GASLIGHTED.

 

29 SEPTEMBER 2023.

During the summer, I truly did get my vendetta over the last year and its triumphal march of D student, duncest and shop class garbage, the kinds the nuns called the sons of ditch diggers and plumbers, that was facilitated by a crew of granger that had somehow made black face work for them, and who thought Biden was a messiah that wouldn't somehow end up at thirty percent and who's falling fast.

During this summer, not only as usual did I get the commensurate amount of pretty brunettes I drew published here and there, some with the imprinters of colleges and Einsteins universities, if I am correct, that the rabbi told my father he was sure kept the chosen out and to get me enrolled over all else, to which my father already if not disappointing in my shtick, saddened by my love of the clowns ethics, said, HES RIGHT THERE, Monsignor, he said to always prick at the Jewish man whose Italian gummadi wife, I take it made him a two bagger, YOU, he added with gusto, YOU tell my boy to do something he doesn't feel like, and see what he tells you back. But, despite it all, I had a strenuous Italian familial devotion, no uncle Shylock would ever dare point at me in his money chaining way and make me a buffalo soldier, as I said I have heard the trumpets of war sadly then perpetually sing and shine off the Plinian Tyber long ago.

So if I , on purpose, would desperate him and even Ma as I often did to my more Romantic brothers dismay, though I was never as bad as many, if not ,most, a jeusitical out I always took like an accountant all Jesuits are, I was devoted to old Vincent and his love of the Romans that this goon, no Clinton he, who is loving out his Eco side of the myth of book 3, would say or have said didn't exists as the foisted upon them Negros had to get the that are patricians at the Ponderosa and the good over fed whitey women had to find someone to be their lower class citizens as Scorsese and Coppola had allied with Jews and white in laws to make the Race of Beatrice, the Sicilian school, and the Roman republic,and so said as much when I said every time the Irish try to get this uppity, no dogs or them should have been a medieval sign on the whitey house door. It usually does end up with the trashy throwing punches at the drunkards, as everything you say about the Sicilians is alas truer about those people , the Sardinia of the north sea, where to be fair, there was was a famine added to their over sung litanies, even though,much like Sicily, it is an island and thus surrounded by fish, showing again, that even white supremacy has its limits.

So, during these too many or mot enough, smiles of a summer night, saddened and tired of the propaganda machine they have been made to be, even though their trickle down bribes are alas clotted at the top and more in the hands of those at the armimentarium to wrethan those pretending to be a the NEWARK-ER, AND BOY DID A CARTOON REJECTION FROM SOME RAG HATE THAT, somehow as I have become used to getting cartoons in of pretty Beatrice I have legend-ed from old sixties playboys, the kind as I said that Jethro would fall head over heels for tying that Lil Abner cartoon made real on CBS, what wasn't then, only Roman senator for life caught in his face, Tacitus caught in the minstrel show, well, not a minstrel show, but more of a, no wait that's right, minstrel show, as Alvy Moore did shtick as it was meant to be since Plautus laughed and not taking sides, Eddie Albert in Green ACRES is the only one show from throe halcyon days, that does-st make me as Dante did amazingly to William F Buckeyes, make him sick. Poor heralds of the twentieth century he and his frenemy Gore didn't live to see the chicken wire among the Roman ruins, moire than they've ever seemed, and that old Nick segregationist leering at the under-aged at the pick up joint he has often made out of the local 31 flavors. Wow, he really is garbage, Hillary, and so, my mom was right, as she warned me, before any old lady died of his ambitions, if you let your husbands biggest enemy in power as a FF you to the playboy after dark, aqua Velva reeking, human one man orgy named Bill, you'd find out, as she warned with Italic brilliance, the fake and the con and the arranged marriage of convene is the one where all things can be adjudicated, and the romanticizes of mere fights and strum and drang of married life become too easily a course in contact law.

With this background that I have espoused before, somehow these summer days, I have gotten accepted and sent back to me Published cartoons I have done, called eagerly and with admiration “Cartoon art” in the tables of contents, cartoon has never been a put down to me I assured one of my buddies in art school, as it has been to some, as it only means in the original Italian, that a drawing has been done in ink on a sheet of paper, rarer than than now, but still cheap enough to be the fuel to a Renaissance, like the sad and buffoonery of the Romans, fat over fed white chicks now hating Joe Campbell as much as I did as a kid, --it was an anti Josephs Campbell screenshot that made me actually watch in the myriad of swamp water that is sent through the pipes of You Tube, the first of many Maggie May essays, but all, as I could have told you, the latest round of Brunettes aren't the cutie pie smart asses that they used to be, but then I have felt that way since looked about and saw no Lynda Crater or even as I said, Lisa Segrums or Jo Anne Phluge or any of the cute brunettes that were sued on that truly toxic show about Hillbillies at the mansions that plays now like the television poison that it was. And with they saw that the Edy Williams I saw in an old Playboy image on the internet as have used those pretty women here amid the fat bloated bad skinned cows who alleys unlike raped Italian woman left in freedom land darkness as victims before and then after, the sixties girl with short black hair and Della Street skirt and white blouse, impressing one of the editorship there to call her just that, that girl in the white blouse and the long skirt, and thus more sexual than anyone but Patty who was in that aging rag playboy after 1985, and it as accepted.

She is the cover girl of a play I wrote, didn't I write one I think, ...i don't know as a newer computer and vulnerable files from a schc card can't be bolstered by anything I may have posted at Ello.com, as it seems gone, and not juts to me, I paradoxically look up no less, where a CBS executive in the mist of a writers room lock out, hummmmmmn, has to put something on, and so instead of the dealings shows and game shows that cyclops land Jewish doges and hostages would eventually do, he sadly but with a Roman devotion unhallowed on television probably since Vito Scotti, he puts on a performance of The Rope by Titus Plautus, with her , his executive secretary , Polly, as the kind of dancing girls that see above Senator Cornelius always adored enough to trudge to the unfashionable parts of Rome to see. Like old Roman Bill, eventually the more Italianate among the counter jumpers, as opposed to their wives, cant quite stand the either the stink of toilet water, or the babbling effects of talking women at the salons, and do have to go back to where the pretty girls, as my brother said of Calabria to which he wished to return haunt and are. So, I got that one ion the resume, despite thinking like much, it would never be accelerate to this cesspool that somehow the Clinton's more than not, have wrought.

 

 

But with that drawing, too, the same place did accept a rarely written fiction piece of mine, that I was sure like Tony-land, a collection of drawings to gives the lie to the leftists and the radicals who have somehow newfangled to keep a stolen superman out of the public domain where he deserves to fly, would never be in a file cabinet I called "Published". Somehow, as the charms of Biden fall into a disrepute and the entire country turns green not from a Ansonia like garden, or Volcanic rick being the reason Italy is so Fertile, but from the fake gold pyrite Jersey that Biden has been selling out of the trunk of hos bloated vainglorious Crown Vic all his misremember, bag man for the DuPont family life. Even the clowns are quiet, a sad ending for the baby boomers no...? And along with other pieces this year, they have alas for a thousandth time in his-tray the water carrying praetorian have had enough of this old coot and his spreading of spittle, phloem and dried dandruff at the C students that Sweet ole Bill never much liked, knowing this was the lowermost level of rats who ever shuck their way into a Preatorium in a long, long time. With her came the story that was far too pulp, thus far too real, for the sanctimonious secretariats of empire, as I was on a Petronius kick then, and I was sure and certain to make a Satyricon of my own. And this tale was the story of an aging Italianate ex school teacher, a germ of a story Id Robert Mc Guinness up with ruination and recollections of the jet age my own self, who had decided into being the kind of man that Hillary and her coven mates hate when not is use by them, a gigolo. The chapter about the bought and paid for escorted with some beehives matronly old bag, the kind played by Eleanor Audly, no thinking back, Kitty Carlyle as seen on a free station nightly re showing of To Tell the Truth when i was a kid, was as Orson said, far too dignified and far too lady like to be the Patricia Neal in my if not Breakfast, at least Brunch at Woolworth, and the male Go-lightly I had crafted more out of recalled notes kept my mind mind instituted at 1980 as much as Cato's theoretical war chariot of Caesar's struck in the ruts and the juts of 1981 and my own sixteenth birthday, as say the whole of the lagged economy seems now, a Worst housing market in 43 year is another bulletin that make the silence of the anchormen almost deafening as Biden's own lackluster attempt at spreading commercial over the hinterlands done back in 1995, mostly due to the fact that so in pocket of Merck as this old man, he couldn't in good couscous vote for any legislation being supporter and crafted by an old first lade, as opposed to segregationist, he could support. The fact that this of all things was accepted, along with bits and pieces in which television is like Mad did when i was a boy, I really must get away from thinking of myself as a boy, and not in some perverted away of those at Disney at those magical Costello did hide a myriad of abuses but cant be called Groomers as say Jesuit were, ;lambasted with the line of a smirking queer on CBS saying My name is Steven Colbert...

I was shocked to see that this of all pieces was accepted, it goes to show I guess, and that my adherence and my love of thesis giants of mid-century literature , Tuuuuuman Gore, Norman even, the age of Dick Cavett to sue a line from that radio windbag Rush Limbaugh who scared senators a might too much along the ways if you asked me, and now are awash with Negroes wielders and drag queens, over a man who again, whose name will languish on crime bills vetoed by Richard Nixon, sorry Rachel , take your Pepto, and the linen scrolls of the Hyde Amendment , as when again I was a boy in that age of Janet Cooke, which my father had to ask, probably a Roman fascist bigot, Why was this even looked into so much, why weren't her sources sacred, he asked as if answering a question to me about who and what was what in a land that would decked into making a Queen out of Anita hills inquisitor and had worse to say about her than he did Oliver North, but then I stopped watching even reruns of DESIGNING'S WOMEN ONCE THE BEGUILING AND PLAYBOY QUALITY DELTA IS FIRED FOR BEING FLESHIER THAN JEWS EVER LIKED WOMAN NOT BLOND. And, when did that rag of the Washington Pest ever vigilante things whispered about presidents as much as some junkie, they care so much, said of Presidents as much as this, but then he was still an old man smarting over Nixon, too smart a man for this cesspool as he early on thought Carter was a decent man just complainant, but was glad to see him cut the line over Teddy, who sturdily and drunkenness as topping the polls had Nixon just been aloud to finish his term, but then a myriad of a sea of trouble follows whatever goon that CBS and the other archetypes and wool-gatherers decided to steal an election, yet again. See cause if you HEARD defund the Popo... 

 

 

Well, a few nights of wild-ING under a segregationist, you sleep with Mother when your wife throws you out as ma said , but half of her sonnets never made much sense to me , but I would repeat them often to nuns administration and the brethren ultimate dismay, and I guess like much it makes sense of one don't get too close, a gist that the Italians have used to save themselves from the penny dreadful imperialism of Globe theaters ghosts and haunters , who have as I have said, before been little more than Roman drag since and until Orson put Brutus in a navy Pea-coat, a disquieting insult if ever there was one. Th fact that my nameless, stole that from Manzoni, gigolo is on Rome on the Independence day that have which correlates with some ancient Roman day, 6 June, of all days, sees a pretty girl in a trattorea and with the battleaxe he is using starts to become intrigued by this girl was delightful to me, and it meant that maybe I wasn't the only one who was repelled and put off by the snide reaction to, of all people, Wendy Fore, My Sybil, the Galatia of pin ups being so openly demeaned and disliked by those cretins I saw in the scant few days I went to high school at all, again, all errands lead back to those days, who made sure that pretty Italianate girls, and even some tabloids Blonds, where always Murray Slaughtered and made fun of , but sissy goons who we know now, and how are lately told to my brother were fagg*ts all along...well, who couldn't have figured that out...? Watch what I say... for segregationists who voted against AIDS Funding and people who threw out death threats and did black face,...and pretend the Sopranos meant nothing...? 

 

The fact that this tale was published despite the caterwauling of those decent enough to have voted for a dyke wife of a committed rapist bloat, who now, sadly, shows the Romans meant nothing to him ever , as he allowed a stranger enemy of his, and not even with the fig leaf of being smarter but just more corrupt than he, and how, yowee!, to be in a paramecium that no dead James bond lookalike anchorman Peter Jennings said at George W's inauguration a going over by the Praetorian sanitation was in order, was actually a gift of sorts to me. I managed again the smart ass kid I always was, am, and my love of pulp fictions, and turgid paperback covers by Robert Mcguinnis and John Meese did have a moment in this piping time of Kleenex and old man stink. Amid the Johnny Depps and the Cuomo boys and sanctimony that has the smell of decay to it, I felt vindicated. It was sad too that It would have taken me this long to get the scribbles of police chiefs and gigolos and Newwarker talk of the town parodies like National Lampoon, again, when I was glad, to get to see the laughter of days. This means the only piece that I haven't gotten published in a hell bent for leather, never called murder you see by the Jimmie Choo loving shoe fanatic fatsos, is MY SUPER-GIRLS ALL LOOK LIKE GIRL IN THE HAYSTACK, in which I am not ever sure if in still if its my dismay at a house everything cooning it up as war criminal Caesar, as I have packed a codicil to the piece, in which I have optioned that a negro Caesar hoo ddde doing as a third word Vini Vidi Vici, has been repealed by some screeching white bro man speaking of shillings and pushing the various Italian Sola Brusca card games ten of cups black jacks, and don't forget to play our eternal slots. Aren't we all. Joko la carde, as ma said. End racism, the gladiatorial class homilies us, but we've found a cog, mister irrelevant, who can take dictation and you're off to Dallas. There is, alas, worse.

So, I hold out hope for that, as I am never sure if the worst name mentioned in it isn't Paolo Milano, or Joe Califano, but is indeed the recollection that is alluded to of the great last Brunette of Hollywood, gorgeous movie pin up doll, Wendi's are now unlike Sophia relegated to Free Ones and porno sites where masterbators bitch about she isn't demeaned enough, f off old man Scorsese, as I place this all as post Delta post scripts we've all come to learn about as the CIA Indeed just as Frank Church and his commission did warn when I was a boy, see America as an corrupted land , but then hast what Imperator literally means and I didn't sell my soul for a healthy satchel of GE stocks. As Ukraine monies, for arms that send up and always get into Isis hands, are they still a thing like the John Birchers that Biden used to tap dance for...?, he said he will send his minions into Europa land, as terrorists showing again , my brother notices I was right all along, and this whole thing was about a Chechnya WITH FAR TOO MANY blonds TO HAVE AN ARAFAT. I FELT BADLY DESPITE MY TRIUMPH OF VIDALIAN PROSE, this t shirted clown thinks the Romans of then or now, who there are laws against marrying his precious Baltic Cyrillic hags to a catholic, that somehow in my life as a boy till now we , or I , therefrom the noble virtues poems of Beekeeping Virgil, the smarmy, snide satires of street-level Juvenal, the sweet and delicate poetics of comeuppance of Ovid, Bills favorite and who makes sure that the mention of Augustus and his Jewish minion Marcus is never too far way from his receipting of Jovian rapes, we have gone from that to this old coots old man stink, and to the sad liens of Cassius Dio telling us all that all smells like piss and rust all for a lamb of God that like Hercules but worse, barbarians could extol and pray unto, as they keep making Conan comic books. 

 

Over the summer I got my brunettes hither and yon, as all seemed to change from last year and its truly diabolical sense of Trimalchio dinners thrown through the strike breaking and the Delta dawns, as I asked openly, some dimwit who thinks politics can make you Sanctified and that eventually if you laughs and smirk hard enough and somehow amazingly do the bidding of a segregationist, they wont recall when you ere doing pigeon englesss as ma would say, and then hurling death threats at any Asian coeds who dared ask where that sort of impunity came from....didn't you see who they w re now lauding , dear...easy Roman Bill, if that applies anymore,. My brother thought it never did, take some strega, principally, a aperitif, witch this time at least will ease you Tummy, or at least that's what ma said way back when. She made me as a boy a drink of egg cream but with liqueur in it for a bad stomach, or with coffee, depending on which as needed by the Italians somehow l;left to their own devices thanks to the barbarians who knew, were servants of a falser, or blonder, or blinder God all along. The priests just loved my returning Roman law to Plautus, or at least Gun-smoke, and looks the part of white trash hooligan, that it was done with the transmutable sacristan of winter woods in this Hillary Halloween, lesbian Saturnalia, that wont end. Me,the Germans sung of Hercules once, tell that to the bloated fat masturbatory suicide who created Conan and then found when you live by a paper sword you die of a real one, any hated Italian could have told you, Texas Burroughs. Not me, if I make a sacrifice to a Roman God, it will be to one, rapist or not, like a democratic president, it will be to one who can sere where he is going. As ,a boy, I cant get away from it, I once bought a copy of the elder Edda, what passes for Germanic literature that frankly wasn't written by a noble savage needful senator who never came to the august hall in beach wear our god knows dressed like a hoodlum. I took the book and burned it in a tin my seamstress mother paled her confined of buttons in, just to sow my heart was in the right place. 

 

 

We went to get my physical at a new doctor, as all my doctors as George Burns once said, if not dead, they have retied from the COVID fruited plane. I looked for a Jewish MD, even a Woman ,as long as Jewish would be fine, Ill go to doctor Ciccerelli when I need a gunshot kept off the books, as I am that willing to throw dice, but settled on a subcontinental Indian, hail fellow well met who eventually warmed up to me and I made laugh though my still again being sixteens and fearful somehow that I have too much hair on my face, as I guess the vestal mustache women in dropped commercials do have an effect that cant quite seem to get a huge chunk of people to see Trump no less, as a Pompeian victim of a family annihilator who got too big for his baggy pantaloons as bumbles his way though I am the very model of a modern Major General, as that name Heliogalablaus just has him, always perpetually sixteen too, stumped.

I decided for some unknown, internal, instinctual reason to forgo the chammo I , like Bill Clinton, was hunting Bunnies, sorry rabbits, he was quite the facilitator acne once he got the instrumentals of whatever poll served as his soul. Sorry Bill, but alas, the lesbian girls and family members were right all along, and thou hasn't conquered Alba Longa, as I'm sure when wife's bloated obviating hags and sluts and Bryn Marh alumna see Virgil as propaganda, despite Turn-us and Camilla, speaking of noble savagery, it must be getting him hot under his perpetual ring around the collar ,collar if were are lucky. I decided for the first time since a sideways art school trade school adventure that went nowhere in many ways, but would get me some attaboys from various Disney cubical I'd have to resort to, with Stone Soup, I would wore Italianate Jeans, stolen as much from Italy as again glorious once vaunted senate now instigated and invaded by a gross norther barbarian thug who thinks the hoodie ameliorates his being a closeted Harvard grad who took his shot gun and waved it around fearing that coon got too close to his not so hidden escapade. My brother said we must stop for gas as Biden's gift to the republic, high gas prices that comes like sun follows rain when again the dogcarts Democrats destroy a president and afield of the man of the people that that old cvnt hag is always somehow against, voting for Goldwater no less than be caught with the coloreds and the poor and the plebs that might have wanted a great society when all she was looking for was a better caliber of gigolo all along. We drove for the first time to a white station, we came up to these highlands I never much liked or not, I didn't care, as a part of me wishes much to return to Italay, and like Augustus in Lonesome Dove, I seem to be turning my brother towards that outcome all along. AS MAD SAID, WHEN I WAS A KID, THIS COUNTRY IS OUT OF ORDER, although back then, it was apparent what anyone who was against Busing was trying to say, all along. Sorry Norman, whose golden doors are packed back on free television after the sanctimony of wokedness, but Biden always was a bad third act, juts like Marcus said, and now this far out, a man who might not even know who and what and how many praetorian are planning his ends, less Livy or Pharsalia's Lucian Julius, but more like Camus Caligula, I'm still king, I can hear this old coot screech out as the dog shits all over the place like Tennessee at the end, goes back to the perpetual Campinas of 2020, and warns us all about the fact that Trump is a warning and a danger to the vaunted republic. He did,w hen i was a kid, did the same things as he waned us about the dangers of Busing and Race mixing. Look that up Rachel, dear, maybe not the stragea, maybe just some nice ginger ale...

After filling a subscription we drove towards home, he thought my request for eflornithine was a bit more vanity than medical, past the myriad of blue and white and upside down American flags showing a distress out here that Colbert will never feel unless say, like with Letterman, the gals of the closet ala Plautus fall out onto the dining room floor, in his case dead or alive, who knows, my brother was sure we had to do something else. I hadn't eaten yet and it was two, and just had a bad feeling as sometimes do, though I am more auger than weatherman, and have never been a fit subject for gummit work. I have to, HE SAID, go to the Sunoco and get some gas, before this as wipe has gas at five dollars a gallon, which means nothing if one say has a Tesla, bought , or stolen or bribed to drive, be the best sort of people that get on TV now, as he is after all a Jethro, and not a Puch, and how has to lay it on thick lest we recall his own death threats given out to mere co eds who dared asked , when he was hurling red meat and strange Lon Chaney faces at the CBS panaflex cameras, that told me, pre- Trump, this goon was not ever to be trusted with the Roman art of satire, despite once he hanging compared himself to Juvenal, didn't they all, and now is in that long chorus line of CBS malapropism dimwits with too much power, like Bishop Sheen, Tommy Smothers, King Arthur, he is literally a face in the crowd, but is more like lights and wires in a proverbial box. I too, he said, spinning the car around with a friends with hoodlums esprit I always missed from Dora's DNA, I Have to play Multitudes, [or whatever it is called] he said, Cause its another Billion tonight. Why someone as sharp as he still plays the numbers like a Roman dice player, I have never understood.

We drove up the straight unbroken flat road of the highlands to which we have gone in our shining red car. I suggested a blue or navy car, and not red , as red, I learned, is stopped by the popo, once beloved by Biden when he want to all those funerals for cops, always tap dacning on the skirts , and how, of the Democratic party he thought a bleeding heart, like Cuomo was a detriment to that winning he had to do at least once to make being a family annihilator be worth something more than the bribes his son, targeted by Hillary long before, already spent. We drove past the Sunoco station often used when i was a lad and my mom drove me about until, and I ma still unsure, something happened which made the old lady stay serenity in the old brick yellow house winch is of a type ethically mentioned by HL Mencken in his travels of the snide man in the hell with the lid taken off Allegheny county. My brother tells me it was the death of my grandmother that made her less willing and able to partake of the golden door of the city on a hill, which Biden still will steal that soon enough. As he is, after all, a xerox machine through and through, which explains his ballots, but I am not so sure. It was again full, as his secret internal instinct was right, and in fact, every island and pump was full with the toy cars that shone like plastic in the lasted summers light, about to , like the res public, fail. We went to a station of a franchise never sued by us, ever I don't think, called BP, where a white Stonehenge like pillar showed a strange sunflower in a satire of Van Gogh, or some kind of starburst of yellow and poison green, and I thought there would have been a signage like in south park, reading We Care. It was pretty empty good enough for a hit of lottery and filling up the tank before yet again, as she said and his smiling papergirls that price would come down for the fall, the exact opposite, showing the Gore Vidallian calculus is always right, they boomeranged up. I sighed. As we came up the asphalt incline to the irritating un fung shaq white on white pumps, with the sprigs of green and the word British and petroleum hid in man in the gray flannel suit know how, we came head to head with a Grey , wifely car, a more minivan sort of car, but then to me , still stuck in the age of the News-view writers beloved red Galaxy, these utilitarian cages are all soulless and look alike. In the car as we drove up, I saw a sissy of a man from central casting, half inside half outside the rover, with coat of many colors hoodie, cartoon sunglasses on a string around his neck, oh Jeeezzzuzzz, my brother said, more beloved by the queer priests than even I was, What is this, he said, the road company of Rent. I laughed, as its now, like Hamilton a hated musicale that shows what happens again when the trash think the mansion is now there's and I shot a Leopard in my pajama last night...

Seeming to beg or cajole the not unattractive rather pert and slightly chubby blond woman in the car, draining this goon around, she said something this cretin dint like, and then this doppelganger of Steven Colbert halls off and clocks her in the face, amazingly. Wow, I said as my brother said, Whoa, as usually before this age of dying Biden, the abuser call's could at least be excepted to keep their mitts in tjheir pockets when out with the others, if only to make it all the more sweeter when they could go home and beat up their wives and girlfriends in the closeted, AND I mean closeted dark. I was upset by this, and then, why Prince Charming hit her again casing her again pretty face, but round and the kind Jews often called fat once on the prowl as they were, to hit the closed window. Lets get out of here,i said, but my brother murmured something about 280 million or some such plebeian enticing number, but I didnt want to be close here. Than I noticed as my brother got out of the car, and he saunter to the white door of the white palace, this goon at the other pump, this Biden Voter, once again, the chipping ruin of a bumper sticker told the tale, he was smoking , actually smoking at a gas pump, so now i was really ver shvitzed, as he, lunatic absusing goon, flicked the blunt and zig zag out towards the not that busy street, as this Constantine Colbert found in the ash bin of his boyhood has brought a gloom with him that no body in that party but sweet old Bill can understand. I thought, I don't have a girlfriend even that cute, I'm sure he like i've seen openly ogles woman with her, lest she or he even sees whast right in front of their eyes. She was very well presented, while he was a left over yippee from the Sandpiper, and I felt inconsolably bad seated there,and not just because of the weed cigarette that was this close to even the muddy watered down sludge gas sold here, that my brother hates.

The poor man's Ryan Reynolds, and they all look like him now, a star for no describable reason, except that's the what the Jews and white chicks who are our circus owners, who run a sweatshop lock outed Hollywood think queers look, no Victor Matures, hell , no Night mare alleys here, galumphed, I am still in the thrall of my own television city Jabberwonkey,.. whose girl on the ABC bowling ball this summer got accepted, to the gas station door with a pocket full of drams and a clutching hand of boychcik money he managed to take from the pretty, but chunky, girl. Unwilling to be a lion tamer as my father warned me, I have no inkling to be one of the Palestinians dancing with brunettes like Macy's parade ads about how decent you all are, so I can only imagine who he uses a kind of black ops formula to have sucked this girl in and now bet her for a ten spot to bundle to the low rent gas station and get , which eh thought this morning was discount gas. I watched the woman in the car, she was mortified, as he strangely for his ilk, strode his way to the doors, under a sign that said as much that you are under surveillance in this Goober's station such as it is,as I can recall my mother getting green stamps and plates and such at the Esso stations when i was a kid. He swung open the door, out of which, quickly my brother came out , barreling ahead, and said, I could see a thank you principally to the openly abusive cretin. Lets get out of here, h said, Fucking machine is down, I'm not buying this JED Clampett crude, he said. Yes, lets, I said, as saw something amazing to me, juts then. Looking up at us from the clutched wheel was this abused woman, and then, my brother, again not that most Victor Mature of Italians, but adored by the local broads since i was a kid, he caught her eye, and and winked at her. This caused her to actually smile, and I could see the rose red mark of this cretins first against her paler than out certainly cheek. I said I wanted to go and give her my phone number, who is this guy, the question that such as he always hears in their cortex, no matter how loud they yell, as I would not mind her as a girlfriend, and would love to see this cretin lose her as drunkard's due, as Biden must be beginning diatribes at the birdied wall and screaming like a Apache, begging Puntura, not to be strewn by fate. Don't, my Brother said, Put yourself into things like this, ...These mutherfuckers are all murderers now, never play cards with a man named doc…he said, as his voice tailed off, and I knew the sharpy's, Palatine hillside, credo. I wish you would have said there is a creep out here beating up on a woman, I said. I Did better than that, Mother fucker didn't see the sign...I told the Indian in there, Munchie, he said, I said, that asshole in flip flops is smoking by the gas pumps. As we drove away, I could hear sirens, as has been a backdrop now in the decline, and wondered again if he had a truer knowledge of what matters especially now in this age of Pyrite. Alas Cassius Dio is for us all now.