01 March 2017


Wednesday 22 Feb. 2017.

1. Had a spell of bronchitis, I am seemingly given towards during Saturnalia, and was still whooped out as late as this late week of Februaries, the month in which the Romans recalled their dead, which the white trash has turned into a black history month in which they recall their killed. I supposed I  don’t have the genetic predispositions of our betters and imperial monsters who Can fluff off such pneumonia only to go to Brownsville flavian Amphitheatre and go back to taking time off from the perpetual campaigning of their republic hating lives.

Saturnalia is after all a time of sadness as I Tried to convince once a producer looking for a Christmas vehicle  for Teri Hatcher, who I saw as a perfect signora Fortuna but then all which is roman is by definition an anathema to deny to born again Jews like Medveed who are now preparing for lent, of course without a catholic Marti Gras, much less a Roman carnival in laws always saw as beneath those who try to convince us their bottle dwelling days are behind them or at least until they fall off their plastered wagon or showboat whatever the Mamet like  theirs be. I did write a play for her as perfect roman goddess, with as few words for her as possible, maybe that was the mistake, but she was the forum of the play, called interestingly enough Saturnalia, and was about three graces, Sammy Dean and Frank as the trio of roman angels Terrance, Ovid, and Virgil As the head, a gal telling me that was inspired, who turned out to be not so much three graces but were in fact escapees from a Vegas insane asylum. I was told over the holidays that this film too seem to be made without me, I have been aware of this since I was told no own cares about the Romans, only to see a mega-movie be made later that decade in a matter of months called Gladiator. Thus where again, as usual, this time an Englishman more or less, would play a gruff Roman and again , Jews this time were unneeded to play Italian as it was  higher class of criminal as Tacitus may have said.

But in this later film that disappeared showing you don’t have it like I do, I always get an audience, a piece of shit called the meaning of beauty or some such thing, Will Smith , on the sloshing streaks of all blacks once used and given enough processes to make the Jewish in laws feel just great about themselves, in this retelling of the debarred and direful works of roman Anthony, they were not the three graces, again an anathema to by the second books Medved and Glengarry glen beck, or even escapees from a mental home in Reno as I had packed lest there be magic in a Christmas movie, again see above our Jewish rats who think Luther ahd a piont, no, this time, will was being haunted, literally haunted, by employees who thought the man losing his son so close to the holidays was an impediment to the hard sell that is our American Eucharist. Good night and God Bless. Wow.

But Saturnalia is a time in which I do feel sadly recalling all I am and am not, as recall then , sorry ebuddy Jon Stewart that that rabbi named Iggy who came to play pinochle at my pops store with the rest of the gumbas and darkies and the blue collar trash eschewed by the mount Vernon wops, who were sure they had found the American dream with Pollock wives. And who told my pop to get me into the nunnery called Harvard,back then, as a kind of getting even you Jews were up to once and I am sure the christers among us are sure you after still no matter what is on Fox news or sports as the case may be. A whiter than not older man in fedora and black clock , a local shylock played well in the republican Roman streets of my youth that Bill the Praetor for life sidles closer to each day and at which I have never left, he played the trope of Roman Jew well, he told my pop over nurtured Pepsis, not a Jew joke there, my father gave sandwiches and chips and pop and beer gratis at the card games I sometimes watched argued with a verve that politics and history and religion didn’t ever have, and Iggy the rabbi would tell my father of all the conspires against us darkies that he was sure what was going on. Laugh, but it was from his  polish mouth and Jewish tongue in which the words coup against Nixon was first uttered  and which I’d see again, poo pooed in the brilliant if dismissed , the best kind of brilliant, works of Oliver Stone, as in a book called Silent Coup, the same people who were against Kennedy were against Nixon as much as anything. And to be fair I’m not sure they will allow this maelstrom of all things a Jewish coop and Bill Marhhed mc’ed ides of go forth, as usual there are more people in the spook camp who hate the Bushes and the Clintons than who don’t and I did note as my brother laughed it , I was not at all fooled by fat pigs from tinsel land who didn’t take Hillary’s side until she was safely lost, as never trusted any of the Sullusts who came down those steps anyway, as they all like Craol were wearing caroton rods where their togas should have been. So, Iggy the Jewish priest told my pa too get me already in 1975 to worry about getting into Harvard as was to be in the class of 1983 which then seemed like when wed all be in rocket ships like Capt. video or going to mars, as a book my pop had called the book of wonders said by even then 1975 wed be in space stations, but alas, instead of flash Gordon, in sted of that as I recalled, that would just be a time when fagots would be dying of a pandemic, like the brilliant imagery in Boccaccio, off screen, unnoticed by self appointed prize givers and takers as again dear Yalie father Medved would make a scene as Kramer did, but not wearing a ribbon of red to recall that poisoned blood, to show you know, he as a good fag hating heart. You know, like the bible demands when it stays all the Romans good enough to die in wars instigated to destroy Antochius and other Persian menace and good enough to build roads and not kill you all off as made into a transvestite  ahs wished, weren’t good enough to enter the elusion fields that they had stolen from Gilgamesh.

The rabbi was impressed by me he said, which was strange for the fact that the priest by then thought by now I had become a wise ass, and I was a perfect stone to be hurtled at the Harvard walls that were like la cote Basque then and other Capote haunts v verboten to the Jews and others, even while Hogan’s heroes had been, like Brigit loves Bernie, and the Montifuscos, been hurled off the Paley airs. I recall having done the drawings  of my beloved jack Davis, I copied then as was learning and this was before gave upon and in, and a comic called Cowboy which informed and made me to being what I am as much as anything ever did. Unaware of it and its mad brilliance should know, it was the basic idea of the sum between the cowboys of television and the real cowboys , a kind of pare and ink Sergio Leone demystification of the cowboy , but as mythic as not if one was honest and true about it as it wasn’t yet the mere ridicule that would be the black art of such human crud   as Colbert , a black art he delves in now, but which is a show strangely disjoined and unwatchable to me, as it seems  a left over tape or filmed LSD trial being done at the now strangely adaptable to Upwardly assuming hacks like al Franken CIA. Oh the wages of getting ahead that always bothered me, I could be one who went from sketches making fun of feared dreadful Arabs paining public hairs on Di Milo knock offs, those rancid vulgar animal’s at least then, or vomitorium sketches which weren’t s big a roman insult as wearing a purple sash that was the bottom half of a suit of Caligula’s horse, and then be a good little house Jew, hated by the rabbi as the company wops war hated by my pop, saw my bourgeoning brilliance and wit and ability to fake my way though unethical questions was a way he could for and with my card playing affable pop as a way to get even and make me that thing that is real and an antenna to what  the Italian master of political physics called the towers of fraudulence, as maybe literally this time. As Machiavelli said, in the empire of the frailest and the fake, the first actual stone is apostasy. And this Italian loving rabbi, they existed before you scumbag yids took the side of barbarians and that swine against the Italian wives you once made the biggest mixed marriage in America, look it up when Strom kept his nigger familia under wraps, who had a wife named Gummadi Yolanda, uhuh, anyway he told my father I was the best sort of revenge.

2. As a boy I was surrounded by a father who made me watch such works as the six wives of Henry the VIII that church was begun he told me by a wife beater and stayed along such lines, and I had to watch Life of Leonardo and such things as he was afraid of my mothers more European strains of tallness and healthiness compared to bantam and wiry he, he was always afraid American would make me a thug. He didn’t want me to succumb to what he thought was the American dream, as he was sure that blacks and other ethics were always warehoused in public schools and the projects that they tore down the little Italy he had come to, inst that interesting placement….? So along with that and a brother who made me read Boccaccio and Ariosto, you know, fantastical beasts and from where they are stolen, and added to that was a mother who thought herself a Dior in her own right, and so was surround my art in ways that the Jewish in laws at suddenly unraveling HBO didn’t like to think of. Too, to that was added two sisters who thought themselves That Girls at the time, and some of that would fall asunder as a American tragedy I wont get into here, again another like you like too pretending didn’t happen. So, therefore I was on a kind of cutting edge at the end of the golden age as Gore would call it, which ended when Ronald Reagan would appear and be the cowboy corpse who’d be the ghost that usurper Hillary would wrought having made him president more than she ever will her. Again two presidents being destroyed by one cunt who never quite made herself the queen bee she dreamed of being, but again speaking of Yale and Harvard as I have and shall, there was always something or someone there standing in her way, I don’t ever know if well know exactly what…

Then in those days, I was surrounded by art and Jesuitical thinking, and therefore I saw the end of the gears age before the aids caravans came and went certainly before their bombing was signed off on by dying old meatheads. I would as a boy watch things I would hear about in the Jew York times before taking sides or at least telling us which walls were Kosher,  and which are not, and cravenly before on of the chosen braying jackasses put all the bookstores out of business as it w as at a book store I met Monica or some girl who looked enough like her to be another American tragedy, but again am too sweated bad fevered and blistered and beaten down and tired to go into all that again and just want this all to get out on the kalians of March, the month of you know who, who is the god as Jewish alderman in chief ,Marcus Agrippa said with usual yiddy effrontery was a god who as listened to and beheld and adulated by those who went to  war,  while his brethren in Roman theatre did not and I’m not kidding and can be seen in a chapter of the annals of imperial Rome by Tacitus called the Jews, which I agued , being a bitch against ff copula when he said he loved Tacitus as opposed to plays taken from them and dropped this little ditty on the vineyard knowing already the Jews in Hollywood, much like my Jewish neurologist Audrey weren’t crazy about the dantes of drainpipes and their mean streets, and that was if not a long, a snide goodbye to them. To be frank, it was never the substance of RM that botched the house winery of Copula as much as it was my review of a script called Harod in which as I do for villains from Trumpy to Iago, and from Nicola to Incognito I had far too much admiration for than a company everything like he and his polish starlets would so want to sign off on. It  as after that review they hurled me from the vineyard to be honest not the play based on one of the wayward Jewish bankers in Tacitus chapter see above, as much as it was the script of a woman I had reviewed and her lovely David Leanish Herod which was too much for the Goddaughter =usher killer faggot doge to take, and then ashamed when I answered back, alas a problem to those who think they can keep up, as I found this circumspection stumpage from a vintard who recreated Noam Chomsky, I am sorry I mean Rube…sorry you were all such villains once, Hyman Roth, and when proved I had read the play, which the review had a nice reception from the woman just trying to get some notice from this blowhard and his colonist artfulness,  as they sure to show their believes of their precious first amendment between Himmler like book burnings, they tried to say I had tried to get away with not having read the script, a nice dodge, but alas, showed them my Jesuitical notes as was taught how to only make it look like you are cheating, and then told them pretty much to drop dead as the Jesuits and the nuns and my father and his buddies like rabbis hated him and his operatic thugs anyhow.

But at this youthful days, I would see the end of the golden age, a bomb exploding it seemed weakly as recall when watching laugh in now, or seeing Carol Burnett reruns in which the mama sketches were a road side device as at that point merely bubble head red hairs goofball cutie pie Vicki Lawrence made a theatrical creation,  along with carol, it was thankfully rearranged and the older woman made the daughter, as she exploded as Mama, in sketches  that rivalled only Jackie Gleason’s Bus driver and wife and sewer worker as better exam plars of that real America out there than what was on actual shows without dancers as a variety show seemed to understand American bettered than anyone until Norman Lear. Out of sorts and a bit ver shvitzed I recall those days of Perry and DELLA AND HAWKEYE AND THANKFULLY TRAPPER AND NOT AWFUL RIVAL BJ, and recall those times of youth gone too fast as my newspaper buddy of the airwaves Phil Musick would say, and too late smart. I sit here and eat late as only get up at 2 pm, as the nights are fitful and vomited, hot and sweltering when not shaking with cold, and eat the only thing that doesn’t make me sick, Salami grinders with horse radish or sometime hot sauce or sometimes all alone and cracker jack, washed down with fago red pop recalling their days too of comics books and rubber bands and teahouses as all is antacid to me, while around me all I see as my brother agrees with me is a perpetual game show and 21 as we are lousy with van Dorens and Jews taking a fall on Marty as a question. Time to eat as I will try to eat roast though am sick and my mother demands a dinner as the smell of Margarita suprasade makes her sick already. I shall, as American Caesar, said, return.


It took me about half a MASH or twelve minutes top eat down a hunk of [pork meat and some toast in a pre Carnival dinner, as we bought thirty pounds of porcine fat back to make sausage and sauce for a Marti Gras dinner of a pasta that is homemade and looks like shoelaces and which is awfully good, but alas all are too tired and or sick to get it made. As walked a letter between mother and my brother as they communicate through flair ink, my brother calls out top me about one of the few stations that comes in and through as thankfully my television set is now free of the toxic spill clown named Anderson Copper for a good three months as again am no usurper and made a sign tow ward away the evil spirant and too the Bush Family who were utilizing the bad souls and bad calls and bad verses to get to where they are today , pinballing between ICU iron lungs and super bowls that despite being the first in history to go to overtime, ends up being the fourth behest game ever, again showing that Prairie may be at wits end.

He calls out to me, about the Cavett show on shown each day as they should have stopped as maybe he should have stayed as an ABC Carson, as on PBS he most unstable as an effete hick. He seems to be talking to a lovely older woman,, with dark hair, this is a remnant of a misbegotten past, who turns out to be Italian starlet emeritus Sophia Loren. She is still lovely and an aging sex pot, it is hard to believe the Italian race was once so shown as this pretty as she played well with Italian actor Marcello as a perfect tow, a kind of Paolo and Francesca that Bill and Monica made a game way to replace at least he did, and thus left a third act that no wife could ever live down, not really. Our first swell ever from weeping water Nebraska but sadly not the last is speaking to this relic of the golden age of Hollywood, and my brother frowns as she is answering a explanation that Sophia is beautiful , though Italian as by that time Martin Scorsese was still like Christ one chasing shikcsas in junior high, but later in his requiem for a dying career he would try to Virgil us through Italian Film as a Cinema Cantore expelling Italia genius to us as he is predisposed. But the sissy ninny here is explaining s well as any English teacher white woman could, not shockingly, that you see Sophia is ugly or misshapen and unattractive bit by bit, but packed all together perhaps as a Picasso Painting, Modigliani never comes to ilk like his mind, well, all together, all this misshapen parts come to together to make was Jack Warner when saw her in an Italian film called a Dago Garbo. Like Amminimus, and like Jews often were when I w as a kid, I took the slurs manly and willingly, as I somehow guessed they had a good hearts and a decent thought, and too, they always said that the Italians, especially the spans of Sabine girls were good looking and pretty, despite them being criminals and or stupid, as back then, that seemed enough and soon enough that would be down the Romano Toilet too.

Who…who,…my brother said exasperated, Who says that to a woman sitting right there, explaining that she is pretty, or even apologizing for it, as if taking apart a internal combustion engine,  but how or even why this glamour queen was actually pretty who says such things he said, as he handed me a 9 by 11 piece of contraception paper he has bought for me to use to send cartoons though they sap the markers quickly, Who he said, says something like that to someone sitting right there? Someone, I said, who Carson made go to PBS, making my brother  , always proud of my itchiness laugh, as he is becoming even more impressed by my knowledge of how the Florentine lost Italy to the Curia and how the royal families of Umbrian always lose more than ever. Macaroni con Ferti we have to make he says by next week, he said to me, but not now and not by Wednesday, another Roman affectation of ash that both Luther and Michael Medved his channeleer would think beneath the queen of the Jews. Who say that to an older woman who was a great beauty almost accusing her of some kind of fraud…Norman he said having seen that earlier, had a great Point.

I thought of the essay as where I left it, the admiration had for me by Jesuits and such and two sisters who wanted to be part of Broadway and the glittering city and its west end so long ago. It was that admiration they had for the sx rms rvr viewed, nourished beats and auntie mames and Prisoners of second avenue, that caused me to see and watch these American buffalos when they were first sent stampeding, and of course Glenn Garry Glen Ross which I saw on I think Great Performances, with the Proskys and the Montagnais and the rest who made it a thunderbolt that effected me like nothing seen since Kane five years before or Shazam seen as a boy in the issuance of comics. I recall too though, speaking of Dick and his rather ungracious sissyness before this aging goddess, I recall hearing of a woman who was making hey as a Yale drama student, as Yale was brought up by my father as he had received that letter speaking of my cognomen as that of the Roman Generalissimo who had put Ireland where all but the most drunk believed it should have been,. A line by the way, not to be a bitch that would be said again in gladiator and then remonstrated as Ma would say in the verbiage of Jews who are always willing for someone else to be marching for God, even yours if need be, as we toddle oo toodle oo to find the latest bauble the Bush family needs to make the complete set of scull and or Bones to decorate the Turin table, nota s warm as any in the mezzagiornio.

This girl then I guess, as much as s anything was named Mary Strep as I recall, and was playing , sadly to me even then as  a schoolboy, are we ever  anything but, she was playing Catherina, herself, the shrew of Ludvico, speaking of fantastic beasts after all, the woman of Italy in whole, the botch goddess, so played so perfectly by Liz Taylor and now being played by this pouting white chick, I recall those days enraptured with my own italic Kate’s, so sad to hear this, that this cunt hag thought stepping ion the posies was some sort of Plautus like giving the hacks of that dying school what they wanted, a Kate as the italic bitch they all dreamed of but , in my esteem, certainly and I’m not kidding or being mean, certainly not Italic enough, no Sabine girl she , she was a lummox and a hag in waiting, certainly no Kiss me Kate, certainly not the kind of a woman that would draw both Shakespeare and Cole to the yellowed pages of Ariosto’s said meanly to be the end of italic wit, because they wanted it that way , and thought of this studdbubba calling herself another Angelica sadly in our dying empire, as earlier in the day went out to get someone dick medicine still have that atop all, hoo boy!, and saw some rag named natl Geographic in our perpetual decoration of the Sonnet creators Dark ages, a celebration of the Vikings and the best warriors ever, you mean it wasn’t the apache’s…?,  or the Ninjas or god knows the Carthaginians, no not in black history month we must not speak of a million man army of good fer northing colords who couldn’t despatch Scipio and his five thousand dagos, look it up dears. I felt as bad then as now, and let it go, as recalled the horrid witch who spoke to me of being ‘Gay’ for Bill Clinton , a left behind Hillarie, and my admiartetion of that buffoon, she called him, better than being called a slur by Will, Dhylock he calls her I meialed back, sad that these assholes thought in my state I wanted to play flamer, as it is alarming when you jujus and white woman let your guard down and how sadly she thought it was that I gave him this Oviddian panache and his moment of green laurel, as I answered back. I do admire Bill fir having the balls not interested in them, if you’re your slur was instructing if by the Colbert like in its acceptance when needed, like something kept under a glass case in case of emergencies, but though I adore Wendy Fiore as an exemplar of italic beauty you payee drones like sopranos and Romanoes to preened don’t exists, well, sorry topots, but though I love the curvy woman, Bill has always been to porcine even for my tastes in Catherine’s. Believe it or not his tits are too big fir even me, and I thought of as I sometimes do, posting it and who they are and then I reconsider it, an if you dumb Niggers don’t know what paternalism fuels all of this, well that’s you’re tough luck. It was sad to me to see the story that Shakespeare stole note for note and shake for shake, taken by that fag in the Elizabethan age, like so much, and then starlets try to think that there was anyway that a mere play could be anything better than a prose work where the warbling actor and his ticks are replaced by exposition, as saw a movie where this was seen as some sissy Englishman finding or minting the feminist movement making Ariosto’s a non person that his valentine to Italian woman hood and the witches and boctehs and gracious ladies of the city of Dante where supinely saved and given voice by this hack who frankly from having read the grand essayist Bacon, nothing Shakespeare writes was ever that well thought out. I did see our Catherina wait to trash Trump until after they had started voting in their Oscar race, so sad and so conniving and so bitchy, ah typecasting, but no Catherine are you, old lady. Her Ovid’s metamorphosis, as I can hurl them out, is seemingly becoming Celeste Holm, by the hours starting as his Daphne did, starting at the similarity of the jowls.


Though willing to do any number of Zines and Indy comics and low rent outlets I am a fan of the pulp and the circus that white women think theses better than and to which the Jewish and gumbas hucksters do wish so fervently wither  senator or worse criminal,  to never return to, still, was offered the chance to do a cover for a zine that was ante Trump and begged off and said no. Sometimes people think they can get a nice work out of me for nothing, and though I am willing to do that just for the credit when wanting one, this item will not be part of this, and boy do they get angsty when I speak the devils as Ma says, in that when I mention they are all on the pad or worse yet doing the bidding of the Bush crime familia, oh does that piss them off, along with caling the fat chicks ugly or them corrupt or saying that they are all chicken hawks, ungood at the wars they wish to foment.

Oh, look whop doesn’t  get the Italian treatment anymore, kids, look who wont be tarred as Etruscans are, as the poet said, look who the new Romans are, who wont take satire much less CNN like rot hurled at them. Sorry but I’ve been getting even for the Romans since that rabbi and those days of Jack Davis in holidays of 1974, gals, and ill call, in this age of post Monica, Ill call any woman any name I wants, as Machiavelli said, everything you think is ammunition is ammunition for your enemies, I’m not some Indian being kept away from Guns dear, and ill call you anything I like, as that is my Roman birthright as trash like smirking Colbert thinks he is the return of Plautus, which he aint, maybe my beloved Jerry Lewis doing gook caricature, but even that is pushing it. Like I said I wasn’t shocked to see that ninny on aged tape on Decades openly sneer or whatever that was at the girl on that dolphin, as did see before his middle American hackism was so enflamed by rather unremarkable Catherine Dunerve, ah a Laura taste, and so I’m not one of your niggers and thus don’t we have to and ever do take anything down unless someone asks me to to give them the rights. I am not rich enough as Nicola said to be a catholic, much less be a Radical, as those squalls seem to be dissipating, the closer we get to our Imperial Springtime. I don’t do the bidding of that awful family as I said, as recall how that family of vicious but they make up for it by being incompliant, Bushes think they could destroy the first ethnic and a Greek no less running fore praetor, no sorry, whose Broad stripes and bright stars….too Bushy for me, maybe I have heard too many dago jokes by now not to look askance at the while mispucka by now.

I was told it didn’t have to be that vicious ,as like Calvino said of Manzoni I’m trying to have a allergy to evil, and the never trumpets are nothing but. Destroy the res public if you’d like you old man and your   Carter from hell family who think all its drunkard Billys presidential material, I have read enough Dante, Tacitus, Virgil hell even Puzo to know your act tu dying Borgia’s , and want no part of it.

But my brother was shocked or admiring of me to have read in his wall street journal that indeed the Borgia’s and the Medici’s are at each other throats, each thinking the other should have gotten out, as both think they could have beaten Birney, though all lost to Trump. Guess which familia THINKS that they were destined by God itself to be queen, and which side was mare Ozarks garbage set up as road kill in a runaway train that jumped the tracks. Guess who thinks that the Borgia’s were interlopers and Spanish Jews and which though started out as stable boys, well they ere after all Italian stable boys and if the Bush family begins as grave robbers whose purple seems to turn brown ell, that’s too bad and the mention of Bush as a word that may not be named, Innominato or Volt mort you make the sullen call, it isn’t my fault you sold your soul to that family of demons, and too, always recall, anyone who sent CIA operatives into dark passages with less armour than the ante Romans sent in their centurions without, well, you’re not as beloved as you think you are, as you cant have tow royal families kids, and as one side tries desperately to cut to a deal, Hilly is still afraid of that bathtub gin of hers, the other side of the apiarian cull de sac thinks they are seething the road for a triumphal; chariot to bring Jebby to his beloved sons Fortuna. But as tone deaf as they all are, when you destroy an interregnum, you destroy that flag with it, and devastating Trumpy as  even now Miss Tits and others think it through, they never liked Lorenzo or his shitty assorted relieves that much, and think what you’d like, but they just found a tresore trove of antiquaries left by Isis as they are pined by The Don as never were by Barry the fairy. Hummmmmm….still they lefst so fast they left the good stuff, the mark up stuff, and Venuses and Romans relics, that weren’t smashed as hardly barbarians or Visigoths, they knows as the Florentines and shylocks once knew hear that the Roman stuff is where the money is. How did I know…, my brother asked me that these self appointed priests and Savonarola’s were keeping Hercules’s in a cache for later sale? Because, I say, reading enough medieval Italian stuff, that the bigger the Savonarola making pronounces from God, the more he’s trying to sell the collected sunburnt Vanities tow whoever Shylock will buy it over the marble fence. Or be fenced. Fences as a word doesn't mean the same thing to me, but then I was a darkie playwright who mentioned Jefferson street Joe , and I’m sure Viola , a lovely actress, has never  heard of that poor drunkard, certainly not in the cycle epic of a city i frankly didst recognize, not that i felt betrayed by that slop. 

And despite the fact that the cover makers actually acquiesced and gave me a nice line and some kudos for my guns and sticking to them, it wasn’t again a love of Trumpy, but of the republic I wont be part of short sheeting or double billing which is why never trump died long ago and these are the death throws lot a bush family whose power at last is a bauble stolen from a crypt befitting the stable boys going full circle. So, wont go into it as I thought I would, and cant, but real quick, received a parcel in the mail from a different not ante Trump supposedly collection, that asked me to send originals because I have a penchant for not being able to copy well in any direction. I have a Jesuits mind therefore am always suspicious, but sometimes my work Xeroxed can be muddy. So I spilt the difference like a good priest might. I keep pages in constant scanned states of unfinished ness, as can as my buddies from arts school could tell you I can put a page back together in seconds, scanned and cutting and pasting and such. So, I made twelve or so pages and sent them off original I guess they could be called, an s a good Jesuits Ill always see you in court. It’s the Georgetown part of Bill Clinton that made him a winner not that Yale shit. In the package I got I opened it causing again, snowflakes and slush to use the sled appointed perfect words of the anti Trumpy hags, quatrains of colour slips of paper with my pictures fell to and hit the floor, no fooling causing my brother to ask angry what kind of animals shit heads are you dealing with …? I WAS SURE IT WAS SOME MISTAKE I said, but already had my suspicions. They sent me a mean snide little letter about how they were self appointed lovers of Hillary and such and how Trump supporters should be ‘dealt’ with, which I found instructing that they didn’t say that to begin with showing again passion is retching, and a cunt dies from the …I’m sorry a Fish dies from the head down, a cunt doesn’t have a head as the Jesuits taught me , no no no, gals if that what you even are. I know all your tricks and recall that you and fatso like Mickey and the rest of the Sorkin trash didn’t come to her aids until she was real lost, as again, I didn’t send her a bill to be a fucking Philadelphia concert when she should have used that money to pay off the niggers she didn’t incarcerate to show up and no one did. I Took the large placards of paper, already uneasy about having done the strip to connect back to the star boy shit and public domain stuff I have often avoided before, but went too close to because of my being a resume whore. I ripped the placards and pages of 20 x 30 up and not in forth’s like these ritualistic lesbians lazy eyed cunts, no in shards lance and big, and with a table lag I shoved them into two priority, inserting word, Mail us postal boxes and with 8 bucks a piece send them back to these cunts, there, as a good roman ill do worse to myself than you can even think of. Here, is the work you spawn of barbarous think you destroyed, and didn’t, done by me, so there as a gal would say, and stiffed like Oreos into boxes so tight and tapped that when broken into I hope you get a lovely little snow storm of colored wax. American Confetti.

I did that faster then I meant to, not as impacted by it as I thought, though I had to ask did you cunts think you were the first to do this to me, like this year…? No, see too with this was mailed a little yellow sheet of paper demanding they’d be signed for at the post office I believe as a registered letter. You wish to destroy the republic, fine, but not by the cheap and, not by the tawdry and so pay for it as I demanded you’d have to, a s Passover isn’t a Roman holiday, they ere much to decency to have people die, children no less, and be busy having dinner off camera. So, with that as a pay back , and with that angered as much as anything, not from the tearing of the sheets until I am not as smart as I think I am, ask around, I saw one page not that badly torn up as a picture I did in arts school of a gal named Leslie who another pretty girl n named Victoria wishes Id forwent, but drawn she was here as Ms Mary Amazon, more lithe and tall and thin and leggy than I usually do, and so, not in rage or circus act feeling I sat there and carefully with tape, rubber cement and glue stick put her back tougher , sussing xerography and redrawing to lessen the ruin and I hated these cunts whose gambit I knew was bullshit hen Hillary dear lost eight straight primaries and I knew it as the recounts we are headed towards as the purple sash like so much would be kept in her husbands name.  who sneering at me about feminism, despite my work asked for and liked and printed by lesbians this year who appreciated  by Moonbeam as wonder girl,  and my priggishness destroyed pages of my Italic Camilla , as irony is beyond d these German hags. And like Colbert and not with Rachel or Jon or anyone lese I am supposed to hate I wish them ill, as I did Gandolfini, whose Herculean intake of shrimp exposed on pages six to laughter as worth him not getting his brains blown out.

It has been a lovely start to the year as so much s Machiavelli’s dues ex machina seems to be as I said before running down and out all at once. Nat’l conscious and high yellow Jiminy Cricket Kareem Abdul Jabber found that one may not get too far field from just trashing Trumpy and found that his flippant dismissal of LA LA LAND was NOT AMUSING to his masters, who just love a Broadway show and humming past the Pantheon. I was listening as Rodger Ebert goons on wgn late night movie show radio wished him dead for such temerity, so welcome Lew to Tony land where no matter what filial piety you have you must succumb when dammed, though to me, I ll never watch a movie where the only negro sells out jazz and the white boy is devoted to what I call unalienable music as Moatxart called Italian opera before stealing it. Too, Lebretard is castigated for something always other than having a dumb wop play stugutz and isn’t that loverlee, as the yo yo you house niggers explain not only cant you be a bully when black and lesbian you certainly cant be Richie Incognito either. And best was the Head master at Yale, insinuated by the rippers that id never get into it despite my story about the rabbi, as once again my SUPERMAN in Michigan Drag so bothers the barbarian horse as has before I may wave good bye to a man I never wanted in sky blue anyway as superman himself seem more and more to disappear into the wild blue background. He sand basted the name off a library, so Joe Paterno for a mere slave holder, but worse than the rest still left, and so, an instigator of the fairies and the slush piles and the dogpuke and the sissies and the queers and the Bush familia button men, had to get up and leave when he had the temerity to scrape this name off a building,…don’t tell me the endowment ran out, but during the sainted black history month, which is less a Roman rite than recalling how somehow all the niggers with wings died until Michael Jordan, who is now somehow shown as crying because Lebro is a scum bucket and not in a good way like barraster Bill, but just a bore. He had to get up and leave when asked how dare he show this kind of bigotry to whoever was on the line by putting the name of a woman on a building in this februus devoted to slaves, in which a holocaust never mentioned but found in the city of God when Augustine asks what have we wrought, ...?, sees his nuns raped by Germanic horse men who didn’t as Tacitus admits, keep fighting in the rain when fire itself didn’t stop the tenth legion of Caesar, now called Spartans, they didn’t make the list either how about that…? Emboldened amusingly by this recollection and reminding of slights past, and I have placed it upon Amazon, to call that Bozos bluff which’s as my buddy brethren Roman Bill  said, Romans never do, how come I know all of this and the wife is always shocked…?, so it is public as it as at zoetrope so please as we hear spasms of decency from Jewish rat senators in horse suits , please feel free to leave your reviews and say, despite tell all you aid last time about what Italians are, show the good spics and Arabs with who they deal now, do set down some lovely words if you can, as I’m not watching any Oscars this year. Oh not out of any moral imperative, at all, I just don’t get abc anymore, and don’t want to anyway, though read on drudge that they maybe putting the ixnay on the anti Trump shit, because it might cost them a dropped dollar or two, hey stereotypes are your business, Jackie’s. Do take a look and see what you’d think, as know Amazon wants no part of me, still it’s as public as it was. As whatever I am as I said of Jerry Jones, whose biggest detractor ahs been seemingly fired from overnight radio, how about that, after asking here all the anti Trumpy, bless his vulgar heart as a Cattline the Bushes have always hated as the send their inferior races and ethnic thugs to die in wars they demand as family hits, less Augustus, that role is filled , but moiré like Michel Corelones, which despite speaking Spanish to his help and his kin across the river,  Jebby couldn’t say without sounding like Senator Geary lest his tenuous hold on the Prairiea be gone.  So were at the Brownsville circus ….but that super bowl bothered me ,as my brother bought a bunch of cheap food for it, chicken wings and such, and I begged off seated in my large lazy boy, and watched Mary, and was laughing so hard at a masterwork called Lou and Ted buy a bar, that he came down as we all sat here and watched three hours of lovely Mary, as he couldn’t take the ten hours Super bowl any more, and couldn’t take Fox news and its pregnant pauses as they tried to actually make it seem like Brady was the new Schweitzer. So I placed the work back up, as recalled as much as anything, as Scorsese found himself uninvited to the Jewish Prom, but no hard feelings Martin don’t be so ver shvitzed by it,,…I operatically wouldn’t go, as have an inkling from the new polls, they have gone too far with their medieval flatterers, and know it now,  now all is Game show as my brother said, agreeing with me, all is 21, and instead of a Virgil we get a Van Doran leading us through the swamp with crib notes, as all is circus and I have an inkling the stunts haven’t even started yet. A gal did tell me that I make the creeps and the criminals of now sound a lot like the charioteers out of the roman books and Italian sonnets I love so much, as some have said with disdain to that. But another girl told me that is true, Anthony, as the unmarried girls have warmed to me, that is a gift of yours, but I think, she said, you’re giving them more credit than they deserve.



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