07 January 2018

A Saturnalia story--part II

Part 2.


Actually saved this post around the 15th, or for the 15th,to somehow show my-talents , as if it ever matters, to some prospective  publishers, which these days means someone with an ink jet who thinks he’s Stan Lee.

But never completed it, as had more important things to think about this Saturnalia than getting my comic strips into underground comics that don’t have the charm of being not middlebrow. So saved each picture, but deleted the post draft from last year, as to  keep Saturnalia well enough to  know to wave a bad  year good buy for a good Roman one, ending in an even numbered year where feral elections, back to a base you’ve ignored, if not worse,  will happen,and not fake do overs called for by smarmy sweaty drunkards on television. All,I ever got from Louis CK was a terse letter along with someone who too did radio shtick,  who did top tens on Pittsburgh Radio radio, as opposed to a Career and the glass desk from which to cast stones at bad Batmen. You see Signora fortuna, who my mother still openly sings a hymn to,  is on the rag, and believe me Norman Lear that the right if not the duty to have a president, even one meat head  didn’t vote for, and thus not willing to  ignore his slamming the golden door or quadrupling deportation from evil vulgar Bill, or  bombing Roman ruins,  or  travel bans, to be laurellled by  a praetor, as they have been doing  once Augustus thought himself patron,  and not just be on some puppet show on a  CBS  continuation of Merv.

Because, you see it was reported there was a  fire at Chappiqua, I couldn’t let that go, god knows, ah you can take the Roman schoolboy out of the tentiments dears, and the empires change, but the Sicilians stay the same as i said, eliciting not as much  anger but swallowing hard by the blond cunts if not  more who play Catherinas as Mrs Pychon, and vice versa.Within moments of the feast of the frts page of a roman book, there was a fire at Clinton's bat-cave, ...why does  this mater...?, well immediately, even if innocent, all thoughts,all that matters according to Niccolo , went to the idea of many burning second sets of books in a  barrel, and it getting out of hands, the bagman as fuck up is a staple of such crime stories, too,maybe as brazen  as an ex Praetor  ogling a first lady while the ruined first lady who flew too close to the moon,was screwed publicly again. And thus wasn’t just a pig,  it  was just right  there,no one is that shameless unless pulling a con, anyway. It seems that on the feast of Janus,the two-faced god Han Solo is named for and not the  dynasty in China to make the Jews feel better, that in a book called the Roman festivals, by, ohohohohohooo, PUBLIUS OVIDDIUS, ANCIENT ITALICS, back to the Sammenites and Sabine, would make bonfires of things they wished uncared into the  nest new year, like say calls for new elections, the antithesis of a republic, and carrying a carcass around less like Camilla and more like the trouble with harry, and fires  would erupt and seep and blaze from  tin cans in oldest  Rome, and Italae,  me as men would return to a pre-Greek stance, not the kind of noble savages you white chicks like, and the brick of Remus graves would shine with orange light, as sins of the  repast would go up on half civilized smoke, women would be chased and hit with the pelts of wolves, by shame-mans called even then father and bishops,  to make them fettle, all in all what Christmas was before Macys. I didn’t rememberer, to send this post in, so today got a terse Louie CK  like two bit burning ladders like nobody’s letter amid the submittbale dismissals, and some attaboys and who is following you on Twitter now, though think that like so much was again chasing a cape that goes nowhere, as a gal there told me, Tony, the last thing the frauds  want to recall is Monica, but in there was greeted meanly   with an angry letter about being irresponsible. I did email back just now, Nigger, plueeze, there plenty of my stuff out there for you to get the gist, or at easy the hilt of  what i wave around, go play Carmine Infanato somewhere else, as i couldnt quite, not this year, not this feast of Janus,  care about a bother for acceptance, did enough, i guess showing that fire did happen within hours of new years, not before or after, hummmmmn, perhaps there is still hope.


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