NOBODY KNOWS HOW I FEEL…!

 

WC; 2987. The priests used to like, but my stoic father hated, when I’d write papers and use analogies to pop culture, like the Persky Denoff universe, and Mad, or football, who knew New Rochelle would end up a death march under a Cuomo of all people, who is not only still unlikable according to that old coot, but not even worthy to be AG, as he was assuredly promised, as who wasn’t promised everything…?

And now it seems to be catching, as I’m told even the Walls street journal speaks of Eddie Arnold on Green Acres, whereas I called Mister Albert the last Roman senator, again going back and forth between Plautus and Neil Simon. And a gal in literary circles said I was wrong about Mama Roma herself, Hillary, that despite outwards appearances. or due to them, she was quite the schoolgirl, even more than hubby, and was more romantic than I gave her credit. I didn’t believe it, but seeing that apperaccio she pulled on Inauguration day, literally making a Roman priest, a joke of drag here in my father’s savage forest, as her being there at a catch all grave while Bidey thought his every dream came true, was worthy of the witches, if not the sun god in Ovid, but then that family has a penchant for classifying its vulgarities, Which I supposed is better than a term paper buyer willing to kill your grandmothers to gain the world. As now is more vulgar than Bill ever was with various Francisca's he’d drag through hell, as now an old Erronius, ask your husband dear, has to sit in Caesar’s Praetorium and give a go at one of his three hour shits as Detective Fish becomes Augustus, and Danny Arnold always had a swerve towards the dramatic. See..?

Oh good, the Anna Marie where Carroll O’Conner is the Pavarotti type, and Lincoln center cost only 6 million dollars to build as opposed to the Lincoln Project that only cost a few more chidden than Fagin used. Adeeebadee abdeebeedee a deeebeedee, and who can argue with that, Mister Rove. So, I just gave money to the Lakota charity, not to preen, and to the orphanage at Turin of Saint Anthony and gave ten bucks just as a way not to eat so much I Inferno myself, and saw they have a box where both corrupt Italians and poverties savages in Bush land, asked if you want them to pray for your needs, which I found sad and touching. I marked yes, as not all Hippodrome are alike and CBS had to now admit my brother was right, and that the vultures of death wanting a moment of silence for all those dead Italian women in Duchess county well, dutiful CBS, no Tommy Smothers is dead, and I don’t feel so good myself, had to cover for King Vitamin, and instead of cutting the sound entirely, raised the levels that my brother noted, as approbations of Lombardi melted away, and so, one is who they walk with…, and marked it yes on the prayer slip, and in the line for what you want them to pray for, I wrote in The Republic, before rhinos and perverts become locusts and eat the place down. Now, that’s Romantic. Put by the great Harry Morgan about the dead laughing, here.

 

I don’t mean to be a bitch or anything, but I do hope that Mario Cuomo is in the music of the spheres with several Jesuit brethren I saw were dying off as early as 1977, and my old man pop who lived to be 90, as leave it to beaver here would be the only one who would ever be so venial and so stupid as to allow them to keep showing pictures of Don Trump at the podium, with the imprimatur of the imperator, and getting off of air force one, the Ambra, and as President Shelley Levine fritters away in an interregnum that is without a weed of good will or honeymoon, Mister Bicksereon is here, everyone, unseen as a supporting character in his own opera. I alas was Jesuit pre law, kids, and so, all I ever need to learn about politics I learned from Verdi. As he, Bidey, is as low rent as anyone this far has ever been, this spin off of a presidency, this weekly special guest villain from The Rockford files, back door all the way, and how, is as low as we have ever sunk, but then, what would I expect from a goon who bought term papers. Whatever was said to Billy the kid, I would have taken my chances and told everyone what I really thought of him, he’s been plebiscited before I’d be on the side of a dork who called 47 percent of the nation worthless cause they weren’t willing to vote for a polygamy idiot with sleazy Dick Tracy charm. So, you keep harping on #Blackhistorymonth ,as I frankly am glad that no twerp on CBS can say he isn’t a bigot anymore because he has the Italian variant of loved watching the Ojays on the midnight special, and never really wanted the people of Beatrice, the Sicilian Scholars and the Roman republica and Susan Sarandon, look it up, to be sanitized into nonexistence by Jews and creeps at, now second mortgaged, black rock.

 

Even this goon, industrialists bag man, polluter, molester with a minor interest in bicycle seats should have listened to uncle Bill, one time Jesuit soldier, ehhhh, who said when Patricia Ireland said she wouldn’t sully the imprimatur of the National Organization of women by being too pro Clinton, even with that wife as a ponzi schemed lesbian, he said, quoting Plautus, they don’t have any, anyway. Your best option is making sure than anyone who is tied to the curia house organs in anyway, is hurt by every Trumpo voter buying generic shit at dollar general, if they must, because, when the corporate sapsucker dies, the leech dies, and they’ll all find out what happens again when the generals coffers are bare. I expect sorties by the minute. A sortie is, Praetor Joe when, oh skip it, you’ll know what it is when you hear it…

Like I said, I once got accolades, but also some tension and insinuated threat, even dismissal from some, but not a gal at Disney, by making a fairy tale, in 1992, no less, when George will once said that both Maya Angelou and Dante both made him sick at a anti triumphal dinner for doomed Billy the kid, I mean being doomed is the charm of it. It w a first Italianate fairy tale id ever have done, a first Italian one I ever did a cartoon presentation for Disney called Stone soup. Ah one that even frozen uncle Walt’s cartoon museum wouldn’t touch, though to be fair don’t know if it was that particular myth or the fact I packed it in mediaeval Italay with a cartoon Machiavelli and a princess recovered from her misers life, based on Lynda Carter even then. I said I never bought a term paper in my life, and how I could and a disappointment I was already, how could I hurt my father by being a goon who parrots in pen, works that were so on lists and checkable even then that Bidey again gets caught, cause he’s a sloppy fuck up, caught as usual. I never was a republican, I never gaveled out of order Professor Ogletree, I never let Oliver North read unaccented by that hammer, out of Clausewitz, and i didn’t take as my Vocation selling pepsodent and chunky soup, Pirelli tires and Scope mouthwash to the plebs, either. Never play dice with a thug named Joe …

VERSE OF THE PEOPLE.

The Super bowl week ended with a jarring moment, showing I have a sense of symmetry that befits a Roman auger, as it had sport of begun. A man who exemplified cheating had all in all a better triumph than an old coot who now wades into a sea of troubles, pockets full of tfal and abortion bills the nuns told me such as he and his womanish minions call poetry, that Brady actually shamelessly celebrated his fourth victory since caught cheating by deflating footballs, as anything to get back where you ant to be. And worthy of Tacitus a moment happened, that was much like a scene I had written out and sent out in a piece called Beat the devil, which if I wanted it posted had to be taken out , which I stupidly did, and it wasn’t published, anyway. And this as before the new found love of protecting Mittington the weirdo that Prince Shumah seemed to sanely find.

 

The story of the man and the wall, in that less than Roman triumph of supinely as quiet as they’ve ever been goons on midnight television, Too incendiary, I was told, as perhaps the riots were still a plan b for a segregationist hearted dimwit that was finding it harder sledding than he had been assured back when only apples stores were under attack. They do hate to give the italics and the Roman a bit of even tragic life, as they are the last people that many a Jew and a Englishman, different parts out of the annals for cash of course, can do earthily and senselessly, without having to resort to soundly, suddenly, hated black face. But, as the goon on the Tonight show shows, to be bald faced implies you’ve washed off the cork.

There again, on the Mario Cuomo bridge, to where we return you in TV LAND, we return, someone unseen and unnamed, the best sort in such stories, a troll, in the perfect sense, hung a bead sheet from its stele and its eroding cement, the Porticoes Marius, and on it in bright red bloodied letters said the words, CUOMO KILLED MY MOM. How ABOUT THAT…? I had wanted to send out a piece, anti Black histories month, as did get admiration for being against hate speech and hate crime laws, they began under Lucifer himself with a bible in his hands, LBJ, to even Ogeltree’s admirations, I said that there were wolves in the Prariea, I was taught to hurl back as well as I got, and that if certain sheep where dropped from mattering, or meaning, that those lupine animals smarts as whips, what my ma called the fox, they would merely get their quota of blood and guts by going after the ones that were not wards protected, over and over, until they came to the city gates worse than hungry, wanting more. This was all never just in the racists ways of a blue eyed goon from Delaware always was, but attacking anything, as learned from general Flamininus on the Greek phalanx, the fishiness of frauds, are ruined by attacking from the left.

 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=o2jh7N7Fldk

And recalled again the story I had paced in Beat the devil, told to take out, which my brother advised me , don’t do anything until you see a check, as have fallen for that shit before. In the story I wrote in December when tonight show goons were dancing with self appointed growling hacks who once were playing Rosalita as teen aged anthems and now portend they are Woody Guthrie, though lecture America, and gargle wholesomeness in 500 dollar Stetsons, as play Cowboys from Atlantic city.

In this return to the way back machine, I spoke of how after one of Augustus’ own fandangos, and the killing of a Roman centurion in his hapless perpetual WARS, a man, a father, having lost his son, as collateral damage, came to a what the Italians call wedding cake of opulence and vanity, a marble mausoleum, and his son dead while Julia’s drank like fishes and bored, he opened his side with an Etruscan dagger, and while the blood spurted out, he was woke enough to horridly smear on this municipal hall of Molesters, the words, where show trials would abound, and if we can put an ex praetor on trial, Gummad, does that mean we can bring up charges on Olbermann's new friend and ally, manga merda GWB for starting a war still raging with whole cloth….? At least Billy the kid just lied to his fucking wife about the latest Brunette that Lynda Carter addled boy couldn’t forget. Ah even Bush's affected initials sounds like Rottensburger date drug and instant foreplay.

In letters of iron blood, was writ RES PUBLICA SEMPERE. The Republic Forever. In your face, Gus. As the father fell dead against the porticos, all the swells came out, including Augustus fresh from killing a senator for daring to call him king, and they saw the man dying in this blood that held a message. The Jewish Adie de camp, Marcus Agrippa, was upset at the sight, probably he knew as Augustus money pinching fixer he’d have to somehow clean it up, but Augustus, boy admirer of Cattiline, long buried, was not so prissy and upset. Augustus was frozen in time, and he demanded the man be taken off the street and given his rites, but in Capri where the riches and powered, like Bushes, kept their dead, as told others to burn them into bags of ash that Sallust…Sallust…?, would have spoke of. ALL I KNOW IS THAT TRUMP WON EVERYWHERE THE BUSHES HAVE A GRAVE.

As its coming out today, as house wops house women apologize to a curia, and not the living remains who know what a lie the American dream has always been, that only they can’t see is unrolling, and thus making the insults worse. Cause if you think as I have inferred that weakest link , Guvner Boombutz, wont sing like a bird about why all those Gummadis were sent to be nailed into charnels houses as Paleozoic Nan no less was taking elixir of Turpentine, see, have Ann and Donald more to my perpetual recall now than do Romeo and Juliette, who I asked the nuns why that was such an angry point of connotation to the then spreading their batwings lesbians and always unmarried white women, as I noticed, as grandpas would have liked, they all end up dead, which was a line that did Calvino no good at the dreadful times. Within hours Gummadis Nan, is turning to the fifth and brother Christopher Columbus Cuomo still goes after Trump but with that stupid look on his face, that Scorsese made an art form. Maybe when they placed the family as the Coreleons on one of their New Amsterdam rags they were in fact closer to truth as they thought they lie the most. Well, it’s a duplicity and a moronic twist that I’m not shocked to have expected from a gaggle of fat over fed white chicks who hated Romeo and Juliette carrying aloft a corpse who would die before he actually read all of this, as he fingered and thumbed through Moby Dick. Maybe I will forgo that ad, and send a quick inked valentine instead.

 

I don’t mean to be a skunk at this triumph or anything, but must say still get some real static about a piece I wrote , like others during the epidemic, called THE AMERICAN DECAMERON: DAY 95, The Rope, in which I had and placed an italicate pin up girl as a Roman goddess, Bill Clinton as a pinball wizard, prescient in that he’d lose to a freak who also was deaf dumb and blind, and there was Mario Cuomo Junior in all his Pirandello charms, whittling hand carved coffins like a Capote Villain, and I wrote it in June no less. How did I know about what an inferno this dimwit would make the emerald city, why, I was getting emails back from gals in publishing who I got sadly and bitter sweetly to watch That Girl, all that seemed magical, as they were trapped at home, if not worse. Now as AOC and others, are feigning that this is all news to them, they demand investigations into their shock and appalling news, the only investigation I need is the line Qui Bono, it’s says it all, Into true diabolical viciousness I placed in magic realism in summertime’s. I made sure to throw a line of bread crumbs from the Cambrian forest of witches and death, boiled children and dead nanas, all the way to the Blue fairy herself, Madame Ann Marie, and made sure a real time Decameron was kept, all the way to every post, a Decameron in real time, marked with a @marlothomas to recall the old ladies dying unseen in the pantomime of riots, as I knew which side to take from forty years of being a beloved Jesuit student. I made a Roman creed, a sign to ward away the evil eye and boomerang it back to who sows it, and said that all would pay for daring sing and dance as that goon did the day three Italian American generations died in one day, ah but alas, surprise spaghetti…!, they were related to a Roman American circuit judge, with subpoena power, meaning the hammer is waiting, and they don’t do the bidding as well as Hannibal’s left over’s. They dared dance and prance the very Christmas so many wops would recall their dead nanas, and now you have a Lincoln project filled with boy lovers, and less like the Satyricon and more like Bob Giuccione’s Caligula, a dying old doge in Duchess county, as lifer censors again make people resort to scrawled red letters on bed sheets, and plebs resent sweetheart deals for aging drugstore cowboys in 500 dollar Stetsons from the swamps of Red Bank, new jersey. Where, like equally demeaned by television clods, Sicily, they have known since time imperial there is but one commandment of the Roman gods. Honor thy father, and nothing else.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d_mLFHLSULw