was right, ad the wind dun went, and Tara's returning wasn't worth the extra strength lava needed to cleanse his hands of getting too close to the public toilet seat that is Creator Bill. AGIN IT SEEMS HILLIE became a Machiavellian just for the jokes, as opposed to her husband.

Accepted Italian American magazine 

All I know and adore again as house everything's and fat chicks and yo yo yo darkies and long outta the hood scumbags think they are such the darkies fighting the power is that athletes, saluting before they die or get cut or traded is out doc, as it seems the Vikings gave up more than the Niners requested as again Prairiea might be more decadent than you'd think, is again a Roman lesson amid the trash and the filth. That the anti Roman summer ended with a perfect Roman moral, though they were sharp enough not tor like morals , there shouldn't be a moral to a story, and when I said that got a demanding letter back from some white girl who thinks she deduced ethics under Samantha Bee, who said to me, Roman Tony that the moral of a story is its theme, she wrongly, but is after a all a woman thought. No, I write back though having been trying to do that less, wrong again, Chardonnay berth , wring again, as it was Dante who said a story is what it is for as long as it is to tell and is nothing more. Like dear George keeps saying about his hijacked opus, it inst about just spaceships, as he could tell you and the nebshit parents, more importantly there are always the guns, and the Roman-ism that makes it more tn just Flash or Buck.

A story dont have a moral, he said, although his love of the allegorical, we hate that one could hear a woman say,as speaking for herself and the mouse up her ass as the Romans said, still he said, with Italian amorality inflames usual, there is no Moral here, an she actually writes me back and said, who said this Dante wad any good. Wow, thous hast conquered David Brooks, the middlebrow are worse than they have ever been. Block. I mean ill be a cad and a goofball and ill play along, but anyone who calls him This DANTE, opposed to the others, is outtttttt, doc, a Bugsian expression on which I am stuck on lately.

accepted  A day in the comic life...

The anti Roman summer in which I had completed a myriad of things and made about 200 dollars with story boards and Indy films and cartoons trips and even free bono work for feminists sines, this anti Romans summer ended showing that the golden apple dost fall far from the classical tree as half breeds whose names I wont mention, kneeling on one knee, as the shirts of men on ethos incarnates like Tewbow and Colin are sold easily showing the circus ethics always in America at hands reach , that the man on one knee thinking he is saying something harsh or mean or even racial, is the same posture taken by Romans soldiers when not the standard but the fascia was portended to them, the made supplication taken by gladiators when Nero took his bloated pulpy seat, showing again, you never get that far from the original meaning. When one thinks they have lived a Roman life, no coven or women or murder of crows will make them recant, much less take that roman laureate out of their balding hair. Amy amount of green laurel is worth a lifetime of presence, shilling for weak lamplight, the human lie in stolen Versace, now shows herslef with woman and chidlern she loevd, baked in pie...hansel...Hansel....? as she reeks of fakenss, and he still cum splattered and blood stained, and drunk as a beer goggled floozy and in a Toga Pretextae the mantle of Etruscan kings worn by Augustus, figure that one out... that is worn and filthy still, sweet heart he inst a worthless as you, the Jesuit would see to that. The Romans in Ovid, that masterwork the fat chicks don't know of enough to demand it be burned before they take their free spitball games off the Amateur night literally, or the feast if Janus, the anchient Tuscans planted mint to ward away the rats of the Tyber, much less of Times Square. My man Roman Bill, Isnt giving up a life of green laurel as Autumnal and yellowed as it may be for bundled fish wrap of a dyeing yellow press.


Note. This third part was sent back to me today as attachment.

rejected. Asked by some nunnick dont you know how comics work...? I certainly hope not. 

Winner at LA Film fesival.
I actually turned down 500 dollars for this play, Pow gurl for a hard r film.
 I feel bad enough, and well never get Wendy Fiore.  




This piece was called again almost sad, showing my lovable qualities sweet and even sentimental by someone who it seems dissent isn't catching, anymore, as less willing to take my stuff as she was in July, as now, closer we get to the election tree, a Roman affectation, the more cowards she and other like her become. But again, it was a hard summer and finding an adherent they were were find and kind to me, and so said only Thanked her for even reading it. But she confided in me the effeminate and their fat chick secretariats, I wont touch that. are a more inhumane chorus each day that ticktocks by towards the nails in that wood, coffin or oak, as after all, despite my love of the Italian light, trees like Veronica is standing at don't grow in Byred cemented over west Veirgine, after all. She agreed with me, wholly that Hillary ticks are off putting, butttttt you know...and she exasperated along with me believes it is a erogenous fault of Sadist Mother Gertrude, really these allusions are sticking in my throat, to have my queer cousin Gino's doppelganger after removing his face from my page, ill always be grateful for that grace note from Disco Stu no matter what i say, actually be bringing up Rape, as the people as Cicero, could tell you are hungry, a strange word for a praetor caravan crossed with good Friday charm, nail over blackboards campaign, as if our little sister of the poor Hyllie was ever any thing but a woman abusive Mumfredi of the Ozarks, anyway who snacked and studiedly laughed her way through rape trials as a form of marriage counseling. It is, I told her, and she agreed. a strange baffling strategist she is, as dunderhead as when I was a boy, saw Bud Grant face the illuminatingly Roman army called the Steelers once, and took it upon himself to run directly at the great Jack HAM, all night, losing X-ix I recall.


The day before I received this sent letter back to me as attachment sent out, Roman Bill showed my embers of faith in him are not misplaced, as yukked up and made a moment of Movie tone news that we get now that John Chancellor is dead, Lester the Molester laughed it up ax my man Roman Bill caused Barry the bag man to hold the line, you do know that's your Ambra right...as he did as he paled, and caused the first black preseeedent to wait on him, still and forever the last Augustus in a Augustine history which has become mere vaudeville. Begging for bloated Bill to get on the plane and return to the hard sell, the business that they have chosen, the ninnie in shirtsleeves running for head of an Electricians brotherhood union was unwieldy met in the scene, theirs is that Boccaccio camera again, by sauntering, dwindling, slow ass Bill, in full Toga Praextera, the mantle sued by senators to show their place, royal blue as a Cowboy,and slowly walked up the old TWA steps as he would, basically a power move that was to ave to Roman gods above, to say I take on all comers, like a Roman would, and don't cut off mikes like a Bush or a wife. Ouch. So, Barry, as I recalled the end of the post I thought lost, remember, warm up the Black Beauty, Cato, or wait, Kato, and keep it ready for when the Green Hornet, villain hero pulp figure, is ready to prowl. Again, I can barely keep up.
















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